QColumn: A Gay In The Life: A Date?

A Date?
By Steve Prince
I looked at the text again just to make sure I didn’t get the time wrong.
I’ll pick you up on around 7. Can’t wait.
I still had an hour to get ready. Even though I had looked at Marlon’s text three times in the last two hours, my mind was too scattered to remember what time he was coming to pick me up.
Can’t wait.
I smiled. I hope he was excited as I was. Or maybe I was too excited?
“Look at you,” my roommate James said as he walked by my bathroom.
“What?” I asked trying to look as unexcited as possible.
“You’re nervous aren’t you?” he asked.
“No!” I denied a little too much. I was a little nervous. Okay, I was very nervous.
“You’re so full of shit,” James said with a laugh. “The last time you were this excited was when you found out John Stamos got divorced. Look at you, just twittering away like a bird.”
I looked at him incredulously.
“Well,” I said trying to admit as little as possible, “you of all people know, that a fine Southern lady makes a good first impression.”
I knew James would let up when I said this. We both had been roommates so long that nothing really got past one another. I also knew that being from South Carolina, James would agree on the importance of impressions in the South culture.
He looked at me knowingly as he sipped his Sapphire and tonic.
“Can’t argue with that”, he said flatly. He paused as if reminiscing a found memory, “Our Momma’s knew how to raise queer little boys.”
“Agreed,” I said walking into my bedroom. James went into the living room to watch TV.
Truth be known—I was very excited. It had been a long time since I had been on a date. Like years. Oh, I had sex and fooled around, but Marlon was the first guy in a while I had connected with. Truthfully, I was surprised that he even called a couple of days after meeting him at the wine tasting. Guys don’t usually call.
“Steve,” his message said, “Man, I loved talking to you the other night. Give me a call when you can; I gotta take you out.”

I called him back that night and we talked for over an hour. It was great conversation. Marlon was a business manager for several musicians so we both talked about music that we liked. We both loved jazz; he even knew some of my favorite singers. We also found out that we both have an older brother so we swapped stories of the mean shit our older brothers did to us. We laughed and laughed. And then I asked Marlon if he liked the wine event we had went to.
“Oh,” he began enthusiastically, “I love wine. It really has become a passion of mine lately.” I think he talked about wine for fifteen minutes before he paused.
“We have to go wine tasting,” he said.
“Okay,” I responded, “you don’t have to twist my arm for a drink. But I warn you I know squat about wine.”
“Oh,” he said. I could practically hear him smiling over the phone. “Don’t you worry. I’m a great teacher as long as you’re a good student.”
“The best,” I quipped, not missing a beat.
So four days later, here I am according to plan; Marlon is taking me wine tasting. My cell phone rang.
“Hello,” I answered.
“Heeeey,” Alex’s voice shot out from the phone.
“Hi sugar,” I said with a grin. I knew why Alex had called.
“Sooooo,” Alex said excitedly, “Are you ready for you’re night with your Seal, Miss Heidi? Troy and I want to know!”
“Heeey!” Troy yelled in the background.
I laughed. Thanks to Alex, the rest of the boys now referred to Marlon as Seal. In fact, I almost caught myself calling him that once over the phone. Even Troy got in on the action.
“I bet you both look so good together,” he said dreamily in the background. Troy was probably the most romantic out of all of us. “And Heidi and Seal have the prettiest children.”
It sounds like they were teasing, but it was nice to have their support. As I talked to Troy, Alex, and Omar about guys, I often found myself acting like a 15-year-old girl. Maybe because when I actually was fifteen I couldn’t talk about anyone that I actually was interested in. As I was approaching thirty, it was nice to reconnect with a childlike part of myself that I thought had been buried by shame.
“Well thank you,” I responded to Troy, “We would have pretty children, but I’m not there yet.”
My phone beeped. It was a text from Marlon.
“Hey guys,” I said quickly, “I gotta go. I’ll call ya later.”
“Have fun!” they both called in unison.
I opened my messages.
Running late. Be there about 9pm.
The smile wilted from my face. Oh, okay. He was telling me this in a text? I hate texting, but unfortunately it’s become the communication standard for people. It just seems so cold and impersonal sometimes. Yeah, text someone for something normal, but to tell a guy you’re going to be two hours late to a date? I was starting to get a bad feeling.
No Steve! I told myself. Don’t be a Negative Nancy! I’m sure Marlon has a good excuse. Remember, he was a nice guy and he called you. That’s something because guys never call.
I texted him back.
Cool. See ya then.
Two and a half hours later it was 9:30 and no word from Marlon. I was just starting to take my cute shirt off and put on my PJ’s when I saw the light of my Blackberry blink ominously.
10:30? Let’s meet at the Hoola bar in Burbank, just off of Victroy Blvd. and Laurel Canyon.
Okay, so now we are not going wine tasting. Instead I am meeting him a dive Tiki bar in Burbank? God dammit, this sucks. Well, what if he wants to meet at 10:30? Perhaps he wants to just hook up? Maybe it had been so long since I was dating that I misread Marlon’s signals? Perhaps he just wanted to fuck. I was fine with that, but I just wish things were a bit clearer.
I was over online dating, but I have to say I missed the clarity on it. People online don’t mind saying what they want, how they want it, when they want it. Internet dating is like an online Burger King, where you can have it your way.
I started to say no, but then I began thinking of the night Marlon and I had talked. I also remembered how gorgeous he was, and how rock hard his arm felt when I touched it. And also, I’m a size queen and I wanted to see if the rumors about black men were true.
Sure, I texted back.
I felt a little defeated, but I think I was too scared to turn it down. It had been so long so a guy had expressed any interest in me besides just a hook up. Even if Marlon just wanted to fuck me, he at least acted interested—which was a lot more than I had gotten lately. I didn’t want to just let that go so quickly.
Holy shit! I realized. If I’m going to have sex then I need to manscape, bring some condoms, and do some other “maintenance.” I hurried to my bathroom and fifty minutes later, I was out the door.
I arrived at the bar right at 10:30. I walked in. It was a dive bar, at best: walls covered in grass skirts and tiki dolls of all sizes, the room lined with old green booths, cracked from years of use, a wooden themed bar sat in corner of the room with a dance floor laid in the middle. There were probably six people in the bar total. I looked around. Marlon wasn’t here yet.
I took a seat in one of the booths. A friendly waitress greeted me.
“What can I get ya?” she asked.
“Oh,” I responded coolly, “I’m waiting for someone.” I felt silly saying it. I felt like I looked like naïve idiot that was about to get stood up waiting at a bar.
The waitress looked at me suspiciously, “All right.”
I sat there drumming my fingers on the table. I waited, trying to look casual. I wished I smoked. Smoking is a great way to look casual. Ten minutes later, Marlon walked through the door. He looked at me and smiled. In the dark bar, I could barely make out his ebony face, but his teeth gleamed pearly white.
“Hey you,” he said as I rose to greet him. We hugged.
“You look good,” he said licking his lips and eyeing me up and down.
“Thanks,” I said politely. Then he hugged me again and this time kissed my neck. He then whispered in my ear. “In fact,” he said in a raspy baritone, “you look damn fine.”
I leaned back and looked at him smiling, completely forgetting his earlier transgressions. Compliments really do get you everywhere with me. Jeezus, I’m terrible.
We both sat down, the waitress came over, and Marlon ordered for both of us. Minutes later, she brought back our drinks.
“Mmm” I said, tasting my Mai Tai. “This is good, but it’s strong. This is going to take me a while to drink.” I said with a smile.
“Well,” Marlon said moving closer to me, “don’t take too long.” He leaned in and whispered in my ear again. “Hopefully, we’ll be leaving here soon.” As he said this, his hand brushed my inner thigh.
I looked at him and smiled. What the fuck was happening? Are we dating, fucking? I was confused, but I responded the only way I could. “Hopefully,” I said. I took a drink and looked at Marlon, awaiting his next move.
Next week Steve Prince will finally find out what is going on with Marlon, so be sure to check back next Friday for the conclusion.
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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