The Red Herring

I went down to the bar I work at yesterday to catch up with my other workmates. Specifically Sam, who is gay, who I meet nearly every week to update on our *very* interesting lives. (A 'Samdate' if you will)

After sitting at the bar for about half an hour it started to get busy and Sam had to stop the conversation and focus on serving. So I just drank and waited.

"Can I join you?"

A customer had approached me with his pint. He was about my height, with spiked auburn hair and blue/hazel eyes.

I said yes obviously.

We were talking for ages. His name is Steve, he's a chef (at one of my favorite restaurants weirdly), he loves film and hopes to become a shorts director, he's moving to an apartment on the other side of town to get away from his shared housing nightmare.... Oh and he speaks French.....

:-D

We were buying each other drinks and even when other people came over to join us, to speak to him, or to me - he would casually deflect them and begin talking to me again.

He went to the bathroom and my workmate Suzie grabbed me by the arm...

"That guy was really checking you out..."

I smiled. I thought so.

I have previously highlighted my distinct lack of Gaydar, but recently I feel like I have been getting a little better. A little...

Suzie's comment gave me a little more confidence in my analysis.

When he returned we continued to talk. About my degree and him spending all of last year in France. I talked about my favourite French cities. Eventually we got onto the subject of La Rochelle...

"Yeah my girlfriend is obsessed with that place"

Shit.

I found my head suddenly rewinding through the whole conversation. Trying to understand how I didn't see this before. Attemping to reassess all of the flirty banter.

I felt cheated. Lead on....

But in all fairness this guy had just been speaking. He was talking to me. Maybe he wasn't interested - just lonely at the bar and wanted a chat.

And then came that sickening feeling where you realise you may have just become 'that' gay.

Incapable of holding a normal conversation with a guy without thinking they are coming on to you - Translating innocent phrases like 'Can I join you' into 'Your house or mine?' like some tragic sexual desperado. Ugh.

I pacified myself eventually and today went on with my life.

On my train back to town, Sam (who was working again and wanted us to finish our Samdate) text me to tell me 'That chef guy' had come in.

I got off the train, rushed through the station, practically speed-walked to the bar...

(What am I doing?!)

It was SO strange. Why was I excited about seeing him?! Why was I acting like this...?!

I (casually) walked in, met Sam, spoke for a little and scoped the place for Steve from the bar but I couldn't see him.

Sam explained he was with his group of friends in the corner. We joked about him, carrying on our conversation.

Steve appeared next to me, I greeted him

He was wearing a shirt this time. A formal black shirt. (FIT!)

He started talking to me about what he'd been up to, he asked me about my day...

Banter.

Right?

My manager and Sam kept indicating that he was flirting, my manager point blank refusing to believe he wasn't despite the girlfriend factor.

After two hours (which passed TOO fast?!) I decided I needed to go home.

He agreed. He was tired too.

It was then that I realised he had left his friends to come and speak to me for the whole time I was there?? (Is that... normal? Would I do that?)

His taxi arrived and he waved goodbye and awkwardly placed himself into the car. (he's tall like me... low vehicles are a piss-take, as are public transport seats weirdly...) After he was seated I waved and smiled...

and watched him drive away?! UNTIL THE CAR WAS OUT OF SIGHT??!

UGH! UGH! UGH!

I may fancy a straight guy. I have SEEN him TWICE?!

It's like being fucking twelve all over again!!

What is going on?!

11:11 PM

You stand in the kitchen.

Removing the cap from your beer you lean, uneasily, against the sideboard.

As you throw the cap across the room into the bin; your father enters hastily, across the space, into the the bathroom.

You hear the ker-snick of the lock.

Having travelled down to home with the sole intention of coming out to him... finally... it seems a shame that three days have passed since your return and you still haven't even attempted to bring it up.

It's a big deal. It was never going to be like telling Mum, or James.

You and Dad haven't always been 'tight'. In fact. You used to treat each other like strangers.

It was horrible.

Luckily; as time went on, you discovered that you shared a love for the same bands and films.

Your first concert experience was with him. You stayed up till three in the morning talking about Pulp Fiction. Before you went to University, you got pissed in the dining room and he ended up advising you which illegal drugs to experiment with...

Suddenly you understood each other. It was like discovering you could speak Parseltongue.

And years later - here you are; before the Basilisk and speechless...

.....But it has never seemed like 'the right time'!

You were alone together yesterday morning eating breakfast. It was too early.

You were alone together at lunchtime when he came home for a sandwich. You didn't want him to go back to work with it on his mind.

You will be alone together in a few moments when he completes his bedtime routine by making himself a cup of tea in the kitchen before retiring to his room. It's definitely too late in the evening.

...

You plan to tell him. Before you leave.

You calculate when you will see him tomorrow and realise that you will have to leave for your train before he gets back from work. So unless you get up at 8 in the morning to speak to him then it's too late

You've had all day! What have you been playing at?!

You can book another trip down next weekend and tell him then? If you can get work off. Which is unlikely. He goes on holiday the following weekend for three weeks so it will actually be next month before you see him again.

Shit.

The lock clicks and he comes walking into the kitchen, redoing his belt.

"Well... Goodnight"

he mumbles as he shuffles toward the hallway.

What about the tea?!!! Shit. Shit. He's going. Shit.

"Are you okay?"

He's looking at you. He looks confused. You become aware of just how panicky your face must look...

Fuck.

"Nothing"

That answer doesn't make sense!

"I mean, yeah I'm fine"

"Are you SURE...?"

No.

...

"Dad I need to talk to you about something"

Wait. WAIT. NO! SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT

"Yeah...?"

SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT.

....He's waiting....

....

"Well..."

-You know ages ago when... nah...

"Basically..."

-I'm attracted to guys? Urgh no...

"Well, the thing is"

His face has dropped completely, he looks serious. Negatively so. Shit.

"It's nothing bad or anything."

"Just spit it out."

He has stopped moving entirely and he is looking straight at you. SHIT.

"I'm bisexual. Basically."

URGH! No No NO! - That came out far too blunt! CRINGE.

"Basically... Well; Yeah... Basically.... Yeah."

STOP SAYING FUCKING BASICALLY.

Silence...

He hasn't spoken. OH FUCK.

"Riight...."

.......

...?!

A million years pass...

"Have you told your mum?"

"Yeah"

"Right... What did she say?"

"Well... nothing really..."

"Right..."

You have to speak. He has to understand. Why isn't he asking more questions?! Mum had plenty! Shit. DIS. LIKE.

"The thing is Dad. I told mum and James ages ago. Like in February"

"Okay... well that's not AGES ago..."

Why is that relevant?!

"And I think I have been putting off telling you because..."

Oh Jesus.

"Well, I think we haven't always been close like you and James are. 

But I think we have got more in common and got closer as I have gotten older..."

"Yeah. I think thats true..."

"And I just didn't want this to be something that fucks it up basically"

You just swore. Did you just swear? YOU JUST SWORE. AT YOUR FATHER. AND YOU JUST SAID BASICALLY.

He's looking at you. But he looks...

He looks like he might cry?!

Jesus. Please don't. You can't take it... Your heart is beating so fast you've have gone deaf. He's definitely saying words as he walks over to you but you can't hear him.

He hugs you.

A hug? really?

"Don't worry about it"

You discuss. Well he asks questions. You talk. You give him only the answers. You don't elaborate, or over describe. You keep it minimal. You don't want to accidentally scar him. Eventually he stops.

"Well if it's alright I'm gonna go to bed."

Really? That's... That's it?

"Okay... Goodnight"

He leaves. Your knees feel like someone has wedged soft cheese into the joints. You lean on the sideboard for support. You look down at it to discover during your talk you have, unknowingly, torn the label off your beer and shredded it into small pieces all over the counter.

You clean it up and then you just stand there.

Something doesn't seem. Normal.

Where's the buzz? The 'woo-hoo he knows' feeling? Everything feels off angle. Disbalanced.

James comes in and you start to update him.

He doesn't say anything helpful.

Great.

Mid-conversation Dad returns. This time in a towel:

"So wait a minute...
If you're gay; then how come your room's always so fucking untidy?"

...And the balance is restored.


Sam

The Dating Game

Who writes the dating rules?

Somebody must have sat down one day and decided the budget, outfit, duration, location, conversation and consideration period of the ideal rendezvous.

How else would we all seem to have a distinct definition of a 'perfect' first date?

Up until recently I had only dated girls, I considered myself pretty clear on their rules. In all honesty after a few dates with different women I became aware of just how laid back the whole experience can be. But it took a lot of practice! Naturally; having never dated a man before, I felt like all my experience didn't apply...

Deep. End.

SO when I first went on a date with a guy (remember 'Sean'? well by April he got tired of waiting and asked me out himself!) All I did was brick it.

It's a sensation I have learned to despise. Colossal uncertainty laced with abject fear of rejection. Wanting  to seem 'on form'. Hoping that I looked as good as possible.

Praying that he looked as good as I remembered.

I sat in the beer garden outside the bar he works in (he obviously wasn't working THAT day) waiting for him. I had arranged it for one o'clock. That way it was just an afternoon drink, nothing major, and if it wasn't going well I could bail with a reasonable excuse. I got there early (the rules surely state this is malpractice?!) and got myself a drink. 

After speaking to the barman, joking about a couple outside having a major argument and checking my phone more than ever before in my life it was ten past one.

He was late.

He hadn't text, but he was definitely just late.

He was coming.

He wasn't coming.

He better be fucking coming. 

I was cursing myself. For being so eager. For being so thick. While simultaneously mentally going through millions of scenarios that could have occurred to explain the outcome. Unfortunately the only one that would stick in my mind was that he had simply decided against it.

Half past one.

Fuck it.

I downed my drink and got ready to go and then; Sean, tired and panting, came walking through the archway into the garden.

"I'm so sorry!"

He had spent so long getting himself together he had lost track of time and had to rush into town, he had gotten half way to the bar before he realised he had left his phone at home.

He looked annoyed at himself. Everything about him was apologetic.

Weirdly, this is exactly what I wanted.

I had become so consumed by the rules. Worried that I would have to be so much better than I am or that he would be smarter than me or that I'd have nothing to say or that we'd have nothing in common or that I'd say something inappropriate - I had completely forgotten that the person I was meeting was also capable of error.

Seeing him, out of breath, blushing, wheezing out excuses and apologies, evidently scared that I was just going to leave - made me realise that we were actually both in the same boat.

Duh.

I had finally chilled out. Which was great!

Unfortunately Sean didn't. Which was bad.

Even by the evening, he hadn't fully defrosted...

He was, admittedly, a really friendly guy - but after ending our second date with a request to borrow money from me, his fate was pretty much sealed.

Rules are rules right?

Sam

Sam In Real Life

Hi. I'm going to be frank. I'm a bisexual.

I know it seems like a blunt statement to open with (and even as I read it I feel a bit sickly) but it has taken me nine years to even admit this to myself and over the past six months I have gone through the motions of getting out of the closet. Phew!

I have known for a long time that I have been attracted to both men and women. (I think I was nine when I got my first 'crush' on a boy - Not that I really knew what that meant back then...). All this time I pretty much pushed it to the very back of my mind, I focused more on other stuff I was interested in, Music mainly. However over the past two years, my sexuality has been highlighted more than ever before, and by December last year it had become far too painful to avoid the plain and simple facts.

SO I started my first blog; a fortnight away from my twentieth birthday, to remedy that. I checked out davey wavey's blog (www.breaktheillusion.com) and it convinced me that the more you talk about it, the less scarier it becomes and as it wasn't really possible for me to do that 'in real life' I thought that here might be the place...



6 months later (I still can't believe it was THAT short?!) and I'm almost completely out, dating and looking forward to attending my first Pride festival...!

Personally, blogging has been so useful to me and I intend to keep using it to reflect and VENT.

And so here it is. The sequel. The second blog. I hope I haven't bored you ridiculously with preamble!


Comments appreciated, but certainly not demanded.


Sam In Real Life.


For previous blog click here