Weekend with the frat boys:
A bit of original fiction...
One day on my way home from work I had a life altering experience. Just out of the blue. You can’t plan for something like this. I’m a heterosexual guy who has dated and slept only with women. While I don’t fantasize about experimenting with men, I admit that I had not been turned off by what little exposure I’ve had to gay porn. It’s just not my thing.
Over the summer I broke up with Jenn, ending a six-year relationship that began in college. I thought we were on track toward marriage – just not yet. She thought differently. Jenn got tired of waiting for me to ask, I suppose. Another guy showed interest, and she soon left me for him. To her credit, she didn’t whine about my reticence or try to lay a guilt trip on me. She was wise enough to realize she had made a poor investment in me and moved on. A part of me was relieved, actually.
I resisted trying to find a replacement for Jenn, opting instead to enjoy my newly single status. I’d been on a dozen or so “casual” dates since the breakup, even sleeping with a few. Mostly I’d ramped up my porn viewing, tilting a bit toward the kinkier side of my fantasies – but nothing involving men.
So last Friday I was sitting on a bench on the subway platform waiting for my train to arrive, glad that the work week was over, when another commuter sat down next to me. An announcement told us that the train was delayed, and the guy next to me complained about the wait, because he might be late for a class. We chit-chatted for a few minutes, and he noticed that I was reading on my phone’s Kindle app. He asked about it in a disinterested way, then inquired where I was headed. I told him I was going home, and he said that he was on his way to an art class. Maybe it was my imagination, but I swear he leaned a bit closer to me while he flashed a sexy smile. We maintained eye contact until I looked down at my shoes in embarrassment.
I finally looked over at him, trying to detect any signs that he might be gay, but there was no body language to suggest such a thing. His voice was a deep baritone, and he was handsome without being overly groomed or fastidious in the way he dressed. He certainly didn’t look gay. He blended in with everyone else on the platform.
The arrival of our train ended our conversation, but when I boarded and took a seat, he asked if he could sit next to me. For some reason, this pleased me, and I scooted over to make room for him and his satchel. For a few minutes we made easy, benign conversation, but when we slowed as the train approached his stop, he stood up and gave me his business card. Out of nowhere he said, “Great to meet you. You seem to be a nice guy, so how would you like to go out with me Sunday afternoon?”
I felt as if I had been struck by lightning. My heart started pounding, but as he started to make his way to the exit door, I found myself uttering, “OK. Sure, I’d like that.” On his way off the train, he pointed to his business card, still clutched in my shaking hand, and said, “Send me a text before Sunday.”
With that, he was gone.
What the hell had just happened? Had I actually made a date with a man? He hadn’t asked if I’d like to “get together” to do something Sunday, he asked if I’d like to “go out” with him Sunday afternoon. Could my ears have deceived me? No, I was sure I had heard correctly. Strangely, I was intrigued by the prospect. This handsome stranger had found me enticing enough to ask out on a date. I looked down at the business card – Rob Bradfield, Administrative Assistant. A phone number was hand written on the back. My hands were still trembling.
As the train lumbered on, my mind began racing, replaying those last moments over and over in my brain. I felt flattered and excited, as if some dormant, forbidden desire had been awakened. I also panicked at the prospect that he had assumed I was gay. I obsessed over this all the way to my stop, when I stood on shaky legs and stumbled toward the exit.
Stay tuned for chapter 2...