QColumn: A Gay In The Life: Intimate Portrait (Part Deux)

EDITOR’S NOTE: Before you read this one, be sure to read Intimate Portrait (Part Uno).
Intimate Portrait, Part Deux
By Steve Prince
I rounded the corner of Santa Monica Boulevard and Robertson. Dammit, I thought, there’s never parking in West Hollywood! It’s probably the worst parking in the city. I once got a ticket for not turning my tires. NOT TURNING MY TIRES! Ridiculous.
However, I wasn’t going to let a little thing like parking deter me from my quest for intimacy. I was a man on a mission and I’d be damned to let parking get me down. Oh no, I got to keep on moving!
I finally found a spot. As I shut my car door, I noticed the day’s heat still hanging in the early evening air with summer coming quickly to Southern California. Soon Santa Monica Boulevard would be crowded with shirtless boys, their tanned shoulders dotting the sidewalk like a colony of ants commanded by their queen to march onward.
“What the hell are we doing here?” Troy squawked as the crowd parted in front of me, allowing my best friend to come into view. Sometimes, I forget what a nice looking guy Troy is. As he smiled, his white teeth gleamed and his tanned dimples framed his strong jaw.
“I’m on a mission,” I said determinedly.
“Yeah, you said that,” Troy said following in my wake as I walked past him, “a mission for what?”
I quickly filled him in on Carlos’, Mother Norman’s, and Nico’s account of intimacy.
Once I had finished, I looked at Troy, hoping to get an answer.
“Well,” he said making a face as if someone had just farted, “you’re not going to find intimacy in West Hollywood. It’s just sex here.”
“Exactly,” I said, as we both began walking to Motherload, the bar of choice for tonight. “It seems that a lot of gay men equivocate sex with intimacy and I don’t know if that’s necessarily so.”
“Well, that’s what Omar did,” Troy said flatly.
“Huh?” I didn’t follow.
“Well, remember how slutty Omar was?” he asked. “Then he got a boyfriend and poof!”
Troy had a point. It’d been a long time since Omar had gone out with any of us. He used to make the rounds regularly with all of us. However, all that changed when he met Nathan.
Ironically, the bar where Nathan and Omar met was the bar we were headed—Motherload. I remember that Omar, who was usually very brazen, kept staring at a Latin man across the room. As Alex, Cody, Troy, and I talked in a circle sipping on our cocktails, Omar kept staring distractedly towards the far corner. Finally, I’d had enough.
I set my drink down and crossed the bar floor.
“Excuse me,” I said, catching the Latin guy off guard. He looked at me blankly. I decided to keep talking before he could interrupt.
“I’d like you to meet my friend that you keep looking at,” I said motioning to Omar. “Are you good with that?”

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