QColumn: A Gay In The Life: Cum As You Are?

QColumn: A Gay In The Life: Cum As You Are?
Cum As You Are?
By Steve Prince

I looked outside the car window, watching the oddly orange sun set behind the huge plume of smoke looming far in the distance. Those poor people threatened by that massive fire; my heart went out to them. I shuddered just thinking about it.
I glanced at Peter. Even though he was driving he glanced over at the fire as well. Catching me looking at him, he smiled, and turned on the radio. Hall and Oates blared in response:
What I want you’ve got
And it might be hard to handle
Like the flame that burns the candle
The candle feeds the flame
What I’ve got’s full stock
Of thoughts and dreams that scatter
You pull them all together
And how I can’t explain
Well, well you, you make my dreams come true
Well, well, well you, you make my dreams come true

Immediately, I got brought into the pleasant world of Peter and I. Isn’t it funny how you hear a love song differently when you’re with someone? It’s nice. I smiled, feeling like a little kid as Hall and Oates “ooh oohed.”
Peter put his hands between my legs and rubbed my knee tenderly. I wrapped my hand around his arm. He turned the music down.
“Did you ever think this would happen?” Peter asked.
I glanced back at the fire. “Well, we haven’t had rain in so long. Actually when I first moved to LA the city looked just like—”
“No,” Peter chuckled, squeezing my hand. “This. Us?”
Oh. I smiled. Did I?


“No.” I said flatly. I didn’t mean to sound so certain.
“Well,” Peter smiled, “you’re the optimist.”
“Hey,” I cooed squeezing his hand, “how was I supposed to know you were going to move to California?” I raised his hand to my mouth and kissed the back of his hand.
“But I did feel there would always be something between us,” I paused, “did you?”
“Yeah,” he swallowed, “I did. And I’m so glad it finally happened.”
The sun began to drift behind the burning mountains of the Los Angeles National Forest.
“What’s our exit again?” Peter asked, searching for the sign ahead.
“Oh,” I jumped. I was so caught up in Peter I was forgetting my navigator job. “That’s it.”
Fifteen minutes later, our car was cruising between the wide, tree-lined streets of Pasadena on our way to meet Peter’s relatives at his younger cousin’s birthday party. Yes, I was going to meet the boyfriend’s family. In fact, Peter shocked me by asking me to go in the first place. Yes, he had told me that his West coast family were much more open-minded than his Oklahoma family. Still, Peter could be awfully private.
“So you came out to them?” I had asked.
“My California family are all incredibly liberal Jews,” Peter told me. “We love everyone.”
The truck rolled to a stop at an older, expansive brick home. Peter stopped the truck and I began gathering my things, my one hand on the door handle.
“Wait,” Peter stopped me, his hand on my knee again, “One thing.” He leaned over and kissed me.
I kissed him back. We looked at one another and smiled. I began to get out of the car again.
“No, wait,” he pulled me down.
I laughed. “Peter, we’re already late.”
I looked at him. He wasn’t smiling.
“Tonight I need you to be my…uh… friend.” He looked at me blankly, nodded, and pecked me on the mouth. He quickly got out of the car and I scrambled after him.
“What do you mean, friend?” I asked. Was this for real, I thought?
Before he could answer, a woman in her mid-fifties trotted out the front door to meet us. She was very pretty. She reminded me of a skinnier Joy Behar (not that Joy is fat, but this woman’s waist was tiny). Her mousy brown bob bounced as she walked, her many gold bangles chiming as they danced around her wrists.
“Peeeter!” she called, arms open, “Come here my handsome nephew!”
Peter, being so tall, bent low to give his petite aunt a proper hug. “Hello, Aunt Jenny,” he said.
She turned to me. “And this must be your friend, Steve.”
I extended my hand and without a beat she pushed it aside and gave me a great big hug.
“Sooo nice to meet you,” she said in my ear. She smelled like gardenia.
I saw Peter looking at me like a sad puppy dog, but I tried to avoid his gaze.
Aunt Jenny began to herd us into the house.
“Now, Peter,” she began, “one of your cousin’s friends is here. You’re going to love her!”
“Oh,” Aunt Jenny turned to me, “and she brought a friend you would adore, if you like red heads.”
“Oh,” I quipped politely, “I’m dating someone.”
Aunt Jenny’s smile beamed even brighter, “Good for you.”
I felt hoodwinked. How could Peter not tell me he wasn’t out to his family? And why wasn’t he? One of the couples at the party was a lesbian couple, friends of his Aunt Jenny. His family seemed to be totally accepting of gay people. What was his deal?
It took me about thirty minutes to calm down. I couldn’t be mad about this I decided. Peter just wasn’t ready. I needed to accept that. I knew this going into the relationship and he was nice to me all night. It wasn’t like he tried to avoid me or anything. He wasn’t affectionate, but I guess I could understand why. As I looked around at other couples quietly flirting in corners, I hated that I couldn’t do that with Peter.
Thankfully, the cousin’s friend was dating someone, but didn’t have the heart to tell Aunt Jenny. She was actually quite the queer dear, and we had a great time together, sipping wine and chatting. I never said anything about Peter and I. In fact, I never even let her know that I was gay. I was just… myself. However, I did notice that when Peter and I spoke she eyed us suspiciously.
As the night ended, crickets sang Peter and I down the pathway from the house to his truck.
“You boys be safe,” Aunt Jenny waved from the doorstep. “And you’re welcome anytime Steve. Bring your girlfriend next time. I’d love to meet her.”
I appreciated that we were at the car, too far from the house for her to see me roll my eyes. “Thanks!” I yelled back and waived goodnight.
I shut the passenger door as Peter started the car.
I started to say something but I bit my tongue. I didn’t want to be that bitchy boyfriend. I’m not going to say anything, I told myself. This is his process. If Peter wants to talk about it, he can bring it up. As Peter and I drove home discussing the night’s events, but the subject of us never came up. During the whole car ride he kept his hand on my knee.
Yet not one word was said about him not saying a word. Not in the car. Not as we exited the freeway to go to his apartment. Not as we crawled in bed together. Not as we made love. Not as I drifted off to sleep while holding him in my arms. Not one word.
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Years after moving from Oklahoma, Steve Prince is still acclimating to the gay scene in Los Angeles—he’s a slow learner. By trial and error and a lot of sex, his mission is to make the uncomfortable, comfortable. Also it should be known that he is gayer than butt sex.
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Previously, on A Gay In The Life:
The Birds and The Birds
Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears—Oh My!
Going Public
Christmas in July
Luck Be A Lady Tonight
I Left My Heart In Oklahoma
As Luck Would Have It
Shock & Awe
Blame It On Britney
The Unending Journey
Makin’ Copies
Bullets and Bracelets… and Lube
To Tell The Truth…
Stars Aren’t Blind
The Dark Knight
Come As You Are
A Date?
A Happy Ending
Better Than Nothing
A Man With A Slow Hand
Taking The Long Way
Everybody Knows
Wake Me Up, Before Ya Go-Go
Definition
The Best
The Upper Hand
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
2000-Date
Dick The Halls
The Queer Dear
A Night At The Museum
A Conversation
I’m Just A Girl Who Can’t Say No
Change The Way You Feel
Kissing A Fool
Leo The Lamb
The Elephant In The Room
Zuckerman’s Famous Pig
A Birthday Surprise
The Sleepover-er
SP Phone Home
Out of the Frying Pan and into the Closet
What If…
Just Beat It
Intimate Portrait
Intimate Portrait (Part Deux)
Intimate Portrait (Part Trois)
State of Mind
The Age of Disbelief
A Man For All Seasons
Summer Lovin’
A-Men
The Urge
Gettin’ It Done
Here You Cum Again
Eye Of The Beholder
The Present
A Minute’s Pause
Brotherly Love
Ladies Who Lunch
Here Cums The Rain Again
Dinner For Two
Blow by Blow
Commando

Sep 04, 2009 By paperbagwriter 4 Comments