A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Sexual Orientation

by Kage Alan

"What the hell are you talking about?” Janice kept looking at her cobbler, my fries and then finally back at me. “You didn't just think of that, did you? I mean, you couldn't have.” She sounded frustrated. “I mean, what the hell are you talking about?"

  "People, Janice. Remember?” I stared into her eyes. “Think of the potatoes as people. They come in all shapes, sizes, colors, et cetera, but deep down they're still potatoes."

  "People."

  "People, yes. You're getting it.” Well, I'm glad she was because I was starting to feel a little lost. If only I could pull this one off. “You see? It doesn't matter what we look like, what we sound like or how popular we are because we're all people.” I think I was finally driving my point home. “As people, we need to get past the colors of our skin. We need to get past this whole fashion thing and see people for who they are inside. We need to be more helpful than hateful. We need—"

  "Oh, my God!” Janice interrupted. “You're gay."

  "Excuse me?” Exactly how had she come to that conclusion?

  "You are.” She paused. “I should have figured it out yesterday at the beach, only you couldn't take your eyes off my breasts. I keep forgetting that just because you guys don't want to have sex with women doesn't mean you don't appreciate the female form."

  "What?"

  "Come on, Detroit. Straight guys don't talk like you do.” Janice rolled her eyes. “We need to be more helpful than hateful? You don't strike me as a politician, and you're a little too open about being respectful and unprejudiced towards people of ethnicity, not to mention your desire to see past materialism. Did you just come out of the closet?"

  "Come out of the closet? Is that the same thing as coming out from under a rock?” When was it, exactly, that I had lost control of the conversation here? I realized I had gone about my point in a roundabout way, but for her to get this interpretation was beyond ridiculous. “I don't understand this. You assumed I was coming on to you yesterday and gave me an earful about it. When we have a real conversation today and I don't come on to you, you now assume that I must be gay. For someone so big on insight, you're basing a whole lot of yours on assumption."

  "Fair enough,” Janice conceded. “Let's just do this the direct way, then. Are you gay?"

  "No.” That was easy enough. See? I answered the question without hesitation, so she shouldn't have any reason to doubt me.

  "Have you ever had sex with a man?"

  "That is so none of your business.” Okay, that caught me off-guard, and I felt my face become rather hot rather quickly.

  "That's a yes.” Janice sat back in her chair. “Okay, so you're not gay, but you've had sex with men. I take it, then, that you've had sex with women, too?” She stared at me expectantly.

  "That's also none of your business.” Okay, reverse psychology. If the first time I said it meant yes, then it should work the same way the second time.

  "That's a no, which would indicate that you aren't exactly bi.” Now she leaned forward again. “I'm confused, Detroit. You say you're not gay, yet you've only had sex with men. Do you not see a pattern here? Now, if I'm assuming too much, then maybe you should do the math."

  "Okay, fine.” I sighed. “You caught me. I'll admit it, but only to you.” I leaned in close enough to her so she wouldn't have any trouble hearing me at all. "I'm straight!" She jumped. “Is that clear enough for you?"

  "Hey, sexy.” A voice behind me spoke up. “Where are Aunt Jenny and the kids?"

  My lip involuntarily curled. Yep, Jordan had arrived and was speaking to me again.

  "Don't say it,” I warned Janice before she could even open her mouth. “Not one word.” With that, I stood up, grabbed my tray and headed for the garbage.

  "Aren't you going to finish your sandwich?” Jordan asked as he followed me.

  "Nope. It tastes like crap anyway.” I dumped it into the trash.

  "You should have asked them to put avocado on it.” Was he being helpful or trying to pull my strings? “And where's Aunt Jenny? You never answered me. What was up with that girl back there? Were you trying to score or something? Because it didn't look like she was buying it.” Yep, he was trying to pull my strings. “What pickup line did you use? I might be able to tell you if it would have worked on me. And—"

  "Shut up!"

  * * * *

  The beach was fairly crowded again and there were a number of women walking around, but that was about all I noticed. It wasn't anything like the previous day where I was attempting to judge if their breasts had silicone in them or listening to Jenny and Diane determine if the men were taking steroids and stuffing their thongs with enough water-resistant material to make them look like they had more of a package than they actually did. I just didn't care today.

  Jordan and I strolled down by the water and steered towards one of the farthest areas, where there weren't as many people. I didn't know if he could explain the two dreams I'd had since arriving in California, but I couldn't just ignore them or the potential to figure out what they meant. Something was going on, and I didn't know what it was. I also needed to apologize to him.

  He broke the silence. “You're kind of quiet. I thought maybe something was on your—"

  "Are there gays in Hawaii?” That question had been on my mind since the counselor in my dream had mentioned a vacation for two there. Hawaii was such a small place I couldn't imagine there could possibly be any gay people there. Wasn't the statistic, like, one in every ten million or some-thing? Since I knew of my two cousins from the anniversary party and then Jordan, that pretty much took care of this part of California.

  "Andy, there are gays everywhere."

  My question seemed to amuse him to no end. I didn't want to admit it, certainly not to him, but I was glad. Maybe he'd forgive me for what I'd said to him the previous day.

  "Are there classes about being gay?” There couldn't be, could there? Not really. “I mean, I feel stupid for asking this, but I was just wondering. Heterosexual sex is kind of taught in health classes, but I've never seen anything about gay sex.” I didn't know what else to call it. Heck, I didn't even think I knew the language. “I just wondered if they teach it at the college level or if it's something you have to pick up by yourself."

  "Are you interested in learning about—"

  "Don't even start with that line of thinking!” I should have known he wouldn't have been able to resist making a comment like that. “I'm confident enough in my own sexuality that I felt I could ask you that without you taking it the wrong way."

  I wasn't, of course, but that was beside the point. I was more concerned with what he was more hung up about. Me? Or sex?

  "And you know what? It's comments like that make me believe gay society and culture is based almost entirely on sex. Is it really like that?"

  "You sound like my parents.” Jordan winced. It must have been a bad memory for him. I thought he might lash out at me again for saying something potentially offensive, but he looked thoughtful instead. “What do you know about gay culture?"

  "Not much, really.” It was only fair to admit the limits of my knowledge. Besides, I was tired of looking stupid when I was with him. “I know it started with the Greeks.” Weren't they some warrior race who weren't allowed to have sex with women unless the match was approved by some council? Even then the actual mating was witnessed, which would be enough to make even the most chaste of men look for an alternative. Who would have thought one could get some kind of satisfaction from one's fellow warriors in the bath? Hey! I wondered if that was where the term bathhouse originated.

  "And that gay people started fighting for equal rights after Stonehenge."

  "Stonewall."

  "Whatever."

  "And, by the way, I think you mean the Romans."

  "There's a diff...” Was there really a difference, and did I really want to look stupid again? “That's what I meant.” I sat down on the sand and watched the waves come lapping up at my feet. It struck me that this should be a moment I'd
make an effort to remember, because I'd never felt the ocean on my skin before. I'd been to lakes and swimming pools, but never had I been in touch with a part of something so vast I could barely imagine. I'd been alive longer than most swimming pools, but not the ocean, and who knew what secrets it could tell?

  Jordan sat down next to me and looked into the distance, perhaps sensing the same things I was. Here was history, and the future. Actually, the history part reminded me of something.

  "I think I once read somewhere that someone, Richard the Great, maybe, might have been gay."

  "There is no Richard the Great.” He gave me a bewildered glance. “You're thinking of Alex-ander ... and why do you think his men called him ‘Great?’”

  I looked over at him and he at me, then we both started laughing out loud. It was a healthy feeling and release, so I didn't mind it so much. God, I'm so anal-retentive! Why did I have to keep pushing, and consider whether every little gesture, phrase or response could be misinterpreted as an invitation to invade my personal space?

  Jordan and I knew exactly where we stood with each other, and he was just having a little bit of fun with me with some of his more suggestive comments, something no different than what I'd done with friends in that past. Hell, his response about Richard the Great would have been one I would have given. Maybe I was still too scared to admit similarities we really did have.

  "So.” I had so many questions I still wanted to ask him. “Why did your parents kick you out?” It was a bit personal, but I didn't think he'd mind.

  "Because I'm gay."

  I could have guessed as much, but I knew there had to be more to it than that.

  "They just couldn't stand their only son being as interested in men as their daughter was.” The definite sound of mischief was in his voice. “Bringing our dates home for dinner on the same night caused a bit of tension.” He suddenly sobered. “Which turned out to be the last straw."

  "I've had a few last straws myself—a lot of them, actually, but not in the same way as you.” His was definitely a lot more serious than my sticking a nail through a glove and putting ketchup around it. “It could have been worse if you and your sister were supposed to double date and then discovered when he arrived that you were seeing the same person."

  We both chuckled.

  "Of course, your taste in men is questionable at best, anyway."

  "What do you mean by that?” Jordan took his T-shirt off, put it behind his head, lay down and closed his eyes. He had a nice chest, with just enough muscle one could trace what I recalled Jenny terming a “six-pack.” There wasn't much hair on it, which was probably a plus for him since it meant no hair on his back. Women on radio call-in shows always complained about guys with hairy backs and arms and what a turnoff it was. I just thanked God I didn't have that problem.

  Hell, I never had my shirt off for women to see my chest or back, anyway. They had it difficult, too, however, and I was glad I didn't have to shave my legs or under my arms.

  It was still irritating to me that Jordan was as attractive as he was, especially with his unblemished and tanned skin. Do you have any idea how much I wish my body looked like yours? Do you know how satisfied I could be to go out with someone with a body like yours? Having everyone around me envious and knowing that I was the only one who would get to go home and rest my chin on your chest or fall asleep wrapped up in your arms...

  I suddenly felt rather uncomfortable. Oh, shit! Pain! Claustrophobic swimming trunks! Ouch! Look away from Jordan! Claustrophobic swimming trunks! Just pull your T-shirt down ... There you go. That's better. Act natural. Act normal. No one saw or suspected, not even Jordan. Remember to breathe. That's it. Nice and regular ... Relax...

  My imagination really needs a tether. Next thing I know, I'll be talking to myself ... Just think about nuns for a moment or Grandma. That should do the trick. Just imagine Grandma talking to Roberto about ... oral sex. That's definitely a disgusting thought. Heck, oral sex was disgusting enough in itself, let alone Grandma talking about it. What was oral sex, anyway? Foreplay? Well, if foreplay was a precursor to sex, then what led up to foreplay? What part of the human body stimulated such an act?

  I looked over at Jordan again. Well, he has a small patch of hair reaching its way up from below his navel that thins out just a little ways above it. There's a term for that I've heard. What was it again? Women like to start off at the top of it and work their way down. Oh, I remember now!

  "What?” Jordan opened his eyes and looked at me.

  "Highway to heaven!” I announced triumphantly.

  "Huh?” He looked confused. “What's highway to heaven?"

  "Oh, it's the patch of...” It suddenly dawned on me that I'd said it out loud. Dumb! Dumb! Dumb! Stupid! “Nothing.” My voice cracked, and I forced a smile on my face that I hoped didn't look too stupid or fake. “I was just thinking...” Why bother explaining? “Nothing. Never mind.” Well, I'd better say something now. “I was just feeling ... I was just looking ... out at the ocean, and this one patch of sky out there reminded me of the opening credit sequence on that show with Michael Landon."

  "Oh.” He shrugged. “I thought you were talking about the patch of hair I have from my groin to just above my navel."

  I think my eyes grew large and round, but I can't be sure. It felt like I'd been caught doing something I had no business doing, only I doubted Jordan would have minded this particular trespass.

  "What did you mean when you said I had questionable taste in men? You never answered me the first time I asked.” He closed his eyes again.

  "Right.” Did this constitute putting my foot in my mouth or my entire leg? “I guess I meant that it seems to me you don't have the best luck picking out men. Hell, you came on to me the other night at the party."

  Creases appeared in his forehead.

  "I just chalked it up to you being either desperate or drunk.” I laughed nervously.

  "You have a self-esteem problem,” he informed me.

  "No, I'm just in touch with reality.” I fought off a growing need for distance between us again. “I'm aware of my limitations, and it doesn't hurt my feelings to acknowledge that it's a rare occurrence when someone is sanely or soberly interested in me. End of discussion on that topic."

  The last thing I wanted him doing was dissecting that part of my life. It didn't mean, however, that I couldn't dissect his.

  "Have you dated a lot of guys?"

  "Dated? Yes.” He chuckled. “It's not exactly an uncommon occurrence out here, so..."

  "So?” I pressed.

  "So, this conversation would probably start lean-ing in the direction of gay culture again and you're not exactly comfortable with that subject.” Jordan folded his hands on his chest. “It's all about sex, remember?"

  "You're telling me that sex has nothing to do with it?” Did he think I was some kind of an idiot? Then too, based on some of the really stupid things I'd said to him in the past three days, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he did think I was a total idiot—or at least a bit on the moronic side.

  "Sure it does, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't, but it isn't just sex.” He sat up on his elbows now and addressed me. “It's also about self-identity, identity within the larger society, the right to have a philosophy that differs from the majority and the right to tolerance of that philosophy and self from the majority—the right to be who one really is."

  "And the right for men to dress up in women's clothes and act like women? The right to lust after children? The right to pursue and use any means necessary to seduce those who may not feel the same way?"

  It was harsh, but it was an argument I'd never heard played out from a gay viewpoint before. Besides, I wanted to know. Some part of me needed to know.

  "Haven't you heard anything I've just been telling you?” Jordan's face was red with anger. “Do you have any idea how often people have thrown those same accusations at me? My parents said the same things."

  I didn't know if
he was going to finish or not. Finally, he continued.

  "If men want to dress up like women, so what? Is it harming you in any way? Are they calling you on the phone or showing up on your porch asking you to join in? I've never done that. Does that mean I'm no longer allowed to be gay? I don't think so, Andy.” He was really getting red in the face. Maybe I should have brought these things up to him a different way. “And try this one. Did you know that the majority of child molesters are heterosexual? It's a statistical fact. I've certainly never tried to take advantage of a minor in my twenty-two years of life, even when I was a minor, but I've heard about it being done. Do I agree with it? Absolutely not! That's not the kind of person I am.

  "And as for seducing people, there's as much seduction going on in the straight bars as there is in any gay bar I've ever been to. Men can be assholes no matter what their sexual orientation is, so sometimes the word no doesn't work in any bar or situation in life. And ... And..."

  And? And what? Why had he stopped?

  Jordan's attention was suddenly somewhere else, somewhere toward the main area of the beach behind me. I turned and saw three young women in bikinis walking toward us, one of them occasionally pointing our way and saying something to the others. What the hell was this all about?

  It seemed Jordan didn't know, either, which is why he apparently thought it best to save whatever else it was he intended to say until later. I thought at first maybe it was a friend of his, either from school or from his summer job, but I changed my mind. I sure as heck didn't recognize them, though I can say I wouldn't have minded if I had.

  They finally got close enough to have a normal conversation without shouting.

  "Hi!” the one in the middle, petite and extremely attractive, greeted me. I was at a total loss why she would be talking to me let alone being pleasant. “You probably don't remember me from the other night."

  "Are you sure you have the right person?” I figured she had to be confusing me with somebody else. If I'd been with her “the other night,” I'm sure I would have remembered it.

  "Oh, yeah.” she replied enthusiastically. “I-I didn't mean to interrupt you and your friend or anything."