Secret in the City
06.09.10
I didn’t see it coming. It just sort of happened in a split second. We were leaving the horrific showing of Sex and the City 2, a group of gays and one omnisexual, who happened to sit in front of a group of girls. I let the girls behind us file out like any gentleman should and fell in behind when the last one in that row stopped short.
For just a few moments, my full body was pressing against hers, her supple curves complimenting by solid body, the scent of her perfume wafting into my bubble. Surely she must have felt it was completely innocuous as we were so obviously homos. She didn’t shirk from the contact but eased on when space was available.
I felt immediate conflict. What if the boys were to realize how erotic of a moment it was for me? I longed for the feminine intimacy to continue. I felt drawn to the other girls flooding from the dark coven of the theatre. It was as if I had been awakened by some long lost lust and I wanted to act on it.
I could see the headlines now, “Gay Man Gropes Unsuspecting Women at SATC2.” I wasn’t going to actually reach out an touch anyone, but I felt the urge to do so. I even got a bit frantic when I looked back at the guys I was with. Their emotionless faces betrayed ignorance to the secret passions stirring within me. It would probably be best that way.
It wasn’t like I fit into the group anyway. My good friend invited me to join them and he and I get along famously. However, he’s immersed in a world of successful and soon-to-be-powerful twenty-something gays. He’s definitely on the brink of breaking into the inner sanctum known as the “A” gays. Why he brings me along is beyond me, but I enjoy the disparity nonetheless.
Let me count the ways in which I diverged from the group. One, I was not weighing a job offer for $25,000 more than my current salary. I’d be shitting bricks just to be making $25,000. Two, I was not on expense with Microsoft and a boy toy in tow who apparently had no need to work. Nope, I’m a chickenhawk in search of a sugarbaby. Three, I’m not of European descent. At least not immediate descent, though I am distinctly German which is some sort of consolation I guess. Four, I wished to be polite to our waiter who did as best a job as anyone could. My last real job was as a server at age 30 with particular attention paid to the word “real”. Five, most important of all, I’m eager to go muff diving, well at least to take a dive into the danger zone as I’m uncertain about the whole cunnilingus experience.
Speaking of the sexual pursuit of a woman, I have news to report on the advance made at the underwear party. She responded. She responded to both my awkward exchange and my subsequent email. I find it hard to believe and I’m actually ecstatic about it. However, I might need some assistance in interpreting the response. It seemed much more sexual than I had anticipated, which has my head spinning. Regardless, we’re supposed to get together sometime next week. Surely everything will come to a head at that point in time.
But what if these boys knew I’d hit on a woman at a gay bar? What if they knew I got her email and then actually sought to see her again? What if they knew she responded with some definite sexual undertones? What if they knew that excited me? What if they knew that I am hoping it does turn into something sexual?
It’s not that I really care much about what the response would be, but more that I’m intrigued by how homosexuals might react to an omnisexual. There’s a certain sense of camaraderie among the gays, an unspoken vow of cohesion much like the bond between the Sex and the City gals. I’ve got one foot on the other side of the white picket fence and I have no idea how that might come across. In both arenas, I just let people assume that I’m one of them, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.