School was awkward. There was no other way in which I can say it. I have a secret and I was too scared to tell anyone about it. I feared judgment because it was through judgment that opinions change. I did not want to lose the friends I had, especially because I felt like I did not have many. I did not want my family to disown and look at me differently, especially because I felt like, even though they were supposed to unconditionally love me as their son, they will judgment, and opinions do change, so that unconditional love can be swayed due to a malfunction of my being.
The days were repetitive and never ending. I would look at the boys and the girls in my class, looking at each other, flirting with each other, eventually fucking each other. I would look at the clock and just stare, wanting the class to end as soon as possible. I would look at myself in the mirror everyday, and just wonder, why can I not be like them? Why can I not be the guy that looks at the girls, talks to the girls, and fuck the girls.
I have been in college for two months now. The university was big enough, and there were plenty of students, but the place was conservative. So conservative where all of the girls and all of the guys were expected to be into the same things, and do the same activities, and just be normal.
I wasn't though. Normalcy was foreign to me. When I was young, I felt different. The kids would laugh at me and say comments I did not understand. While the guys were looking at the girls, I wasn't. I was looking at them. That was disturbing to them. No one would understand.
Nothing too bad happened tonight, but my friend, Shana, declared herself as a slut. We went to a party, where all of the guys were looking at all of the girls, and she was one of the girls. She was drinking, as was I, but I felt awkward. I did not belong to the party. The parties were designed for horn dogs looking for ass and girls that wanted to feel better about themselves by finding a guy. She looked up with some guy named Mike, but then came Sean. Sean was hot, according to her. Well, according to me, he was alright.
He sort of looked like that pop singer Ryan C-whatever. He had light brown hair that stuck out in all possible directions, and a tan because we went to a school where everyone was tan. His eyes were an aquamarine color, which I thought were pretty nice, but they were nothing special, according to Shana. He had a diamond stud in each ear, which was the main reason why he reminded me of that horrible pop singer. He was 5'10" and had maybe an athletic build. I mean, he had muscle, but it wasn't really obvious. Shana was grinding on him, and then his tongue slid down her throat. Soon enough, they were on a couch. How high school. My other friend, Jessica, was on the phone with her boyfriend. She was outside, talking to him. I have yet to meet him, but I knew his name was Daniel. In a nutshell, I came to the party with two girls, but by the end of the night, I was just chilling with a red solo cup full of vodka and coke.
When I got to my dorm room, I knew my room mate was gone. He was probably with some girl or at his fraternity. It really did not matter to me. I was glad he was gone. Things were always awkward when he was around. I just wanted to be alone so I could chill.
Well, what could I do tonight? I was so tired of this. I could not go to party after party and get nothing. Why could a guy just never look at me? Why could I just not look at a girl and feel the impulse to do her instead of trying to form a friendship? I should not feel ashamed of that. It was time to do something. I was gay. I had to admit it. I just could not tell everyone, yet.
How could I possibly find a boyfriend? The buzz in my head made me throw my judgment out of the window. It really did not matter if I did something because you know, the school was so big that it may not even matter. If I reveal I was gay to some people, it did not mean that everyone will find out. It could be like a secluded bubble. A very secluded bubble.
I went on the internet. I mean, there was no other form of communication in the dorm room. I went on facebook and tried to find the gays that went to my school, but of course I only found guys that were not hot. Great. Why did gay equal weird and demented looking here? I went on myspace, and found a similar result.
Chat room. I could enter a god damn chat room. No one would know. It was sketchy and of course I saw those weird things on date line about those guys and girls getting rammed up the ass by a fifty-something-year-old, but it could be meaningless. We could exchange pictures, flirt a little, and then who knows? I wanted to remain optimistic when it came to me finding the perfect guy. He could show up at one of these parties. I doubt it. But, maybe. Maybe? Could that work? Mayyybbeee.
There was a chat room for those who were looking for another male. Gay male singles. At least I did not call one of those hot lines, where they say you were talking to hot males with six-pack, who were actually fifty-something-year-olds that wanted to ram you up the ass.
JustWantinToChill: Yo booiizzz.
No one really paid attention. I tried to look at people's profiles to get some sort of assessment, but I really could not get much. Besides, who could even respond to such an absurd statement. I sounded like a wannabe ghetto man. I probably sounded like an idiot.
JustWantinToChill: I'm 18, if any other teenagers are wanting to chat, then... I'm here. Just chilling, just like my ScreenName.
No one really paid attention. I sounded desperate as hell, didn't I?
Actually, someone IM'ed me.
LookinOverThere: Hey, funny man.
JustWantinToChill: Hey. So who're you?
LookinOverThere: I'm also 18. The name is Talon.
What a hot name. Talon. It was apart of a bird, but it was still a hot name. Talon. Oooh, Talon. Yup, can definitely imaging moaning that. So glad the room mate was not here.
JustWantinToChill: Name's Justin. Glad to think that you find me funny. So tell me, Talon, what do you look like?
LookinOverThere: I have a picture. You want to exchange?
It took me a few minutes to respond. I was browsing through my computer to try and find a good picture of me. Define a good picture. I need to be good looking in order to have a good picture. Maybe I was not bad looking, but it was not like many guys or many girls would stare at me.
LookinOverThere: Who the hell says surely? You from the 30's?
JustWantinToChill: Well, from where I go to school, it seems that way.
LookinOverThere: ... Right.
I needed to say something cool. Unless, he found me hot. Wait, there it was. A picture. Damn. Cute. No. Hot. Fuck.
He had bright white teeth, which was the first thing I noticed. He had bright blue eyes that looked like the ocean in one of the postcards where everything seems serene. His tan really emphasized the color of his teeth and eyes. He had blonde hair that was gelled to perfection and eyebrows that looked a bit too plucked, but that was fine. If we ever got close, I could tell him to bushy them up. He had a strong jaw and a square chin. He was wearing a bathing suit. He had the swimmers build. Broad shoulders, but small waist. He did not seem to have much muscle, but I wouldn't mind touching him. At all.
JustWantinToChill: Warning, I'm drunk, but damn, you look fine. So why the fuck are you in a chat room?
LookinOverThere: Thanks, man. I am picky and I need the most selection I could possibly get. Don't you worry, though, if you do not believe that is me. I got plenty of pictures. Plenty.
This was working too well. I sent him a picture of me.
LookinOverThere: My sobriety is killing me, but I should be asking you why you're on here.
I had dirty blonde hair, but it was buzzed. I looked like a man, which was why no one would believe I was gay if I told them. I had slate grey eyes that I loved and thought was my best feature, but they were hard to notice. I was 5"9' and I had some muscle, because I used to play tennis for high school, but I was becoming lazy and fat. Thankfully, my picture did not show that I was now kind of carrying some excessive weight. I kind of had a heart shaped face, and a button nose. I had a stubble that I refused to shave because, whenever I did shave, it grow back two hours later.
This seemed perfect. Too perfect. It was also 3 AM and my liquor was telling me that I was becoming tired.
JustWantinToChill: Sorry, man, but I got to go.
LookinOverThere: Okay, babe, but be sure to IM me the next time you're on.
I signed off after I added him to my buddy list.
(Author's Note: Don't ask me why I am starting a third story. It just came to me and I am going with the flow. I spent like two hours planning where this is going and then I was able to write the first chapter in forty minutes. Don't worry, though, I have slightly given up on going out due to the fact I practically failed last semester; therefore, I have to stay in and work. Writing is my new form of procrastination instead of taking shots.)