Status Quo

Walden and I somehow ended up staying at the party until 3 AM, one hour longer than I had planned. The party was at the house of one of his team’s directors, and I had only planned on stopping by for a few minutes to get Walden and head to Fullerton apartments to wish a friend a happy birthday. But, of course, he needed to sober up before leaving.

When we got to the Fullerton apartments, our birthday friend was already passed out, so Walden and I just sat at the kitchen table and talked. Well, he waved a handle of Brandy in my face first.

“Take some shots Brian!”

I cringed and pushed it away. “No thanks. Anyway,” it was time for a swift topic change, “I still feel pretty weird about going to parties with your team.”

“Why?” He put the Brandy and a shot glass down and totally forgot about them. “It’s nearly the last week of October and you’ve known a lot of them for a month now. And I saw you sitting on that couch, chattin’ people up.”

“Yeah, I met the dancers on your team from Riverside, like Linh. He’s interesting. He was pulling at my forearms hairs when he sat next to me.”

“Boom, there you go. You don’t always need me to be around anymore at the parties I invite you to. And yeah, Linh’s like that. Now take some shots!”

I saw Walden reach for the Brandy again, so I leaned forward to cut him off. “So what was that one thing you wanted to tell me after we left the party?”

Walden retracted his arm. “Oh yeah! You know what I thought was funny?”

I relaxed back into my chair. “What?”

“I thought it was funny that when the people inside asked you if pussies tasted sour, you answered that you never thought about the taste before. It made me stop and think.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because it was such a cleverly neutral answer. If you were straight, then your answer would’ve meant that you just get so into pussy-eating that you don’t care about the taste. If you were gay, which you are, then your answer would’ve meant that you never thought about it because you never had nor would ever lick a pussy.”

“Yeah, I give answers like that. I told ya that the one thing I don’t lie about is that I suck dick.”

“But you don’t tell the truth about it either.”

“Oh yeah, but who considers lying by omission to be real lying anyway?”

“I just don’t understand. I understand Henry, J.P., Harold, and all my past exs’ situations: they were simply in the closet, and they were in there deep. Some had girlfriends before me, and some after me. But I don’t get you.”

“Why not?”

“Because, you’re not confused. You admit that you’re gay—well, that you ‘suck dick.’ You’re comfortable enough with it that you have no problem talking and joking about it, and you have no problem trying to get at other guys. But at the same time you don’t tell others, and you actively try to hide it by making an effort to come off as straight. Yet at the same time you told me that you were gay—”

“I didn’t tell you that I sucked dick.”

“I knew when you told me, out of no where, that you thought Ron was hot.”

I lifted my hand to oppose, but then I dropped it and sighed. “Damn, he is hella hot though.”

“Yeah. Too bad he has a girlfriend. Anyway, you revealed yourself to me about your dick sucking long before you’ve revealed it to friends you’ve known longer. Lianne, who you auditioned with in September, didn’t know until I let it slip last week. I thought she would’ve known since you spent an entire week cleaning audition pieces with her. So what’s the deal? What’s the logic behind when you’re out of the closet and when you’re in the closet?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I paused to think. I really wasn’t sure. “There’s a reason, but I don’t know what it is, as in, I don’t know how to describe it in words.”

“Is it because you’re afraid?”

“Oh god, no. Of course not. I might come off as scared, but what I do is intentional, trust me. Whatever I do, there’s usually a larger, ulterior motive at play.”

“What’s your ulterior motive?”

“Like I said, I don’t know how to put it in words. But you’ll be the first person I’ll tell when I find the right ones.”

“Boom, it’s settled then. I can’t wait to hear.”

“Since we’re on the topic of closet guys,” I could sense that Walden wanted to once again offer me a shot, “how are you and Henry doing?”

“Oh, Henry.” Walden leaned back in his chair and rolled his head toward the ceiling. “Henry Henry Henry. He knows that I don’t want to go out with another closet guy because I’ve told him about my bad history with closet guys, but he doesn’t want to come out either because he’s still freaked out. I don’t think we’re going to happen, so you can have him. I know you want him.”

“What? You guys belong together!”

“Stop trying to act all nice! I notice the way you eye him because you’re sooo obvious. It’s ok. You’re far more attractive than I am. You guys can be two closet guys together in a closet relationship where you can discuss your closet desires.”

“Seriously Walden, I think you belong with Henry. I’m not going to swoop in and take him away. I’m not that shady. Plus, I wouldn’t want Henry to deal with the misfortune of liking me.”

“Why not?”

“You know the whole story. I hurt the ones I love, or even somewhat like. Always. It’s bound to happen. Sometimes right away and sometimes later on. And it’s not limited to boyfriends either: Parents, and sometimes guys that I even only like just a little bit.”

Walden leaned forward to stare me in the eye. I backed up, feeling a little weirded out until he finally sat straight up, snapped his finger and pointed at me. I could see whatever epiphany he might’ve just had in his face. “You know what I think the problem is?” he said.

“What?”

“The first few times with the people you loved, you just happened to hurt them, because seriously, how do you not eventually hurt your parents or someone you’re going out with? And because of the first few times, you walk into your next relationships with the mindset that you’re already going to do something to fuck up, and that makes you fuck up.”

I shrugged. “That sounds reasonable, I guess. But...”

“But what?”

“The only difference is that when I hurt someone, I think I...” I crouched closer toward Walden and lowered my voice. “Honestly I think I like it sometimes. Like, I actually enjoy it, somewhat.”

“Oh.” Walden glanced to the side before turning back to face me. “Well that’s pretty different.”

I nodded.

“Just don’t do all that. If you really want to build a relationship with someone, don’t lie and don’t be all shady, like right now and how you’re obviously trying to avoid taking a shot by thinking you can get me distracted.”

I half-ass feigned an innocent and shocked look on my face. “What are you even talking about?”

“I told you last week, after you admitted to me about how you dumped your shot cup into mine before drinking out of it at my birthday party, if you don’t want to drink, just tell me with a stern face, a serious voice, and not all that laughy smiley shit you do, ‘Walden, I do not want to drink tonight.’ Tell me it twice or three times, and, I, being the respectful kind of guy I am, will leave you alone for the night.”

Coming face to face with the dopey smiling face Walden always had on, it was pretty hard to force my own stern face. “Walden,” I furrowed my eye brows and bit my lips before continuing, “I don’t wanna drink tonight.”

He dropped his shoulders and nodded at me, and then he turned to the Brandy and pushed it to the other end of the table. “See? You often forget that honesty actually is the best way out sometimes.”