The Satyr Schemes to Keep Me Away from Troy

Upstate, Spring 2009

Me and sports don't get along.  My eyes glaze over during discussions of rbis and forward passes.  If I am forced to go to a sports match, I try to focus on the biceps and bulges.

I can barely tolerate having friends who are sports nuts, and I've almost never dated any.  It's on my list of top turn offs, along with being elitist, tall, thin, and feminine.

But what if he looks liked this?

At Christmas in 2008, my boyfriend Chad and I went to a Christmas party thrown by the Rich Kid.  Troy came as the Rich Kid's date.

He was tall, slim, athletic, very handsome, except for the big black earrings and a pink triangle tattoo.

As new meat, he was mobbed by the Gang of Twelve, especially the Satyr, but he kept close to the Rich Kid.  We chatted briefly: he was 22 years old, a senior at the University, president of the Gay Student Association, and a sports nut.  He started out as a physics major, but switched to French, and planned to become a high school teacher and coach.

"I go to Paris every year!" I exclaimed.  "We should talk."

"Sure.  Friend me on Facebook," he said, while both Chad and the Rich Kid glared at us.

During the spring of 2009, I saw Troy regularly on campus and on dates with various members of the Gang of Twelve.  Three days after Chad and I broke up, I began making overtures like "We should get coffee and discuss Paris" or "There's a good movie playing in Cooperstown."  But he always gave curt, noncommittal answers.

Usually I can take a hint: after two rejections, I back off.  But I could tell that Troy was interested.  He was just...reluctant.  In March he said "Ok, I'll go if Chad will be there, too."

Did he have a thing for my ex-boyfriend?

It was too soon after the breakup for hanging out with the ex, so I refused.

Soon Chad and I managed to become ex-boyfriend friends, and started hanging out together again.

In May 2009 Troy graduated with a degree in French.  But he was out of money, and you need an additional year of graduate study to become a teacher in New York, so he took two jobs: a sandwich maker at Subway, and a baseball mascot, Damien the Bulldog.

I claimed to be a baseball fan and got the Satyr and Chad, who had season tickets, to bring me along.  It wasn't bad: he looked like Scooby Doo on steroids, with muscular arms and an incongruous basket.  And he was very athletic, doing somersaults and backflips to get the audience enthused.

On the 4th of July, the Rich Kid held a barbecue at his summer house.  I  came with the Satyr and Chad, and Troy came with the Pitcher with the Secret Move.  Apparently he was going through the Gang of 12 one by one, just as I had.  Or maybe he had a thing for women's underwear.

As I was talking to him, the Satyr approached.  "Boomer, where's Chad?" he asked.

"I don't know.  Maybe over by the hot dogs?"

After the barbecue, Troy and the Pitcher disappeared.  "I think they headed down that trail," the Satyr told me.  "The Rich Kid brings all of his boy toys there -- it's secluded, perfect for a quick make-out session.  Or more, if you have the mind."

Jealous, I followed, and caught up with them.  "Hi, guys, I guess we both had the idea of going on a hike.  Mind if I tag along?"

We trudged through the woods.  Troy was wearing tight shorts that bulged outrageously, and one of those t-shirts slit at the sides, so every time he moved, you got a glimpse of his chest.

"Hang on, gotta go," the Pitcher said. He disappeared into the woods, leaving us alone.

"My friend Eli from Amsterdam is visiting next week," I said.  "Since you're a native of Upstate, you should help me show him the sights."

Ok, I'll go...if I have time," Troy said doubtfully.

"The Pitcher can come, too, of course."

"Oh, he's not my boyfriend.  This is our first date.  We haven't even had sex yet."

"Then you don't know about his secret move?  Let me tell you...."  I leaned in to whisper in his ear about the Pitcher's crossdressing, but suddenly we were kissing.

"Ahem!" the Pitcher said, returning.  "Can I join this party?"

We all kissed and groped for awhile.  Then Troy was on his knees.

No, it wasn't public sex -- this was on the Rich Kid's property.

Even after all that, Troy "didn't have time" to help me show Eli around!

What was going on?  We weren't dating anyone else, he was perfectly willing to get on his knees in the Rich Kid's back yard, but whenever I asked him for a date, he blew me off.

I went to more baseball games with the Satyr and Chad.  I stopped by Subway to eat their awful sandwiches.  I invited Troy to movies and dinners, only to get rejected.

At the Gay Pride Festival, which in Upstate is a picnic held in the Sunday before Labor Day.  his date was the Bodybuilder in the Park.

"Great, the last of the Gang of Twelve!" I thought.  "Maybe now I have a chance."

Nope.

The last straw came on Saturday, September 19th, when he showed up at the Rapper's birthday party with Pete the Water Guy, the one who had a wife on Long Island!

I cornered Troy by the gift table.  "Ok, what gives?  The moment we're alone you fall on your knees, but whenever I ask you out, you make up a lame excuse and go out with Pete the Water Guy instead,  What, I'm good enough for you to have sex with, but not good enough to get coffee with?"

He looked around anxiously.  "I'm sorry that happened, ok?   Now be quiet -- your boyfriend will hear us!"

"Boyfriend?  What boyfriend?"

"Chad, of course."

"What...er...um...we broke up six months ago.  Who told you were were still together?"

"His roommate the Satyr."

We quickly figured it out.  The Satyr had been dropping strong hints that Chad and I were still together, in a monogamous relationship.  Maybe he was angry that I had broken up with his bff, and wanted us to get back together.  Maybe he was miffed because Troy rejected him.

It didn't help that I kept showing up at events with Chad.

Troy thought that I was inviting him to cheat.  Which would render him undateable forever.

Devious!

Troy and I had our first date the next day, on Sunday, September 20th.

We were together for the next five years.

See also: The Satyr and his Boy Toy.