I Don’t Want To Touch Your Body
There are some things in life that are extraordinarily easy. Like the sky is blue, red roses symbolizes love, snakes are poisonous, and so on and so forth. Then there are things that are more complicated such as the life cycle of a butterfly and the way we show affection. Sometimes things can go from relatively simple to amazingly complex in a moment. All of it depends on the when what and how or why of the situation and the individual or individuals involved. Their reactions and actions of everyone, and everything in this case, accumulate into one massive jumble of chaos. And as usual, I’m the one who take the heat.
I guess since everyone knows that I’m gay, ninety-five percent of time, don’t ask I’ll explain later, and not very flamboyant, I sometimes pass as a straight man, and that had been a blessing in my living situation. My roommate, whom we shall call Ben hence forth, was a skin head at some point in his past. While he had reformed from his past and is now a decent man, there are times when he does show some of his past. Knowing this full well, I sometimes have momentary lapse in my judgment. And that is how this all began.
Usually I occupy the love seat in our living room alone during movie night because one of our roommates has a hygiene disorder, which we will not discuss at the moment, which makes it impossible to sit comfortably next to him. Everyone in the apartment knows that the love seat is my seat. I know that it is very childish and not very harmonious for a living arrangement but I rather like being able to stretch out during a movie.
One night the living room had been invaded by several guests during a movie and I had retreated to the love seat for comfort. Unfortunately, the arrival of our guests displaced Ben from his usual perch on the wooden chair and straight to the love seat with me. While I had not thought this a problem at the time, things got a little too close for comfort during the movie.
As fate could have it, the position of the TV forced me into a compromising position where my head was rested on Ben’s chest and one of his arms had draped itself around my shoulder in a repositioning attempt. While this had gone unnoticed by both Ben and I, the rest of the apartment was aware of our intimate arrangement on the love seat. It wasn’t till after the movie that we realized our predicament.
Suspicions and Dangerous Reading
It had been a whole week and Ben didn’t think anything of the movie incident, he even joked around about the situation by calling me baby. I thought, ‘Well at least he isn’t taking it the wrong way.’ I should have known that someone would open their mouth about my sexuality. At this point everyone in the apartment knew I was gay save for Ben and his brother. I should have waved a big rainbow flag as soon as I had moved in but I thought I was obvious with who I was.
Apparently it wasn’t, and the loud mouth of the house, who we’ll call James, got the notion in his head that we were going to fly away to the Caribbean islands and have the biggest gay wedding in the history of mankind. Needless to say, Ben was surprised by the revelation and was disgusted by the accusation.
It took a whole hour to explain to Ben that I wasn’t interested in him in a sexual manner and that the “cuddling” during the movie night was not intentional. Afterwards I retired to my room and spent the rest of the day plotting my revenge that I have not and will never carry out on James.
In the meantime Ben’s little brother, Eric, had found some reading material on the internet. Or maybe he was looking for, I’ll never know. And, surprise, surprise, it was an article on how to identify a gay man that’s into you. I have to say that I might have been amused by the b.s. in the article if it didn’t turn Ben into a paranoid homophobic jerk for the rest of the week. It was one of the most entertaining, demeaning, and strange week of my life. Usually it’s only one of the above but you know you’ve hit the jack pot when all three are present.
After that week I had decided that enough was enough. I had to do something about the situation. After all Ben isn’t really a bad guy. He was just misguided, ill informed, and extremely rash. I had to have a talk with him. As usual, things don’t go the way I plan.
At first the conversation had started out pretty civil, I was sitting on his bed while he sat at his computer chair looking for all the world like a lost and frightened puppy. Like the slow kid in the zombie movies before he gets munched on by a horde of rotting people. It went well for fifteen minutes and he seemed to be accepting that I was not desperately trying to hop into bed with him. Then I made the mistake of rearranging my legs. Next thing you know he was having diarrhea of the mouth and constipation of the brain.
“Dude, stop moving closer to me! I’m not gay! You can’t have my penis! ” It was like a symphony of incoherent babble after the first three sentences. I was shaking my head at this point and pinching the bridge of my nose. After about five minutes of his rambling, he was finally able to talk to him like an adult.
By the grace of God, somehow, someway, I was finally able to convince him that just because I was gay, I wasn’t after his penis or any of his other body parts. I slinked away, very exhausted from the ordeal, back to my room and almost literally collapsed into my bed for some much needed rest. I awoke the next morning to find that things had returned to the way they were before the movie night affair. I slipped into the kitchen and started to make some breakfast. Ben sauntered into the kitchen just as I finished breakfast and asked “Did you make me some?”
“No I didn’t, you’ve got arms. Make your own damn breakfast.” I replied as I waddled towards the table. I was stopped when I felt an arm wrap around my lower back and a large hand came to rest on my hips.
“Awe, baby, don’t be that way.” Ben said in what I have come to associate as his ‘I want to cause trouble’ voice. I swear this kid's sole purpose in existence is to drive me insane.