QColumn: A Gay In The Life – The Present

The Present
By Steve Prince
“Are you watching the memorial service tomorrow?” James asked as I crossed the back door threshold. It’d been a long day and honestly the last thing on my mind was Michael Jackson’s death.
“Oh, it’s tomorrow?” I had some idea of what was going on. But as I took off my messenger bag, I realized I’d been so busy that I hadn’t even read or listened to the news lately.
I sighed, “Ehh, I’m okay not to watch it.”
And I was. Don’t get me wrong; I was shocked by Jackson’s passing. In fact, I hadn’t realized how much his music played consistently in the background of my life—almost like a diary or a soundtrack. Granted I wasn’t a huge fan, but the whole situation seemed very sad to me. I’ll think about it later I told myself; I didn’t have time now. The fact that I barely knew about his funeral indicated just how busy I’d been. Since Michael Jackson’s death, Los Angeles’ response seemed amplified by 100, but I’d barely registered it.
Two hours later, I tossed and turned in my bed, trying to fall asleep. My body ached for sleep but my mind raced with the busy schedule awaiting me in the morning. A taunting green glow from my alarm clock glared at me. I kept rolling over for a few more minutes to no avail.
“Ahh, fuck!” I cursed. I reached over to my nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube. I poured some into my hand, lathered myself up, and began to pull, while fantasizing about a broad shouldered man kissing the nape of my neck.

Nothing.
I imagined a smooth Latin man parting my ass with his cock and leaning in to kiss my mouth.
Nothing.
I imagined the porn I’d watched a day before.
Nothing.
No matter what I did, I couldn’t get hard. Again, my body ached for sleep, but now my mind urged me more and more to get off.
“God dammit!” This time I cursed louder than before. I tossed back my blanket and strode over to my desk. With the un-lubed hand, I grabbed my laptop and opened it. I just wanted to get this over with and go to bed.
I clicked on one of my all time favorite videos of Colby Keller; he always makes me cum. As predicted, three minutes later, the lube on my hand mingled with my semen.
I snapped my laptop shut and placed it back on my desk. From the floor, I picked up the t-shirt I’d worn that day to clean myself off. Then I pulled my underwear back on, crawled into bed, and fell asleep.
As I drove to work the next day, I instinctively tuned the station to National Public Radio for the daily news.
For five minutes, reporters discussed the day’s events concerning Michael Jackson’s funeral and tribute concert. I listened absent-mindedly, my mind still yearning for some good honest sleep.
I got to work and of course the first thing I did was check Facebook—because that’s what you do, right?
The voyeur in me began searching people’s status updates. Yes, I’m a stalker.
Suddenly I remembered that I lived in the entertainment capital of the world. And unbeknownst to me, four of my actual friends got tickets to the Michael Jackson tribute concert. Two friends had posted pictures of the arena that they had taken with their phones, and one said in his status: I’m looking at the space reserved for the coffin. This is going to be rough. Well duh, it’s a funeral.
I didn’t think too much about these posts until two hours later. On a work break, I logged back into Facebook to check an e-mail. On the main page, I noticed that two of my friends had send pictures and updated about the Jackson concert.
Oh, I thought, it must be finished. I looked at my watch. It was 11:30am and the tribute had started at 11.
That’s when I realized that these people were updating their status while at the concert; it piqued my curiosity.
Thirty minutes later, I looked on my Facebook page again. The same two people had posted six different pictures and statements regarding the concert.
I sighed. I felt sad for these people. I’m not even a Michael Jackson fan, yet if I’d attended the tribute concert, I’d want to experience it—not report it.
These people got to attend one of the most memorable events in their lives and instead of being in the now and actually acknowledging the present action, they were just thinking of the next thing. I began to feel a bit judgmental and usually when this happens I always ask myself: Do I do what I’m judging?
Do I? Am I ever out of it?
No. I’m not a huge texter and I only update Facebook about once a day, but…
Before I could censor my thoughts, my mind flashed back to last night when I was jacking off. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get myself hard and turned on. My usual vivid mind of fantasy felt as if it had shut down. So I turned to porn.
Porn isn’t shutting off… is it? I asked myself.
Normally I’d say no, but again I thought of last night. I really wasn’t into what I was watching. Normally, I love watching Colby Keller stroke himself. His lean body, his ample chest hair, and that long thick-headed cock. Yum.
Yet when I thought of the porn I’d watched the night before, I could barely recollect anything I’d seen. I realized that instead of using porn to stimulate me and turn me on, I actually just used it to turn me “off”, so to speak. Almost like these people at the concert using their Facebook reporting as a way of distancing themselves from the situation, instead of feeling it.
My mind thought of the time that I sucked a guy off and looked up to see him texting. No, I’m not going to go back to each memory of every time I give mind-blowing head.
BUT I DO DAMMIT! PEOPLE HAVE TOLD ME. AND NO I’M NOT INSECURE.
Truthfully, it wasn’t just the blowjob texting that bothered me. He didn’t even look me in the eye, he didn’t want to kiss—he just wanted to pound a hole. He completely wanted to check out. It felt like a sexual and emotional insult, honestly.
So what’s the point of all this thinking? Well, I realized that I wanted to start thinking of sex and relationships differently. Granted I’ve never texted during sex, but I’ve been on a date and thought about the red blinking light on my Blackberry rather than the person sitting right across the table who’s actually interested IN ME!
Maybe it was time to stop and smell the roses a bit more.
When I got home from work, I plopped on my bed and took in my thoughts from the day. Things were going to start differently. Right now, dammit. Right this instance. Right—
RING! RING!
I looked down at my phone. my old friend Peter’s named glowed in the phone’s backlight.
“Hello?” It had been a while since I spoke to Peter and I wondered why he was calling.
“Hey bro,” his voice sounded raspy. “Um…I need to see you.”
“Um, okay,” I swallowed. “Is everything okay?”
“I just need to see you,” he said, “tonight.”
“Oookay,” I said, thinking through my schedule. “Tonight’s fine.”
A part of me didn’t want to seem so available, but worry got the better of me; Peter never called me like this.
“Oh, and Steve,” Peter paused, “just us tonight… okay?”
“Okay.” What the fuck? I repeated what he said, more for myself than for him. “Okay, just us.”
I hung up the phone, trying to ignore the erection in my shorts.
Come back next week for Steve and Peter’s “meat and greet”!
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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
Out of the Frying Pan and into the Closet
What If…
Just Beat It
Intimate Portrait
Intimate Portrait (Part Deux)
Intimate Portrait (Part Trois)
State of Mind
The Age of Disbelief
A Man For All Seasons
Summer Lovin’
A-Men
The Urge
Gettin’ It Done
Here You Cum Again
Eye Of The Beholder