A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Sexual Orientation (10 page)

"Let me put this a different way. How do you know you're gay?” I asked him, straightforward and matter-of-factly.

"How do you know you're straight?” he retorted in the same manner.

"Well...”
Well, shit! That backfired.
I had absolutely no idea what made me think I was straight. Could that be his point? And why was he smiling at me?

If I could tell him how I knew I was straight, I would be answering my own question to him. If I could “just know,” then it would follow that he could, too, unless he was lying.

"Let me put it another way."

I wasn't going to let him know I was wrestling with the answer. The last thing I wanted to reveal was that he might actually have me on this whole issue so far. I hated it when the beautiful people got the upper hand with me.

"When did
you
first fantasize you were gay?"

"Fantasize?” Jordan gazed at me.

"Realize. I said realize.” I hoped my face didn't give away that I just realized I really had said “fantasize."

"Right."

Okay, so he wasn't buying it. I tried.

"When did you first realize you were straight?"

"What?” Prick! Would he quit doing that?

I supposed my answer should have been along the lines of knowing it when I first lay with a woman and had sex with her, but that hadn't exactly happened yet. He didn't need to know that, though. The last time I'd been with anybody—actually, the
only
times I'd been with anybody—had been my guy friends back home a long time ago. Jordan didn't need to know that, either, since I didn't think it would help my case much.

"I feel like I'm having a conversation with myself here.” That wasn't too far from the truth.

"Maybe that's a good thing.” He spoke softly, and looked at me with knowing eyes. Exactly what it was they knew was beyond me, but something was going through that mind of his I wasn't privy to. It was just a little unnerving.

"Maybe you've needed to have this conversation with yourself for a long time. I know a lot of people who have."

Jordan suddenly tried to sound reassuring.

"What?” I hoped that response wasn't about to become habitual, since it was the second time I'd spoken it. What, exactly, was going on here? Jordan knew what conversations people had to have? What in the hell did he mean by that? For that matter, what good was it doing asking
myself
what he meant? “What do you mean by that?” Well, it was a start. “Not that I'm gay, I hope, ‘cause I'm not. I like women."

It wasn't exactly a lie. I did like women. I just hadn't found the one I wanted to engage in nocturnal mating rituals with.

"Do you?” He spoke the words evenly and without giving away whatever it was he was thinking. It was hardly fair.

"Very much so.” I needed to convince him of this. My situation of never having been with a woman sexually might open up doors of conversation and thought I wasn't ready to defend myself in. I didn't have any real experiences to draw from, but I certainly had a number of other people's. “I'm into the whole ... trapeze bar-from-the-ceiling thing."

It was the only thing I could think of. All the things my roommate Todd used to tell me about, and I couldn't remember a single one of them.

"I've hosted a number of orgies. I like women. I love that...” I knew I would blush if I said the word. “...area between their legs, especially when they shave it.” Finally, I'd said something I remembered from Todd. “Sometimes, I have a couple of them every night."

"Wow!” Jordan paused and seemed to consider what I'd said. “I'm impressed."

It was difficult to tell if he was being sincere or not. I don't know why, but I had the distinct impression he wasn't exactly believing everything I told him. Was it the way I was saying it, or was it what I was saying?

"I hope you get tested."

"Tested?"

What the hell kind of shit was this? Is that what gay guys did? Test each other during sex? What did two guys do in bed that required testing, anyway? Did they have scorecards and markers next to the bed and rate every performance?

"You mean have them grade me?"

He couldn't seriously expect me to believe that straight couples did the same thing. Oh, Christ, what if they did? Had some part of me always known I would be graded? Maybe the real pros didn't need grading, but I was hardly a pro. I didn't even think I rated as an amateur.

"Give me a break! I go to school. Those are all the tests I can handle."

"No.” Jordan chuckled. “I mean testing as in for sexually transmitted diseases. Since you're with so many women, I assume you want to remain safe."

"Oh, that. Well, yeah!” Maybe I did have some hang-ups I needed to get rid of. Maybe I needed to take another health class while I was at it, too, and catch up on everything I didn't seem to know.

Just exactly how did one get tested to know if they were safe or not? I'd never had to worry about it, so I never really paid much attention. Ignorance wasn't an excuse. I suppose if it fell off, I'd know I had a problem.

I really needed that health class.

"Yeah, I'm into that whole testing thing. In fact, I get tested at least once a week for DV."

"DV?” he asked. “Are you nervous? Don't you mean VD?"

"Veterinarial disease ... whatever.” Why would he think I was nervous? I didn't think I was nervous so where did he get off thinking it? Damn it! I wasn't nervous! I just didn't have any clue what I was talking about, that's all.

Well, okay, maybe I was a little bit on edge. It wasn't every day I had a one-on-one talk with a homosexual, and an attractive one at that. I didn't know they came that way. At least now it made a little more sense why he was looking me over earlier.

Actually, no, it didn't. With the exception of the one girl in high school, I hadn't been able to get a girl to give me a first look, much less a second one; and I refused to believe that men were the only ones who found me attractive. What if they were, though? That could be a bad thing because I didn't think I was gay...

No, I knew I wasn't gay. I couldn't be.

"Look, that's not important here.” I looked him straight in the eye. “What I'm not trying to tell you is that I'm gay.” That didn't sound right. “No, what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm not gay—that's what I'm trying to tell you."

"I never said you were.” Jordan eyed me in what appeared to be mock sympathy. Again, I had the feeling he thought he knew something I didn't.

"And I like women,” I repeated.

"I never said you didn't.” He laughed.

"And trapeze bars.” He shouldn't forget that.

"That's a little strange, even for me.” He gave me another playful nudge on the arm, as if to say that things were understood and accepted between us. “Mostly
I
like to cuddle, hold hands, listen to music, share a gourmet dinner on the beach and watch the sunset with a bottle of fine wine..."

His voice trailed off, and I found myself actually enjoying the mood he was setting. There was nothing unusual about it at all. They were all the things I had always wanted with a partner, only never had. Most of the guys I knew would never admit to wanting to share those things with their girlfriends, so I found it ironic that I would be hearing it now from someone who was gay. With the guys from school, it was just sex, sex, sex. But here...

"...and,” Jordan continued, and I listened intently, hanging on his next few words and the place they would take me, “when the time is right, make hot, passionate love."

Nope, I definitely wasn't going to that place.

"I've never been able to get into this whole carefree sex thing, like trapeze bars and orgies. It's too seventies for a guy like me."

"Well.” I tried to sound like a typical male who was admitting something he shouldn't. “Let me tell you—sex is kinda overrated. All that strange stuff is fine and all, but it's not exactly what I would call fulfilling."

I wondered if typical men ever even used the word
fulfilling
, but Jordan nodded as if he understood what I was saying. Well, he would. I had absolutely no idea if sex was overrated or not, but I really did identify with all the things he said he wanted to share with a partner.

"Sometimes, I find myself just wanting to spend time with someone and talk about what's going on in life, about what's going on in their life and my own. I want to share my ideas about what I'm writing, what I want to write, maybe read a poem and have them give me some feedback. I want to hear about their day and, if it was good, share the happiness and, if it was bad, help cheer them up or share in their sorrow.” I looked up at him. “You know?"

"I know."

"I don't ever want to limit myself or settle."

There wasn't much space between the two of us, and I was suddenly grateful for that. What I was saying was personal, and I felt as if he was the one person who could understand me right now. Maybe it was because he didn't mind me talking or because he actually seemed interested in what I had to say, but I felt I could identify with him, and I didn't pretend to understand why. It was just a good feeling and I went with my instincts.

"Unfortunately, I sometimes set my standards so high that no one can ever live up to them, but I still won't settle."

"I don't ever want to settle, either,” he said in soft agreement.

"Then, too, maybe it's more than that for me. Sometimes, I feel like I'm one of those idiots who's so busy trying to conquer the world, but who creates so many other problems in the process that I end up losing myself in the struggle to keep myself out of trouble."

The grass suddenly seemed very appealing to look at, and I lowered my head to stare at it.

"Then, sometimes, I think the reason I do that is so I can lose myself. I've never really thought much of myself, and with the exception of my parents, no one else ever has, either. It's just something I've learned to live with instead of constantly feeling sorry for myself. I could end up a very lonely and bitter old man one day.” I looked back up and stared into his eyes. “Only that's not what I want.

"The more I try to lose myself, though, the faster I find myself running from everything and everyone. I don't want to miss out on friendships and romance with the right people, but I don't know how to slow down long enough to take a look around me."

"Maybe someone should slow you down.” Jordan leaned forward and kissed me. It was only a light brushing of the lips, but it was enough to substantiate its being called a kiss.
Why did he do that?

"Why did you do that?"

Everything felt suddenly still, as if nothing else existed around us. I wondered if this moment was somehow being frozen in time, but to what end? Jordan, this man I just met and had opened up to, had kissed me. I had never romantically kissed a man in my life, even when I was experimenting with my friends so many years ago. Actually, I still hadn't kissed a man romantically. He kissed me, not vice-versa!

I didn't know how I felt about this, mostly because I think the spirits had gotten to me. The champagne was really making me sweat, and my entire body felt like it was on fire. Hell, my lips were tingling. This was some expensive stuff!

"Because I wanted to and you wanted me to."

"No, I didn't.” I backed away a little bit in case he thought about doing it again. No more alcohol for me! My body felt like it was melting right into the lounger, and my mind seemed to be reaching for some euphoric state I dared not escape to yet. “Why would you get the idea I wanted you to kiss me? I just got done telling you I liked women. So, why did you do it?"

"I told you, you wanted me to."

"I did not! I never said ‘Jordan, kiss me.’”

"Now you're just saying it verbally.” He moved towards me again, and I moved farther away.

"Don't do it again!” I fell backwards off the lounger. “Shit!” I quickly stood back up, however unsteadily. “It's bad enough you did it the first time."

He seemed to be enjoying the entire scenario.

"What? You think I
enjoyed
it?"

"Well...” He motioned with his head and eyes at my waist. “...you tell me."

"Huh?” I looked down and saw the problem. I'd been so preoccupied with the current events that I hadn't realized just how claustrophobic my pants had grown. “It's the champagne."

I just wanted to get away, mostly to cover up the fact I had an erection. Whatever was going on and whatever reactions I was having to the situation simply didn't feel right. I couldn't identify specifically what they were, but they made me very uncomfortable.

Why was he doing this to me?

"Look, uh, it's been nice talking to you, but I know there's a relative of mine here...” I started walking backwards. “...who I thought was dead but isn't.” I put my hand in my pocket to try and correct a rather protruding problem. “And I have to talk to her before she does die and before I leave in sex days ... six days."

Jordan looked after me, still amused.

"It's really a nasty thing, too, because she's extremely old and...” I backed up farther. “...her flesh is practically falling off her bones. Pretty soon, nobody'll be able to understand what she's talking about because her mouth will be hanging right where her breasts used to be."

[Back to Table of Contents]

The rest of the party was a total disaster. The first thing I did after leaving Jordan and the side yard was to adjust myself and head over to where the food was and fix a plate. It was of paramount importance to me that I counteract the effects of the champagne, especially since I still wasn't thinking very clearly.

There was still a bit of a line at the buffet table, but I finally managed to start picking up some little delicacies. Best of all, no one thought to talk to me, and that precluded any stress of having to make pleasant and banal conversation back. I was too stressed out anyway. Thinking about the kiss—and the fact I'd had an erection—wasn't the tough part. Thinking about not thinking about the kiss and erection was the trick. That was what made things so stressful.

All the times in my life when I pulled a boner, and here I actually had one.