“I Don’t See What Anyone Can See In Anyone Else. …But You.”
Part One:
His expression was of pure ecstasy. He was quietly panting; his chest repeatedly swelled and relaxed. A few candles had been lit earlier that evening that gleamed off the sweat that accumulated on his face and the little beads of perspiration collected all across his body. He stared down at me, a look of mixed curiosity and intrigue flicked across his face. I came up close to him, making eye contact. His nervousness and uncertainty was over powered by his licentious interest and newfound sexual desire. I touched his cheek, and he touched my back. I touched his arm; he looked down, and then smiled. It was suddenly silent, which stopped him for a moment while he turned to switch records.
I met him for the first time earlier that evening. I was drunk and stoned, and was brought to his house, so that my friends could buy an eighth of weed. When we arrived, he was sitting in his room, mixing music, and playing with his turntables. With one side of his headphones on, he flicked and played with both records, sending them into a glitch-pop frenzy. I sat on the couch across the room from him, while Heather and I vibed and grooved to the telepop beats. We sat there smoking out of his bong, and just laughed the night away, dancing to the music, while I frequently caught him stealing glances. He blushed every time. .
As we were leaving, he told us that he was playing at a party the following night, and that we should all come. He then gave me his phone number, and told me to text him so he had it. I winked at him, and told him I would. Shortly afterwards, I recived this text:
“Yo im really into spinnin at the moment. Ur welcome to come chill if u want. I’ll show you my new mix. Then… you can let me know if you like it.”
I was surprised by how quickly he wrote back to me. On the other hand, I was wearing skintight straight-leg jeans, a green Volcom hoodie, and have long dark hair (styled and teased), with matching scene make up. Perhaps a bit androgynous in style, but apparently that seemed to strike his fancy. I hopped in my jeep, and headed back to his house.
He was a bit awkward. Perhaps that’s what initially attracted me. He was still sitting at his turntables, when I walked in the door. The only thing different about the setting was that candles had been lit, the lights were low, and there was incense burning. If I knew any better, I’d have thought that his hair was combed, and he was wearing a different t-shirt.
I sat on his bed, across from his turntables. I closed my eyes, and I listened to him spin. In complete honesty, he wasn’t half bad. You could tell how much he loved his music, by the delicacy of his touch on his records, and the deliberate timing with each edit and rip. It was an art form that you could not only hear, but you could see it as well.
He asked if I was comfortable. I told him to come sit next to me. He paused, set his headphones next to his records, and walked over. He looked down at me, half-smiled, and then sat. The record skipped, and he abruptly got up to fix it. He asked me if I wanted a drink. I asked him for a martini. He replied that he only had beer and vodka. Apparently he didn’t quite understand what went into a martini. I told him I would have vodka on the rocks. He laughed and asked if I wanted a chaser. I responded that I wasn’t in high school taking shots of McCormick’s and that I drink liquor to appreciate the quality, rather than get wasted. He looked at me for a moment, smiled, and fetched me a drink.
I love that it burned as it went down, taking the edge off. He too chose to drink a vodka on the rocks, which he clearly had never tried, by the expression on his face. I laughed and told him that it would take some getting used to. He shrugged and set down his drink, moving closer to me; the loud clink of the glass silenced the room. He looked at me for a moment. I smiled when he touched my leg.
“I’ve never done-”
“I figured.” I replied.
I however, have in fact done this before. Luckily for both of us, I knew what I was doing. I think that it put him at ease knowing that I wasn’t nervous or indecisive. I leaned in a little, leaving small room for question. His breath smelled of liquor and weed. Only a moment passed before our lips touched. It was gentle, which I had anticipated. He was tall, with sandy blond hair. He touched his hand to my face, pressing the other against the small of my back. We sank into his bed, and I ran my hand behind him, under his shirt.
The music was slow but strong, matching the thumping in his chest. He was on his back, very clearly aroused, by the bulge in his Corona boxers that was steadily growing. I was straddling him, looking down. His hands softly grazed the white piping of my pink briefs, touching the side of my thighs. I touched his chest, leaned in, and kissed him lightly on the lips. I slid my body next to his, and pressed the length of myself against him. He told me that I smelled good. I laughed. He brushed my hair from my face, and said, “You’re beautiful.”
I simply replied, “Thank you.”
His expression was of pure ecstasy. He was quietly panting; his chest repeatedly swelled and relaxed.
Part Two:
He was so peaceful, sleeping there naked with his sheets wrapped so elegantly around him. The candles had since burned out. 3:57am. I grabbed my underwear off his turntables, and put them in the pocket of my hoodie. I slid my jeans back on, pulled over my shirt, and grabbed my shoes. I leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Then I walked out of the room, and closed the door behind me.
While I was driving home, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Tonight, I guided this boy through a sexual revolution! It seems that I have a track record of doing such things. I think it is quite possible that I have had more sex with heterosexual men, than I have with gay ones. Perhaps it’s because I don’t sleep with very many people (despite the rumors and what people may say). Or maybe perhaps it’s because I’m attracted to men that other gay man haven’t tainted. A friend of mine thinks that it’s because I’m fearful of committing myself to another person, so when I do sleep with someone, it’s in a setting where I don’t have to worry about becoming attached.
It’s completely true that I am reluctant to dive head first into a relationship. God forbid I look for someone that I enjoy spending time with, rather than a boyfriend that I’m going to realize I have nothing in common with, and end up ending when I get bored of him. The only way you can love another is by learning to love yourself first. When you stop looking for love, that’s when it will come to you.
So until then, I’ll stick to what I do best.
He sent me three text messages today. I was glad to hear that I had given him a sexual experience that was not only the most memorable, but “was fucking awesome. I didn’t kno some1 could do that! When can I C U again?” (Poor use of grammar and all). As flattered as I am, I doubt I will see him long term. He’s a nice guy, but he doesn’t see me as dateable. And frankly, I know nothing about him.
Whenever I meet someone new, I’m either immediately pegged into one of three categories: I’m either a piece of ass, a piece of mind, or a piece of work.
It’s true that I have a very dominant personality. However, I try to make it a point to be kind and warm. It’s been told to me, that that is one of my attractive qualities. I personally believe that my willingness to make decisions and be forward with people is part of my charm. Sometimes others are threatened my by my ease to confront and talk to people I don’ t know. Meeting people is actually one of my favorite things to do.
I would be lying if I said that I didn’t mind being plagued by these three positions. Desperately I have I tried to be viewed as more than a piece of ass… as more than a best friend… as more than opinionated. I feel that I am constantly at war with the world, because I’m trapped into three difference cages at once.
For a while, I had an infatuation with my friend Jeff. Not only did we have the most amazing time together, but also he was funny and made me laugh. I’ve been told by a few different people, that he has stood up to bat for me, on more than one occasion. And that is something that I lack in most other friends.
I watched him be in these relationships with these boys with six packs, and big arms. I see him lust after men with chiseled jaw bones, and ripped stomachs. While men like that are nice to look at, I’ve found from personal experience that they tend to lack depth. I understand that he wants to be with someone who is physically perfect, but there is so much more out there to experience! I’m never surprised when his relationships end in heartbreak, which is then interrupted by his lustful desire for someone new. He is always on the prowl.
Don’t misread my words about Jeff and his relationships. That is purely observation. I adore this boy (clearly) and wish nothing but happiness for him. It’s unfortunate that when he asks for advice, he never really listens. I suppose I wouldn’t either, if I was in his position. He’s a cute college freshman! I suppose I would live it up as well. However, I would know the difference between seeking someone out because of my lustful eye, and seeking something real. He still can’t tell the two apart. Which in all fairness, most men can’t, regardless of their age.
I’ve lain awake at night next to him, thinking to myself about how beautiful this boy is, and how I could treat him better than anyone else. He’s smart, driven, ambitious, funny, and cute. He doesn’t even realize what a catch he is. He also can’t even see it when someone doesn’t want anything from him, but his company. It’s a rarity when I find myself genuinely caring for someone else like that. Then I’m reminded by his blatant yearn for some random gorgeous man to come take him away. I knew it was unrealistic to crush on him. It’s not often when I my feelings for someone are mutual, which I’ve found is probably for the best. Saves you heart break in the end. I just wish he could see what a great guy he is.
The moment I start having an intelligent conversation with someone, I’m not sexually attractive, thus I’m his new best friend. Moreover, when I have an intelligent conversation and don’t agree with his views, I’m a piece of work! What I have learned from these men, was to keep my mouth shut, go to the gym, and only then will find true happiness.
Yeah. Right.
Frankly, I don’t want to be with any man that thinks that way. And if that dismisses me, then so be it. I don’t need a man like that to make me happy. I’ve spent so much time worrying about hot guys, and flashy cars… fuck I’ve been in relationships with them. I’m never happy. I’m always looking for someone hotter or better. I’m never truly happy because they’re not people I can to. I just want someone to talk to at the end of the day.
I want a part time lover and a full time friend.
Matty B.
