It’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m hiding in a stall in a bathroom on the third floor of a college dorm wondering how the hell I ended up here?
Okay, actually, the first thought that entered my head was who the hell cleans this place? I know we boys are generally messy, but good God almighty, this place is disgusting. At some point fellas, don’t we learn to aim?
But I digress.
Yes, I’m standing here because, in a moment of weakness, I forgot that I’m almost thirty three, and turned back into a horny teenager all because a cute guy who goes to school here invited me over because he thought I was “funny and cool” and if I was “into it”, we could “have some fun.”
Yup. That would be how I got here. Full figured, sassy and brassy, blonde me. This guy, who could be my son if I were a reckless, heterosexual fourteen year old back in the day, thought I was something special. I certainly thought he was something special. I’m a sucker for blue eyes, goofy smiles, and big…personalities.
And I’m hiding in a bathroom because?
Somewhere between the hellos, “do you want something to drink?” and his boxers flying over my head (which thankfully didn’t take my hair off with them), I started to panic just a little.
If I were to die right now, is this how I want this ship to go down? No pun intended. What would my Mother say? “If only he would have quit whoring around and settled down!” Then she would launch into her rant about how my being gay denied her her right to be a grandmother (she still doesn’t quite understand that being gay does not biologically prevent me from fathering a child…it’s just the idea of having one of my own makes me want to stand in the middle of the interstate and pray for a drunk driver to find me. What? Too much?). But that’s another story.
I felt odd. This was supposed to be a casual hook-up like the others. Not the best time for my conscience to show up. He’s usually in the other room listening to his iPod and checking his Facebook account.
Just tune him out, I thought to myself. Focus on something else (“Something other than you being a complete tramp and setting a bad example for this young man?” Oh, damn it! Knock it off, conscience!) Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the boxer-less wonder’s music collection. He actually had CDs. That was a positive sign and made me less like some lecherous grandpappy. In the few discs he had was Jessica Simpson’s country CD. Now, I don’t mean to be disrespectful toward the mom jean-wearing singer, but if listening to her music isn’t a reason to flee the scene like the building is on fire, I ask you, tell me what is? At that point, I told him to hold his…thought, politely excused myself and proceeded to haul my big ass down the hall as fast as I could, taking refuge in the aforementioned bathroom of ill repute.
In said bathroom, I came to the stunning realization that 1) I should have brought my cleaning supplies with me and did these nasty boys a favor and 2) I can’t do this anymore. At some point, everybody has to grow up and accept who he or she is and what they are.
What I am is a thirty three year old guy who has been spending the better part of his life fucking around because real intimacy scares the shit out of me. Hooking up with a younger guy, for example, sounds easier because they haven’t yet dealt with the crap you deal with by the time you’re my age: broken hearts, broken promises, and the reality that no one’s life ever turns out the way they expected. Also, if you go into these things like I typically do (no drama, no strings, no expectations) you’re not around long enough for anyone to get hurt. It is what it is. Having “some fun”.
But even this has a price, dear readers, and I finally realize that it’s more than I’m willing to spend. I guess I would rather feel empty but be able to respect myself in the morning than continue to fill my emotional voids with mindless fun and debauchery. It’s kind of like diet soda. It quenches your thirst, but has no real nutritional value.
Feeling better and more emotionally clear, I scurried back to the dorm room of shame to end the night as graciously as I could. He was still sitting where left him. His…friend, was still present as well.
I suppose I could feel better about myself tomorrow…