So, if this were a trashy romance novel, we'd be nearing page 185. Yes, the sex act between me and my new endeavor was getting ready to bounce into reality. The only problem with the bounce here was that I did not want to seem easy, but being a tease was just as unappealing. You see, it had been quite sometime since I had last dated someone before I slept with them. Seven years to be exact. So, as you can imagine I was torn. On the one hand, I didn't want him to lose interest in me for not sleeping with him. On the other hand, I didn't want him to lose interest in me because I had slept with him too soon. Clearly all of this sex nonsense was to be caught in a very small window of opportunity; a balancing act between too long and too short - much like other aspects of the gay sex.
The date is November 1st, 2009 and it is planned that Trevor will be coming over to my house to spend the evening with me. Bear in mind, that Bob and I had officially ended the relationship and my house was beginning to fill up with cardboard boxes encasing the remnants of my very broken relationship of nearly a decade. As opposed to hiding them off to one side, or even the basement to save myself the embarrassment, I simply plowed a path that led to the kitchen and a separate path that went to the hallway. I tidied up the living room and bathroom to the absolute best of my abilities and sprayed the whole place down with the scent of Clean Cotton from the nearest bottle of Febreeze I could find. Clearly, there was no shame in my game...But there sure as shit should have been. I mean really, Clean Cotton and Cardboard mazes...that was my idea of a good damn time.
All day long, I had been busy making the courtesy break-up announcement to my friends and family. I made phone call after phone call about how "this was best," and "we're both better off." It is so obligatory that you make these statements for the tourists, letting them know you will be just fine. In truth and retrospect, I think I said the phrase "I'm fine" so many times in that day, that I'm not even sure they sounded like words anymore, but there you have it. My newfound freedom was as boring as it was rewarding.
Meanwhile, Trevor had been sleeping in all day as he hadn't arrived home until nearly five in the morning the previous evening. During last night's drive home, he had called me to tell me that he enjoyed the evening immensely, although it was a little weird making out with me in a short Red Riding Hood outfit and a wig. I sat in my dark living room and daydreamed about what my life was going to become in a few short hours: officially single, starting from scratch, and the left-over hangover from things I never wanted, like a mortgage. On the flip-side of my thoughts, however, there were the new, hopeful images that danced through my head. There was new beginnings with limitless potential. Looking back, I think it was the merest of possibility of potentially becoming happy that aided my survival the most.
That evening, Trevor made his way over to 803 W. Corrington Avenue for what would be our first night together. It was decided that we would have a quiet evening in, aka...having the dirty dirty! I was as nervous as a virgin in Cell Block E. The usual thoughts ran through my head: Was my breath ok, was the bedroom clean, where should I put the animals so they couldn't watch the sex occur...things of that nature. We settled in on the couch where we watched "13 Going On 30." I think I heard about 10 minutes of that movie over the screaming that was going on in my head. On my left shoulder there was a little devil Britney Spears dressed in her Red Pleather "Oops!...I did it again" outfit, screaming DO IT! DO IT! On my right shoulder was my British grandmother quipping about Tea, Tarts, And Whores....
As Jennifer Garner reverted back to a thirteen year old, Trevor made his move.
"I'm tired. I should get going soon."
AACK! Absolutely not! There was no way that he was going to dictate the outcome of the will he-won't he diyad.
"You could stay here if you want."
"Oh-kay"
Somehow, knowing him now the way I do, he totally dictated that outcome. Sneaky Bastard.
So, I fed the dogs, kicked the cats out of the bedroom, and we retired to the bed for the evening festivities to commence. Here' s where our tale gets a little R-Rated, so grab your Vodka and put the kiddies to bed...Being that I had been in a sexless relationship for the past 14 months, I had forgotten some of the necessities to getting down. I know what you're thinking: condoms, handcuffs, naughty dice...But alas, no. My oversight was the largest of them all. It had never once occurred to me to ask the one essential question that every gay should automatically ask upon introduction: Are you a Top or a Bottom?
Everyone knows that every gay man has a natural preference to the topping or the bottoming roles. Me, I had always been partial to the latter, as with my previous lover it was quickest way to get the whole "sex" ordeal overwith; thirty seconds of my life wasted, but at least it wasn't a whole minute. (Remove the shocked looks from your faces...we've all thought it...) Because of this very clear preference, any gay relationship can be over before it begins if this is not addressed. But how do you bring it up? Sure you could just ask, but then you run the risk of laying there awkwardly waiting for him to put his clothes back on and leave. So I did what any self-respecting lady would do. I dodged the bullet by telling him I wasn't a big ho and couldn't have sex with him the first night he stayed with me!
Phew! That was smooth, like pumice. Ok, so clearly I panicked, but the reality is I really liked him and I didn't want to be just another trick in a sad episode of "Queer As Folk." I wanted to be the main character in my own story.. Up until now, I'd garnered a supporting actor award, but I was over it. I wanted to trust Trevor, but more than that, I wanted him to trust me. After a few more attempts at getting lucky, Trevor went to sleep.
The next night, however, would not go to my favor. You see, as sweet as all this was, I was dying to sleep with him as much as he was me, and soon the lines of who's going to top and who's going to bottom became blurred. Blurred to the point that neither of us gave a damn and we both assumed the natural roles that were were inclined to assume, and let me tell you something honey...It was some good shagging. And for every on out there who thinks they can guess who's who in the relationship...You are wrong.
Trevor was perfect. He was sensitive and smart, witty and subtle, solid and whole. He was exactly everything that I was looking for, even before I started my hunt. In a word of total description, he was a man.
It was time that I closed my eyes, plugged my nosed, and jumped off of a very large cliff. I was tired of being afraid of being happy, of not having other people's approval, of being what I thought would make everybody think I was better than I was. I wanted to start being me. So I did it. I leapt, screaming "GERONIMO!" And I haven't regretted it since. PS. the fall was hard and the landing hurt like hell, but I've never been better.
As for Trevor and I, we haven't slept apart since that first night, and I'm betting we never will.
