Andy Stevenson vs. The Lord of the Loins (12 page)

"You slept with your cousin?” Kendra cocked her head to one side. “Isn't that illegal in west Michigan?"

"Oh, shut it."

It was finally my turn to listen, and Kendra told me all about her own little adventures and realizations in life. She had a girlfriend back home whom she wanted me to meet sometime, and I learned all about her, minus the girly parts, of course. Kendra hadn't sat her parents down and told them outright yet, but she'd certainly hinted enough about it to get the point across. Unfortunately, it was met with selective and opinionated ears. I think hearing that cemented my own private nightmare of how my parents would react if I ever told them.

"Are you going to get Alan anything for Valentine's Day?” Kendra asked me while we were exploring one of the nature trails adjacent to the campus. “It's coming up soon, and I smell romance in the air."

"I'm impressed. All I smell is deer urine.” I smirked.

"Don't ever write greetings cards."

"I've never been able to stomach this whole Hallmark holiday thing anyway.” I yawned. “Besides, the last thing I need to discover is that I'm the more sensitive one between us and set myself up for disappointment when the attention isn't returned."

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you remember back when we were in grade school?” Kendra nodded that she did. “We weren't in the same class, but all the teachers did similar projects for the holidays. When Valentine's Day would come around, we'd all bring in a small brown lunch bag, turn it into a mailbox and hang it on the sides of our desks with a slot cut out for mail. Then, sometime during the day, the teacher would let us get up and deliver our valentines to the proper bags.” I hated dredging this crap up. “You know what it was like for me back then. I was a skinny only child with a big mouth and a father who was a police officer, which didn't endear me to my classmates.

"While we had about twenty-four students to a class and most of us brought in valentines, I was lucky if I got five or six in my bag."

"Five or six?” Kendra looked horrified.

"In a good year, yes.” I stopped walking. “Popularity was never my thing. Notoriety, however ... well, at least that was the next best thing. I was notorious for getting the shaft from my classmates.” I chuckled, but I didn't really find it as humorous as I was letting her believe. “It ruined more things for me as a child than I knew to admit and it wasn't until years later that I realized I was too young to be so bitter."

"That's horrible, Andy. I never knew that.” How could she? I'd never told anybody before. “Speaking of bitter, what are you going to do about Kim?"

"Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” I mumbled, and stared at her. “What do you mean what am I going to do about Kim?"

"Are you going to tell her about Tristan and Alan?"

"Only if she asks."

"Andy!” I couldn't believe she was chastising me. “That's not being very true to yourself or to Alan. If we're ever going to be accepted in life for who we are, then we have to start being ourselves."

"K, I'm fine with the truth, and the truth is that I like my testicles right where they are and not where Kim will bury them if I tell her what you now know.” Speaking of truth, I never did find out what nice thing Alan had done for Kim. I'd have to remember to ask him that when I called later on. “Laugh if you will, but testicles can be a very important part in one aspect of a gay relationship."

"Not mine."

"Well, I'm sure they sell fake ones.” She smacked me. “Let's just say that I'm waiting to see how certain things progress right now. I have no idea what's going to happen with Alan, if Tristan will go away, if Kim will find some other stud to offer his blue-veined doughnut holder hostage in her great wet wall of vagina or even if it's in her best interest to know what I'm keeping from her."

"I'm not even going to ask about that last description. Let's put this into perspective, though.” Kendra put her hand on my shoulder. “Honey, if you were in Kim's place, wouldn't you want to know if someone you were trying to get to know better was someone you really had a chance with or if you should at least start looking for someone else?” That was an awful lot of someones.

"Of...” What?
Of course?
That just defeated my whole argument. “Don't you have to go home soon?” I laughed weakly.

"Tell her!” Kendra gripped my shoulder now and squeezed. “Really."

"You're hurting me.” I grimaced and tried to break her grip. “You big butch beast!"

I decided to consider whether or not I might actually think about telling Kim. Talk about a convoluted process. It was several hours after Kendra had left, and I was on the third floor of the library looking out the windows that made up the entire wall. Todd, my roommate from the previous year, had introduced me to this area one night when I was feeling rather contemplative and in need of some peace. Sometimes I came here when I was depressed or missing my family and looked out towards the east, towards home.

"I thought you might be up here."

The voice shook me out of my stupor. I focused on the window and saw the reflection of Tristan standing behind me, grinning. He must have just run over a cat.

"Did you miss me?"

"Like the intestinal flu,” I shot back.

How did he know where to find me? Heck, I don't think I'd even told Ryan or Kim about this place. It was my own private Idaho, and it was now being desecrated.

"You used to come up here quite a bit last year.” How did he know that? “I worked at one of the desks in the building, so I saw everybody come and go.” Oh. “When I'd put books back on the shelf, I'd see where they sat, who they watched and who watched them. You always came here, but I never gave you much thought back then, not until last semester.” He leaned up against a shelf. “Something changed. It's like you blossomed and finally discovered yourself. That's when I knew you were ready for me."

"I thought the only thing your guests have to do to get ready for you is wipe their knees so they won't get dirt on the sheets?” He had some nerve.

"Why can't you just admit you like the animal attraction between us and what it brings out in you?” Now he was acting all chummy, like we'd known each other long enough to develop a chumminess. “Besides, it's not like I've never seen you eye guys as they walk by you outside or when you're in the student center. Remember Alan the other night? Same thing. Yet, every time I'm around, you turn into a viperous little prude."

"I must be having Gemini moments.” I told him offhandedly, and reached for a book inside my backpack.

"Is the chair next to you empty?"

"Yeah, and this one will be, too, if you sit down."

"Oh, stop it.” He sat down anyway. “Besides, I didn't come here to piss you off. I actually want to have a normal conversation."

Normal? This guy could make me feel dirty talking about bleach.

"Did you ever watch the stars at night when you were growing up?"

This was an unexpected change of topic. It was even pleasant, especially for him, which made me all the more suspicious.

"Yeah, I did. I can remember arguing with my mother for hours that the moon was the one moving and not the clouds.” Now, there was something I hadn't thought about in years. I smiled and wondered what had happened to the kind of childhood innocence where I could tell all my friends that the moon was actually moving and the clouds were stationary and they would believe me. They'd say it was cool! They'd say I was really smart for figuring that out! They'd say...

"That's really stupid.” Tristan stated simply, and I scowled. Poor bastard was probably the neighborhood child molester when he was a child. “Did you ever recite the Little Star Prayer?"

"Yes,” I replied through clenched teeth, “all the time.” I actually used to repeat it quite a bit when I was growing up and staring out my bedroom window at night. I wanted to sing with Shawn Cassidy and be invited back to his house just so my friends would think I was the coolest kid ever! Of course, I'd never dare tell a soul about that now, especially Ryan. I'd never hear the end of it. Still, reciting those words brought back a number of fond, yet strange memories. “Star light, star bright—"

"First hot boy I see tonight,” Tristan interrupted, “I wish I may, I wish I might, nail his tight little ass tonight."

"You rode the special bus to school, didn't you?” I was appalled. “And no, I don't think I've ever heard that version before, and I doubt my friends and family would have appreciated the sentiment."

"Really?” Tristan actually seemed surprised. “It was a great pick-up line in my earlier days. I'm a bit more subtle now."

"Subtle?” I stared at him. “Tristan, you're about as subtle as Richard Simmons trying to impersonate a lumberjack. You represent everything I don't want. You're raw and I want refined. You're self-centered and I want sharing. You're selfish and I want codependant. I'm looking for a partner and you're looking for someone to part. You are so not subtle."

"Well, I think you're wrong. I watched you quite a bit last semester, and you never saw me. I sat behind you in the Commons when you ate or in the student center when you studied or talked to your friends. I passed by your door until I learned your schedule. Sometimes I'd call your answering machine when you weren't there just to listen to the sound of your voice.” He smiled. “I think it's romantic. Now, tell me that's not subtle."

"You're right. It's not. It's called ‘stalker,’ you assclown."

He watched me? He actually watched me for a semester? I think that made it actually worse than just my being his ninety-second stand. It was premeditated!

"Was your man in California romantic?” He actually appeared curious.

"Yes,” I said and then added matter-of-factly, “he's all the right things you aren't."

"That's a pretty deep statement about a one-night stand."

"It was not a one-night stand.” It was more like a two-night stand, but he didn't need to know that. “Jordan is very kind and thoughtful."

"Did you send him a Christmas present?"

The question caught me off-guard, and I guess it must have showed.

"If you two meant so much to each other, I'm sure you must have exchanged gifts."

"Yes, actually, we did. I sent him some CDs—Alphaville, T'Pau and Kylie Minogue."

"And what did he send you?"

"Well...” I didn't want to answer, but I didn't exactly have much of a choice. It was a simple enough question, but the answer was really going to hurt. “A pair of nipple clips.” I blushed. “Don't turn this around, though. Jordan respects me. So, you see, I don't have to go out and buy a jockstrap to get support in a relationship. I just need a better man than you."

"Better man? Please. Why should we restrain ourselves and suffocate under limits that straight society imposes on their own kind?” Tristan spoke slowly and acted as if I should have known this all along. “We're not straight and therefore aren't a part of their rules and behaviors."

"It's a good thing you've got a hole in the end of your penis, otherwise you'd never get any oxygen to your brain.” Stuff like this was just rolling off my tongue lately. So much for using my powers for good. “The point of being gay isn't to live a sexfest free-for-all with no limits. Maybe it's your way of living, but it's not mine. I was just beginning to explore what it means to be gay, and then you came along. I want to love someone enough to inspire them to want to love me back, not to write bad poetry.” It was time to set some rules. “Here's the game plan. I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear you. I don't want you calling me, staring at me from a distance or up close. I don't want to go to the places I go and even feel your presence. I want you out of my life."

"And here's my game plan.” He smiled smugly. “I'm making it my personal mission in life to get you to embrace what it truly means to have a gay soul. When I'm through with you, you'll understand that an orgasm is the closest you will ever come to experiencing the beauty of your nature. Live for the moment. That's what I do, and that's what you'll do, too. I don't have to be in front of you or talking to you on the phone to get my point across because I'm already in your head and I'm not leaving."

"You know, I'd like to say that I understand you and where you're coming from,” I looked at him with pity, “but I just can't seem to get my head that far up my ass. One other thing—I shouldn't have called you an assclown. That was wrong of me, and I apologize. After this conversation, I realize that you lack even the dim flicker of discernment needed to qualify as an assclown.” I stood up and grabbed my coat and backpack. “I'm not surprised your birth certificate is an apology from the condom manufacturer. And just as a professional courtesy, you might want to quit bragging about that extra chromosome you were born with. It's not what you think it is.” I left.

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It was safe to admit that I wasn't proud of myself. I was being mean and I knew better than that. Fortunately, I knew a way to get back on track, and the last thing I did before going to bed was call Alan. I needed to hear his soothing voice to help me wind down. After all, it was time to start enjoying the benefits of having a real-life boyfriend and...

Hey, I have a boyfriend!

"What do you want?” he asked when he answered the phone.

"Uh...” Oh, yeah, I have a boyfriend. O joy, O rapture. “I just wanted to say goodnight and let you know that I was thinking about you today."

"That's nice.
Designing Women
is on.” He paused, and I didn't say anything. “Was that it?"

"Yeah.” I hesitated. “That's about it.” Oh, and that psychotic stalker we talked about earlier today? The one I slept with? Well, he said he was going to take it upon himself to get me laid by every gorgeous guy who strikes my fancy so that I turn into another version of him. However, I don't think you have to worry about anything because you're so warm and understanding that I could never imagine wanting anyone else. “Well, there is one other thing.” I sighed. “Alan, what do you think about Valentine's Day?"