A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Sexual Orientation (19 page)

"Well.” Janice set her book back down. “By all means, please share this brilliant insight with me."

"Fine. I will.” I looked around and gathered my thoughts, except there weren't any. “People are like...” My eyes finally rested on ... “French fries."

"That's your insight? An analogy that people are like French fries?” She stared at me, but couldn't figure out if I was telling her the truth or pulling this out of my ass. I think it was the uncertainty that prompted her to let me continue. “Okay, how?"

Yeah, genius, how?

This was going well. Janice had actually thought enough to ask me to sit down so she could share some of her insight with me, and I was paying her back with ca-ca. It was my duty as a writer to be thorough in all forms of thought and quick tidbits of wisdom, including such subjects as love, romance and the binding energy that brought the people of the world together.

It was also my duty to be able to bullshit when necessary.

"I think it's the potato that's important as opposed to strictly the fry itself."

Janice gave me a perplexed look.

"They're like parts ... parts that make up the whole. For instance, we eat French fries with salt and ketchup, but you wouldn't do that with a baked potato. Most people eat that with butter and sometimes sour cream, but not ketchup. Likewise, we don't smother French fries with butter or sour cream. Do you follow me?"

She didn't.

"Okay, take home fries or hash browns, now. We have ketchup with those, but no sour cream. Sometimes we even butter them or add eggs, but you wouldn't add eggs to a baked potato. We also wouldn't have eggs with French fries, but we would the hash browns. Then you get into combinations like potato salad, which has salad dressing as opposed to sour cream. I mean, they're both white substances, but miles apart in taste and compatibility. When was the last time you had salad dressing with a baked potato or a French fry? It would be like mayonnaise instead of vanilla sauce on your cobbler."

"What the hell are you talking about?” Janice kept looking at her cobbler, my fries and then finally back at me. “You didn't just think of that, did you? I mean, you couldn't have.” She sounded frustrated. “I mean, what the hell are you talking about?"

"People, Janice. Remember?” I stared into her eyes. “Think of the potatoes as people. They come in all shapes, sizes, colors, et cetera, but deep down they're still potatoes."

"People."

"People, yes. You're getting it.” Well, I'm glad she was because I was starting to feel a little lost. If only I could pull this one off. “You see? It doesn't matter what we look like, what we sound like or how popular we are because we're all people.” I think I was finally driving my point home. “As people, we need to get past the colors of our skin. We need to get past this whole fashion thing and see people for who they are inside. We need to be more helpful than hateful. We need—"

"Oh, my God!” Janice interrupted. “You're
gay
."

"Excuse me?” Exactly how had she come to that conclusion?

"You
are
.” She paused. “I should have figured it out yesterday at the beach, only you couldn't take your eyes off my breasts. I keep forgetting that just because you guys don't want to have sex with women doesn't mean you don't appreciate the female form."

"What?"

"Come on, Detroit. Straight guys don't talk like you do.” Janice rolled her eyes. “We need to be more helpful than hateful? You don't strike me as a politician, and you're a little too open about being respectful and unprejudiced towards people of ethnicity, not to mention your desire to see past materialism. Did you just come out of the closet?"

"Come out of the closet? Is that the same thing as coming out from under a rock?” When was it, exactly, that I had lost control of the conversation here? I realized I had gone about my point in a roundabout way, but for her to get this interpretation was beyond ridiculous. “I don't understand this. You assumed I was coming on to you yesterday and gave me an earful about it. When we have a real conversation today and I don't come on to you, you now assume that I must be gay. For someone so big on insight, you're basing a whole lot of yours on assumption."

"Fair enough,” Janice conceded. “Let's just do this the direct way, then. Are you gay?"

"No.” That was easy enough. See? I answered the question without hesitation, so she shouldn't have any reason to doubt me.

"Have you ever had sex with a man?"

"That is
so
none of your business.” Okay, that caught me off-guard, and I felt my face become rather hot rather quickly.

"That's a yes.” Janice sat back in her chair. “Okay, so you're not gay, but you've had sex with men. I take it, then, that you've had sex with women, too?” She stared at me expectantly.

"That's also none of your business.” Okay, reverse psychology. If the first time I said it meant yes, then it should work the same way the second time.

"That's a no, which would indicate that you aren't exactly bi.” Now she leaned forward again. “I'm confused, Detroit. You say you're not gay, yet you've only had sex with men. Do you not see a pattern here? Now, if I'm assuming too much, then maybe you should do the math."

"Okay, fine.” I sighed. “You caught me. I'll admit it, but only to you.” I leaned in close enough to her so she wouldn't have any trouble hearing me at all.
"I'm straight!"
She jumped. “Is that clear enough for you?"

"Hey, sexy.” A voice behind me spoke up. “Where are Aunt Jenny and the kids?"

My lip involuntarily curled. Yep, Jordan had arrived and was speaking to me again.

"Don't say it,” I warned Janice before she could even open her mouth. “Not one word.” With that, I stood up, grabbed my tray and headed for the garbage.

"Aren't you going to finish your sandwich?” Jordan asked as he followed me.

"Nope. It tastes like crap anyway.” I dumped it into the trash.

"You should have asked them to put avocado on it.” Was he being helpful or trying to pull my strings? “And where's Aunt Jenny? You never answered me. What was up with that girl back there? Were you trying to score or something? Because it didn't look like she was buying it.” Yep, he was trying to pull my strings. “What pickup line did you use? I might be able to tell you if it would have worked on me. And—"

"Shut up!"

The beach was fairly crowded again and there were a number of women walking around, but that was about all I noticed. It wasn't anything like the previous day where I was attempting to judge if their breasts had silicone in them or listening to Jenny and Diane determine if the men were taking steroids and stuffing their thongs with enough water-resistant material to make them look like they had more of a package than they actually did. I just didn't care today.

Jordan and I strolled down by the water and steered towards one of the farthest areas, where there weren't as many people. I didn't know if he could explain the two dreams I'd had since arriving in California, but I couldn't just ignore them or the potential to figure out what they meant. Something was going on, and I didn't know what it was. I also needed to apologize to him.

He broke the silence. “You're kind of quiet. I thought maybe something was on your—"

"Are there gays in Hawaii?” That question had been on my mind since the counselor in my dream had mentioned a vacation for two there. Hawaii was such a small place I couldn't imagine there could possibly be any gay people there. Wasn't the statistic, like, one in every ten million or some-thing? Since I knew of my two cousins from the anniversary party and then Jordan, that pretty much took care of this part of California.

"Andy, there are gays everywhere."

My question seemed to amuse him to no end. I didn't want to admit it, certainly not to him, but I was glad. Maybe he'd forgive me for what I'd said to him the previous day.

"Are there classes about being gay?” There couldn't be, could there? Not really. “I mean, I feel stupid for asking this, but I was just wondering. Heterosexual sex is kind of taught in health classes, but I've never seen anything about gay sex.” I didn't know what else to call it. Heck, I didn't even think I knew the language. “I just wondered if they teach it at the college level or if it's something you have to pick up by yourself."

"Are you interested in learning about—"

"Don't even start with that line of thinking!” I should have known he wouldn't have been able to resist making a comment like that. “I'm confident enough in my own sexuality that I felt I could ask you that without you taking it the wrong way."

I wasn't, of course, but that was beside the point. I was more concerned with what
he
was more hung up about. Me? Or sex?

"And you know what? It's comments like that make me believe gay society and culture is based almost entirely on sex. Is it really like that?"

"You sound like my parents.” Jordan winced. It must have been a bad memory for him. I thought he might lash out at me again for saying something potentially offensive, but he looked thoughtful instead. “What do you know about gay culture?"

"Not much, really.” It was only fair to admit the limits of my knowledge. Besides, I was tired of looking stupid when I was with him. “I know it started with the Greeks.” Weren't they some warrior race who weren't allowed to have sex with women unless the match was approved by some council? Even then the actual mating was witnessed, which would be enough to make even the most chaste of men look for an alternative. Who would have thought one could get some kind of satisfaction from one's fellow warriors in the bath? Hey! I wondered if that was where the term
bathhouse
originated.

"And that gay people started fighting for equal rights after Stonehenge."

"Stonewall."

"Whatever."

"And, by the way, I think you mean the Romans."

"There's a diff...” Was there really a difference, and did I really want to look stupid again? “That's what I meant.” I sat down on the sand and watched the waves come lapping up at my feet. It struck me that this should be a moment I'd make an effort to remember, because I'd never felt the ocean on my skin before. I'd been to lakes and swimming pools, but never had I been in touch with a part of something so vast I could barely imagine. I'd been alive longer than most swimming pools, but not the ocean, and who knew what secrets it could tell?

Jordan sat down next to me and looked into the distance, perhaps sensing the same things I was. Here was history, and the future. Actually, the history part reminded me of something.

"I think I once read somewhere that someone, Richard the Great, maybe, might have been gay."

"There is no Richard the Great.” He gave me a bewildered glance. “You're thinking of Alex-ander ... and why do you think his men called him ‘Great?’”

I looked over at him and he at me, then we both started laughing out loud. It was a healthy feeling and release, so I didn't mind it so much. God, I'm so anal-retentive! Why did I have to keep pushing, and consider whether every little gesture, phrase or response could be misinterpreted as an invitation to invade my personal space?

Jordan and I knew exactly where we stood with each other, and he was just having a little bit of fun with me with some of his more suggestive comments, something no different than what I'd done with friends in that past. Hell, his response about Richard the Great would have been one I would have given. Maybe I was still too scared to admit similarities we really did have.

"So.” I had so many questions I still wanted to ask him. “Why did your parents kick you out?” It was a bit personal, but I didn't think he'd mind.

"Because I'm gay."

I could have guessed as much, but I knew there had to be more to it than that.

"They just couldn't stand their only son being as interested in men as their daughter was.” The definite sound of mischief was in his voice. “Bringing our dates home for dinner on the same night caused a bit of tension.” He suddenly sobered. “Which turned out to be the last straw."

"I've had a few last straws myself—a lot of them, actually, but not in the same way as you.” His was definitely a lot more serious than my sticking a nail through a glove and putting ketchup around it. “It could have been worse if you and your sister were supposed to double date and then discovered when he arrived that you were seeing the same person."

We both chuckled.

"Of course, your taste in men is questionable at best, anyway."

"What do you mean by that?” Jordan took his T-shirt off, put it behind his head, lay down and closed his eyes. He had a nice chest, with just enough muscle one could trace what I recalled Jenny terming a “six-pack.” There wasn't much hair on it, which was probably a plus for him since it meant no hair on his back. Women on radio call-in shows always complained about guys with hairy backs and arms and what a turnoff it was. I just thanked God I didn't have that problem.

Hell, I never had my shirt off for women to see my chest or back, anyway. They had it difficult, too, however, and I was glad I didn't have to shave my legs or under my arms.

It was still irritating to me that Jordan was as attractive as he was, especially with his unblemished and tanned skin.
Do you have any idea how much I wish my body looked like yours? Do you know how satisfied I could be to go out with someone with a body like yours? Having everyone around me envious and knowing that I was the only one who would get to go home and rest my chin on your chest or fall asleep wrapped up in your arms...

I suddenly felt rather uncomfortable. Oh, shit! Pain! Claustrophobic swimming trunks! Ouch! Look away from Jordan! Claustrophobic swimming trunks! Just pull your T-shirt down ... There you go. That's better. Act natural. Act normal. No one saw or suspected, not even Jordan. Remember to breathe. That's it. Nice and regular ... Relax...

My imagination really needs a tether. Next thing I know, I'll be talking to myself ... Just think about nuns for a moment or Grandma. That should do the trick. Just imagine Grandma talking to Roberto about ... oral sex. That's definitely a disgusting thought.
Heck, oral sex was disgusting enough in itself, let alone Grandma talking about it. What was oral sex, anyway? Foreplay? Well, if foreplay was a precursor to sex, then what led up to foreplay? What part of the human body stimulated such an act?