QColumn: A Gay In The Life: Christmas In July

Christmas In July
By Steve Prince
Summer is here, and Steve Prince is a queer in need of a vacation and good cheer.
I love living in Los Angeles in the summer. Everything is beautiful and accessible here. There’s the beach, the mountains, The Getty, Griffith Park, patio bars in West Hollywood, and beautiful men of all types abound. I mean it does get a bit warm in the summer–all right, it can be hotter than Matt Summers spread eagle on a school desk. Oh and I guess there’s traffic, but there’s ALWAYS traffic. It’s just a fact that when driving in LA you’ll be sandwiched on a freeway for several hours with strangers. And of course with all these people, who can get any place in a reasonable time? So what if I have to get up two hours earlier so I can get to my job on time. My job where my boss keeps me on pins and needles, and every day a little piece of my soul is swallowed up in a hellmouth of work…OH MY GOD I HAVE TO GET OUT OF THIS SHITTY ASS DIRTY, CROWDED CITY BEFORE I DIE!!!!!
Momma needs a vacation…

Two weeks later I was happily driving with two of my best girlfriends, Carlos and James, to beautiful San Diego. Who knew that a beachside haven with military men to boot was only a two-hour drive away from my house? I was glad Carlos had the idea. Weeks ago I had called him in a frenzy. I needed to get away and he knew just the place to do it. Hopefully this weekend would be filled with mojitos, men, and magic (by magic I mean getting dick.)
By the time we reached the city the sun was beginning to dip into the horizon. With no time to waste we hurriedly checked into our hotel and drove on to dinner–by dinner I mean drinks. As we walked along the Hillcrest neighborhood I took in a deep breath. Isn’t it amazing how even the air smells more relaxed when you’re on vacation? As I inhaled the sea breeze, I scanned the crowd to take in the fresh meat. Yes, much like a raptor from Jurassic Park. I should have cocked my head back and yelped some type of mating call, while a group of shirtless, tan men in loin clothes jumped around me yelling, “Penis! Penis! Penis!” Hey, it’s vacation so there are no rules of decorum! And it had been a while since I had even been felt up. Let’s just say I was keyed up like a Catholic schoolgirl wanting to sit on her hot science teacher’s face.
We walked into the bar and the three of us surveyed the throng of dancing men. Carlos, who is very good looking, turns to me in triumph. “This is going to be so easy,” he says with a flash of his perfectly white teeth.
I scan the bar. There were some real hot guys there. Real hot. Yet as always, I knew I needed one thing before I approached anyone…a drink. Forty-five minutes and three beers later I was shaking what my momma gave me on that dance floor.
Let’s take a moment.
I love to dance. Period. Even if I haven’t had a drink I will dance like a fool on a bed of hot coals. However, when I’m tipsy or worse yet drunk–it’s on. My true weakness is bubble gum pop or 80’s. I once remember talking to a cute boy at a bar. We were having a great conversation. He had even bought me a beer. He had the longest eyelashes and the bluest eyes. However, all that went to shit whenever the DJ took control of my soul and began playing Debbie Gibson’s “Out of the Blue”. I queened out and squealed, “Holy mother-fuckin’ shit!” Then arms flailing I spilled by drink all over Mr. Cutie as my best girl friend pulled me onto the dance floor. Yeah I’m real queer. The worst part about that story is that I wasted perfectly good beer.
All right–back to San Diego.
So I’m dancing to Madonna having a wonderful time. Carlos has already made out with one guy and is working on getting someone else’s number. James is on the other side of the bar making out with two strangers at once. I am thrashing against the sea of single boys who just love to dance. Then someone bumped into my back.
I turned around thinking, “I hope this guy is hot. And if he’s hot I hope he bumps against me again!” Arms pumping in the air I turned around. There he was. I stared into his exotic eyes and was frozen. He looked at me and danced away, his triceps pumping with the beat of the bass. He was beautiful. He was majestic. He was fucked like a donkey over a wheelbarrow by Colby Keller from Sean Cody.
YES! It was Marten from Sean Cody!!!
There are two things you should know about me. One–I love Sean Cody. The things that Mormon man has given me I don’t think I could ever describe in print. Two–I’m obsessed with Colby Keller. Colby was old school Sean Cody. Colby was totally the boy-next door. His hot Midwest demeanor and his crooked smile could make a boy wilt like a yellow rose in the hot Texas summer sun. I like to refer to Colby’s stint as “The Lube Age” of Sean Cody. Cuz let me tell you, I went through it during that period. I still remember seeing his first solo video, so tender and naïve. Then he made love to Marten with so much passion and sensitivity. Next came Foster, who entered my Colby with such delicate caress. Fourth was Fuckfest 4–just the name evokes the splendor of it. Finally, Patrick and Colby (a moment of silence for Patrick). This is the video where my Colby made his sexual return after a several month absence. His body was even more ripped than before and he rode Patrick like a school bus. Finally, Colby was ram-rodded by Kenny so hard that I think God himself got a hard-on. And then Colby was gone. Until finally Randy Blue heard my porn prayer and brought my Colby back, where he delights me with his solo video and then his attempt at putting a plot concerning needing a study break in the mix of gay sex. My Colby must know I’m a grad student; he’s good to me like that, always relating to his fans. Colby Keller if you’re reading this, I want an interview, and I want to suck you off like a Tootsie Pop.
So…yeah…maybe I’m a little obsessed. Actually at this moment I was “in a state” as we like to say in the South. A “state” is when emotions can’t describe how worked up a person is. I was just in a state. Why didn’t I remember that Sean Cody tapes in San Diego? I should have looked up him. I would LOVE to take that studio tour!
As Marten turned away it was like I had been broken from his spell. I came out of my trance and ran to my friend Carlos.
“Oh my God!” I screamed over the music blaring. “Do you know who that is?” I was pointing now. Don’t point Steve. Everyone knows not to point.
“No,” Carlos said annoyed. I interrupted his conversation with his third guy of the night.
“It was Marten.” I squealed. “From Sean Cody. Marten and Colby? Remember? Oh my Gawd I can’t believe this. He has actually had Colby all up in him.”
“Who?” Carlos asked. I paid him no attention. I was in my own world.
“He’s got to be one of the luckiest men in the world.” I sighed. I was shaking from being so excited.
“Well,” Carlos quipped. “Go talk to him.”
“NOOOO!”, I scolded. “I could never do that.”
“Well this is your one chance.”, Carlos said turning away to talk to another guy.
For the rest of the night I danced as close as I could to Marten without him realizing I was on to him. Did he know? Was I being too obvious? I felt like such a starfucker, or I guess I was a pornfucker, but I didn’t care. After an hour and many drinks later, I decided I would go talk to him. I would just simply tell him that I love his…uh…work? And ask, how what was it like riding my future husband?
I took a swig of my beer and I walked toward the bar seeing him standing by the dance floor. Whitney Houston began blaring in the club. This was a good sign. I love Whitney and she loves me–bitch has never done me wrong before. I meandered through the throng of guys. Nothing was going to stop me. Only twenty feet to go. My head was spinning. Almost there. Fifteen feet. My mouth tastes like stale beer. Twelve feet. Eleven feet. Ten feet–BLAM!
I tripped like a mother fucking dumbass because I didn’t notice the step down from the dance floor. In slow motion I watched in horror as my beer flew from my hand and crashed against the wall. I extended my left hand to catch me. Thank God Whitney had just gotten to the key change of “I Have Nothing”; with so many gay many screaming “Don’t. Make. Me. Clo-ohse one more door!” no one could hear my yelp of terror and surprise.
With the finality of a dull thud I hit the dance floor. My left arm was wet from beer and my face was flushed with embarrassment. Did he see? OH GOD! What the hell am I going to do? For a split second I laid on the ground wishing the waves of shirtless men would just swallow me up. I raised my head to see if Marten was looking at me.
He was gone. I had missed my chance.
I didn’t see Marten the rest of the night, but I did make out with someone at the bar. He was a good kisser, but I was too intoxicated to make the effort for anything else. He also mentioned that I smelled like beer and asked why my shirt was dirty. It was time to go.
The next afternoon the three of us awoke hung over as hell. We needed to eat nasty greasy food and I wanted to shop, so we went to the mall.
We stumbled into the mall food court and decided to eat at a Mexican restaurant. We ate our lunch and rehashed the events of last night. Carlos got four numbers, made out with two men, and got blown in the bathroom. Slow night for him. James stuck with the same two guys for the rest of the night. Apparently they were both “friends” already. I didn’t ask what friends meant. James is real into the brotherly love. And I of course recounted the story of when I busted ass trying to talk to Marten. Being good supportive friends, James and Carlos laughed in my face and made fun of me.
After lunch James and Carlos wanted to smoke so I tooled around the mall. I was still replaying last night’s events in my head. Oh Marten. Lucky, lucky Marten. I looked around the mall almost hoping to see more Sean Cody men. I mean this is San Diego. I laughed at myself. What a silly fantasy. Like I would just run into another Sean Cody boy? Yeah right Steve. I would just be walking along and as I look over at The Gap see Dylan walking out of the store? Like I would see that? Like I would–Holy shit! That is Dylan from Sean Cody. Instinctively I head behind a pillar like a Jennifer Garner in ALIAS. Damn! I wish I had a wig and sunglasses.
I peered around to get a better look. It WAS Dylan. And he was so cute. If you don’t remember Dylan he’s old school Sean Cody as well. He was pre-“Lube Age”, but still worth a gander. He was walking in the mall holding hands with a girl!
Well, Mr. Cody–I stand corrected. I was one of those gays that never really believed the “straight” guys were straight. Come on! Straight guys don’t do this…or do they? Well, apparently they do. Almost like he was reading my mind, Dylan leaned over chatting to his lady-friend and they began performing some pretty serious PDA (Public Display of Affection). I felt like the first time you really believed in Santa Claus. Sure my parents told me he was real, but I never really believed them until I woke up on Christmas morning and the cookies had been eaten and there were presents under the tree.
Dylan was walking out of my sight and I knew I needed to catch up. At this point, I was totally aware that I have a stalking problem, but I didn’t care. I wanted to get a better look. I began trotting forward to catch up to them but this time I wasn’t taking my eyes off of him. This wasn’t going to be like Marten.
BAM!
“Hey, watch it!” A brunette woman snapped at me. Not looking where I was going I totally sideswiped her and she spilled her soda all over my shirt. This was not my weekend to stalk my favorite porn stars.
Suddenly I heard my mother’s words. “Don’t push it Steven”, and I realized it was time to fold in my cards. I have a bad habit of when the going is good to try to make it great, and then I always come up short. That’s why I don’t go to Vegas often; I never know when to turn in my chips and walk away. The queer Santa Claus had already brought me this gift and I decided to keep it that way. I went to find Carlos and James.
“Come on.” I said meeting them outside the mall’s doors. “Let’s go.”
“What happened to you?” James asked. He and Carlos were looking at my drenched shirt.
“It’s a long story”, I said flatly as I took the keys from Carlos to drive.
That Saturday night we went out again. I flirted, Carlos had sex, and James spent the whole night chasing a guy who was acting like he wasn’t into James at all. This in turn makes James crazy and very keyed up. We had a great time, but you know what, the memory still remains. It didn’t matter what happened after that fateful weekend because I was still on cloud nine from the night before. Sigh. That Friday night in San Diego when I believed Sean Cody boys really do exist and by God…they are beautiful.
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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 & The Birds
Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears–Oh My!
Going Public