Christian Brothers
I was told recently that I'm a "messy dater". Apparently there is a way to meet people and keep it safe and clean and easy. Maybe that's true. But I've always been the kind of person who jumps into muddy puddles, who digs through the trash. I think that if I found a way to believe in and pursue such order, that white picket fence, I would find a way to grind it into dust.
I went out on Friday to go on a date with this college student. The plan had been for me to go to the Castro around 7:20 and wait for his call, at which point we would decide where to eat. He called me 20 minutes late, after the chilling wind and rain had found its way under all my protective layers. He was already several drinks in, hanging with friends, he was sorry to call late, could I meet him at the Bar? I sensed his immaturity, I said it was ok. On the way there I prepared my shoulders for what I could already tell would be a challenging evening.
And it was. He pranced and preened around everywhere we went like a cockatiel. He talked, a lot, too much. He dropped names and novels. He learned nothing about me, because he never asked. He told me that he hated white people and yet all of his friends were white. He told me that he hated talking to people in bars but made a point to start conversations with any strangers in our vicinity. His endless movement made me feel simple and too serious.
A friend of his, around 32, provided entertainment. Every time College would run off, 32 would look at me with sad eyes and ask me to come home with him. He would beg for my number, he would stick his hand down my shirt. I enjoyed the attention, yet found his neediness unsettling. While College never asked me a question, 32 asked too many. Was he too old? Did he look fat? Was he boring? How old did he look to me? Was he too old? They both managed to never see me, just their own darkening reflections.
I grew exhausted yet restless. I wanted to be alone, in an open space, to breathe clean night air.
Later...
I'm peeing, the urinal is familiar. A cough. I am self conscious, I realize that someone is in the stall next to where I'm standing, and that the stall's wall has holes drilled into it. Another cough. I look down and realize a foot and it's shoe are inching towards mine. My heart starts to beat faster. I push my shoe into his. The sound of my urine stream stops abruptly, as if someone had put their hand in the way. A young voice. Come here. I don't know what I'm doing, the alcohol tells me to move. I turn around and see my reflection in the mirror for a split second, I avoid the sight of my own eyes. The stall door opens and I see and recognize his face. The black curly hair, the crooked grin. This is the face of the young Christian. Maybe 19 or 20, I have watched him command the attention of the girls he travels with. Now he has mine. Our eyes connect, he keeps them locked to mine as he pulls me in and closes the stall door behind me. His eyes are clear and staring into me as he unbuttons my pants and pulls my painfully hard cock out of my curduroys. I can not stop looking. He takes me into his mouth and closes his eyes. I sigh. My knees are shaking, I wonder if anyone will walk in. For a second I am nervous, and then the heat of his tongue makes me forget. It slides around my thick cock head. I gasp. I feel it under the length of my shaft all the way to the base as he starts to go at it. I feel his drool fall down my pant leg. He grunts. His teeth scrape me but I do not care. I run my hand through his thick curls, along his too smooth jaw. I feel like I am falling. I whisper to him as he takes me in and out and in again that I am going to cum and I start to cum and I feel it shoot out of me in huge spurts and he keeps his mouth clamped onto my dick and I can't imagine where it can all be going and he makes a noise like an animal and looks at me with such tenderness and I push my hand against the tile to steady myself and he looks at me and looks at me and I laugh, like I always do. He laughs too. Suddenly I feel nervous, and I say thank you and tell him that he is sweet. I leave quickly and in a daze, afraid to look back but doing it anyway. He waves innocently and goes to the sink to wash his hands, his mouth.
I am outside in the clean night air and the rustle of leaves is strong. I hear an owl hoot, the solitary flap of one wing. A Smiths song comes to mind and I begin to hum it and think: How wonderful it would be to be a believer--to truly believe in the order of things!
I went out on Friday to go on a date with this college student. The plan had been for me to go to the Castro around 7:20 and wait for his call, at which point we would decide where to eat. He called me 20 minutes late, after the chilling wind and rain had found its way under all my protective layers. He was already several drinks in, hanging with friends, he was sorry to call late, could I meet him at the Bar? I sensed his immaturity, I said it was ok. On the way there I prepared my shoulders for what I could already tell would be a challenging evening.
And it was. He pranced and preened around everywhere we went like a cockatiel. He talked, a lot, too much. He dropped names and novels. He learned nothing about me, because he never asked. He told me that he hated white people and yet all of his friends were white. He told me that he hated talking to people in bars but made a point to start conversations with any strangers in our vicinity. His endless movement made me feel simple and too serious.
A friend of his, around 32, provided entertainment. Every time College would run off, 32 would look at me with sad eyes and ask me to come home with him. He would beg for my number, he would stick his hand down my shirt. I enjoyed the attention, yet found his neediness unsettling. While College never asked me a question, 32 asked too many. Was he too old? Did he look fat? Was he boring? How old did he look to me? Was he too old? They both managed to never see me, just their own darkening reflections.
I grew exhausted yet restless. I wanted to be alone, in an open space, to breathe clean night air.
Later...
I'm peeing, the urinal is familiar. A cough. I am self conscious, I realize that someone is in the stall next to where I'm standing, and that the stall's wall has holes drilled into it. Another cough. I look down and realize a foot and it's shoe are inching towards mine. My heart starts to beat faster. I push my shoe into his. The sound of my urine stream stops abruptly, as if someone had put their hand in the way. A young voice. Come here. I don't know what I'm doing, the alcohol tells me to move. I turn around and see my reflection in the mirror for a split second, I avoid the sight of my own eyes. The stall door opens and I see and recognize his face. The black curly hair, the crooked grin. This is the face of the young Christian. Maybe 19 or 20, I have watched him command the attention of the girls he travels with. Now he has mine. Our eyes connect, he keeps them locked to mine as he pulls me in and closes the stall door behind me. His eyes are clear and staring into me as he unbuttons my pants and pulls my painfully hard cock out of my curduroys. I can not stop looking. He takes me into his mouth and closes his eyes. I sigh. My knees are shaking, I wonder if anyone will walk in. For a second I am nervous, and then the heat of his tongue makes me forget. It slides around my thick cock head. I gasp. I feel it under the length of my shaft all the way to the base as he starts to go at it. I feel his drool fall down my pant leg. He grunts. His teeth scrape me but I do not care. I run my hand through his thick curls, along his too smooth jaw. I feel like I am falling. I whisper to him as he takes me in and out and in again that I am going to cum and I start to cum and I feel it shoot out of me in huge spurts and he keeps his mouth clamped onto my dick and I can't imagine where it can all be going and he makes a noise like an animal and looks at me with such tenderness and I push my hand against the tile to steady myself and he looks at me and looks at me and I laugh, like I always do. He laughs too. Suddenly I feel nervous, and I say thank you and tell him that he is sweet. I leave quickly and in a daze, afraid to look back but doing it anyway. He waves innocently and goes to the sink to wash his hands, his mouth.
I am outside in the clean night air and the rustle of leaves is strong. I hear an owl hoot, the solitary flap of one wing. A Smiths song comes to mind and I begin to hum it and think: How wonderful it would be to be a believer--to truly believe in the order of things!
posted by themerrygo at 12:30 AM
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