It seems like just about everybody has got one question on their minds. Who's your daddy? I didn't get lucky when it comes to dads, and only recently have I given up the search, after a several year long run of searching for one. Will you be my daddy?
When I moved away from my parents house and went to college, I thought socializing would come easier. I'd been popular in high school, I've always been really grown up for my age. It's ironic that I still look 16 even though I'm almost 21 now, but that's not my fault. I can't help it if when I smile my eyes don't wrinkle. I'm not disingenuous, it's merely the biological architecture of my face that makes me look so stoic. That and I'm hard. But that's another story.
The truth is life is like high school all over again, but in different places. Sometimes I get scared and think that this is how life is going to be forever. I got involved with a man, for purposes of the story I'll just call him the lawyer.
***
It was late afternoon/early evening on a Thursday. That morning I had been stuck in a rather stressful physics lab- in short the measurements my group was getting were not what they should have been, and when the lab instructor tells you to just lie about the numbers I always feel defeated. It makes me feel like I won't be a good scientist. Anyways, I was at Starfucks picking up my drink, forgetting the frustrations of the a.m. hours and anticipating the many more frustrations that seem to come my way daily. I quickly sat down to text my room mate and call a friend back, when a clean cut attractive blond man sat down next to me at the small 2 person table. All of a sudden he locked eyes with mine. "Hi, I couldn't help but notice you from across the room, you got the same drink as me. My name's John. What's yours?"
"Kyle," I responded. My name is Mark, but I never tell anyone I just meet my real name. When I'm feeling receptive yet cautious, my mouth usually spits out Kyle. When I'm feeling sexy and powerful it's Buck, but that's another story (rhymes with fuck).
"Kyle, I think you're really beautiful. You're just so statuesque..."
"Actually, my name is Mark." I don't know why I lied to a clean looking guy like that, I mean he probably has money. "I just tell people my name is Kyle if I think they're sketchy." Did I mention that I don't trust anyone? Everyone I ever loved ended up dead, or betraying me on a fundamental level. I don't even trust myself to do the right thing. The lawyer laughed.
"What's so questionable about me? Do you think I'm going to take you home fuck you then kill you? Or kill you then fuck you. Mark is a cute name anyways, you should be proud of it." All of a sudden I started feeling this guy, anyone with a sense of humor is someone I want to know. Nobody can ever make me laugh! Laughing is all I want. Laughter and passionate sex. "Why don't I just call you golden boy, cause you're the one who has what everyone else wants."
I love how people think they can get you on their side through compliments, because it usually works, which meant that I had to pull a fast one. Gotta keep em guessing, I always say. "You're old enough to be my dad," I said. I wonder how this cocky old asshole is going to act now. I was surprised that only a few seconds had gone by in this conversation, yet it had already (indirectly) went straight to sex. I often wonder if the way to a man's heart is through his stomach or his dick.
"I am old enough to be your dad. But you're old enough to make your own decisions, and enter into legally binding contracts, so I think it's ok if I talk to you." I searched the man's face. Everyone just wants something from you, but what did think guy want from me? A challenge? Something young, beautiful, and pure that could be content to stand in someone's shadow and be a kept man? Cause I could so easily be that guy.
"So daddy, what do you do for a living?" I asked.
"I'm a high powered attorney," He replied. "Basically I lie, cheat, and steal for sketchy people who have so much money it does nothing but cause them problems." So, basically he was telling me he's a tool. I love it when people's lives mean nothing yet on the surface they appear to be successful. "What career path are you looking to go down, buddy?" Was he being dismissive? I know I'm white trash, but it's never ok when other people remind me. It makes me competitive.
"I'm studying to be a scientist so I can cure AIDS," I replied. "I mean, that's on my list, but I really have so many more schemes up my sleeve." His face looked older, but strangely attractive. I'm sure when he was young this guy was a stud. He looks healthy, maybe in his early 30s, but it's hard to tell. I wanted to see what his dick looked like.
"Wow, that sounds really ambitious," the guy said with a smile. I couldn't help but automatically wonder if this man before me happened to be HIV positive. I mean, I had just been socialized to expect that the generation before me is basically 100% pos. At the same time, I didn't mean to be abrasive to someone who could potentially benefit me. Stop acting like a bitch for no reason Mark, you're not in the club hooking up with another sweaty white trash nothing, this guy might be loaded. Act cute and smile, don't be negative. Tell them what they want to hear.
"It just makes me sad that we've already lost so many special gay people. I want to make sure it ends with me. More difficult things have been done than find a cure." The sad fact is what I was saying really was true. I love to get preachy, it makes me feel assertive.
"That really touches my heart. I've lost a lot of people close to me already. When I was goring up it was a very different time- there were not gay people on TV, or in political power. Back then, your friends were your family, so it made it so much harder to loose people. I've already been to too many funerals. Sex isn't supposed to kill." This personal anecdote was making this guy grow on me, even though I didn't really know why.
"Well, in case you are, you can always pay me to cure it, I already figured out a way to regrow an immune system." People always think I'm being facetious, when I'm trying to be real.
"I guess I just happened to get lucky. That's what other people tell me, that I'm lucky for being negative, but since I've seen so many people die I'm left to wonder if I actually am lucky. I've had a lot of sex, just not with a lot of people." Just because he was telling me that didn't make it true. Another post modern dilemma. I knew where this was going.
"Hey it's such a nice day, and we're so close to the beach. Do you want to go for a walk?" I offered. I had a feeling this one had beach front property."
"Yeah, let's go for a ride in my car. I live really close to the beach anyways. It's a Friday night, after all." What was that supposed to mean? Did he want to go to tiger heat with me, cause I wouldn't be caught dead in a public place with this guy, what would other people think? Basically, that he's my sugar daddy and I'm a gold digger, and I'm not. I can make my own way through this world, thank you very much. Mo money, mo problems, isn't that what Tupac said?
***
It was about 8 p.m. and the rusty crimson sky behind the flawless Malibu shoreline had just began to turn red from yellow. How did I get here, and why am I hanging out in a beach front mansion? I'm just another nothing from the inland empire. It's not like I let people know that, but it's the sad, broken truth. What about when this guy tries to get fresh with me? Am I supposed to oppose someone who is "powerful" and my second most pressing question- what is wrong with this guy? On the surface he seems perfect, which means that there's something fundamentally flawed underneath the exterior. Does he have a dungeon in the basement full of all sorts of terrible things he plans on doing to me?
"You told me you like jagermeister," he said, handing me a drink. I was surprised he remembered such a minor detail from our "romantic walk on the beach" which consisted of him asking me about myself and me talking about myself. I think he could tell that I'm guarded, which I am, but I will reveal anything about myself if somebody just asks. I'm so not mysterious, I wish I could answer questions with questions and be untouchable and exotic.
"I'm surprised that you remembered," I replied.
"Actually, I remember everything you told me. You were born a few days after me surprisingly, only in 1986, which makes me 19 years older than you- in short old enough to be your father. Your real father fucked you as a child, then disappeared for good when you were in your early teens. Your mom was a tool, but you can't help loving her, same as most gay boys. People used to make fun of you, and you were really unpopular until you turned 16, and became super hot, which made you humble, even though I'd go out on a limb and call you a diva. Your favorite movie is Hackers, and your favorite drink is jagermeister. You have no religious views, and find christianity to be a cult, which is is. You've been registered with the green party since you've been able to vote. You want to get rid of all the pollution through bioaugmenting single celled organisms, among other things. Your favorite color is yellow, and you have a pet rat named Cher. You want to be as famous as Madonna. Do you want me to go on?" Was this guy a psychic vampire, and trying to steal all my energy? Maybe I reminded him of himself at a much younger age. Why did he care enough to remember?
"Wow, I'm surprised you were listening that entire time, now I wish I hadn't disclosed so much information. In fact, you know too much, so now I have to kill you." The lawyer laughed. It makes me feel good when other people like my dark sense of humor- it's the only way for me, I just can't help hating slapstick. Why doesn't everyone have a dark sense of humor- have then never been through shit before or not? It seems like the darker the sense of humor, the worse the person suffered. "Well, let me rack my brain about your past. You grew up on the east coast to a wealthy family, then got shuffled through systems, institutions, and avenues of affluence that were pre set up for white men until you arrived in law school, where you schmoozed your way into a position of power using a combination of good looks and good personality." Should I go there? Yeah, I think I should. "But at the end of the day, you're left alone. Your heart holds deep sadness, because you know at the end of the day, your life is just as meaningless as the Mexican woman who cleans your toilet. You haven't done anything to make the world a batter place, in fact you have used your intelligence and hard work to nothing aside from preserve money to the upper class in our unequal, stratified society. You've always wanted it all, but somehow you've managed to amass such a large amount of wealth that you now realized nobody will ever love you for you, and any guy you get with will only be after one thing- your money. So, you try to find wholeness through working out, traveling, and telling yourself you're very fulfilled, that you have everything, and your life is perfect. Does this sound like an accurate read?"
His eyes were dark, and if they were seeing inside his brain. "How do you know so much?" was all he could say. I would try to explain my psychic powers, but I knew that would just come out sounding a little too new age, and that's not even me cause I'm an abercrombie and fitch kind of guy in the first place.
"Well, there's a million guys like me in the world, guys with big dreams and lofty ambitions that we both know are never going to really materialize. But, just like there's a million guys like me, there's a million guys like you too. You're not a unique person, in spite of not being average. Our brains are just running on scrips and schemas, we're both playing a role. Didn't I mention my theory about how life is one big reality TV episode?"
"I really want to kiss you, Mark. I don't think you're white trash. You're a really cool guy." That's what they all say. His mouth latched onto my fat lower lip and he sucked gently. It was the end of the day on a Friday, and his face was stubbly, which felt good. I wondered if he was going to shave in the morning, or if I would even be in this house when it was morning. Why do I insist on reliving my childhood issues over and over? Was this guy going to feed me, because all I had since breakfast was starfucks, and I was really hungry and basically broke until Tuesday (I had been scouring my college apartment for saltines).
To make a long story short, I messed around with the lawyer too many times that I fell in love, and it really hurt me when he wouldn't try to take the next step with me. Our whole sex life consisted of us kissing, and him touching me or sucking my dick, it was pretty one sided. Maybe I should have been more open, it seemed like he didn't get off on the idea of molesting me.
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