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QColumn: A Gay In The Life: The Dirty Mexican

The Dirty Mexican
By Steve Prince
“I fucked the hell out of him.”
I coughed up my ginger ale. “You what?” I spattered.
“Yep,” Omar said with a mischievous grin, “pounded him like a tortilla.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said.
“Well, if you’re Mexican,” Omar pointed to himself, “it makes perfect sense. Good tortillas are a lot of work.”
I regained my composure and smirked. “Well, I hope he was good one.”
“Eh,” Omar squeaked while waving his hand from side to side, “he helped me get the job done.”
“So, I’m assuming the single life is treating you well?” I asked.
“Very,” Omar replied, digging into his food.
Omar had only been single for about two weeks.
After a year and a half of living with Nathan, Omar felt stifled. Nathan had moved in six months ago, and ever since then things had gone downhill. When I asked Omar if something had gone terribly wrong, he shook his head side to side.
“Not really,” he pondered nonchalantly.
It’s funny that we often think that couples have to have a terrible tragedy or extreme conflict to break up. Even straight people think that way. Perhaps it’s the drama queen in all of us. I mean, the Greeks kind of planted the seeds of dramatic breakup in their plays and it seems to have grown in our minds over the ages.
The reality of the situation is, sometimes break ups aren’t that dramatic. Omar is an example of that. Over the last eight months, Nathan has been horribly depressed and dependent on Omar to take care of him. Finally, Omar realized he couldn’t “fix” Nathan. And so he called it off and Nathan moved out.
It might sound selfish, but it was good to have Omar back. Troy, Alex, Cody, and I had often felt like we had lost a friend because Omar became completely engrossed in his relationship. I didn’t blame Omar; he was doing what he thought best. Still, I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t hurt my feelings. His friendship meant a lot to all of us. Suddenly, our little group felt a cog missing.
And, I can’t lie, it was good to have Omar’s promiscuity back. Omar could pick up men with ease. I mean it wasn’t a surprise. He’s a very handsome man. That’s the best way to describe him… handsome. With his strong square jaw, short black hair peppered with grey, and his slim tight body, Omar was one of a kind. He also had a beer-can-dick; at least that’s what I called it. That thing was so thick that a paramedic could use it as the jaws-of-life to pry someone out of a crushed car. It was thick and hard like a Redwood tree.

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