The down-low world has so many twists and turns sometimes it surprises even me. Like I couldn’t make this shit up. It can get just that surreal.
Sunday night I was asked to a gala hosted by “Frank,” a guy I kick it with sometimes but who has now become more of a friend. I even do business with him sometimes. Hey, I’m on a budget so I wasn’t going to miss a chance to attend an event that would have cost more than a $100 to go to on my own dime.
I get there and get seated in the VIP section with my guest. I happen to look across to the other side of the VIP section and see Frank’s wife sitting there. I have seen them in public and I recognize her. I think to myself: “I slept with your husband and here I am sitting looking you dead in the face.”
She is a fine looking woman, tall and dark-skinned with a good body that looks like it stays in the gym. Plain faced but still classy and elegant in a simple black dress. Guilt makes my stomach twist. I take a sip of wine and my stomach settles.
Her head turns and she looks at me. Our eyes lock a moment and then she glances at something else. I know she has found out her husband swings with guys and I know they have separated but still socialize. So I think, “Damn, does she think I got this VIP seat because I’m down with her man?”
But her looks and beautiful dark eyes don’t betray any feelings. I guess to her I’m just another dude in the audience waiting for the show to start.
I get up at intermission and run into “Stanley” near the cash bar. Stanley is down-low and married, too. He is there with his wife. He glances over and I can tell from a certain look it is okay to approach. Stanley is a businessman who knows a lot of people his wife doesn’t so I am just another associate.
“Hey, Catherine I want to introduce you to a buddy of mine, Immanuel,” Stanley said as he pulls me into a handshake and one of those stiff, half hugs black men give each other.
I say hello to Catherine and we make small talk. But in the back of my mind I think about how Stanley and Frank bragged to me just days before about this guy they fucked with each other. The scene was especially freaky — they put their dicks up the guy’s ass at the same time.
“He is still calling us wanting to do that again even though he moved to the Midwest,” I remember Frank saying, laughing.
And here I am standing at a formal event, meeting his wife and knowing shit about her man that would make her bust her glass of wine up against the wall and cut his throat with the jagged edge.
Or, does she know and really not care because he can afford to bring her to galas where most everybody is successful and beautiful, the cocktails flow, and image matters more than substance?