365 Days Of Me: January 2 -- My Gay Skin

I guess I should consider myself lucky.  The Story Behind My Homosexuality is not a tragic one.  I didn't get married, then discover myself.  I didn't burst out of the closet leaving behind a tornado of drama and self destruction.  I wasn't kicked out of my house, nor was I vilified by my family, or even my best friends.  

I hate to say it, but for the most part, I take that fact for granted.

But on occasion, I will meet up with someone who reminds me that when it comes to being gay, I've lived a pretty carefree life.  None of my problems stem from being gay, despite what some people might tell you.

---

It always amuses me that some people, with the best of intentions, will pull me aside to have a concerned conversation about my gayness.  They always act as though they are the first person to do so.  There were a few who acted as if they were the first person to notice.  I don't have the heart to tell them that even their dog noticed before they did.  

When it comes to outing me, sometimes it's accidental, but only because most of the people I know assume that everyone else knows.  When the cat is out of the bag (or as I like to call it, the vibrator has fallen out of the purse), the newly educated person often acts embarrassed for the both of us.  

I was at an office party which was being held at the office manager's house, where a woman had to be clued in on what side of the fence I mowed my grass on. When that happened, she stared at me as if I had sneaked out of a cage and was running loose, and she was the only one to notice.  I would glance at her, and there she was, staring at me, making very little effort to do anything else.  To say that I was uncomfortable was an understatement, and the look she had didn't seem like she was open to me approaching her for any reason.  She wasn't a woman that I worked with directly, so I just let it go.

I went to the kitchen to grab another puff pastry (made by a gentleman I suspected was so far in the closet, he knew where all the Scrabble pieces were), only to find the Staring Woman by herself, as if she were waiting for me.  

The only reason why I even got closer to her was because she was directly between me, and the puff pastry, and as I took a step, I expected her to hiss or something.  Instead, she started speaking, which made me freeze in my tracks.

"Aren't you even a little embarrassed?" she asked in a tone that wasn't meant to be insulting or cruel, which was another reason why I was so shocked.

Puff pastry briefly forgotten, I responded, "About what?"

"What do you mean 'about what'? You *know* what!" she hissed.  

I sighed, wishing I could just go back to the discomfort of the office party, rather than the discomfort of this conversation.  "Not really." 

Her eyes widened, and her nostrils flared, "You mean to tell me that everyone here knows of your.....oddity.....and it doesn't bother you at all?"

A woman I didn't know came in, opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a beer.  The awkward sudden silence in the room must have sent a message, because she paused briefly, sniffing for a conversation, but then hastily left.

I opened my mouth to tell Staring Woman to save her breath, when she said, "Does your mother know?"

"Uh, yeah." I said, resigned to the conversation. I knew from experience that it would be much faster to answer the questions honestly than to try to talk myself out of the mess.

"Do you want to be a woman?" she asked.

Knowing that this was a co-worker, I kept my rude responses to myself and said a simple, "Nope."

"Have you ever even....been....with a woman?" she asked.

"Nope.  Was gonna try, but it didn't work." I said.

She cocked her head and said, "She didn't want to?"

I chuckled a bit and said, "Rethink the last thing I said, and think of it a different way."  I intentionally lifted my eyebrow, and she got the innuendo right away and blushed.

She grabbed her forehead in frustration, as if she were trying to find words to either understand, or make me see the "error of my ways".

The woman who came in for a beer must have said something about the apparent drama in the kitchen, because despite my hopes, no one came in to disrupt this train wreck.  

"Look," I said, hoping to finish this once and for all, "You don't have to worry about me.  I appreciate the concern, but there is nothing to be concerned *about*."

She looked at me as if I had been behind the wheel of a wrecked vehicle with a puncture in my jugular, but said nothing.  

I decided that the moment called for a puff pastry, and I walked around her to get to one.  There were two piles.  One sweet, one savory.  the sweet ones had a wonderful icing on them, while the savory one was covered with herbs.  I took two of the bite size sweet pastries and a napkin and I walked past the Staring Woman back into where the party was.  

I was sitting on the couch, really digging the pastry, when the guy who made them came to me and asked me if I was enjoying the party.  I told him that I was and invited him to sit next to me.  We chatted for quite a bit of time about something we had in common, video games.  Not only did we both love to play video games, but we liked the same kind.  

"Say," he said, "I'm wanna make a beer run, but I've already had three.  Wanna help a guy out?"

The smile on his face was all flirt, and I told him that I would with a smile that was flirting back.  I let the office manager know where I was going, and she asked me to pick up some ice while I was gone while I was at it.  If I had mentioned who I was going with, the night might have ended differently.

---

He was parked out on the street and we didn't say much as we walked along.  We got into the car, and we were off to get some ice, and some beer.

"Where did you learn how to bake?" I asked as I pulled out onto the little street.

The guy chuckled and said, "My mother owned a bakery.  And I had to learn everything she knew, so I could carry on the tradition."

"Ah, and you had different plans?" I asked.

His smile turned down a little as he said, "She went blind suddenly a year ago, and the shop closed almost immediately. I would have loved to kept it going for her, but I'm also her only son and I could either take care of her, or the bakery."

"I'm sorry to hear that, man. What's your name anyway?"

"I'm Ben, William.  Nice to meet you."  He nodded his head. 

"Well, those pastries are wonderful.  Are they hard to make?" I asked.

His smile returned, "Not if you know what you are doing."

We made more small talk as we continued to drive.  We got to the liquor store and he went in to make the purchases.  He wasn't in long, and when he came back, he offered me a beer, one from the personal stash that he bought for himself.

"No thanks." I said, "Not old enough, and beer really isn't my thing."

He seemed disappointed at this, but he shrugged and got back into the car. 

We started to head back, and the small talk continued.  I was too shy to instigate the type of conversation I wanted to, and he wasn't providing me with any leads so I just went with the flow.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that the same parking spot I had left was still there, and I pulled in.

"Well," I said, "here we are."

I was just about to open my door, when he grabbed my hand put it directly onto his crotch.  He was fully erect, and it seemed to hum under my hand.  I was going to say something, now that I finally had the lead that I need to talk about what I wanted to, when I could feel the familiar spasms under my hand. He let out a grunt, and a sigh, and I realized I didn't have to say anything.  It was already done.

I didn't know what to say at that point, so I just kissed him on the cheek.  He gave me a shocked look and smiled sheepishly.  "Sorry," he said. "Been wanting to do that all night."

"Uh....you gonna go home now then?" I asked.

"Can't.  Wife is still in there."

Uh-oh.  I think I did a bad thing.  Well, sorta.  

"Your wife?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I think you met her."

You know those moments of realization that causes time to stop while your brain tries to put itself back together?  

Even though it was my vehicle, I got out, leaving him in there.  He could have taken the car for all I cared about, I was really freaked.  As I walked away from my vehicle, I heard the passenger side door open and close, then a shout of mild panic.  I assumed he thought I was going to blab, but that wasn't my style.  While it wasn't my first encounter with a married man, if what I suspected was true, this situation was more complicated than I was equipped to handle.

I was so freaked out that I had forgotten the ice, and I slapped my forehead in realization when the hostess asked where it was.  I told her it was still in my car, and I would go get it.  Even then, I was known for being absent minded.

I turned to get the bag, and there was Ben standing there with the bag of ice both hands.  The hostess then made a comment about the wet spot on his pants, and I looked to see that it was there, plain as day, but the condensation on the bag of ice made a great cover.  Clever that.

As I suspected, not long afterwards I saw Ben talking to the Staring Woman, but now they were both staring at me.  She was still having a judgemental conversation in her head without me, and he was hoping I would just keep my mouth shut.  I would, of course, mostly because if his wife reacted the way she did  simply because a guy she barely knew was gay, how was she going to react when she found that her husband had a hair trigger dick that was ignited by another male.

I decided to leave, but before I did, I was cornered by Ben, who said, "You aren't going to...."

"No," I said, "not my place.  But just so you know, your wife will not approve."

He scoffed as if that were the most obvious thing in the world, and I left shortly after.

---

The Staring Woman didn't stare at me when we ran into each other at work, but neither was she very friendly.  I had no idea if she knew about her husband, and I made it a point not to care.  It wasn't my problem, nor was it my story.  One thing was for sure, it wasn't the last time that story would be told.

Like I said, I consider myself very lucky that I am comfortable in my Gay Skin.  The dance steps required to live a closeted life is complicated and it's hard to keep up from what I see.  And there isn't much room to move in a closet.

I'll dance out in the open, thanks.  Even if it's on the coffee table.

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