Get Drunk
This story is property of the author. This story will not contain sexually explicit material but will contain provocative speech/actions between two guys or in the mind of a man about another, if this bothers you then why are you still reading?
Also this is a short story that I wrote recently and will have no continuation because it was meant to support itself and with the intention of being just a short story. Also there is no sex, so if you are looking for something to jack off to then why are you still reading? If, however, you are looking for something that I hope is a good read, has deep meaning, and is worth something in a literary sense (hopefully) then I do hope you enjoy and write me with your response, constructive criticism is always a pleasure. I enjoy writing, whether I am good at it or not, it's a hobby of mine and I will not respond to anything that outright blasts me for my skills as a writer or for the fact that you didn't get a boner from reading this. Thanks and hopefully you will enjoy J
Get Drunk
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`So yeah... I've been getting better, that's the truth. However, I'm still not at the point where I can do anything serious. If I seemed to send you mixed signals, I apologize it wasn't my intention to make you think I was leading you on after I told you I wouldn't...
It's not that I don't like you, or wouldn't be open to a relationship later. I'm just still hurt and would need to heal first. And because of that I don't really know where I see things with you in the long run... I'm not thinking that far into the future. I've been too distracted by how I've been feeling lately to notice. So right now, and probably until the end of the year, friends is all I'm looking for. I hope that that's still possible, and I hope that this helps to clear up some of the confusion regarding my actions. If something's still not clear, let me know, and I'll try to help you understand. In any case, thank you for being honest.
Talk to you soon,
-'
_
So yeah... what? I get what he's saying and all but what does that really mean I should do? Is he worth the wait/possibility of getting turned down when he is feeling better? If so, do I still flirt with him, still act interested? Or do I act like I'm just interested in friendship also... even though I definitely want more, and he knows that? If he's not worth it, I'm just fucked, there're no other gay guys I know that I'm actually interested in. Sure some are interested in me, and I mean, come on, who wouldn't be? *sarcasm* But they aren't my type soooooooo... shit's too complicated. Everybody should just know what they want and actually have the balls to go for it, but nooooo there always has to be a bunch of "what ifs."
**
le monde va seulement environ par le malentendu
**
"Always be drunk. That's it! The great imperative! In order not to feel Time's horrid fardel bruise your shoulders, grinding you into the earth, Get drunk and stay that way."
~ ~ ~ ~
But maybe he's worth the risk. I really haven't felt so strongly for someone in awhile. I can't stop thinking about him. And I seriously cannot come up with any flaws about him, although some of my friends can. He`s alright looking (I find him incredibly attractive but most of my friends' first reactions are "You can do better," and honestly that was my first reaction too), he's taller than me at about 5 foot 10 (I'm 5 foot 7), short black hair, he's a little pudgy but just barely and I actually find that cute in his case. And good lord his eyes, before you scoff at that, this isn't some typical storybook cliché where the character exclaims "O LAWDY, he has the most gorgeous eyes, so he must be my soul mate" (that's said with a southern belle accent by the way), when in fact the dude's eyes are just "meh;" his eyes are legit gorgeous. I can't even really describe them, other than blue, unique, and insanely gorgeous. Looking into his eyes accentuates the bass tones in my chest and adds an unwelcome vibrato to my voice.
Enough of my crushing, back to the dilemma! Well sort of.
**
Sois toujours un poete meme dans la prose.
**
h h h h
"It sounds to me like he just doesn't know what he wants" Courtney (my bff if you will, although that term sounds too fem for me to really use it) said while walking to Taco Bell after I got over my little what the fuck moment enough to ask for advice.
"Well that could be part of it, but I think it's more to do with this thing he's going through, I can tell by the way he looks at me he at least finds me attractive, but he needs to `heal' first before he can even say something like that, or decide on just one person to flirt with for that matter."
"Maybe you could help him with that though..." she suggested while holding the door to Taco Bell open for me.
"You're such a gentleman." I said while laughing "But, what do you mean help him?"
"Well, I mean, you know... what if you two became friends with benefits?"
"Oh my god! I can't believe you just said that, you're the one who's overly protective of me and is supposed to make sure I don't do anything slutty."
"Hold on," we proceeded to place our orders, get our food, and find a place to sit away from people before continuing our conversation. "Well, I think it could help him to have someone around for contact, plus you could decide if you actually want to be with him or not. And it doesn`t necessarily have to be sex, it could just be holding hands, cuddling, sleepovers, and making out... that kinda thing"
"You lost me on cuddling. I`d be game for it, but that word always makes me throw up a little in my mouth, and I`m eating right now."
**
le lecteur d'hypocrite, mon camarade, mon frère!
**
"On what? On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever. But get drunk. And if you sometimes happen to wake up on the porches of a palace, in the green grass of a ditch, in the dismal loneliness of your own room, your drunkenness gone or disappearing,"
**
¶ ¶ ¶ ¶
**
"I'll think about it." Truly, I had already thought about that (meaning friends with benefits) as a possibility before she suggested it. And when I said that I'd think about it, I really meant that I was actually gonna go for it Hearing it from her of all people, the sanctimonious moral advisor who usually gives you the same advice your mom would, just made it a viable solution; and one I wouldn't feel negatively about attempting. Now just to figure out how to bring about this solution without ruining the friendship or looking creepy. People really should be able to be more direct with this crap. Sure "Hey we're friends, but let's have sex anyway so we can both be happier" may be too direct, but it'd be a hell of a lot easier. And, as is, I'm left feeling frustrated whenever I think about him (which is pretty damn often) because of the complications and because I WANT to be closer to him but can't. So anything would be an improvement. Seriously this stuff needs to be more simple. But, really, how do you approach someone about something like this? Especially if that person already knows you're into them?!
**
rien ne peut être fait sauf PETIT à PETIT
**
b i r d
So, it's amazing how much the allure of alcohol can suddenly make a college student not give a damn about baby mama drama; well daddy in this case. And there's no baby either, I just like that phrase. Did I mention the frat I'm in has a tradition of having the n00bs do what's called "tasting the rainbow?" and that I'm one of said n00bs? Oh yes, and it's my new favorite tradition. See I don't know how you do it exactly but you color vodka using skittles, and shit tastes damned good. Did I also mention I'm a lightweight and only weigh 115 lbs? yeah so I was drunk halfway through my second shot.
There's so much you don't know about me. For example, I'm a pretty masculine guy despite my weight/body type; but get me drunk and put on a little dancing music and I'm suddenly a chick, ass shaking, "gettin' low" and all. And what do you know, at an LGBT fraternity party they tend to play dance music, and I just so happen to be drunk. So here I am, it's only 11 o'clock on a Friday night and I'm in Courtney's apartment being violated while dancing with my friend Kate. That's a surprise. Violated in a very mild sense so don't worry, just some minor undressing, groping, and licking (all her on me btw) but I'm used to it from Kate, and it's part of why I love her.
WHEN ALL OF A SUDDEN... I see him watching me dance with Kate, those blue eyes boring through me and slightly sobering me up enough to feel butterflies in my stomach and my heart beating a tattoo in my chest.
"Time for another drink, Kate?!"
I don't wait for an answer, you can never legitimately understand other people at a function like this, and I know her answer without having to hear it. I just stumble (I swear I'm not that drunk I just have zero balance sober, so guess what happens when alcohol is added to the mix!) over to what looks like one of those coolers people have at a good ole fashion family function with the nozzle at the bottom for pouring lemonade into your cup... except this one isn't filled with lemonade, and fill two cups for me and Kate respectively. It smells like the fruit punch your mom makes for you when you're little, and it looks like it too, it even tastes like it! Well close... but I know better, the less alcohol you taste, the better the shit is at keeping you drunk.
"You know, you really should be over there dancing with him." Kate practically yells into my ear in between sips from her cup.
**
la danse est de la poésie avec les bras et les jambes.
**
"ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, ask everything that flees, everything that groans or rolls or sings, everything that speaks, ask what time it is; and the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock will answer you:"
¹ ¼ ¿ Â
I don't answer her, she wouldn't hear me anyway, and I know she's right. *sigh* And of course, before I get the nerve to move, or work around my inebriation enough to move my legs (I'm not sure which) Kate practically launches me into him, so with a last eat shit and die look/middle finger combo at Kate, I turn to look at him, smiling like a little kid who's nervous about asking his parent for that one toy he wants most. He smiles back adorable of course and our eyes connect for a second_..._ before he reaches out to grab my waist and I turn around and raise my hands up so they're holding onto my hat, and start dancing. His hands lightly grasp my hips, his whole body presses against my back, and then he starts dancing as well. And that's where he loses me. See he's not very good at the dancing thing. Dancing for him consists of erratic bounces up and down as he sways left and right over and over and over again. It's very disorienting... especially when you're drunk. Especially when you're drunk and trying to dance provocatively with him.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop, dude." I say while reaching behind me and lightly placing my hands on his hips for emphasis.
He instantly stops, and I feel him start to back away, possibly hurt thinking I changed my mind about him dancing with me, but I can't tell for sure since I'm still facing away from him; I grab his hands with mine and move them to my waist, leaving my hands over his. "Just follow my hips."
The second attempt works a lot better and syncs perfectly with the song "Blah Blah Blah" by Ke$ha coming on. And soon enough he was getting the hang of this dancing thing, I was getting a lot more comfortable with how things were going, and his head was inching closer and closer into the crook of my neck while his hands wrapped further and further across my waist. Song after song, things remained the same, no dance partners changed as people all around us were dancing and constantly moving from partner to partner (not even caring about the sex of the individual) as if they knew our answer to a proposition of diversity would be "no." And all the while his hands were beginning to come close enough together that he could lace his fingers together and his lips were so close to my neck I could feel the slight treble from the effects of his nerves on his lips and the chill from his breath.
One song, two songs, three, four, five, six, seven, and finally eight, nirvana. His hands grasped each other, and his lips pressed onto my neck, almost immediately parting so his tongue and teeth could mark me as his. And I was in bliss. With my mission successful my head rolled back, resting on his left shoulder, my vision went white, and everyone around me disappears because right now they don`t matter, all that matters is me, him, and the music. I tried my damndest to absorb all the feelings flowing in simultaneously; the feeling of inebriation, the enjoyment I get out of dancing, his body pressed against mine while doing so, and the sheer nirvana of his lips still attached to my neck, and what he was doing with his mouth, which would most likely leave a very noticeable hickey. And in that moment a light bulb turns on, an epiphany, tha thundabolt if you will, and I get a sense of self-satisfaction with life I didn't anticipate, with sheer bliss at my own life. And I know he is in fact worth waiting for, worth the risk of getting turned down whenever he is healed, and I am willing to wait for him to heal rather than forcing it. Because nothing beats the bliss that I find from moments like these, I live for these moments and I want them to last. In the words of Charles Baudelaire;
**
la sexualité est le lyrisme des masses
**
"`Time to get drunk! Don't be martyred slaves of Time, Get drunk! Stay drunk! On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!'"
¥
And I'm starting to feel a little too sober; it's time for another drink. Then all went black... but don't worry it was probably just the alcohol.
Poem by Baudelaire: "Get Drunk"
Quotes also by Baudelaire and are in French:
le monde va seulement environ par le malentendu: "The world only goes round by misunderstanding"
Sois toujours un poete meme dans la prose.: "always be a poet even in prose"
le lecteur d'hypocrite, mon camarade, mon frère!: "hypocrite reader, my fellow, my brother!"
rien ne peut être fait sauf PETIT à PETIT: "nothing can be done, except little by little"
la danse est de la poésie avec les bras et les jambes.: "dancing is poetry with arms and legs"
la sexualité est le lyrisme des masses: "sexuality is the lyricism of the masses"