Plains, January 2017
First day of the semester. A day of anticipation and dread. Will my new classes be a pleasure or a pain? Which students will be eager to participate? Which will be taciturn?
But today I'm feeling a little off: I got no sleep last night, and somehow I pulled a muscle doing bicep curls, of all things.
Plus I'm teaching an overload this semester, so it's class nonstop all morning, with no breaks. I have to dash out to get lunch and eat it in my office during my office hours.
It's exactly noon, and very crowded at the Student Union Food Court. I get into the line at the Grille for my regular lunch of chicken, vegetables, and a fountain drink.
The line moves sideways, cafeteria-style. The guy next to me turns and smiles.
"It's my first time here. Is it any good?"
He's a student, taller than me and rather stocky, wearing a brown sweater and jeans, but no coat. Reddish-brown hair, short reddish-brown beard, blue eyes. Reminds me of Alan the Pentecostal Porn Star, my friend in West Hollywood..
"Sure. I eat here almost every day. The grilled chicken and brown rice is pretty healthy."
"I'm Wagner[not his real name]. I just started in the graduate school."
This is weird. You don't speak in line except to complain about the weather, and you certainly don't introduce yourself to someone you'll be standing next to for only about 30 seconds. You stare at the food, or look at your cell phone.
He's from Bemidji, Minnesota, studying for Master of Music degree, concentration in music theory.
That's why he isn't wearing a coat -- the Performing Arts Building links directly to the Student Union.
He gets my name, my department, where I'm from (I say California), and where there's a good coffee house in town. Curt, one-word answers.
I'm turned off by his over-friendliness. Is it that weird "Minnesota nice"?
Wagner's order arrives. He pays as I give my order. I expect him to vanish, but he waits for me to finish, and then asks "Where are you sitting?"
Walking away, I tell him. "I have to get back. Office hours."
"Ok...nice chatting," I hear in the distance.
I'm starting to feel guilty. The poor guy probably doesn't know anyone, he's in an unfamiliar city far from home on the coldest day of the year, he reaches out, and gets Attitude. I should have been nicer.
It wouldn't hurt to have lunch with him....
I turn and go back to the cafeteria. There are rows of tables in the front, and some booths in the back. Wagner is sitting at one of the booths, with three other guys....
He looks up quizzically. I wave and go through the side door.
Ok, not lonely. Was he cruising me?
I get cruised by twinks all the time -- I was cruised in a crazy retro restaurant in Indianapolis a couple of weeks ago, and ended up with a New Year's Eve date -- but usually it's the soft, cuddly, passive types. Wagner is a bit older, stockier, bearded, aggressive.
Besides, I can't attract men with face alone, at least not recently. My physique draws the attention, and today I'm wearing a bulky coat that hides everything.
I return to my office. Office hours, class, gym (lots of shirtless guys playing basketball!), snack, class.
At 8:00 pm I'm finally ready to go home, have dinner, watch Netflix, and fall asleep. The route that involves the least amount of time outside in the cold goes through the Student Union and Performing Arts to the north parking lot.
Besides, you can usually find some cute theater majors hanging around in the Performing Arts lounge.
And music majors?
I go into the lounge, pretending that I want to buy a soda from the machine. Sure enough, there's Wagner, sitting by himself, working on a laptop.
"Hi!" he exclaims, scooting over so I can sit next to him. "How was your day?"
Almost exactly 24 hours later, Wagner is in my bedroom, going down on me. He has a firm physique with big nipples and a belly, very furry -- there's even hair on his shoulders. Nice tongue action.
When I finish, we climb into bed. I wrap my arms around him. He lays his head on my chest.
"You have the most spectacular chest I've ever seen," he murmurs. "You must go to the gym every day."
"Just about." I move to go down on his very thick beer-can of a penis. "Question, though. When we met, I was wearing a bulky coat, so you couldn't see my physique. What did you find attractive? Are you into older guys?"
"Well, yes, but that wasn't it. I get approached by older guys all the time. Most of them are just pathetic, so needy."
"So...just out of curiosity."
"Your voice," he says. "Great basso profundo. I figured you for a music professor."
That's a new one.
"Most gay guys go to the ballet to cruise bulges," Wagner continues. "I go to the opera to cruise voices."
I do have a deep voice, but I can't hold a note.
Fortunately, he doesn't ask me to demonstrate. My mouth is occupied elsewhere.
See also: Cruised by the Waiter in a Crazy Retro Restaurant; First Day of Class Beefcake and Bulges.
Friday, January 13, 2017
Gay Panic and the Obnoxious Roommate
Long Island, September 1997
When I first started out in grad school in New York, I couldn't live in Manhattan right away: everything there was frightfully expensive, $900 to sleep on someone's couch, $1000 for a walk-in closet in someone's bedroom. So I moved into a graduate student apartment near the campus on Long Island: four bedrooms, a bathroom, and a living room-kitchen area.
You were assigned roommates. Mine were all heterosexual: Huang, a slim Taiwanese guy who talked on the telephone loudly at 4:00 am; a beefy Turkish guy who mostly stayed in his room, and Max from Brooklyn. Cute, rather muscular, and THE MOST OBNOXIOUS PERSON ON EARTH.
1. He played VERY LOUD rap music all day and all night. He would leave the apartment with the music still blaring from his room.
3. He smoked -- in a nonsmoking apartment -- got drunk every night, and had the annoying habit of calling everyone "Negro," when they weren't black.
For that matter, it was annoying to hear Black English coming from a white guy: a'ight, I axed her, word, I'm a bust a cap, chill out, peace out.
4. He brought girls into the apartment to spend the night, and in the morning they walked around in bras and panties.
5. When there were no girls, he invited eight male friends over, to smoke, drink, call each other "Negro," have LOUD discussions of the "tits" on various "honeys," and eat all of the food in the refrigerator, including my food.
6. He never cleaned anything. Imagine this place with a dozen plastic bags full of decaying leftovers, piles of dirty dishes, 23 magazines, 16 beer cans, three pizza boxes, and miscellaneous shirts, pants, and underwear.
7. Once he went home for the weekend, and forgot that there was an open can of tuna fish in his room. We thought somebody died in there.
8. He put a pot of water on the stove to boil and forgot about it. Three hours later, the water had boiled away, and the pot was on fire.
9. He walked around wearing only a towel.
Well, that part was ok.
But I wanted this guy out! I called management, but they said that being loud and messy was not grounds for re-assigning him. Now, if he asked for a re-assignment himself....
Why would he do that?
"Well, maybe if he was uncomfortable with you. You know, if you were a homosexual or something."
Gay panic! The perfect roommate repellent!
I staked out the living room until Max walked past wearing only his towel, talking on his cell phone to someone: "Naw, her tits ain't nearly as big as her sister's...."
I ripped his towel off, revealing his penis -- very impressive.
He slammed his cell phone shut. "Yo, Negro, what up?" he asked in surprise.
"What up is, you're really hot," I said.
Any second now he'd run shrieking to his room, slam the door, and call management to request a new apartment.
Any second now...
He grinned. "Thanks, man."
"Um...I like them big. The bigger the better. There's not a guy alive I can't handle."
"Glad you like the view." He swung his hips a bit, then retrieved his towel. "Any more than that, and I'd have to charge."
Time to bring out the big guns. I lay my hand flat against his chest. "You want to...you know, get together sometime, like on a date?"
Asking a naked straight man for a date! Any moment now, he'd run away screaming...
"Naw, naw, sorry, man, I ain't play like that. It's all good, though. I got a homie that be into dudes. Whyn'cha give him a holla, yo?"
"Um...sure, that would be great."
He wrote the number on my notebook, then turned and sauntered to his room, leaving me in a stunned silence.
Obnoxious but not homophobic.
See also: Why My Nickname is Boomer; Trapped in a Dorm with Kids
When I first started out in grad school in New York, I couldn't live in Manhattan right away: everything there was frightfully expensive, $900 to sleep on someone's couch, $1000 for a walk-in closet in someone's bedroom. So I moved into a graduate student apartment near the campus on Long Island: four bedrooms, a bathroom, and a living room-kitchen area.
You were assigned roommates. Mine were all heterosexual: Huang, a slim Taiwanese guy who talked on the telephone loudly at 4:00 am; a beefy Turkish guy who mostly stayed in his room, and Max from Brooklyn. Cute, rather muscular, and THE MOST OBNOXIOUS PERSON ON EARTH.
1. He played VERY LOUD rap music all day and all night. He would leave the apartment with the music still blaring from his room.
3. He smoked -- in a nonsmoking apartment -- got drunk every night, and had the annoying habit of calling everyone "Negro," when they weren't black.
For that matter, it was annoying to hear Black English coming from a white guy: a'ight, I axed her, word, I'm a bust a cap, chill out, peace out.
4. He brought girls into the apartment to spend the night, and in the morning they walked around in bras and panties.
5. When there were no girls, he invited eight male friends over, to smoke, drink, call each other "Negro," have LOUD discussions of the "tits" on various "honeys," and eat all of the food in the refrigerator, including my food.
6. He never cleaned anything. Imagine this place with a dozen plastic bags full of decaying leftovers, piles of dirty dishes, 23 magazines, 16 beer cans, three pizza boxes, and miscellaneous shirts, pants, and underwear.
7. Once he went home for the weekend, and forgot that there was an open can of tuna fish in his room. We thought somebody died in there.
8. He put a pot of water on the stove to boil and forgot about it. Three hours later, the water had boiled away, and the pot was on fire.
9. He walked around wearing only a towel.
Well, that part was ok.
But I wanted this guy out! I called management, but they said that being loud and messy was not grounds for re-assigning him. Now, if he asked for a re-assignment himself....
Why would he do that?
"Well, maybe if he was uncomfortable with you. You know, if you were a homosexual or something."
Gay panic! The perfect roommate repellent!
I staked out the living room until Max walked past wearing only his towel, talking on his cell phone to someone: "Naw, her tits ain't nearly as big as her sister's...."
I ripped his towel off, revealing his penis -- very impressive.
He slammed his cell phone shut. "Yo, Negro, what up?" he asked in surprise.
"What up is, you're really hot," I said.
Any second now he'd run shrieking to his room, slam the door, and call management to request a new apartment.
Any second now...
He grinned. "Thanks, man."
"Um...I like them big. The bigger the better. There's not a guy alive I can't handle."
"Glad you like the view." He swung his hips a bit, then retrieved his towel. "Any more than that, and I'd have to charge."
Time to bring out the big guns. I lay my hand flat against his chest. "You want to...you know, get together sometime, like on a date?"
Asking a naked straight man for a date! Any moment now, he'd run away screaming...
"Naw, naw, sorry, man, I ain't play like that. It's all good, though. I got a homie that be into dudes. Whyn'cha give him a holla, yo?"
"Um...sure, that would be great."
He wrote the number on my notebook, then turned and sauntered to his room, leaving me in a stunned silence.
Obnoxious but not homophobic.
See also: Why My Nickname is Boomer; Trapped in a Dorm with Kids
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)