Grapefruits 

 

The boy that sits in the back of the class never says anything. I note his attendance by the flexing arms muscles. He came but never left the space within my head. I think about him sixteen hours later when I’m feeling lonely.

Would he climb into bed with me? No, probably not. Not even if he was single. His body and mine might inhabit the same room but not the same bed. Play dough can mold itself into a rock but it can never become an actual rock.3008888f770977e9ba0efe4bd7a4d634.jpg

I try to tell myself that this thought is unfair to my self-esteem. But the feeling of insecurity guides me to the bathroom mirror. I look in it and notice all the lumpy shadows. They gather beneath my chest and around my belly like an impenetrable ozone layer.

I sigh. They’ll never go away. Three months ago I began a new workout plan. Six days a week I’d push and pull weights in hope of transforming my body. The boulder-thick men at gay clubs garnered all the attention, and for once maybe that could be me.

Small grapefruits rolled down my arms whenever they bent down to pick up a pencil. I began to see changes but my dating life stayed the same. No one seemed to notice the grapefruit man.

This leads me to believe that no one cares about body image. The couple next door seems happy with one another. They hold hands despite his pregnant belly and her bloated hips. Love exists between humans and not within words.

I get up to look in the mirror. A different kind of man looks back. His gray skin glows beneath the bright lights. He wraps himself in a half-hearted smile. Tonight will be the best night ever.

I take myself out dancing. Twinkling lights spin around me like fairy dust. Hands pump up and down. A guy named Carlos dances two feet away. We close in the gap and feel happy.

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Closet Case Part 2- Lover’s Wall

Welcome back reader! This is the second installment of my Closet Case series. I meant for this to be a posted a day earlier. After this there will be one more installment to the Closet Case series. Enjoy!

I lifted my leg as far up on the ledge as I could without losing balance. The trashcans beside me smelled dangerously like cat pee. One slip of my foot and I’d be the new kitty litter. This was the first time I ever snuck into someone else’s house, not to mention a boyfriend’s! However, it was kind of “romantic” that two lovers had to meet in secret by a window. I just hoped I didn’t ruin the experience by falling.

“Sit on the ledge. I’ll help you down.” He said. So I sat down with both legs dangling on opposite sides of the wall. He came to the window and held me by the waist. I chucked my other leg over but  with too much force. The two of us stumbled into the bedroom, over dirty laundry, beer cans, and books before tumbling onto the mattress. It smelled just like the trash outside. I shot up and brushed my body off as if a thousand ants were crawling over it.

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“Settle down dude! My parents will hear you.” He said quietly. I looked up to see him closing the door and locking it with a bolt. The bolt was there because the knob was missing! After stuffing it with a sock my boyfriend came over to give me a kiss. One peck on the lips before I put up my hands in protest. There was underwear piled around the room like maybe he organized them according to their cartoon character, but after collecting them he decided to do something else. Like drinking. Bottles and cans were the common knick-knack on bookshelves, nightstands, and windowsills.

“What’s the matter?” He said. A goofy smile was spread across his lips. It was the normal expression he had but now I wondered if maybe it was because of the alcohol.

“Oh. Umm….nothing.” I said. I clenched my gut and sat down on the bed. He came down with me. I wanted to kiss him but there my thoughts were stopping me. Was he drunk every time we met? Could he not express affection without being intoxicated? He touched the inside of my leg with his fingers. I watched them try to nuzzle their way in like a bee crawling into a flower. If he was tipsy then I didn’t know what this meant.

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“There’s this movie I want you to watch.” He said. “It’s an old Sci-Fi set in the dystopian future where the robots rule over the humans.” He got up and walked over to an old VCR. Inside there was a tape all ready to play. I looked around the room a second time. Underneath the dust in a corner of the room was an entire layer of cassette tapes. Some of them I recognized from copies in my living room while others I had never heard of. I suddenly remembered why I liked this guy so much. While the rest of the world had moved onto using downloads and DVDS this guy was vintage.

He came and sat down next to me but this time I had no apprehension about opening myself up to him. I snug my head under his arm and watched the movie, at least for the next five minutes. I needed him to be closer. I tired pulling him on top of me but before I could he shut off all the lights. Afterwards he mounted me, slid his legs back so that we were chest against chest, mouth against mouth. There was indeed alcohol on his breath. I still let him kiss me though. I didn’t care what it took for him to get past some of his fears because somehow he took me away from mine. I was the boy that snuck out of his parents house at night, to an abandoned pool, to a lover’s window.

 

 

 

“Holiday” Part 1

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Gay days in Orlando has always been one of my favorite event. Once a year Disney celebrates the GLBTQ community by advertising their parks gay. There are tons of parades, parties, and of course in my case there are men. Lots of them. Every facet of gay can find a place where they belong and for someone like me that’s important. I’m curious as to what kind of gay cliche I fit into.

Wednesday night I decided to go to Pulse with a friend. It’s the same club where I met The Cop. I walked into the club feeling the pulse of the music. It was like a thousand shots of adrenaline pumped into my veins. I felt sexy that when I leaned over the counter to the bartender I gave him a wink. He smiled and passed me a Whiskey Sour.

“I can’t dance without one.” My friend said, pointing to my cup. So he went off in search of someone to buy him one while I made my way to the Drag Show. albino white

 

“Welcome Ladies and Gentleman to Gay Days Orlando! Please welcome our first star tonight Adrien Gemini!!” The announcer said. The Queen pulled herself onto the stage and began her performance of “Just Dance” by Lady Gaga. The Monster Ball Version! I’m not sure if everyone knew this fact but I did and it sent chills down my spine. Adrien Gemini is one of my favorite Drag Queens because her performances are about the artistry of music in pop culture, as well as the love for her community.

I watched in awe until there was a tap on my shoulder.

“Do you wanna get in front.” A guy said to me. I looked down and saw a 5’4 ft Latino standing in front of me. He was cute although not my usual type. I usually am interested in broader/taller men but it was Gay Days and why not open myself up to new possibilities.

“You don’t like the show?” I said.

“No, I just can’t see.” He said. I continued the conversation by asking if he was in Orlando for Gay Days. He shook his head and explained that him and his friend coincidentally decided to come to Pulse that night from Daytona. I looked over his shoulder and saw his Queen-eque friend. To me these kinds of people are the easiest to stereotype. He had his chin held high with lips pursed, standing tall like a show-dog.

“That’s cool.” I said and introduced myself. He did the same, but I’ll just call him Daytona. We continued talking casually until I whispered in his ear,”You’re very sexy.”

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He shook his head and smiled. He turned around to continue watching the Drag Show while I inched closer, putting my hand up on the wall over his head. I felt in control of the situation so when he turned back around we kissed. Soft and nice. It was nice for two reasons. One because I was kissing a cute guy and the other because I felt like I had made myself feel sexy by making the first move.

We continued watching the Drag Show with my arms wrapped comfortably around his waist. When the music began and the Queens disappeared we danced. Our hips swayed close to one another until I spun him so we could kiss again. It was just as good as the first time except lasted longer. I went a step further and kissed his ear. Looking back, this action was completely out of my element but when he didn’t resist I did it again.

Eventually we spun around the dance floor and faced the stage together. Next to it was a large speaker where a blonde girl was sitting on top. She waved to Daytona and pushed herself off. I stepped back one just to give him his privacy. Maybe they knew one another. She pulled him close to dance until suddenly pulling him off the dance floor and into the crowd. What. The. Hell!!!

(To Be Continued…)

 

 

 

The Touch of Romance

Peter the Cop continued to invite me over to his house on weeknights. We would watch TV, sometimes talked, but usually cuddled in bed. I still enjoyed holding his hard masculine body in my arms while he slept. In the gay community men usually seek partners that are as manly as them, if not more so. Hardly had I ever come across a guy like Peter who enjoyed sports and my company. It’s not that I’m disinterested in athletics but my attention is usually concerned with art and books.

“You have such beautiful skin.” He said to me one night. He was laying on my chest and kissing my hands. I humbly accepted the compliment. It’s one I get often but it means more when coming from an attractive guy. I kissed him, inviting some play time before sleep. We still didn’t have sex. In the morning while getting dressed he made another compliment about my skin. He expressed jealousy about the natural tan I had.

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“Not like me. I’m a gringo.” He said. I paused from tying my shoe. I didn’t know what to say. Even though I’m Latino the terms like “gringo,” are very foreign to me. I grew up in a biracial household where my parents were Caucasian and my brother also Hispanic. The Spanish Language was minor in learning while growing up. Present day, whenever guys try to pick me up with words like “Papi” or “Chico”, I cringe. It feels uncomfortable in so many ways.

I ended up not saying anything in response to Peter’s lingo. We went for a drive. We talked about what Orlando had to offer the gay community. In truth it has a lot more than my hometown which was a single bar. Here there are clubs, cafes, baths, and art shows that all affiliate with GLBT. However, no matter how much bigger this community is every guy still knows one another’s business. A city doesn’t seem to have much to offer after repairing a couple of broken hearts.

Peter went on to tell me that a lot of places were haunted with memories of his previous relationship. My romantic feelings started then to dwindle. In that past I’ve dated a guy who was haunted by an ex (as long as four years). In the end I learned that I shouldn’t have gotten involved. You can’t help someone move on if they aren’t ready. Peter explained that their relationship hadn’t been a healthy one. The two men had gone back and forth with one another numerous times until finally Peter called it quits. I didn’t ask too many questions as I wanted to enjoy what was left of the ride. Eventually Peter said, “We still keep in touch though.”


Later that same day, I was back in my own bed thinking. Peter and I are spending time together but is he really there? As far as I could tell he wasn’t. My proof was that our time together was spent either sleeping or touching one another. Granted we never have sex but I don’t want to be some Latin-bed-warmer. I was angry and confused. I felt used but at the same time it wasn’t like I was protesting the situation. In fact, some of the times I invited myself over. I realized that I was being brash. It was inconsiderate of me to think such thoughts about a guy who respected my intimate boundaries. I guess that I was having trouble respecting his romantic ones.