Well, Army Guy from last Sunday is back in town this weekend. And hunting me down like a big game hunter. I’ve managed to elude him though.
His texts start Friday afternoon, hot and heavy. He is getting off duty and making the three-hour drive to our metropolitan area where tens of thousands of downlow and gay dudes reside.
“Let’s get a room,” one of his texts says.
“I want your dick,” says another.
“Stretch my hole,” reads yet a third.
I explain to him several times that I am a family man, and being down-low is just a busy sidebar to my life. I plan to wake up on Saturday, walk my pooch, help clean house, go work-out, and attend a family cookout.
Army Guy offers to meet me at Andre’s place. But when we threesomed there last week he committed a major faux pas in the complex etiquette of down-low culture. He didn’t let the host fuck him. Which would have only been polite since Andre provided the place to have sex as well as condoms, lube, showers and towels. So Andre’s place is out. Matter of fact, Andre told me to tell Army Guy exactly why he was not welcome there again.
Then Army Guy offers to go work out with me at the gym. Maybe we can find a place for a quickie after the workout. I have no intention of a quickie but to test his mettle I tell him where my gym is –it’s at least 30 miles away from where he is staying. I’m not surprised when he texts me back to say he can’t make it. Traffic is too bad.
I have to smile to myself. This dude is young and so transparent. And he failed my test. He really didn’t want to work out with me at the gym anyway. This is not friendship material here. It’s just a fuck. If I had a hotel room waiting for him at the end of that 30 miles he would have come. Because face it, it’s Saturday and even though I live in sprawling metropolitan area the traffic is lighter and more negotiable.
Later in the day I am at a cookout with family. The weather is warm, bright and sunny and puffy clouds drift overhead. It’s not humid – a classic summer day. The event is to celebrate a relative’s high school graduation. I really didn’t want to drag my family to it but they are bored and want to go out and enjoy the day. Plus it’s a family obligation — there are times you have to do things for extended family when you don’t really feel like it. Sometimes just showing up is all you have to do to let people you know you love them. Despite my misgivings, I have a great time at the cookout.
But I notice a text message on my phone, which I have set to silent in case Army Guy continues his stream of texts. I don’t want my phone buzzing to break my family time.
No surprise. The text is from Army Guy.
“Are you at the family cookout,” he asks.”I just got here and haven’t even filled my plate the first time,” I respond, hoping he is getting the hint that he is S-W-E-A-T-I-N-G me.
After I get home the texts continue. When I press him he admits he fucked two other guys this weekend but still wants me to bang him out. This guy has a large, 10-inch dick but like a lot of “versatile” guys I guess he gets tired of being top guy and wants to flip.
I arranged for him to meet my regular buddy “Rex.” Rex is a cool guy to hang out with and I’m hoping Army Guy will have so much fun with him he will forget about me. Army Guy evidently meets Rex late Saturday or early this morning and spends the night with him. I’m mistaken to think Rex is enough for him. Army Guy still wants me to get away later this morning and come bang him there.
But today I really need to go to church. I want to reflect on what I am doing and get some bearings. Figure out what to do with my life. Still, I text Army Guy this morning to tell him I may be able to get away. Deep down inside I really don’t want to and probably won’t.
“I be waitin,” he texts back.
Okay blog readers. Stay tuned to see how this works out.
P.S. Rest in Peace Michael Jackson. I really liked you better in your early “Off the Wall” Days but I got to give you your daps – you were a talented brother and opened the doors for a lot of other black artists to make the money with white folks. But sorry, just looking at your face was painful. What was going on inside of your head that you had to multilate that handsome African American visage? And your music videos got to be a joke. There was no way I and my friends could believe a drag queen could sex Ola Ray (“Thriller”) and Naomi Campbell (“In the Closet!”).
P.S.S. Rest in Peace Farrah. You were sexy for a white girl and I admired the way you went from airhead roles (“Logan’s Run”) to some serious acting (“Extremities” and “The Burning Bed”). You were not just a pretty face and you battled cancer with humor and much bravery. I’m sorry the Michael Jackson hoopla has overshadowed your memory but I’ll never forget you.