Between Boyfriends (11 page)

“I’m giving you your space,” Flynn said.

“I’m trying not to pry,” Gus said.

“I’m not interested,” Lindsay said.

“Lies, lies, and more lies. Brian is terrific! He’s hot, he’s got a great job, and he’s the best kisser ever!”

“You’ve already told us that, honey,” Flynn reminded me.

“So I’ll tell you again and you will act as if it’s news.”

Flynn, Lindsay, and Gus all took sips of their coffee drinks at the same time, eyeing each other conspicuously.

“Steven, please tell me you’re taking things slowly and that you haven’t already given names to the children you and Brian will adopt?” Flynn queried.

“I am taking things slowly. I only called him once since our date. Do you think I’d jeopardize our relationship by revealing my OCD symptoms before our one-month anniversary?”

“And the children?” Flynn asked.

“Leilani-Anjanette and Montgomery,” I confessed.

“After Montgomery Clift, how sweet,” Gus remarked.

“Actually it’s in honor of the capital of Alabama, where Brian’s from.”

“Do yourself a favor! Book Loretta a double room and join her,” Lindsay declared. “You’re as crazy as she is!”

“I am not crazy. I’m happy.”

Without sounding as if I was itching to become the latest member of the Hallmark Hall of Fame, I explained how I knew that Brian and I didn’t have a solid relationship yet and that at any moment he could cancel our second date and I’d never see him again, but the possibility that we could have a relationship had made me happy and I was embracing it. Past experience had taught me that a love life is fleeting, so even though I knew men are chameleonic and can change their emotions at will I was choosing to have fun while it lasted.

“Mama like a cockeyed optimist,” Flynn said, smiling.

“Always with the dirty remarks, Flynn,” Lindsay remarked. “No wonder breeders are convinced gay men don’t know the difference between love and sex.”

“It’s a lyric to a show tune,” Gus said.

“Worse! Nelly gay men who don’t know the difference between love and sex.”

“That’s the fag calling the kettle gay,” I said. “Among the four of us which one’s love for his daddy grows every time Daddy’s dick goes up his ass?”

“I am not in love with my daddy! I just want him to fuck my ass in a sling every Tuesday at nine. What the hell is wrong with that?”

The table of tourists next to us didn’t answer, but simply took this as their cue to scurry away, the dominant female of the group covering her young daughter’s ears and casting a look at Lindsay similar to the one Satan must have seen when God cast him out of heaven.

Gus took this as the perfect moment to change the subject and invite us all to his swanky apartment for a Halloween party the following Saturday night. Of course we all agreed to come and I was thrilled that I would have a date to bring. Lindsay, ever the party planner, declared a TV theme and announced that each of us must dress up as his favorite TV character. Gus sighed and reiterated his belief that the fall of American culture was due exclusively to the overly important status our uncultured society has given television.

“I have two words for you, Gus,” I said. “Benny Hill.”

The rest of the evening was spent tossing out ideas about what characters we should come as. I felt extremely proud when I said I couldn’t make my decision until I spoke with Brian. Even if I was putting my Gay Relationship In Fast Forward, it was refreshing not to have to decide something on my own.

Another thing I didn’t have to do on my own was entertain myself on a Friday night. Two dates in one week wasn’t a record for me, but it was a welcome reminder that I was boyfriend material and could attract a gentleman’s eye for more than a quick one-nighter. Brian and I decided to extend the lesbian metaphor we started over dinner and go bowling. I gave a lesbian mainstay a homo twist and wore a short-sleeved flannel shirt in green, yellow, and mauve plaid with faux-pearl button snaps. I rolled up the sleeves an extra notch and left the top two buttons unbuttoned in order to show maximum flesh. Twenty quick dumbbell curls to give my arms a little more oomph and I was ready to go.

Brian was waiting for me outside Bowlmor Lanes wearing a quiet smile and a very loud red and black bowling shirt with the name S
HIRLEY
embroidered on the front pocket. He out-lesbianed me.

“You look great,” Brian said.

“So do you, Shirley,” I replied.

He was still laughing when he kissed me, which made me giggle. With one kindhearted kiss the stress and commotion of my week evaporated. It was as if Loretta, Laraby, and the rest of the energy-sucking
ITNC
crowd didn’t exist. It was just me and Brian and, of course, a bowling alley full of rowdy strangers.

I chugged my second Bud Light as Brian bowled his third strike in a row. Hustled, I was. Brian had told me he was a member of A Ball with Three Holes, the premiere gay bowling league in town, but I hadn’t actually thought he’d be a good bowler. I figured he had merely joined for the social aspect, which was really the only reason to join any sport. Learning new things about your date is what the whole darn dating thing is about anyway.

“Excuse me, Shirley,” I said.

“Yes, Laverne?” he replied.

“You suggested we go bowling so you could show off, didn’t you?”

“That depends. Have I impressed you?”

“Yes! But you’ve also depressed me,” I confessed. “I suck!”

“Please don’t change the subject, we’re talking about bowling.”

“Dirty bird! Someone spends a lot of time in the gutter when they’re out of the bowling alley.”

Sitting next to Brian on the hard plastic bowling bench I got a rush of memory. I remembered sitting on a similar bench at the Columbia Bowling Lanes in Union City, New Jersey next to Tommy Guma in seventh grade. We were on the same PAL bowling league and every Saturday morning we would talk about
Star Wars
or
Planet of the Apes
in between making fools out of ourselves by trying to hit ten pins with one ball. At that time I hadn’t yet admitted to myself that I was 100 percent gay, but I knew that I loved spending those Saturday mornings with Tommy. The conversation was effortless and we both wanted to hear what the other had to say, just like now. I hadn’t thought about Tommy in years and so I thanked Brian and explained.

“Should I be jealous?” he asked.

“Not at all. Tommy moved out of state the next year and I never saw him again.”

“Then I take the comparison as a compliment.”

It was my turn to bowl, although with a score of fifty-eight in the ninth frame there really was no point of continuing the charade. But as on those Saturday mornings a lifetime ago, bowling for me was less about bowling and more about bonding.

“Nice ass,” Brian shouted.

The ball flew out of my hand and landed with a thud an inch away from the left-hand gutter, which it proceeded to enter and roll noisily down until it disappeared from view. I turned and almost bumped right into Brian, who was standing on the lane. He was smiling his easy smile and I found myself staring at a man who was in total flirt mode. But what I liked about Brian was that his flirting was natural, while mine was often forced and sounded scripted. I desperately tried to think of something clever to say, but decided to follow Brian’s lead and take things slow.

“I hope you didn’t feel the need to return the compliment?” I asked.

“Nope. I just call ’em as I see ’em. And you have a nice ass. And a nice mouth.”

By this time Brian’s breath mingled with mine and when he pressed against me to kiss me right there on the bowling lane his boner pushed up against my own hard-on. I closed my eyes and tried not to think that every single person in Bowlmor Lanes was watching me. I wanted to enjoy this moment. When Brian pulled away, his naughty smile told me everything I needed to know. He liked my ass, but he liked me more.

As Brian prepared to bowl another strike, I saw a twenty-something girl a few lanes over staring at me. She smiled and raised her beer bottle in my direction. I saluted her with my Bud Light and beamed because the world recognized that my date was a hot catch.

During our third game I learned that Brian’s mother was stopping in New York next month on her way to Budapest. Ever since her divorce, Brian said, his mother was using most of the money she’d won in the settlement to see the world she hadn’t while she was bound by the shackles of matrimony. But before he could tell me any more about the prison that was his parents’ marriage, I saw that my beer buddy had left and in her lane were Sebastian and some older fat man. Not wanting Sebastian to be the first friend Brian met, I quickly turned around, but alas, not fast enough.

“Steven!” Sebastian cried. “Over here! It’s me, Sebastian!”

Waving his arms frantically overhead, Sebastian’s tight little tee rose up a few inches exposing his taut stomach muscles and a bit of pube.

“Friend or ex-lover?” Brian said.

“Second-tier friend. I don’t even have him on speed dial.”

Leaving the fat man to do the prebowling setup on his own, Sebastian sashayed over to our lane and introduced himself.

“You must be Brian,” Sebastian said, extending his hand. “I’m Sebastian.” He yanked Brian closer and leaned in to kiss one cheek and then the other. “Thank you for asking Steven out. It’s been so long we thought he turned straight on us.”

“He was just waiting to bump into the right man.”

“Speaking of, do you have any Tina?” Sebastian asked. “I won’t even bother to ask Nancy Reagan here.”

“Sorry, call me Ronald,” Brian said.

“You just say no to drugs too?” Sebastian asked. “What the hell is the gay community coming to?”

Perfect. Now the first impression Brian would have of my circle of friends is that they’re a bunch of swishy, recreational drug users. I had to shift the conversation.

“Sebastian, who’s your fella?”

“Oh, that’s Henry,” Sebastian said. “We’re going to bowl a few games then I’m gonna blow him.”

“What?” Brian said, only because I was rendered speechless.

“I met him last week when I was dancing at Marys. He’s a software salesman and he just got a huge bonus so he was extra generous with the tips.”

“So for an extra twenty you’re going to blow him?” I asked.

“Do you think I would really have sex with a man who gives me money?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, that’s true, but Henry bought me a suit and for that he’s going to get a nice tongue-whaling.”

I was back to being speechless so Brian continued the interrogation.

“Did he at least pay retail?” Brian chuckled.

“Of course! It’s a gorgeous John Varvatos three-button pin-striped suit in navy blue,” Sebastian explained. “I will look like a fucking designer diva! Ooh, Shamu is ready to roll, see you later, boys.”

“Enjoy,” I said.

Sebastian took something out from his back pocket and handed it to me. For the third time that evening I was rendered speechless as I saw that I was holding three condoms, one light blue, one red, and the third clearly smelling like apple pie.

“I’m not going to need these tonight,” Sebastian declared. “Fat stuff is getting a blow job and
nada más
. It’s not like papi bought me Armani.” He flounced away.

Mortified, I stared down at the condoms. Suddenly, Brian grabbed them and threw them in the garbage.

“We won’t be needing those either,” Brian said.

“Oh, really?”

“Look, I’m not into retrocopulation and I do use condoms,” Brian explained. “But you might as well know right now that I have a no-sex-until-the-third-date rule. So no matter how hard you try and no matter how much I want to we’re not having sex until our third date. But when we do have sex, and trust me we will, I promise it’s gonna be really, really good.”

I just smiled and told him that we had something else in common. Then I gave him a sexy kiss and told him to bowl me another strike. Goshdarnit if he didn’t comply.

This time I walked him home and on the way asked him to be my date for Gus’s Halloween party. Without hesitation he agreed and reminded me that it would be our third date. I told him I had already figured that out. We had a spirited discussion about what characters to dress up as, but I told him that since I work in the entertainment industry I should have the final say. Reluctantly he agreed and we decided to go as Felix and Oscar from
The Odd Couple
with me being Felix and he Oscar. It was a much better choice than
Mork & Mindy,
even if Brian thought Mork’s rainbow suspenders hid a pro-gay message. If I wasn’t so excited to have a date to a holiday party that was going to end with hot sex, I would have been upset that Brian’s taste in television was suspect.

The good-night kiss this time was much longer and more intense. I was relieved that Brian didn’t cross the line and try to turn our two dates into a meaningful relationship by saying something he really didn’t mean. It’s okay to daydream about such things, but to act upon them is self-destructive. His blue eyes conveyed just enough honesty without making my green eyes roll. But the perfect capper to the evening came just before I went to bed—Brian sent me a text message:
Two for two, can’t wait for number three.
I’d have to remember to buy a new box of condoms.

The days raced by like calendar pages between scenes in an old MGM musical. Nothing really important happened, but there was always this happy melody playing in the back of my head, something sweet and bouncy to accompany me until Saturday night when I would see Brian again.

It’s amazing how the beginning of a relationship affects your day-to-day. Very little bothered me, not the endless meetings at work to deal with Loretta’s indefinite absence, not the onslaught of Indian summer, which I despise; not even my mother’s incessant phone calls. I didn’t get upset when my mother wanted to guest on her favorite quiz show,
Tell Me All about Steven’s New Boyfriend,
nor did I zone out when she chattered on about the tenants group’s upcoming Halloween costume party. In fact I was thrilled that she had convinced Audrey to go with her as before and after Barbras and even offered advice on how to gussy up their costumes so they could beat Sheila and Vinny Caruso. I told her that if she wanted to win first prize Audrey should not dress up like Fanny Brice, but should wear a copy of the black chiffon Scaasi peek-a-boo pantsuit Barbra wore when she accepted her first Oscar in 1969. My mother, as always, was grateful that she raised a brilliant homosexual son.