At the start of this blog, I mentioned coming out to my friends - my schoolmates actually. One of my closest friends.. let's call him Mormon Gordon, he's one of the nicest guys I know. One of the altar boys when we were in school, a really sweet guy with beatific features better suited to someone of the cloth. With his strict religious upbringing and his tight-ass conservative values, it was with some relief that he greeted my pronouncement calmly during our New Year dinner without throwing a small conniption. Back in school, there was a sad predilection for losing his heart to females of a brainless bimboesque nature but he managed to get over that affliction. Lately I greeted with some pleasure his recent engagement to a Native Sabahan. Has been some time since we talked so it was with some surprise that he asked me out last night for a drink. That Gordon had jitters prior to the wedding didn't surprise me, since he has been a particularly commitment-phobic. What surprised me was the fact that he...drank? Sure, some wine but he drank beer? Since when do Holy Saints drink beer? Gulping in his alcohol manfully, he started getting tipsy - never could hold his drink, that one - and started babbling about his inadequacies and the fact that he was terrified of marriage. Used to such inane nonsense from jittery grooms, I tried my best to allay his fears.
Just about the time I was wishing myself close enough to get run down by a truck, he gave me a tight hug calling me his best friend. Hugs are usual between us since Gordon's a pretty physically affectionate guy - what surprised me was the fact that his hands started... rubbing me all over. It wasn't inadvertent, it wasn't innocent and it went on for some time... and there was a spark. Hey, I'm a man. He's cute. What can I say? I get sparks when cute guys rub against me.
Good guy that I am though, I kept talking to him but kept a safe distance four feet away from him. There has never been anything between us ( really! Nothing, in fact it's almost purely fraternal despite the fact that he looks really good after shedding off his baby fat! ) but at that particular moment, I had to keep myself from jumping on him to tear off his button-down shirt. Before he could tempt me with any more untoward overtures however, I pronounced him drunk, hastily bundled him up into the car and sent him home.
2 comments:
Doubt it was getting in touch with his inner gay man. He's straight, from all I know. Still, I have had some difficulty picking up the phone to call him.
Paul
Woah. You did the perfect, if sexually unsatisfying, thing. He must have been desperate for some sort of escape. I hate drama, and that situation had drama and crappy emotional wack up to the eyebrows. You are a good friend.
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