QColumn: A Gay In The Life: The Good Boy

Last week Steve Prince left us hanging about the drama with Peter. Read part one.
The Good Boy
By Steve Prince
It took me ten minutes to get him out of my open doorway and onto my couch. Not only was Peter horribly upset he was also incredibly drunk.
He sniffled on my couch, his hands resting between his legs.
“Can I get a beer?” he asked.
“We don’t have any,” I lied. “No alcohol actually. Everyone drank it.”
Peter has a very long history of abusing alcohol and tonight he seemed to be back to his old comforts. Still, getting into that conversation right now seemed like it would be counter productive.
“Do you want water or a Dr. Pepper?” I asked tentatively.
He shook his head. I sat beside him on the couch and he folded himself into me.
Peter’s crying had stopped and just a couple of random sniffles remained.
We sat quietly for a while before anyone spoke.
“Babe,” I said, the sound of my own voice surprising me, “what happened?”
I could feel his body tense at the question. After a another long while, Peter finally sat up on the couch and turned to look at me.
“My mother,” he said taking a gulp.
“Did you talk to her?” I said.
He nodded. “I had to,” he said, “she was there.”
“Oh… fuck,” I said calmly; calmly despite wanting to jump up and freak out.

Peter’s mother is… well… a very opinionated woman. Or rather a very opinionated, very very conservative Christian, and a very judgmental woman. She once flipped out at Peter in high school because he was talking to—not dating, just talking to an attractive black girl. Needless to say, I had no idea when he’d ever discussing being gay with her.
“Start from the beginning and tell me what happened,” I requested. And yes, Julie Andrew’s voice from the sound of music began playing in my head. Even in dramatic times, my musical theatre gayness never shuts off. But Julie’s right; starting from the very beginning is a very good place to start.
Peter paused, then took a breath.
“Well, I got to Aunt Jenny’s and was blasted,” Peter said.
I was confused. “You mean you were drunk?” I asked.
Peter shook his head, “No blasted by my mother.”
“What do you mean, babe?” I asked confused.
“Sorry. I’m all fucked up and confused.” Peter’s face began to contort and tears welled up.
“Peter,” I took his face in my hands, “it’s okay. Just calm down.” I kissed him and he kissed me back. I began to pull away, but he pulled me back in and kissed me harder. His tongue lashed in my mouth. His hand began to drift towards my dick. Oddly, it wasn’t turning me on; it just felt angry. It was like Peter couldn’t talk about his anger; instead he had to act it out.
“No, wait,” I panted, “I need to hear what happened.”
Peter began to pull me back to him. “Steve, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s nothing.”
I stared at him blankly. “Peter, you just sobbed like a child on my doorstep for ten minutes. Unless you’re the biggest drama queen in the fucking world that couldn’t be nothing.”
I could feel my face flush with my own frustration. There was no place for that here I thought. I have no reason to be angry.
“Peter, I just wan to help you,” I said trying to think of another tactic to get him to talk.
“Can you deal with my mother?” he asked defeated.
“Yes,” I said confidently, “I can.” He was taking aback by my response.
I continued, “I can talk to your mother, your father, who ever the fuck you want me to talk to. I don’t give a shit about those people, because I love you—not them.”
A shadow of a smile drifted across Peter’s face. He swallowed.
“So I walked up to the front door and my mom threw open the door and yelled, ‘Surprise!’ I laughed and we hugged. She said she’s been planning this for over two months and kept saying how she couldn’t be away from her ‘good boy’ on Thanksgiving. ‘Good boy’ my ass.”
“I’m confused,” I began not putting things together, “what did she say to upset you?”
“She didn’t say anything. It was Aunt Jenny,” he said.
“But you love Aunt Jenny,” I said.
“I still do… she just… I mean,” he sighed. “After my Mom stopped making such a big fuss over seeing me, Aunt Jenny came up to me. ‘I need to talk to you,’ she said and pulled me into the library. The she got all concerned looking and she said, ‘Is your friend Steve coming?'”
“Huh?” I uttered surprised. “What does this have to do with me?”
“Aunt Jenny’s not an idiot,” Peter said dryly. “In fact, that’s what she said when I tried to play dumb. She said, ‘Peter I’m not some backward hick from Oklahoma. Your friend is gay as the day is long and I saw the way you too looked at one another. I get it that you’re gay. I could care less if you’re gay, just be happy.”
“Well, that’s awesome,” I said giving Peter a hug, “I love Aunt Jenny now too!”
Peter pulled me back. “I’m not finished,” he said. “Then she said, ‘Peter I just want to make sure you didn’t invite Steve because your mother will freak.”
“But I met your Mom in high school,” I said.
“Steve, that’s before you were so gay,” Peter said.
“What do you mean?” I asked taking offense. “You make it sound like a purse falls out of my mouth every time I talk.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Peter said, putting his hand on my leg, “but come one Steve. You’re way more confident about yourself than a lot of people are. Aunt Jenny thinks that my mom will get suspicious if she sees me around you.”
“God,” I said, “so much drama. I’m sorry you had to deal with this.”
“Wait,” Peter said, “But then she said, ‘Peter you think you know your mother, but I know her more. You can NEVER tell her about you and Steve. You can’t. She can NEVER know you’re gay. It will break her and I don’t think she can recover. Your father’s such a bastard she already feels enough alone. If she loses you, I don’t think she’ll ever recover. I swear to God, you’ll kill her.'”
I sat there in silence. I was shocked by the harshness of her words. Kill her?
“Steve,” Peter said, “I’ve never been so happy, but…” he paused.
I hate it when people say but and then pause, because you know something not good is going to come out of their mouth. Yet in the millisecond of a pause, a thousand and one neurotic catastrophes begin racing in your mind. It’s just cruel. I will never pause after a “but”; it’s better just to spit it all out.
“But,” Peter continued, “Aunt Jenny’s right. I will never be able to tell her. Never. I feel like I have to make a choice.” He looked at me, his eyes brimming with sorrow, “and I don’t want to choose.”
He began to cry and he fell into me once more. It’s a good thing that when the body is shocked you freeze. I was glad Peter’s words froze my body, because on the inside I felt nauseous and panicked.
We didn’t talk about the drama anymore that night. Peter cried for about five minutes and then he leaned up to kiss me. The intention of sex seemed foreshadowed by the forcefulness of his tongue in my mouth. It was the same angry kiss as before. Yet this time, I didn’t put up a fight. I let him make love to me. I felt a bit pathetic, but it seemed like the only way I could connect with someone I loved so much. Or rather, it was the only way I could be with the man I 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
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
The Present
A Minute’s Pause
Brotherly Love
Ladies Who Lunch
Here Cums The Rain Again
Dinner For Two
Blow by Blow
Commando
Cum As You Are?
Aftershock!
Caught in the Act
The Great Compromise
The Tipping Point
Cross Country
In Stereo
Get Smart
Blind Faith
The Dirty Mexican
A Few Good Men
Peter’s End
Getting Stuffed