A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Sexual Orientation (24 page)

As soon as the ballad ended and Kon Kan's “I Beg Your Pardon” started up, the floor was instantly packed with sweating bodies moving and gyrating in ways I'd never seen before, not even on
Dance Fever
when I was younger. This was something new, something not choreographed or put on for show or anything like that.

Maybe it was freedom. These people had a know-ledge of themselves that I didn't, and they were free to express it any way they wanted. I didn't have that. I had nothing to really express because I didn't have a clue who I was—not anymore.

No, that wasn't true. I did have something to express. I had questions.

Nate and I spent the next two and a half hours dancing, talking and drinking. I only had Pepsi after a single shot of Jungle Juice. There was no way I was going to make an ass out of myself and not remember it in the morning.

Besides, Nate really was a great guy and quite handsome, too, but he just wasn't doing anything for me. I didn't expect that he
would
do anything for me, but every time I looked at his face I kept hoping it would be someone else's. Was it because that person did something for me, or was it because it would be a familiar face in a foreign place? Did it really matter?

Actually, yes, it did, and that someone else finally found me sitting at a table when Nate was up getting a refill.

"Are you having a good time?” Jordan asked me. He was going to great pains to seem only mildly interested in my response.

"Lovely.” I looked up at him and responded in the same tone. “Couldn't be better.” Why was it, again, that I was so glad to see him? The reason was fading ... like my patience.

"Glad to hear it.” He forced a smile. Yeah, he was believable—not.

"You?” This was more annoying than pleasant, but I'd play along.

"Wonderful!"

"Fabulous!” Two could play at this.

"Where's your friend?” Jordan looked up towards the bar. “Getting another drink?"

I could tell he was struggling with whether or not he should continue the thought because he had the look on his face that most constipated people have—or at least, the actors have on the laxative commercials that dramatized more than was really necessary. The urge to force it out was there, but how much pain it was going to cause was uncertain.

"Getting some napkins to mop up the drool from his mouth and your shirt, maybe?"

So, that's how it was going to be.

"Aren't you charming as always? And where's your...” How could I put this in terms that he could understand? “...whatever it is you call him? Outside barking at the moon or chasing passing cars?"

"We could go outside and look.” He motioned towards the door. “Besides, I'm about ready to call it a night. If you don't mind, of course."

There was no reason for him to be snide about it. He didn't want to go there with me.

"You can call it whatever you want.” I faked the best happy face and civil manner I could just to annoy him. “But I
would
like to say goodbye to Nate."

Jordan declined to make any further comments. When Nate came back, I explained that my friend was leaving and, since he was my ride, that meant I had to take off, too. Nate wasn't very happy about it, but he was gracious, and I even gave him a quick hug. I was glad he didn't give me his address and phone number or ask for mine. I doubted either of us would be getting to each other's state anytime soon, and what would we say to each other even if we did?

Somehow, I got the impression he knew all this, too, but I still couldn't help feeling like I was a jerk. After all, he'd put up with me during the evening, and I'd only given him a hug. Boy, that was big of me. Miss Manners would not be pleased.

All I could think about on the way back out to the car was how much I wanted to go home, crawl in bed and pull the covers over my head. Since when did I start feeling so confused about life, about myself—and about Jordan? One minute I wanted to apologize to him for being such a jerk and the next I wanted to make him miserable and jealous.

Nate had really turned my night around after the incident in the bathroom and made me question society's beliefs about gays even more than I had before. I had so many questions that had to be answered before I returned to the humdrum life I'd left behind in Michigan. Unfortunately, there wasn't much time, and as much as I still didn't want to admit it, I needed Jordan's help answering them.

"Jordan, I'm—” I started, but was cut off by another voice.

"Jordan!"

We both looked up to see who had called his name. A guy—dare I call him that?—was walking towards us. He was probably a year or two older than Jordan, about a foot taller, built like a brick shithouse, had a stud in his left ear, two hoops in his right, wore a large cowboy hat and carried himself like he was God's gift to homosexuals. I didn't find him particularly attractive—maybe a bit more than Jordan's dancing partner in the club, though I'm sure he'd be the belle of the ball in a prison block.

"JR,” Jordan acknowledged. There was a definite coldness in his tone, and I was curious why.

"It's been a while.” JR looked him over appreciatively. He had a Southern accent, probably Texan. Well, I thought it might be Texan because of his name, which was straight out of the TV series
Dallas
. “A year at least, right?"

Jordan agreed.

"You still look as good as you did then, maybe better."

I didn't particularly like the way JR was un-dressing Jordan in his mind and going through a number of sexual fantasies without his consent.

"I've wondered how we keep missing each other at the clubs."

"Luck, I guess."

"Oh...” He grinned arrogantly. “...I can't believe you still have hard feelings. We had some really good times.” JR looked around and then motioned back toward his car. “Why don't you get rid of the twig and let's go relive some old memories."

Twig?

"I mean...” He glanced at me again. “...how desperate are you these days?"

I tensed up and sensed Jordan tensing up, too. This was a complication I really didn't need. It was, to say the least, very inconvenient. There was obviously some history between them, and it wasn't entirely pleasant, at least, for one of them. It wasn't difficult to figure out that they'd had sex.

I understood why JR was attracted to Jordan, though I couldn't figure out what Jordan saw in this inspiration for the creature in Pumpkinhead. What was that name Jordan told me to call people who were annoying me?

"Why don't you leave him alone, Marie.” I finally decided to speak up. After all, the dick had called me a twig.

"Marie?” JR frowned.

"Mary,” Jordan leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"Mary,” I corrected myself. “Why don't you leave him alone, Mary!"

"Why don't you get lost, Pee-Wee, before I have to take you over my knee, spank you and send you on your way crying for Mommy."

That did it!

"Why don't you go head South for the border, you down-home-on-the-farm, Bob-Evans-eating, sister-molesting, sheep-rearing, bull's-horn-up-your-ass-riding byproduct of a lesbian clusterfuck!"

Jordan did a double-take, and JR's mouth dropped open.

"Now, if you'll excuse us.” I put my arm around Jordan and pulled him close. “I'm going to take this hot Adonis home and do something that will make him forget you ever existed, bitch."

It was a safe assumption that JR could have whipped my ass without too much difficulty, but he was too shocked to bother lifting a finger.

I had steered Jordan to the car and locked all the doors before he snapped out of it. He was in a state of shock as well, but not so much that he didn't know not to stick around the parking lot any longer than we had to. We were on our way back home moments later.

"I still can't believe you said that to him.” Jordan unlocked the back door and let us in. The house was dark, which made sense since we were the only ones there. “That was great!” He flipped on the lights and then looked directly at me. “Nobody's ever stuck up for me like that before.” It was the first time I think I'd seen him this sincere and almost at a loss for words. “Thank you."

"I didn't do it for you.” I was so angry I was shaking. “He insulted me, and I lost my temper."

Jordan turned away and lowered his head, which pissed me off all the more.

"I can't believe you had sex with that asshole! I mean, what the hell were you thinking?” I didn't give him a chance to respond. “You could do so much better. At least you know what you're looking for, and you're not afraid of go out and find it, but next time, find something human."

I stopped and tried to calm down. This wasn't the time to berate him. I'd already done plenty of that during the last few days. I needed to find some way to tell him that I actually admired him.

"People don't have to guess with you. It's not at all like that with me. I can just imagine what your aunt thinks about me right now, and it sure wasn't helped by that ... friend of hers who seems to think I'm a closet sex donkey sodomite wannabe."

"You want to sodomize a donkey?” He turned to me and made a feeble attempt at humor. It was either that, or he wanted to change the subject.

"Don't fuck with me right now. I'm trying to be serious."

"Well, didn't you ever make a mistake?” Jordan started losing
his
temper, though his eyes were a bit glossy. “Out of all those women you bragged to me that you've been with, never a mistake?” He fought to regain his composure. “How about when you were younger and only had guy friends who stayed overnight? Did you ever get curious? Anyone ever tell on you? Come on,” he pleaded, “level with me. Did you ever experiment with any of your friends when you were a kid?"

"Sure. There was Jimmy, Andrew, Mike, Scott, Randy, Rob, Keith and Craig."

He seemed dumbfounded at the number of people on my list. Apparently, he hadn't expected me to be that honest with him. In any case, it took several long moments before he could put his thoughts into words and respond.

"And it never occurred to you that you might be gay?"

"No.” It hadn't, really. “Should it have?"

"Who
are
you?” Jordan looked at me like I was one of those pod people from
Invasion of the Body Snatchers
. I might look and talk like Andy, but I definitely wasn't the Andy he'd come to know.

Little did he know that he was hitting on a question I'd been struggling with for a long time now. However, I'd been putting off answering that question for a long time, too.

I'd flirted with an answer once or twice, but never seriously. Part of me desperately wanted to find out and finally come to some resolution, while another part of me fought that course of action with everything it had. That's why I was in turmoil, and that's why I could never be happy with myself or anyone around me, but I was refusing to acknowledge that, either. It was just frustrating.

"I don't know who I am.” I looked away from him. “I'm not one way, and I'm not another, so I don't know what I am!"

"And that's why you're so confused.” Jordan reached out and gently turned me back around to face him again. “You think it has to be either this way or that way.” He was desperate to get me to understand what he was saying. “Don't you get it? There is no this or that! There's only you, and then everybody else."

"I don't want to be like everybody else,” I countered.

"You don't have to be.” Jordan spoke very softly now. “Why should you have to stop being who you are? Why should you lose your own identity to become like what you see in your mind as everybody else? Don't you think that others would benefit from who you are, what you have to say and how you choose to say it?"

"It hurts to be me.” I was beginning to choke up.

"You think it doesn't hurt to be me? Remember JR? Do you think I'm proud of that?” He looked disgusted just talking about his ex, so I gathered not. “But that's life. We live and learn, but at least I'm out there trying and I'm going to learn by my mistakes. Why should you get off scot-free while the rest of us have to suffer through this?"

"Because I'm better off alone."

"You might think you've got it made by yourself, but when those people who are suffering now eventually find happiness in another human being, regardless if it's a man or a woman, you're still going to be at the starting line wondering how they got so far ahead of you. Worse yet, you won't understand what they have, and you'll still be lonely, still be needing. If you have a chance to find happiness, why not take it? Whatever it is ... or whoever."

"Because I don't want to be different!” I screamed, and we both jumped. “Let me tell you something about different—it sucks.” I started to shake. “I went to grade school with a kid who was different. He played with dolls and acted more feminine than what was accepted or considered normal in adolescence. Everybody teased him, including me, and it never stopped, not even in high school. In fact, it got worse.” I grimaced. “It disgusts me to even think about because I was part of the problem.

"Hell, I helped
perpetuate
the problem by never trying to understand what he instinctively knew and accepted about himself. There's no doubt in my mind that he was and is to this day gay, but that's who I saw in my early years and what I equated all gays to be like. They acted like him, and everybody else reacted like we did."

Jordan didn't say a word. I was hoping he would stop me, tell me that I hadn't done anything wrong because I just didn't know any better back then; but that didn't excuse how I had been acting lately, and he remained silent. How ironic it seemed at this moment that I had been so willfully ignorant in the past and didn't seem to be doing much to improve it lately.

"I never defended him,” I continued, “and I detest myself for that. There were opportunities to help him out, but I took advantage of them to fit in with a much larger crowd who didn't accept me any more then they did him. When I graduated, all I could think about was getting away from them and never looking back. Maybe I couldn't change the past, but I could have at least told him that I was sorry, and I didn't even do that. Instead, I just left and brought the ghosts and problems with me."