A Halloween Tale

…and so it was that our hero, finding himself with a lack of plans for the weekend, agreed to accompany Ginger and her two gay neighbors on a 7-hour road trip to west Tennessee for Halloween festivities.

What have I done.

On the Subject of Fellatio

…nah, I’ll save this story for another time.

On the Subject of Kissing

“I can’t believe you’ve never kissed a guy before”, said the young man in front of me. He was one year younger than me, and was seated sideways in the driver’s seat of my car, looking up at me as I stood in front of him. We were parked at the far end of the K-Mart parking lot, and he had walked me to my car, talking sweetly and being very, very charming. It was a little weird that he was wearing a Halloween costume as a promotional thing for work, but that didn’t matter too much at the time.

“No, I never have,” I said, looking at him.

“C’mere,” he said, smiling. He tugged on my shearling coat and pulled me toward him, and down to his level. I looked at him for a brief moment, and the next thing I knew, his lips were pressed against mine.

I cannot begin to tell you the feelings that flooded my being, feeling him guide my mouth with his. He was such a good kisser. He caressed my tongue with his… he sucked on my tongue… he tugged on my lower lip… he did it all. The feeling of his stubble against my face… mmmmm.

I came up for air, wide-eyed and bewildered.

“What?” he said.

“Jesus,” I said, “that was amazing.” He smiled broadly and pulled me back to him, and we kissed again. I even licked and nibbled his neck, and his hands couldn’t help but to explore me. Utterly incredible. I would have to stop occasionally and walk away whenever I felt myself starting to, er… *respond*, and he acted disappointed every time I did that.

“I’m not easy,” I said, smiling.

“Sure you are,” he said. I held his hand and looked at him, sitting there in my car, looking up at me. I smiled; he smiled. No words were necessary.

We kissed again. Each kiss seemed to linger longer than the last; our maneuvers elicited quiet little whimpers of happiness from me, and from him. I thought of nothing but the moment; I lost all track of who I was and where I was. So it came as some surprise to me when a car drove by us somewhat slowly and I heard a voice yell “go to Hell“. I broke the kiss for a moment and looked up; the car was driving off. I didn’t realize at first that the statement had been directed at us, sitting at the far end of the parking lot, off to ourselves.

I looked at him; he looked at me. “Don’t pay any attention to that,” he said, and pulled me back in for another kiss. I listened to his advice; I wasn’t going to let this ruin my first official make-out session. But, when the person in the same vehicle circled back around and yelled “you sick motherfuckers“, I stood up straight, took a deep breath, and turned away.

“Josh, don’t let it bother you”, he said. “It’s just part of where we live.”

“This is the first time that’s ever happened to me before,” I replied. I leaned against my car and breathed heavily, unable to even look at the man who moments ago had made me so happy.

“It will be OK,” he said. He sensed I was frightened.

“I need to go,” I said. “Call me when you get off work.”

“You’re going to cry, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not going to cry.”

“It’s ok, I cried the first time that happened to me.”

“It ought not to be this way.”

“I know Josh, but it is. We can’t let it bother us. Besides, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” After several minutes of assuring him that I wouldn’t cry, we parted ways, and I returned home, where I’ve spent the evening with a heavy heart, trying to reassure myself that I’m going to be ok, that people aren’t going to beat me up or anything… scared as hell, and my constant mantra of “I’m not sick” is doing little to help it.

What’s At Stake in California

Support for Proposition 8 the California election is growing–if it wins, same-sex marriage will be banned there. Please, help out California–support the No on Prop. 8 efforts.

The Degeneracy Continues

So I did my very first shot of tequila last night. With a couple of gay guys. And followed it with a couple of beers. And we watched “Sordid Lives”.

It’s not exactly like I didn’t have a social life before… but it’s pretty awesome to be able to do things with my people. I feel sort of like the ugly duckling coming across a flock of black swans.

It’s pretty cool.

Real Domestic Terrorists

Who’s “palling around” with who?

Well, OK.

OK, so the date wasn’t a home run. But it was fun. And the fact that I found this guy–and was the one who asked him out–is a pretty big deal to me, and I guess is a small victory in my book.

In other news, I went and got tested for the whole gamut of STDs based on the fact that my little July romp ended up being, er… less than safe? I have had no symptoms of anything but before I go chasing after anyone else, I want a clean bill of health as hard evidence to present to any potential mates. It’s the socially responsible thing to do.

*******BREAKING NEWS*******

The dude just messaged me, said he had fun, and he wants to go out again.

*swoon*

WOOOOOO DATE

I
went
on
my
very
first

DATE

this
evening
and
it
went

WELL

The Civil War in My Head

A good friend recently pointed out a certain discrepancy to me that I think I was dimly aware of before, but that I didn’t realize was so obvious to others.

“You seem to have two very distinct tastes in music–some of it really noisy and angry and some of it really ultra-flaming.” (This is not an exact quote.)

Yesterday was not a very good day. I nearly threw out my back from overexertion, as I cleaned all day and made the foolish choice to go to a corn maze and haunted house with Luke and the girl attache. Early in the evening, I learned that she and Luke had, in fact, been having sex, which immediately broke my faggy little heart and left me mopey the rest of the night. As my back steadily grew worse, as I saw them leaning on each other and whatnot, as I looked around at the line to the haunted house and saw dozens of young couples bundled up together to keep warm and kissing and nuzzling and all that… well, let’s say it was difficult for me to keep a sunny disposition.

The strangest thing about this was that I was unable to fall back into the complete despondency that gripped me in my teenage years. Even as the blackest thoughts crossed my mind and my eyes moistened from the gross unfairness before me, I still had a slight sliver of hope, golden memories of the experience of true beauty, even if these moments were only fleeting. I have a civil war in my head; I cannot give myself over fully to the negativity that was my comfort and strength in the past. As much as I want to hate the world and resent all those who live the charmed lives of the status quo, I cannot do it. I am unable to do it. Some small, vital piece of me was transformed, was illuminated at some point in the past, and now I can’t hide in the shadows anymore.

I can now draw strength from both optimism and pessimism; the darkness is just as viable as the light, but I cannot accept either as the one way to go. At least, not at this point in my life. I want the good; I want to be privy to the happiness I see in others, but I have lived long enough to know what it feels like to continuously want something that is out of reach. So… I have to temper my desire for redemption with… the old standby.

Obama Roasting McCain

Among his other skills, Barack Obama has pretty good comedic timing.