QColumn: A Gay In The Life: A Conversation

A Conversation
By Steve Prince
The stuffy air in my car seemed to surround my neck like a scratchy wool scarf. I opened my car’s moonroof. The date on my phone read January 10, 2009, but the weather had reached a dry 78 degrees. As the glass slid back, a cool breeze rushed into my car. I inhaled and my nostrils tingled from the salty air. I smelled ocean.
It felt nice to be on the Westside. For you non-Los Angelinos, the Westside refers to parts of Los Angeles west of the 405 freeway (because everything is proportional to freeways in Los Angeles). The Westside includes townships such as Venice, Marina del Ray, Malibu, and—my destination for today—Santa Monica.
Troy lives in Santa Monica. He says he lives there because of the cute apartment he found; I think he lives there so he can gawk at that young surfer boys that saunter past his apartment window on their way to the beach hoping to ride that perfect wave that day. Even when I make the accusation, Troy doesn’t deny it. He simply chuckles and says, “Eeeeeasy,” which is his go-to answer when he’s feeling on the spot. I bet you ten bucks he sits outside of his window staring into the street, a bottle of lube in one hand, and binoculars in the other. Hell, I know I would.
Still, I could get it. To quote Troy there was something “easy” about Santa Monica. Driving down Santa Monica Boulevard, the sun hung high in the afternoon sky spotlighting the picture perfect homes that lined the palm-shaded avenues. As I stopped at a light, I watched a family meander across the crosswalk. Even they looked more at ease and, dare I say, happier. I sighed feeling my body lighten. Santa Monica felt like a cleaned up Los Angeles. Being there still felt like being in LA, but with its dirty façade polished like silver to reveal the gleaming clarity of a calmer city. As I pulled up to Troy’s apartment, my own peaceful feelings soon became clouded by anxiety. Today was the day to talk to Troy about Kelly.
It felt like coming out all over again. Why? Why do I agonize over things? Ugh. Still, I felt as if I was keeping something from Troy. And not that I was… really. After all, Troy asked me to befriend Kelly in the first place. And yes, I initially brought up the idea of going to the museum; however, it was Kelly who actually initiated the actually going to the museum. I just opened my big stupid mouth. I was trying to be a good friend dammit! Yes, yes, I know I was totally avoiding things, but still I thought maybe this logic would work with Troy. Then I remembered that Troy was actually pretty damn smart; he would see right through me. Jeezus.

I parked my car and stepped out. A gust of wind blew from behind me as if to push me forward to Troy’s. I crossed the street, glancing at the driver of the car passing me. Damn… men in Santa Monica are pretty. They’re all super healthy and fit. Even by looking at the driver’s face, I could tell he was in amazing shape. He had gorgeous cheekbones. Cheekbones that would look even prettier wrapped around my cock. All right, focus Steve. Think of the task at hand. Distractedly, I began dialing his number in the apartment directory. Suddenly, something to my left jumped out at me.
“Don’t move!” Troy yelled holding his arms in the air.
I immediately threw my keys into the air and screamed like a big nelly nine year-old girl. Yes, I scare easily. Surprise.
Troy began laughed heartily while I sighed and looked down at my crotch to make sure I didn’t piss my britches. All dry. I leaned down to snatch my keys.
“What are you doing,” I asked as we hugged, “besides scaring the shit outta me?”
“It’s a beautiful day,” Troy said while performing some sort of tap dance on the spot, “let’s go to the beach, Stevie Prince!”
“So what’s been going on, sugar,” I asked as we both walked toward the boulevard. As we walked toward the spread of sand, the sea breeze embraced the two of us, hugging us both with warmth. Troy caught me up on his on goings, professional and sexual. We walked for at least thirty minutes while I listened. Finally Troy seemed talked out.
“Enough about me,” he said nudging me, “What’s have you been up to? Trouble, I’m sure.”
I did what Julie Andrews would do; I started at the very beginning, a very good place to start. I sighed.
‘Well,” I began, “not much. Same shit different day really. Although I did try and get some more dirt for you about Kelly.”
“Oh, really,” Troy said flatly. I couldn’t tell if it was an Oh really, you lying slut friend whore or an Oh really, I want to know the details so I can take him to Rimtown. I decided to forge ahead.
“Yeah, actually Mother Norman came along too,” I thought this would make it sound less date-ish. “We had a really good time. It was very chill and they both seemed to talk a lot. They got along well.”
“So you two didn’t talk at all,” Troy asked.
“No,” I said cautiously, “we did.”
“Well,” Troy urged, “about what?”
“Stuff.” I replied.
“What stuff,” prodded Troy.
“Well,” I said, “you know, just like what’s been going on for him. He’s thinking about going to law school, and art. Oh yeah, we talked about art because well, we were…uh…looking at him. I mean it. I mean art. We looked at art!” I said this last part with finality.
“So,” Troy began, “you must really like this guy?”
“Yeah, I do.”
I clasped my hand to my mouth and stopped walking. Why did I just say that?
I looked at Troy to see his reaction. He beamed back at me broadly.
“Steve,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, “I’m not an idiot. I know you and I know when you like a guy. Hell, all of us know when you like a guy.”
“What do you mean ‘all of us’,” I asked.
Troy rolled us his and waved his hand in the air. “All of us. Omar, Cody, Alex, Dillon… we all have known you’ve liked Kelly for a while. Don’t play poker; you can’t hide your emotions for shit.”
I smiled. “Well, I just… you know. I didn’t want to be that friend that well…” words failed me.
“You’re not that friend,” Troy said. Two people on bikes zoomed around the pair of us standing on the sand strewn sidewalk. Troy began walking and pulled me along.
“Listen, do you think I really liked Kelly? I mean really?”
“Well, I dunno,” I said admittedly, “I just didn’t want to assume.” I began to think about the times Troy had mentioned Kelly’s name. Like a wave, relief began to flood my body. The more I thought about it, the more I realized what Troy meant. He always talked about Kelly in a sexual way, but never really in the way he talked about other guys that he has liked. All this time, I’d been beating myself up for falling for my friend’s crush, but maybe I’d known all along Troy hadn’t connected with Kelly the way I did.
The ocean breeze dusted the sand and carried invisible specks of sand against my calves. I looked down at my feet.
Why is liking a guy so difficult? I thought about last year and 2000-Date. I didn’t really date at all. I just had sex, quite a bit actually. I wondered why is it so easier for me to suck a guy off than ask him out. When I hook up with a guy, I don’t have the same feelings that I have around Kelly. When I think of Kelly, my palms get clammy, I feel butterflies in my stomach, and I just want to make him smile for as long as I can. Also, I over-think everything I say or do. When it’s sex, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass. In looking at last year, I’m really glad I had a lot of sex with several different guys. I can’t lie—it was real fun. And some of them even felt like more of a connection than just sex. Still, I wanted more than that.
I always thought of myself as having issues about my body because I don’t look like all the other buff West Hollywood guys, but wouldn’t my actions be different then? If I really worried about my appearance, wouldn’t I be afraid to connect physically with a guy and want to be more open with my emotional side? God! Being vulnerable can be such an act of courage, and I realized that’s what I had been afraid of. And not just with Kelly, but for all of last year.
“Thanks,” I said to Troy.
“For what?” he asked.
“For just being cool about all this,” I replied.
“Stevie,” Troy said, “you’re my friend and I just want you to be happy.”
I smiled. It’s nice to have wonderful friends who really understand you.
“But promise me one thing,” Troy said.
“Sure,” I replied, expecting him to want me to talk to him sooner about stuff.
Troy hopped in the air. “You have to take that boy to Rimtown and tell me all about it!”
We both laughed. I love that Troy can be so adult one moment and then the next he’s like a little kid.
“Way to kill the moment, sugar,” I retorted.
Troy put his arm around me and smiled, “What are friends for?”
As the sun began it’s descent into the calm Pacific, both of us walked along the crowded Boardwalk, listening to the waves crackling on the sand, drowning out the faint squeals of children racing the tide.
————————————-
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.
————————————-
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