QColumn: A Gay In The Life: Out of the Frying Pan And Into the Closet

Out of the Frying Pan And Into the Closet
By Steve Prince
“ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN!”
“WOOOOOOO!!”
I took my last gulp as the hands holding my legs up in the air began to turn me right-side-up.
Yes, I’d just experienced my first keg stand at my 30th birthday party.
I steadied myself as the blood rushed from my head. Everyone around me cheered. I felt like a frat boy, a total fantasy of mine. I mean, c’mon! Three things come to mind when I think of fraternities: hot, fuck me, group frat sex.
My brother patted my back, “That was good, Bubba,” he said smiling. I smiled back, grateful that he’d attended. My brother, sister-in-law, and two nephews all flew in from Oklahoma for my birthday party and to enjoy their spring break. As I looked around, so many different people in my life surrounded me and seeing them all together felt very fulfilling.
It felt surreal to see my brother talking to Omar, Alex, Troy, and Cody. Here was my straight jock brother swapping embarrassing stories with all my gay pals. For the next thirty minutes, I mingled around the party sipping water. I didn’t want to drink too much. I wanted to actually remember my 30th birthday and getting trashed wasn’t the way I wanted to kick off a new decade.
But of course the boys would have none of that. So, not surprisingly, I found myself hoisted up to do another keg stand… Jeezus.
As they tipped me up, I held the tap to my lips and the icy rush of beer rushed into my mouth. Christ, this burns! I thought. I’m not really a beer chugger.
“ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN!”
“WOOOOOOO!!”
Troy and Cody, who had hoisted me up, set me down on my feet again. This time I saw stars. Good grief! I don’t know how these frat boys drink so much. I wouldn’t have made it through pledgeship.
As everyone cheered, I felt someone tap my left shoulder. I turned around.
It was Peter.

I had forgotten that he was coming to my party. The last time I saw Peter was in Oklahoma last December while visiting my dad in Oak Grove. Since I was in town, Peter and I met up for a drink. Our conversation went the way of the usual “catching up”, until the goodbyes. That’s when Peter told me two things that shocked me:
First, Peter told me he was converting from Christianity to Judaism. I was floored. Peter was raised a devout member of the Oak Grove Church of Christ. Lately, he said he felt little connection to the idea of Jesus. However, his cousins living in California were Jewish and he’d been talking to them and thinking of converting. I thought this was great. Why? Because the Jews I know love gays and maybe this would help Peter come out.
But I was getting ahead of myself. Peter had decided to convert to a type of Judaism that strictly followed the words of the Bible. Yep, you got it—butt sex was still a big no-no.
Peter also told me that night that he was planning on moving to Los Angeles, but I didn’t know if I fully believed this. Peter had lived so much of his life drinking, partying, and basically not doing shit. He talked about planning to do stuff all the time and never followed through. Why should this time be different?
But it was different. In February, Peter left a Facebook comment on my wall telling me he’d moved to the Valley. I was shocked. I couldn’t believe he’d actually made the move.
So on the night of my birthday party, as I stood there still swaying from the quick consumption of beer, I had trouble telling if the stars I saw came from the beer or from feeling shocked by Peter.
He looked good. He looked damn good.
“Happy birthday, brotha’,” he said with a genuine smile, pulling me into a hug.
Warmth spread from my chest to my stomach and through my arms. Not from the beer but from his hug. He smelled really good.
“I’m so glad you came,” I said unable to hide a sloppy, silly grin.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said with a chuckle. “Now, grab me a beer.”
I paused and looked at him. He looked different from the last time I saw him, he looked well rested. I turned and handed him a freshly poured brew, grabbing one for myself as well.
“To best friends,” he said tapping my plastic cup.
“To best friends,” I repeated.
We talked about his move for a bit and how much he liked California.
“I just moved into my own apartment,” he said proudly.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he licked the beer off his upper lip. “It’s closer to school.”
“You’re in school?!!” I asked. It’d been so long since Peter had dropped out of high school, I just thought he’d gotten his GED and was done with it.
“Yep,” he said with a sly smirk. “International business, here I come.”
I beamed. Things began to make sense. Now I knew why Peter looked so good. He was happy; it’d been so long since I had seen him this way.
“Did you see my brother?” I asked.
“What?” he gasped, “Chuck’s here?”
As Peter went to find my brother, Alex pulled me aside.
“Oh my god,” Alex said grabbing my arm too hard, “who is that? He is gorgeous.”
“That’s Peter,” I said giving Alex a look.
Alex’s face dropped as Troy popped into the conversation.
“That’s Peter?” gasped Troy. They both made the connection, “Peter who gets you drunk and then jacks off in your bed?! He’s so cute!”
I nodded. Then, in stereo, both the boys said, “He’s so gay!”
Again, I nodded. I needed water. The second keg stand made me a bit loopy and I just needed to go into the house for a bit—away from all the intensity.
As I walked into the kitchen, one of my friends from school came out of the bathroom.
“Hey birthday boy,” she said, “having a good time?”
“Yeah,” I responded, “I really am. Thanks so much for coming.”
She smiled, “So, question: Who’s that guy you’re dating?”
“What guy?” I asked. “I’m not dating anyone.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well then, who’s the guy in the navy shirt you were talking to?”
I smiled, “Oh! That’s Peter. He’s a friend from high school and he’s straight actually.”
“Really?” she said grabbing her wine glass from the counter. “Well, he acts like he’s really into you for a straight man.” She walked out of the room leaving me speechless.
As I mingled around the party, four other people came up to me and asked about Peter— all mentioning how attracted he seemed to me, which took me aback. I guess I’d always thought that only I could feel our mutual attraction; I guess I was wrong.
Finally, James came up to me.
“Your friend Peter is H-AAWW-T,” he said smiling.
“Yes, he is,” I agreed.
“You didn’t tell me he looked like Kelly,” James said flippantly.
“Huh?”
“He does,” James continued. “He looks a lot like Kelly. He even moves like him a bit.”
James walked away while I stood dumbstruck for the second time tonight. Why did people keep saying shocking things to me and then walking away, dammit?!!
Suddenly it all made sense: Peter equalled Kelly. That’s why I became so attached to Kelly so soon. That’s why I felt like we had a connection. Part of me wanted to heal the broken relationship I had with Peter through Kelly.
I ran to my room and pulled up my iPhoto. I clicked on a picture I hadn’t looked at in months. It was a picture of Kelly, Isabelle, and me right before the George Michael concert. I looked at Kelly.
Nothing. It was the first time in six months that I looked at that picture and felt absolutely nothing. I shut my laptop and sighed. I finally felt some real closure about all the Kelly drama.
I walked into the living room to find none other than Peter looking for me.
“Hey,” he said holding his keys, “I should get going. I have a lot of studying to get done tomorrow.”
“Oww… d’you have to?” I asked slurring and hugging him. Though I I could tell I wasn’t completely drunk, my emotions still rose completely to the surface. I couldn’t help but look at Peter and still have some feelings for him. Now that I’d connected him to Kelly, I felt my remaining feelings towards Kelly being thrust back to their original source—Peter.
“Yeah,” he said patting my shoulder, “I should get going.”
“All right,” I said looking into his hazel eyes, “I’ll walk you to your car.”
We walked along the sidewalk, down the street to the front of his pickup truck. Only the echo of the party purring from the house filled the quiet street.
“I’m so glad you came,” I said as we stopped to face one another.
“You know I would do anything for you, brother,” he said.
It wasn’t what Peter said that made me emotional—it was how he said it. In seeing him happy, I saw a part of him that I thought had vanished. I felt a moment of déjà vu.
“Peter,” I said feeling my emotions get the better of me, “I’m so proud for you.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“No really,” I blubbered on, “You’re going to school. You’re being responsible.”
And then a memory flooded my mind. The memory of sitting on my couch while Peter sat on the other side, both of us in high school, talking of our dreams, what we both wanted to do with our lives. For so long it seemed like that Peter was gone. Those conversations had formed some of my happiest high school memories.
Suddenly, I felt the sting of warm salty tears sliding down my cheeks.
“Steve,” Peter said, “don’t do that.”
“I’m just,” I paused, “I mean, you’ve gone through so much. And you were so lost for so long, I hated seeing you hurting. I’m just so happy to see the man I fell…”
I broke off. I couldn’t say what I wanted to actually say.
I raised my hands and held his face my palms. I looked up at him. “The man I always saw but no one else did.”
A car passed on the street blowing Peter’s chestnut hair across his forehead.
“Steve,” he said his eyes welling, “I… I can’t… uh… I have to go.”
He hugged me tightly and whispered in my ear, “I love you.”
I had stopped the tears and in doing so, I couldn’t say “I love you” back—not right then. I hugged tightly back and he got into his car and drove away.
I stood there for a minute taking in the night air. I wasn’t sad. In fact, I still felt extremely loved by everyone at the party, including Peter. It had been so long since I’d experienced a relationship or even felt that strongly for someone, that it was a nice reminder I still had that emotion within me. I guess, in a weird way, it made me feel alive.
I walked up to my steps. My brother put his arm around me as he told the boys how he used to antagonize and play pranks on me. As his audience laughed, I laughed with them, grateful to be loved.
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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