Original post date: 10/7/2013
I’ve been sitting in front of my laptop for an hour trying to figure out how to start this story. I’d say I need to stop smoking weed, because I can’t fucking focus, but then I’m like fuck that because I don’t want to. Well, I do want to because my short-term memory is blown to shit and I spend at least a collective hour every day trying to remember why I walked from one room to another. It’s really fun for me. And by fun I mean stupid. But I don’t want to because…I enjoy smoking weed. So like Ima do me.
(Cool story, bro, tell it again.)
So this story is about a guy who I will forever know as Secretly Gay J™. No, his name is not J, but that’s what we are calling him. But really, when referring to him, it was always “Secretly Gay J™”. It wasn’t to insult him; it was to identify him. The J stands for a pretty common name, so it was necessary to specify. Ehhhh…but in all honesty, I probably would have called him that anyway. I’m not the only one, either. I have at least three or four friends who would need me to precede his name with Secretly Gay should I have the unlikely desire to mention him ever again.
The night we met Secretly Gay J™, my best friend (who has asked that I refer to her as Beyoncé) and I weren’t even 21 yet, but we arrived at the every-Friday-night-hipster-electro-club-slash-dive-place with our fake IDs and proceeded to the bar. (We had begun frequenting the dive because they played good music, had cheap drinks, and didn’t yank our dicks about the unlegit fakes.) It hadn’t gotten super busy yet, so Not Beyoncé™ and I are sipping our drinks and half-dancing to the first DJ set when two guys (one being Secretly Gay J™ and we will call his friend “His Friend”) come up and start grinding on us. They were (always) dressed pretty garishly; embellished button-down shirts, perfectly gelled hair, and one of them had this huge Gucci belt buckle that he really liked to show off via crotch thrusts. They weren’t attractive but they were fun. Their ensembles, demeanors, and overall personalities were grounds to assume they were gay, so we introduced ourselves and danced with them for a few minutes. Secretly Gay J™ was so into it and forward that he kissed Not Beyoncé™ right on her (whore) mouth.
To clarify, the reason I pointed out their sexual orientations is because it’s ALSO safe to assume that in the same situation, but it was two obviously straight guys who unexpectedly grinding on us in the bar, we’d probably have slapped the shit out of ‘em, because that is actually assault, which is illegal and rude. But gay guys aren’t threatening when it comes to the acceptable way to treat a lady—clearly I use the term “lady” loosely because I’m super not one in any way other than my genitals. So this encounter was totally fun and awesome or whatever.
We would see Secretly Gay J™ and His Friend pretty much every weekend; we were friends with the same people so of course we’d say hello and flirt and dance. Almost every Friday was spent at the same bar and during the summer, the same mutual friends mentioned above were the organizers of a 21+ hotel-rooftop-pool-party-shit-show and we were there every goddamn Sunday. And by shit show, I mean put on your diaper mask.
Not Beyoncé™ and I gossiped with the other girls about whether J and His Friend were a couple; never saw any PDA, but never saw either of them with anyone else, so figured they were just BFFs (booboobeboo).
God this fucking story feels like it’s taking a year for fuck’s sake. Here I am, a few days after I initially started writing this shit and I guess I didn’t realize how overwhelming it would be. I’m going to just throw it out there without trying to sound smart…I’m just typing…
One of these Sunday Fundays, I was next level shitfaced. Decided to get some blow, which was not out of the ordinary at this point in my life. It would only be a few more months until I’d actually take a permanent step away from the blow, but I was still definitely going strong on that day.
Side note: I think the reason I feel so overwhelmed writing this story is because of how coked out I was that day. I feel like there are a ton of small details I keep remembering and, in all honesty, reliving this night makes me feel weird.
Like this kind of:
I’d met a random dude at the pool who had some to sell and I went to the hotel lobby ATM where I overdrafted my account so I could get a teener (if you’re unfamiliar with the term, “teener” refers to 1.75g of cocaine—usually around $60) because that’s just the kind of irresponsible 21-year-old asshole I was. We had been drinking for hours and it was getting dark, so after I got the bag, my then-roommate and I went up to a hotel room with a bunch of bar friends. It wasn’t an accident that this Sunday pool party was located at a hotel; the event was not intended to be one of those stop-in-for-one-drink things and it succeeded in its endeavor. I’d say at least half of the 200 people who attended would crash at the hotel for the night or at least continue drinking in the bar. Secretly Gay J™ and His Friend had a room and that’s where we posted up. For the next few hours J and I were in and out of the bathroom, cutting line after line, and talking about the most important nothingness we’d ever talked about. We ran out of beer / liquor / mixers around 3, except for a lone handle. Of gin. In a plastic bottle. Gin is awful. Gin is more awful straight. Gin is even more awful at 4am when you’re coming down off of a blow binge and need something to get you to sleep and just pick up the plastic gallon jug and drink it without caring. That’s also next-day shame.
6am rolls around and J and I are the only ones still going. We went out to the pool for a smoke and in those 6 minutes I realized something: Secretly Gay J™ was tryna eye fuck. Like…pretty hard.
‘Nother Side Note: Over the year that we’d known J and His Friend and had gossiped about the relationship status of these two dudes, it was speculated that neither of them were gay. I didn’t believe it; I mean, Jesus Christ, J had kissed Not Beyoncé™ on the mouth in a near-empty bar within 2 minutes of meeting. It’s pretty much understood that men cannot just…do that…unless they’re gay. AmIright? This was the reason we started calling him Secretly Gay J™ in the first place.
So yeah, J is eye fucking me and I’m all…
But remember, I was next level shitty, like this:
So I kind of didn’t care. Like this:
We go back to the hotel room and both beds are occupied, so we build a makeshift sleeping area on the carpet between them.
And to make this as painless as possible I’ll just say:
Then I had sex. With Secretly Gay J™.
Weirdest part? It was actually kind of hot. And this is me coked out, mind you—I was never one of those I-wanna-fuck-when-I’m-coked-out kind of people. Typically, I didn’t want to be touched or even flirted with.
And then afterward, I made the bold decision to say / ask what I, and many others, wanted to say / ask for a long time. I took one for the team.
To which he smiled and said no.
So I’m like…
And again he says no.
So I’m like, “I thought you were. My friends and I. Has anyone every asked you that before? I bet you get that a lot.”
And he said no.
So I’m like…
And still…to this day…I am not convinced. Homeboy is absolutely gay. He has to be. It’s cool, I’ll own up; I totes banged a gay man. I’m not adamant about his sexual orientation because I have a problem with him being gay; the problem in question lies solely in the fact that if he’s NOT gay, he is insanely rude and ungentlemanly toward women. It’s more acceptable for me to believe that he is, otherwise it just pisses me off and makes me wish Not Beyoncé™ had palmed his face to the ground on that first night. I mean, I remember that when he kissed her, she came up and immediately said to me, “Welp, I just got felt up and kissed by a gay dude, so this should be a good night.”
I told my friends, obviously. They (mostly Not Beyoncé™) still bring it up and it’s one of those embarrassing stories where I’m like…
I saw Secretly Gay J™ a few times after that. Never was discussed. I lost touch with him when I stepped away from that scene, but I think he moved to Vegas.
…and I still have yet to see him with a girl.