My night...

The months had felt like years, but flown by too quickly to remember.

I arrived at the apartment feeling jittery and nervous and needing a drink. This sometimes (always) happens when I'm meeting someone, the flux between horny excitement and cold questioning that seems to insert itself into the moment. Really this should not have bothered me, because David has been coming over for a while now, only interrupted by the summer months and my temporary relocation ("Why are you living out there?").

My roommate and I sat at the new old kitchen table, me swigging quietly from a glass of gin and tonic and her pulling from a pre-bottled cocktail. The sun beat through the windows and gave the room a sickening shimmer of heat, pushed away every few beats by gusts of cool air. Tension lifted and we talked about our evenings and she said, "I hope you have a good time," and got in the shower.

The next few hours were spent idly watching the clock, paging through a forgettable paperback left under the coffee table and sipping from a new glass of gin and tonic. He was supposed to show up at 10:30, and by midnight I was getting nervous again. Finally the phone vibrated and he was downstairs worrying his car would be stolen or he would be shot and how can I live in such a fucking ghetto?

I opened the door to him and he smiled with his big lips pushed apart. I smiled sleepy and lightheaded and we took a tour of the apartment where he stopped and sat on my bed. I offered him a drink, closed my door and sat down.

The next several minutes were spent on how summer sucks when you don't got anywhere and how many different job's he had that went nowhere. I forgot to ask him about a road trip he was going on. Then he pulled his wallet and phone out of his pants and lay down on the bed. I pulled the chain on the bulb beside him and lay down.

Over the next two hours we moved around every imaginable angle grasping each other's bodies. He was on his game, more interested than I'd ever seen him before, and I fueled from his energy. The stress and nervousness and worry (this is the first sex you'll have in months...) were gone and all that was left was lust and pleasure.

He finally came while I was inside him, a quiet acknowledgement seconds before the oh-oh-oh's and then I came and we collapsed onto each other and my breath was ragged and the sheets were soaked. Time stood still as the curtain played back and forth in the breeze.

We stood naked in the dark, the angles of his body barely visible and after hearing a noise he says, "Is someone home?"

"Sure, probably. My roommate was out earlier..." It's now 3, and I'm not surprised she's home.

"Cool. Is she hot?"

"I guess. Yeah." I think about it for a few more seconds, but that sounded right.

"So would she let me fuck her?"

I tilted my head. "Probably not. She likes her boyfriend."

He giggled and said too bad and just stood there. We waited there, waiting for the other to give a cue for the next move.

I offered him a shower and he accepted while I tip-toed out to see if my roommate was home. She smiled slyly as she opened her door and I laughed with guilt and at the fact I had just slept with a boy in my new apartment while my friend was home and it was OK.

We all went out for a smoke on the balcony and he introduced himself to her ("I do really want to meet these boys, you know...") and they shook hands. He talked about his school and she talked about her classes and I sat there not saying much because I was tired and spaced out. David inhaled, then exhaled, talking nonstop about his favorite clubs and where all his friends go and where they might be tonight. There was talk of some friend-of-a-friend he knows who's dating Amanda Bynes, and I realise that he really does know (or thinks he knows) people who know people. He then talks about his dreams to move to California with a friend who wants to get a record deal and how he might go because it's great out there, it's all he's wanted to do in life.

"But what's in California?" she asks, because she can't see past Toronto.

"Everything," I say from my chair, and David giggles again.

I tune out his praise for L.A. and wonder why he's so interested in talking to her anyway and shouldn't he be going home soon because it's getting late?

She excuses herself and he sits for a few more minutes dragging on his third smoke. Finally he runs out of things to say and I sit there because I never had anything to add anyway, so instead he gets up and motions to leave. We get to the door and he makes another joke (seriously though) about getting shot on the way to his car and I tell him not to worry, turning the handle. He sticks out his hand for a high-five and I grab it awkwardly not really believing this is happening again.

"Is that how you do it on the west side?" I ask, expecting a more complicated hand motion, but he laughs. "Not really."

Then he's gone, loneliness filling his previously occupied space. I get a glass of water because my head is starting to hurt, then I slide into bed with my roommate who's watching some rerun on TV. We talk for a few minutes about our nights and I start out really happy because I'd had great sex but realize how odd it had been. It all came crashing in, all of a sudden, and I shut my eyes but it didn't block out the dim flicker of the TV.

I was 'that guy'. You know, 'that guy' that he sleeps with between trying to pick up girls in his social circles and pretending he doesn't like bottoming in bed. Part of me wonders if his musician friend knows where he is tonight. I feel strange, because it's not like the casual times like before where its just gay sex and everyone goes home. I'm playing some part in the theatre of his life, a cutout from some novel. This amuses me because I never thought I could get involved in these 'complicated' social affairs, but it's filled with self-doubt. Please, let me go back to 1953 when nobody had sex and good boys read their bibles before bed and marry the girl from down the road and everything is simple with little room for though.

Moments go by and I realize she's talking to me, asking why I said it was a little depressing. Quickly I explain that all I really want is someone to hold and be there the next morning and actually be interested in me, and not ask to fuck the female roommate as soon as I've pulled out of his ass.

"I wonder if I'll ever see him again," I whisper more to myself than to her, but she sits up and asks why. I know why (because I'm less than just a one-time hook-up) but I just say, "Just a feeling I guess." I pull her tight and tell her I love her and she says it back and how it's nice I'm living down her hall, then I slip out of bed and into my own room.

I change the sheets and open the window to change the stench of sex for some exhaust fumes, pulling out new sheets for the bed. A moment later and I'm under the stream of the shower trying to get the latex smell off of me and ignoring my headache.

I finally go to bed at 4:03.