For one blissful holiday weekend in my early 20s I had a romp with my roommate’s crush.
We had met him at a nightclub, when he thought my roommate was a complete, post-op, natural, fill in your label, girl and not trans. They remained friends and she did everything in her small arsenal bag to try and seduce him. She had him over, dinners, long winding useless discussions, phone calls, texts, The Gamut. I didn't think much of it because this had been her modus operandi for about a decade. She was always selling the features but never closing the sale.
She goes to her family in another borough for Thanksgiving. I had decided based upon sanity to not trek out of state to visit parents but I did have a hankering to cook a turkey. I got to the supermarket and lo and behold I bump into, let’s call him Mark. Mark was all nice and polite and offered to help me bring the groceries back. I had the whole half week off so I said sure. I really never thought of my friend’s crushes as “real” because honestly, there was no fucking. It was like really long Brady Bunch episodes. yes, I was a tad or a generous dollop of the Samantha then…maybe now too. Back to Mark. He’s all like he really wants to taste the food when I’m done, could he come back over and get a plate. As I was making up several plates for other friends I didn’t think anything of it. He comes back the next day. He lingers. he’s helpful. We talk. We talk some more. Somewhere in there I finally broach that my roommate likes him. He replied that he’s bi, rarely strictly, about the pole or the hole. My friend is sort of in a nebulous in-between space that he finds confusing but not arousing. He’s been coming around because I’ve been there most of the time.
Oh.
OH.
Well, my roomie is my roomie and it would shatter our already crumbling edifice of a friendship if I were to snatch (pun!) you away.
He suggests that maybe it doesn’t have to be forever. Maybe we could just satisfy our 20 something hormones and see from there.
I weakly defend that like my giblets, my giblets are always returned for.
He replies that technically we have two days left in the long weekend. Let’s make the best of them and maybe next lifetime….?
He would come after work for that weekend and we literally had what should politely be described as a sex fest. There was laughter, touching, kissing, fun, TV, positions, thrills, chills, turkey and stuffing and then stuffing and turkey.
Sunday morning he comes back over with juice for our breakfast, our last breakfast and we romp and I give him a thank you card stuffed with cash. he was a poor student, a poet, he had cell phone issues. It was the least I could do for his reciprocity in taking so much for the team. He wasn’t offended. I’d wanted to give him a gift but what do you give a sex toy? A sex toy?
But what I can tell you about that young man is that while he couldn’t rub two nickels together if you spotted him 10 cents and he was working out some issues and he was yes, manipulative and passive aggressive—-he could fuck. Lord have mercy that boy’s daddy must’ve taught him! It was rare that one stallion meet another just so casually but there were hoof prints on the ceiling!
I cleaned, I Pine Soled, I mopped that spot in front of the fireplace, I washed my sheets, I cleaned my clothes, I reheated turkey and my roomie came in and I smiled politely as she lauded on the joys of family time. Yes, the dissolution of our friendship had reached passive aggressive bitchy time. I smiled at her underhanded familial crack and asked had she heard from Mark? She said yes, he texted her that he’d left town to be with his family for Thanksgiving.
Indeed.
Smile, Kyle
KylePhoenixShow@Gmail.com
KylePhoenixShow@Gmail.com
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