Place: Inverness Florida, a Rural Town
Time: My Senior Year of High School
Him: Thanks for coming over.
Me: It’s just so weird. It was a weird phone call to get, in the middle of the day. Just some guy asking if I’m gay.
Him: Was that the first thing I asked?
Me: You asked if I was Michael Martin, and then you asked if I was gay…
Him: And you said yes. I can’t believe you said yes. Just like that.
Me: Yeah. Well. I don’t lie about my sexuality. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I stopped lying about it a few years ago.
Him: How many people know about you?
Me: Whoever cares to ask, plus all of the people that my friends just mention it to.
Him: Do you think your friends are telling people a lot?
Me: Well, yeah. I’m friends with all the actorly types. They love to talk.
Him: Yeah. I hate that about actors. They’re always talking about other people.
Me: It’s kind of our job. To find out about people, what they’re like. We’re not usually judging. Just perceiving. We’re interested. But yeah – my actor friends like to talk. How did you know to call me?
Him: One of your actor friends told me about you, and gave me your phone number.
Me: Weird. So weird.
Him: So I looked you up in the yearbook to see if you were cute. Then I called you.
Me: Such a strange way to meet somebody.
Him: So what do you think of my place?
Me: I like it.
Him: I kind of live here alone. It’s a long story. My mom got a good job in Orlando. So I’m here by myself about 5 days a week.
Me: Sounds like a bunch of trouble.
Him: I keep busy. My friends are here a lot.
Me: I’ll bet.
Him: Hey can I kiss you?
Me: You’d better. How else am I going to prove that I’m as gay as my friends said I was?
(He kisses me. It’s good.)
Him: I couldn’t do that. I can’t tell people I’m bi.
Me: You’re bi?
Him: Don’t laugh. It’s a real thing.
Me: I know it is. I just always thought a kiss from a bi guy would only feel half-interested. But as I say that out loud I realize how ridiculous it sounds.
Him: But you tell people when they ask you. Inverness is small. It’s a small town. People must hate you.
Me: You know I’m class president, right?
Him: Yeah. But still. I asked around. Some people don’t like you much.
Me: I suppose some people never will. This is a redneck town. There’s only what? 400 people in our High School? In the only High School in town? I think I’m doing okay, being openly gay here. I think things are going better than I expected them to when I started telling people. Lots of people like me a lot. Some people really can’t stand me.
Him: You’re controversial.
Me: You’re hot. I’m not controversial. That makes me sound important, or something. I’m just getting by, and trying to play by my own rules.
Him: Maybe that’s what pisses people off.
Me: It might be. Any chance I can get another one of those bisexual kisses?
Him: Every chance.
(More smooching. It’s good)
(There is a sound of a car pulling into the driveway.)
Him: Oh shit. That’s my friends. Shit. My friends are here. Will you hide in the closet? I’ll get rid of them.
Me: Will I what?
Him: Hide. In here? Please. PLEASE.
Me: Yeah. Fine.
(A long time goes by as I hide in his closet. I lay down on a pile of his dirty clothes. I can smell him in his closet. I feel comfortable and angry at the same time. Eventually I hear the car noise again. He comes back. I debate whether or not to fake having slipped into a coma while he fucked around with his friends in the living room. I decide I’m classier than that.)
Him: Sorry about that.
Me: You should be. You made me feel ashamed. I don’t like being made to feel ashamed of myself.
Him: I’m sorry. They know you’re gay. People kind of know that you’re gay. It wouldn’t look good.
Me: This isn’t going to work out. I’m going to leave. You can’t be wanting to date me, properly, if you’re going to shove me into a closet when your friends come over.
Him: Come on. Stick around. I really am sorry.
Me: I know, but now I don’t feel comfortable here anymore. It’s not you. I’m kidding. It is. It’s you. But I’m not angry. I’m just not interested in starting a relationship like this. On these terms. I have too much self respect. It really gets in the way. I’m not being sarcastic, or joking. It really gets in the way of things, my pride.
Him: That sucks.
Me: You’re cute.
Him: You are.
Me: Can I get one more of those kisses before I leave?
(We do. It’s great again.)
Him: (Under his breath) Fuck…
Me: Yes. We should probably do that. Just so you know what you’re missing.
(We do. Now he knows what he’s missing. We lie there for about 20 min.)
Me: Okay. I’m going. This was not the best date in the world. You need to work on your dating skills, okay?
Him: Okay. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say…
Me: It’s okay. You’re nice. It’s fine, really. You’re good at sex.
Him: Thanks. Will you come over again?
Me: Probably not. You’re cute, but I don’t let anyone make me feel ashamed.
Him: Well. Thanks for coming over. You’re a great guy.
Me: You’re not so bad yourself. Just get over that shame business, and you’re kind of a catch.
Him: Well thanks again for coming.
Me: Well thanks for having me. It was a wonderful time. Except for that one part. Thanks for the make outs.
Jerk.
PIEFOLK 