The Last of the Famous International Playboys
"Dear hero imprisoned,
with all the new crimes that you are perfecting,
I can't help quoting you,
Cause everything you that you said rings true..." - Morrissey
It was easy to jive that this whole shebang was just me being "a good guy". He needed a ride (I couldn't let him walk in this weather), and my interest in him was so very innocent. As I approached the campus I reiterated to myself what I would and would not be doing that night.
I found him quickly, among the other college kids. We walked over to the parking garage, and when we got into my car, I asked him where he lived. A part of me wanted to get coffee, and find out about him, but that could only lead to trouble. I was intent that I would carry through with my celibacy.
"I'm not that crazy, am I?" He asked, in his thick Korean accent.
"No," I said, "I just wanted you to know that if you needed to go home, you could."
"Could we go to your place?" He asked.
On the way to my apartment, we compared SAT scores. I told him that I had gotten a 1380 without trying, and he poked the side of my head. "You are smart." He said, laughing. He was almost too charming, with his tiny gestures, and the way he called everyone and everything "crazy".
When we arrived at my flat, he sat on the loveseat in my room, making fun of me for taking pre-Calculus. I frantically cleaned, utterly embarrassed that I lived like this. I held the agar plate sitting on my desk up to the light, so that he could see the bacteria growing in it. "It's a biology assignment, I was supposed to swab something I come in contact with every day, and see what grew." He stood next to me, looking at the plate, and made a yucky face. I could hear him breathing; he was so close to me. My roommate sat on the futon in the living area, eating turkey meatloaf. "I thought you weren't going to do this anymore." She whispered. "Oh, Jules, I'm not going to have sex with him."
She laughed. I'm just that slutty.
Back in the room, we talked as I shoved most of my things into my closet, including my gay box. It is covered with pictures of naked men, and holds my condoms, bawdy playing cards, etc. I wouldn't need that tonight.
After the entire room was clean, and I could no longer justify standing, he lay on the bed. I kept my integrity, and sat down on the loveseat, the perfect gentleman. We began talking about some technical point of psychology and effective studying techniques, him scooting closer to the loveseat, his eyes fixated on me. I am a naturally gregarious person, but at this point, I lost my capacity for speech. I couldn't possibly have been expected to finish my sentences, not with his beautiful face inches from mine, expectant.
I kissed him, on the neck. He turned his face away from me. "Maybe not?" I said, settling back, slightly embarrassed. For the rest of my life, I will mourn the fact that physics will never know the mechanics of what happened next. Because before I had time to apologize, he was straddling me, softly reinventing everything I knew about kissing.
He fit in my arms so well, and he was fun to make love to. His lips were dry and sweet, and he smiled when I lifted up his shirt. He though he was fat.
He made me smile, and I hadn't had that in a while. I don’t feel bad about breaking my vow of celibacy. It was never about not having sex, but about making it count. That one counted.