A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Sexual Orientation

by Kage Alan

  The DJ was playing Dead Or Alive's “Brand New Lover” when I stepped back out into the main area of the club. There were too many people dancing to even hope to find Jordan anytime soon. As much as I'd wanted distance between us since we'd met, I would have felt safer if I could at least have been within shouting distance of him, especially after the incident in the bathroom.

  I really had been a prick to him. He didn't deserve my attitude or my prying questions, yet he took them both in stride. He teased me quite a bit but never made me feel like the guy who recognized me from the Ambassador had just done. Jordan really wasn't so bad.

  The smallest experiences...

  All this time I'd been thinking I was too good to know him, too good to be friends with a homosexual; and maybe it was really the other way around. Here I was in a gay club, surrounded by gay men and women, and bathrooms aside, it actually seemed safer and more fun than regular heterosexual clubs. There were a few people making out here and there, but not doing anything completely outrageous.

  Of course, getting used to seeing guys kissing other guys and women kissing other women took a little getting used to. There weren't any drugs, that I could see, being sold and used. There weren't any racial fights breaking out over who had the right to frequent the club or battles for the favor of a partner. There were just people dancing with their boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends and having a good time.

  Somewhere in the center of all this was Jordan. He was the eye of the hurricane, the one who had made sense of all of this some time ago, and I was caught up in the swirl of what society wanted me to believe versus what I saw with my own eyes. The people I was watching didn't resemble the ones from the bathroom in any way at all. Everything was in conflict with everything else, but I was beginning to see beyond some of the lies, and it scared the hell out of me.

  I felt certain Jordan could help explain why. At least, I hoped so, because I just wasn't sorting it out on my own.

  I turned to search the crowd on my left and saw a decent-looking light-haired kid about my age approaching me.

  "Would you like a blowjob?” he asked goodnaturedly.

  "Excuse me?” I stared at him, exasperated. These people had no shame at all. Maybe I was wrong about being wrong about them. Maybe they were like the ones in the bathroom. “I thought only the guys in that back area asked questions like that."

  "What?” He looked perplexed. “Oh, that.” He actually blushed, which took me by surprise. For whatever twisted reason, he seemed sincere. “I was talking about the drink. That kid over there said it was your favorite."

  I looked to see which kid he was talking about and discovered Jordan watching me and grinning from ear to ear. All the nice things I'd been thinking about him vanished. He'd pay.

  "I saw the two of you come in together. It didn't look like he was your boyfriend, so I asked him what your name was and if it would be okay if I bought you a drink. My name's Nate."

  "Hello, Nate.” I extended my hand, and he shook it. “I'm Andy and that rotten little son of a...” I collected my cool. “That kid over there is Jordan. Forgive him. He has issues and comes from a family that thinks Beethoven's Fifth is a quantity of liquor. Now, to answer your original question, no, thank you."

  "Oh.” He looked a little bit dejected. “Well..."

  "However, if they have it, a shot of Jungle Juice sounds good.” He perked back up. “I'll pay for it, though.” I might as well set the ground rules right now. If he thought because he was going to pay for the drinks he was entitled to something on the side later on...

  "You don't have to. I'm not looking for anything other than conversation."

  Well, this was a first so far tonight.

  "It's just that I saw you come in, and I really wanted to meet you and...” He paused. “You look really nervous. Is this your first time in a place like this?"

  "Nervous? What makes you think I'm nervous?” A stream of sweat ran from my forehead down to my cheek. “Yeah, actually, it is my first time. Here. It's my first time here, as in, a place like this.” And I had Jordan to thank for it. “I guess I've never been into the whole male bondage thing."

  "You mean male bonding?"

  "Whatever.” I had to stop dwelling on Jordan. “By chance, do you wear contacts? Not many people come up to me, even if it's just for conversation."

  "No, I don't. I used to say the same thing to myself when I first came out and people would come up to me and tell me they were interested. It got a lot worse when I found out they only wanted sex and didn't care who I was as a person.

  "I didn't feel very handsome to begin with, and I felt even uglier then, like I was only good enough for a one-night stand and not a long-term relationship. They were wrong, though, and so was I."

  Nate was hitting on fears that a lot of people, gay or straight, have felt at one time or another.

  "That's why I promised myself I would never approach someone unless I'm attracted to them and willing to get to know them for who they are."

  "Wow! That's really sweet.” I was practically melting. Actually, it reminded me of everything I was feeling the night I met Jordan, except there wasn't any alcohol involved this time. I wondered if it really had been the champagne after all. “I appreciate you telling me that..."

  Wait a moment. Had he just said in a round-about way that he was attracted to me? He never approached someone unless he was attracted to them and was willing to get to know them for who they were. Let's see ... he'd offered me a drink and was making conversation. Yep, that probably constituted some kind of attraction.

  "...but I think it's only fair to tell you that I'm straight."

  "Fair enough.” His composure didn't change in the slightest, which surprised me yet again. “That means we can still talk and dance, though, doesn't it?"

  "Absolutely. Straight people do those things, too, you know?” I looked over at Jordan again and watched him for a moment. It was obvious he was wondering what was going on over here, if anything. I flipped him off. “Tell you what. Why don't we skip the drink for now and go dance? In fact, why don't we go out there and make Jordan wish he was a member of the female gender.” I pulled Nate out onto the floor with me.

  "He won't be the only one."

  * * * *

  The beginning of the middle of my evening played out an awful lot like the end of an episode of The Love Boat. I couldn't remember a night when the company was better, the music more melodic or when I'd been happier. I didn't dance as a hetero- or homosexual or with any specific label attached, nor did anyone else. We all just danced.

  Hell, even I was surprised by my ability to adapt and fit in without making everyone around me desire my head on a platter due to my abrasive and often ignorant manner.

  Nate turned out to be a man of his word and didn't make a single move on me. I was pretty sure he wanted to, but he respected what I'd told him about being straight. Of course, this lasted only for the first five minutes he and I were out on the dance floor. Things got a little complicated after that.

  I don't think Jordan appreciated being flipped off, mostly because I don't think he expected that I would go out and dance with Nate. He would have found it amusing if I had overreacted or gone running back to his side, but it didn't work out that way and it probably irritated him. I found that to be extremely amusing. Paybacks are a bitch, J-man! He'd be so jealous of the fact I could have a great time in somebody else's arms that...

  I don't know what else, but damn it he'd be jealous ... and miserable!

  "Your friend seems to be having a really good time, too,” Nate shouted over the music.

  "What?” I turned to where he was looking and saw Jordan dancing with some ugly guy. To make matters worse, he really did appear to be enjoying himself. You bastard! This wasn't supposed to be happening like this. He was supposed to be miserable, not happy.

  Jordan caught my gaze, and a grin of pure, irritating satisfaction appeared on his face. He must have thought he was getting
the response out of me that he was intending. Ha! I'd show him. I wasn't the miserable one.

  "Uh-oh.” Nate's voice sounded louder than it had before, and I realized the music had stopped.

  Unfortunately, I'd been so wrapped up in watching Jordan acting like he was happy I hadn't noticed, and continued right on dancing. I stopped.

  "I think they're going to play a slow song,” he said.

  "What's the matter?” It was too perfect. Anyone can fast dance with a partner, but slow dancing? It required one to be right up against another in a much more intimate fashion. Jordan would be miserable watching this for sure, and then he'd have to leave me alone because he'd know once and for all that I wasn't the least bit interested in him. “Can't you slow dance?"

  "Yeah, of course.” The first few chords of Roxette's “Listen To Your Heart” sounded. “I just didn't think you'd be comfortable..."

  "Get over here.” I pulled him closer. There was no time for this nonsense about whether or not I was comfortable. Screw that.

  He wrapped his arms around my waist, I put mine around his, and we started moving to the music. There!

  Now that everything was as it should be, I allowed myself to relax a moment and take in the changes around me. Nate was wearing very pleasant cologne, but I couldn't place it. One thing for sure is that it was probably a lot more expensive then the stuff I had, the same stuff I forgot to put on before I left. He was sweating a bit, too, and the ends of his hair were damp, reminding me a bit of how Corey Hart looked in one of his videos.

  Actually, I don't know which one of us was giving off heat, but I was starting to sweat again just by being so close to him. His body felt nice, though, so nice that I just went ahead and rested my chin on his shoulder. Nate didn't seem to mind at all, and I was glad he was comfortable with a straight boy being able to do that without him reading anything into it.

  "You smell nice,” he murmured in my ear. “What are you wearing?"

  "Irish Spring, I think."

  "It's Dove.” A familiar voice whispered in my other ear. How in the world could he have heard Nate's question over the music?

  I nonchalantly turned Nate around so I could glare at my tormentor. Jordan was slow-dancing next to us—right next to us—with Dog Man. He wasn't satisfied with just their hands being around each other's waists. No, he had to have his hands on the other guy's shoulders while the canine crossbreed was running his hands along Jordan's back.

  I pulled Nate even closer, and raised my eyebrow at Jordan. Two could play at this game.

  He moved close enough to talk again.

  "You really shouldn't flip people off like that.” He rested his chin on his partner's shoulder, mimicking my pose. “They're liable to take it the wrong way."

  "Really?” I asked in mock exaggeration. “I thought it was pretty self-explanatory."

  "Yeah, but...” He peered at me. “...you shouldn't make promises you aren't willing to keep."

  The mutt suddenly moved them off a bit and gave us some room. Why did I get the feeling Jordan thought he'd just gotten away with something? So I had flipped him off—big deal. Maybe it was another one of those California things.

  "What was all that about?” Nate wanted to know. It was stupid of me to think he hadn't heard the exchange.

  "Nate.” I picked my head up off of his shoulder and looked directly at him. “What does it mean when you flip somebody off?"

  "It means ‘fuck you.’”

  "That's what I thought.” I sighed in relief. Is that how Jordan saw it, though? If I flip him off, he's probably going to say I was giving him some hidden message, but what was the message? Don't make promises you aren't willing to keep. “So, he thinks I'm telling him I want to...” My face dropped. “That asshole!"

  "I don't get this.” Nate stopped dancing and stared at me, a frown on his face. “You say you're straight, yet you're so preoccupied with your friend that you aren't paying attention to anything or anyone else. What do you care how he takes you flipping him off? Why let it bother you? And why do you care who he's dancing with?"

  I was caught off-guard by his questions, and he picked up on it right away.

  "I'd have to be pretty blind not to notice that you haven't been able to stop watching them since I mentioned they were out on the dance floor. Are you attracted to this friend of yours or something?"

  "Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes. “I'd like to think I have some semblance of taste. Besides, Jordan's best quality is his absence. I can't stand his looks, and his personality is ... well..."

  "He's been watching you, too,” Nate said.

  "Really?” I asked—a little too quickly.

  Nate gave me a sad look and shook his head.

  "I'm sorry.” I hadn't realized how rude I was being. “You're right. I shouldn't care what he says or who he's with. It's none of my business, and I have been ignoring you, which isn't what I meant to do at all.” My words appeared to be finding their mark. “Why don't we just forget about all this, keep dancing and have ourselves a good time?"

  I know he wanted to make me feel a bit worse for having neglected him because I could see his hesitation, but he finally gave in, sighed and pulled me close to finish the dance.

  This was the sort of thing that always used to happen to me in the past. I'd ask a girl to dance, and she'd stare at some other guy all night. Now I was the one doing it, and that made me feel like a total jerk. When and how had the roles reversed without my realizing it, and when the hell had I become so irresistible?

  I sneaked a glance Jordan's way when we turned, and it appeared his dancing partner was giving him shit, too. Actually, neither of us had to put up with this. If we were so concerned about what the other was doing, why didn't we just dance together? Maybe that would make things too simple, and after all, Nate wasn't such a bad guy. He was smart, patient and, based on the short amount of time I'd known him, sensitive about my situation. Why, then, was I still thinking about Jordan? Because I was being stupid, that's why.

  As soon as the ballad ended and Kon Kan's “I Beg Your Pardon” started up, the floor was instantly packed with sweating bodies moving and gyrating in ways I'd never seen before, not even on Dance Fever when I was younger. This was something new, something not choreographed or put on for show or anything like that.

  Maybe it was freedom. These people had a know-ledge of themselves that I didn't, and they were free to express it any way they wanted. I didn't have that. I had nothing to really express because I didn't have a clue who I was—not anymore.

  No, that wasn't true. I did have something to express. I had questions.

  * * * *

  Nate and I spent the next two and a half hours dancing, talking and drinking. I only had Pepsi after a single shot of Jungle Juice. There was no way I was going to make an ass out of myself and not remember it in the morning.

  Besides, Nate really was a great guy and quite handsome, too, but he just wasn't doing anything for me. I didn't expect that he would do anything for me, but every time I looked at his face I kept hoping it would be someone else's. Was it because that person did something for me, or was it because it would be a familiar face in a foreign place? Did it really matter?

  Actually, yes, it did, and that someone else finally found me sitting at a table when Nate was up getting a refill.

  "Are you having a good time?” Jordan asked me. He was going to great pains to seem only mildly interested in my response.

  "Lovely.” I looked up at him and responded in the same tone. “Couldn't be better.” Why was it, again, that I was so glad to see him? The reason was fading ... like my patience.

  "Glad to hear it.” He forced a smile. Yeah, he was believable—not.

  "You?” This was more annoying than pleasant, but I'd play along.

  "Wonderful!"

  "Fabulous!” Two could play at this.

  "Where's your friend?” Jordan looked up towards the bar. “Getting another drink?"

  I could tell he was str
uggling with whether or not he should continue the thought because he had the look on his face that most constipated people have—or at least, the actors have on the laxative commercials that dramatized more than was really necessary. The urge to force it out was there, but how much pain it was going to cause was uncertain.

  "Getting some napkins to mop up the drool from his mouth and your shirt, maybe?"

  So, that's how it was going to be.

  "Aren't you charming as always? And where's your...” How could I put this in terms that he could understand? “...whatever it is you call him? Outside barking at the moon or chasing passing cars?"

  "We could go outside and look.” He motioned towards the door. “Besides, I'm about ready to call it a night. If you don't mind, of course."

  There was no reason for him to be snide about it. He didn't want to go there with me.

  "You can call it whatever you want.” I faked the best happy face and civil manner I could just to annoy him. “But I would like to say goodbye to Nate."

  Jordan declined to make any further comments. When Nate came back, I explained that my friend was leaving and, since he was my ride, that meant I had to take off, too. Nate wasn't very happy about it, but he was gracious, and I even gave him a quick hug. I was glad he didn't give me his address and phone number or ask for mine. I doubted either of us would be getting to each other's state anytime soon, and what would we say to each other even if we did?

  Somehow, I got the impression he knew all this, too, but I still couldn't help feeling like I was a jerk. After all, he'd put up with me during the evening, and I'd only given him a hug. Boy, that was big of me. Miss Manners would not be pleased.

  * * * *

  All I could think about on the way back out to the car was how much I wanted to go home, crawl in bed and pull the covers over my head. Since when did I start feeling so confused about life, about myself—and about Jordan? One minute I wanted to apologize to him for being such a jerk and the next I wanted to make him miserable and jealous.