Crazy Days Chapter Three brandthudnall@hotmail.com
Beth managed to break the tension with her usual aplomb. She had us all laughing within seconds, telling us one of her drinking stories from one of her many outings with friends at school.
I have to admit that Beth can drink me under table. Usually, she ended up with a fascinating tale of making out, random adventures around town, and funny things she says while drunk. And at a club, I suppose that a drinking story was exactly what was needed to break the ice.
After a few minutes, she and Rick went off to dance, leaving me standing there with Ben. I wasn't quite sure what to say; I had finally told Ben that I wasn't interested in him several months before. I had tried to be nice about it-so as not to hurt his feelings-but had been firm. I was not interested in dating him, I was not interested in sleeping with him, and I would not play along and flirt.
I suppose it had gone ok, but yes, it had created a tension between us. We chatted for a few minutes about mundane things, then joined Beth and Rick on the dance floor.
Over an hour later, the night was going pretty well. Ben and I were keeping our distance from each other, but not so obviously that it distracted Beth and Rick from having a good time. I was the only one not drinking heavily and finally decided I needed a break.
I walked outside and sat on one of the benches on the patio. I looked around; nearly every table on the flagstone patio was occupied and most of the benches that bordered the patio were filled as well.
I noticed that the cute boy I'd seen earlier was sitting with some friends at one of the center tables. He caught my eye and smiled. A few minutes later, he walked over to me and introduced himself as Chad.
We started to talk and hit it off immediately. Rarely did I find someone as interesting as Chad; he was so similar to me that he almost seemed to be a long-lost brother.
Thirty minutes later, Chad and I were heavily debating a recent episode of The Practice when I felt his hand move onto my thigh. Definitely a good sign. Soon, it had moved up and was nearly resting on the bulge in my pants.
"Well, well," I heard from behind me. "What have we here? A new flavor of the night?"
I turned around and there stood Ben, obviously drunk, with his arms folded across his chest and an accusing look on his face. I was shocked at his words, but quickly regained my composure well enough to introduce he and Chad.
Chad stood up and stuck out his hand, but Ben looked at it with scorn. "Sorry. I'm not touching anything of yours that has touched him," he said, nodding in my direction. My mouth dropped open.
"Ben, stop being an ass. He's just being polite," I told him. At that moment, Rick and Beth came hurrying outside. When they spotted Ben, they nearly ran over.
"Ok, Ben, let's head home. I'm beat," Rick said. He reached for Ben's arm, but Ben snatched it away from him.
"Well, I suppose I'll be polite, too," Ben said, ignoring Rick and looking at Chad. "Just so you know, your little lover boy there"-he nodded at me again-"won't give you the time of day once he knows about anything at all about your past."
Chad glanced at me and then smirked. "That's ok," he said. "I think I'll take my chances."
Rick grabbed Ben's arm again and told him it was time to go, but Ben spoke again: "Your loss. He's just another typical Charlotte gay guy. Not worth your time."
Ok, one thing that you must understand about me is that I avoid drama at all costs. I do not believe in getting upset over men, nor do I believe in over dramatizing events. However, I do believe in a few key things, one of which is that I never, ever base judgment on someone based on preconceived stereotypes. In fact, hearing people make assumptions about anyone-myself included-flat out pisses me off.
So hearing Ben call me just another typical gay guy really irked me. I was mad that he was being such an ass, but that comment was the breaking point. I noticed that most of the people around us had heard what Ben said and got quiet, watching to see what was going on.
I stood up. "Ok, Mr. Ben," I started. "You have had more than enough to drink and you're starting to piss me off. Either go home and sleep it off, or go back inside."
I rarely lose my temper, but I could feel it coming. I felt the anger bubbling inside of me, starting in my stomach and working its way towards me mouth, trying to come out in a verbal backlash. I don't like to lose my temper, but when it happens I make sure that whoever has caused me to get upset is embarrassed, proven wrong, and feels like crawling into a hole when I'm finished with them. If Ben went away right now, I would be ok.
Unfortunately for him, that didn't happen. "I don't want to go home and I don't want to go inside. I want to stand right here," he said, pointing to the ground.
I raised an eyebrow and saw Beth pull Rick back from Ben. She's seen me mad plenty of times and knows the signals. She didn't want him caught in the crossfire. "Ok, let me explain something," I said in a louder voice.
"First off, I don't think you should be rude to anyone here, least of all myself or my friend Chad. Second, I don't know where you get off assuming that I'm a typical gay male. Are you assuming that I sleep around, have no goals, spend all my money buying drugs, and bash anyone that I don't deem pretty enough for me? Is that what you're thinking?
"Because if so, let me educate you real quick." I could feel myself warming up. By now, nearly the entire patio was quiet, watching the scene. Oh, how I loved an audience when I exploded on someone.
"You are so right," I said in a mocking voice. "I am so typical of a twenty- one year old man. Let me tell you how typical I am.
"My name is Jonathan and I'm a twenty one year old gay man. I am a senior at University double majoring in Marketing and Psychology. I also have a minor in German. I am the advertising manager for my school newspaper, will be a section editor next year, and have worked on the paper for three years. I am a member of the student advisory board and the student union, have acted as a spokesperson for my campus homosexual support group to the media, and I have a 3.5 GPA.
"I'm on the dean's list, I take a minimum of eighteen hours every semester, I worked two jobs my sophomore year, worked full time my junior year, and am graduating at the end of next semester. Next semester, I will be taking 18 hours, doing an internship, working for the paper, and will have a part time job.
"I have been recognized by the county that I live in on four separate occasions for my personal contributions to the community, attended the South Carolina Governor's School for the Arts, participated in All State functions, and have several scholarships.
"On top of that, I pay for that nice, shiny new 2002 Mitsubishi Lancer that I drive, make time for my family, attend my oldest nephew's soccer and baseball games, and I'm a damn good friend to anyone who needs one.
"How's that for a typical, young gay man?" I finished. I was boiling with rage. He had hit the one stereotype that I'd worked for so hard to overcome.
I'd been moving around as I delivered my speech, waving my hands for emphasis, and now a hush had settled over the entire patio.
Ben stood there, arms folded over his chest, and said, "So basically, I'm just not good enough for you, huh?"
Before I could retort, Beth spoke up: "I don't think that's it," she said flippantly. It's not that he's too good for you, but in my opinion, you're nowhere near good enough for him."
Rick grabbed Ben's arm and quickly dragged him away. I could tell that my face was red, not from embarrassment, but from anger. I looked around at everyone on the patio, seeing people of all types staring at me.
Maybe they were impressed, or maybe they thought I'd made it all up. I didn't care. I held out my arm to Beth and with false formality said, "Beth, my dear, shall we move along to Jimmy's?"
She looped her arm in mine, and I turned around to say goodbye to Chad and get his number. He, however, must not have appreciated my little performance. He had obviously beat a hasty retreat.
We left the club, and Beth laughed at me while we walked to the car. "I can't believe you did that!"
"Why? You know how I feel about being labeled. I had every right to speak my mind! He crossed that line and I simply placed him back on his side of it."
"Still, though..."
We got in the car, and I put in my Res CD (Pronounced Reese! the CD jacket proclaimed). Beth and I turned up "they-say vision" and danced the entire way to Jimmy's. I love the song because it speaks of the ills of conformity, and as I drove, I thought about what had happened.
I don't like it when drama occurs. And normally, I'll just walk away from it. But on the rare occasions when something really pissed me off, I was very vocal about how I felt. This had been one of those occasions.
Regardless of what anyone else thought, I had personally believed that I needed to say my piece. Ben should know me well enough by now to know that I'm not a typical twenty-one year old. Yes, I drink, party, and occasionally sleep around. But I'm for damned sure not a club kid, out every weekend drinking, doing drugs, and sleeping with the hottest guy I can find.
Beth and I must have repeated "they-say vision" at least 7 times on the way to Jimmy's. Jimmy's is a little bar in south Charlotte that we all love. I heard about it from my friend Amanda, who worked there as a bartender. In turn, I'd taken all my other friends there, and it was our new, semi-regular hangout.
As expected, Mike was there. He played in a pool league sponsored by Jimmy himself, and on any given evening, he was there shooting pool and spending more money than he had on alcohol.
Beth and I said our hello's, then grabbed a table and started talking. We avoided talking about Ben. I think she knew I was still slightly mad about the entire incident.
Before long, Mike and his friend Shawn had joined us at the table.
I'll be blunt-I don't like Shawn at all. He's obnoxious and cocky. It's hard to describe him, but he's one of those young guys who thinks his duty in life is to educate everyone on the world based on his own arrogant views. And of course, the world obviously turned just for him.
He started with his usual routine, and I zoned out, staring at a random spot on the opposite wall. Before long, I heard him say, "You may not know it, but I'm one of those long lost hopeless romantics."
I seized my chance: "You know, I used to be that way... but then I turned twelve and got over it."
Beth burst out laughing, and even Mike covered his mouth to hide his laughter. Shawn got up and walked away without saying another word.
I looked at Mike. "Gee, I hope I didn't piss him off," I said in a mocking tone. He knew I didn't like Shawn.
"No, you didn't piss him off. He just couldn't think of a comeback."
We started talking, and Beth told Mike about my rousing performance that night. I didn't consider it anything special. I can't say that I enjoy losing my temper in public and embarrassing someone else, but Beth always finds it greatly amusing.
Mike laughed. "Good job! I wish I'd seen it!"
I laughed. "No, you don't. I'd have dragged you into it just for the hell of it," I said. I was always embarrassing Mike in public because it was so easy to do. For instance, a cashier at Blockbuster was gushing over his shirt, something to do with the local police. Impressive, she said. "Oh, not really," I said airily, "his boyfriend is a cop." He didn't speak to me for three days after that.
"Probably!" He looked at the door, where a group of people had just materialized. His eyes widened. "Uh oh, here we go," he said under his breath.
Beth and I turned our heads to the door so quickly that it's a wonder we didn't break our necks. "What?" we chorused.
Yes, we were nosy.
"Ok, you see that girl in the pink shirt?" Mike asked in a low voice.
I nodded. "Yeah, she's cute. What about her?"
"Well," he continued. "I met her here one night about a month ago. We talked, went out a few times, and then she decided to get back together with her ex-boyfriend."
"So what's the big deal?" Beth asked him.
"She called Shawn three days ago and said she wanted my number. Said she wanted to go out again and that she was really into me."
I was failing to see a problem with this. She'd got back together with her boyfriend and it hadn't worked out. So what?
"What's wrong with that?"
"She told Shawn that she was really into me. I mean, really. As in, 'I want to get some from him as soon as possible' into me."
"So?" I asked. I knew good and well that there was something more to this. She was young and cute; Mike should have gone there with her already.
"There's more to it, but-Hey!" he said as the girl walked up to him to hug him. "Monique, this is Jonathan and Beth."
We said our hellos, then Monique asked Mike to talk out to the patio with her. I looked at Beth. This could be a good sign! The patio of Jimmy's is small, but more illegal activities had taken place there than in any gay bar bathroom in the world.
They left, walking towards the back door. Beth's head swiveled around, looking for someone.
"Shawn!" she yelled.
He walked over. "What's up?" he asked, ignoring me. I suppose I deserved it.
"Mike and Monique just went out back. Go spy," she said.
I rolled my eyes, but I had to admit that I was intrigued, too.
"Dude, I'm not going to go spy on them. If I go out there, it'll look like I'm spying." He paused. "I'll send Sheila out there instead."
I laughed. Ok, so maybe Shawn did have his uses. He sauntered off to talk to Sheila, but before he got to talk to her, Mike was back at our table.
"Well? Are you getting some?" I asked.
"Saturday or Sunday night," he said with a grin.
Beth started dancing in her chair. "Go get you soooooome!" she bellowed.
We both laughed. "Hey, can we get out of here sometime soon?" Mike asked, nodding in Monique's direction.
We paid our tabs and left. "Are you staying at my place tonight?" I asked Mike as we walked outside.
"Sure. I'll be down there in a little bit."
Beth and I drove back to my place and she departed. I went inside and watched TV in my room until Mike got there.
"Ok, so what's up with this Monique girl?" I asked him.
He looked out the window for a second, then started talking. "There's something not right about it all. I mean, she's hot and I like her, but I don't feel like we're clicking."
"Well, you could always sleep with her and run," I joked.
He laughed. "Yeah, I could. I've done it before."
"Jerk!" I said. He knew I was kidding. I don't agree with the way he treats some of the girls he goes out with, or sleeps with, but he'll learn one of these days.
"Yeah, yeah," he said, waving it off. "Seriously, though. I don't know what it is. Maybe I'm not into her as much as I thought, or maybe I just want more these days. Or maybe I don't know what I want."
I opened my mouth, fully prepared to go into counselor mode. I acted as therapist to all my friends, something that I enjoyed because I always felt needed. Besides, it made me privy to confidential information. I sat there for a few seconds before speaking, choosing my words carefully.
"Do you know which of those it is? I mean, she's up to your standards, I can see that. But can you see yourself in a relationship with her?"
He leaned back on my bed, silent for several moments. "No," he said, shaking his head. "She's younger than me and I get the feeling that for once, I'm not the one looking for booty. She is."
"Maybe you should look elsewhere," I told him.
"What do you mean?" he asked, looking at me with his eyebrows raised.
"Not what you're thinking, I'm sure. What I mean is... maybe you shouldn't go out with her at all. Maybe you should tell her you're not interested and look for a new girl."
I crawled into the bed beside him. He looked over at me and said, "I think you're right. I normally don't feel so odd about a girl. But there's just something that isn't right with her."
We changed tracks then and talked about other things for a while, then I finally stripped down to my boxers and crawled under the covers, ready for a long slumber. Mike moved over to my desk to check his email. Mike turned on my desk lamp and I turned the other lights off.
Thinking over everything tonight, from what had happened at the club to Mike's problem with Monique, I drifted off into a heavy sleep, laden with dreams I would not remember and much tossing and turning.
An hour later, I rolled over in my sleep, slowly surfacing from unconsciousness. I looked at the ceiling and then looked over at Mike.
He swears up and down that my house was haunted. Granted, it is on the edge of the original Catawba Indian reservation, and had an old Civil War wagon road running through the middle of the property, but the house wasn't that spooky. We had three guest rooms, but he wouldn't sleep in any of them. And since we'd grown up sleeping over at each other's houses, we'd always just slept in the same bed. Neither of us thought anything about it. Even after I'd come out to Mike, he didn't mind sleeping in the same bed as me.
Finally, still not sure why I'd awakened, I rolled back over with my back to Mike and closed my eyes.
I felt him shift. Almost immediately, I felt his arm long, muscular arm drape across me and his warm pelvis push against the backside of my boxers.
NOTE: Once again, thanks for all the feedback! What do you guys (and girls!) think? How should Jonathan respond? Let me know at brandthudnall@hotmail.com. This one is your call!