Dilemma - 1. Chapter 1

Its 9:30 on a Friday night and here I lay in my bed staring up at the ceiling. I would say I’m bored, but I’m not. I’m contemplative right now.

I used to love Fridays. Fridays meant no school the next day, which meant staying up late hanging out my friends. Man, those were the days. Hanging out at Patrick’s, horsing around, joning on each other, telling ‘Yo momma’ jokes till his mom cut on the porch light then it was time to head inside to watch wrestling. We all had our favorites. Patrick’s mom made all kinds of goodies, from chips, pizza rolls, pigs in a blanket and all the ‘Sunny D’ we could drink.

Don’t get me wrong, my mom catered our Friday nights as well, all of our moms did. It was just Patrick’s mom, Mrs. Gibson was the coolest. She didn’t complain if we got too loud. She didn’t threaten us with cutting off the television if we didn’t stop horsing around and she didn’t even yell. Well, she did but not too loud when Johnny and Matt broke her lamp. My mom would have had a stroke, trust me.

My boys, Patrick, Johnny, Matthew and me, we were like the ‘Four Musketeers,’ thick as thieves since the third grade.

I remember the time I stole my daddy’s cigarettes and we all went behind the house to smoke them. It looked easy enough when the grownups did it. But, Man it wasn’t. I think we all got sick that day. Our parents wondered what was wrong and why we went to bed early on a Friday night. My dad figured it out and came to my room asking if I knew where his cigarettes were. I lied of course, but I knew he knew. He sniffed the air and arched his brow before turning to leave but I remember him saying. “I hope you feel better and learned your lesson.” I’m sure he never told my mom otherwise I would have heard about it. Again trust me, I know my mom.

Karen. My mom’s name is Karen. She’s beautiful, all my friends think so. Her skin is as smooth and caramel like a piece of ‘Werther’s’ original candy. She wears her hair natural, twists most of the time and just a hint of gloss on her lips and she has a mouth on her. She’s no match for my dad. In our house the motto is, ‘If Momma’s happy everybody’s happy’ and if she’s not…look out.

Oh yeah, back to Fridays and why I’m at home alone. Please don’t feel sorry for me, it’s my own fault. I was invited out. I’m always invited out. The four musketeers remember, that hasn’t changed. It’s all for one and one for all.

It’s me; I’m the one that changed…I think.

Our freshman year in high school, wow, when I think about it we weren’t your usual freshmen, “fish” nawh we were the “shit” coming in. Everyone knew us; we had a little reputation you could say.

Matt, was heading straight for the soccer field bringing along with him his skills and his brother’s, last name who was a senior at the time. Everyone knew Matt was Kevin’s little brother and he didn’t leave us behind. Any parties Kevin was invited to, he made sure Matt could come, and in turn Matt made sure it was cool to bring us. Never leave a man behind.

Me, my five-foot nine, lean frame made me perfect for B-ball, that was my forte, basketball. I hit a mean three-pointer if I do say so myself. Not trying to toot my own horn, but ‘toot toot.’

This is where the Fridays come into play. Most Friday nights someone is having a party. There’s underage drinking, sad to say but true. There’s loud music, dancing and lots and lots of pretty girls. Friday nights was deemed, ‘Get laid Fridays’. We all carried condoms; lord knows we didn’t need any babies or baby mommas running around. We were all college bond for goodness sake. But if you didn’t get fucked on Fridays it was your own damn fault. The girls were there for the taking, the pond was stocked you could say. And with us being athletes we could have any girl we wanted.

Kevin and his buddies made sure we knew who was good in bed, who gave great head and who would let you run a train, that’s what Johnny wanted to do. “All for one and one for all.” Good old Johnny.

The parties got boring for me since I didn’t drink, smoke and didn’t like dancing, usually I would nurse a warm beer just to keep up appearances, but then that got old too.

Everyone lost their virginity our freshman year, all except me, but the boys don’t know it. I made up lie saying I had a girl at my grandmother’s that way they would never meet her or ever find out that I was still a virgin. Yep, seventeen years old and never been laid. Pathetic I know, but it’s true.

When I made up this lie, I didn’t anticipate senior prom. My friends believed me when I told them about the girl, why wouldn’t they? Why would I lie? They are all dying to meet her at the prom. So my dilemma is do I keep up this charade, get one of my cousins to act as said girlfriend or come clean.

The truth is there is no girl, there is no one. I wondered about myself a few years back, tall, good looking guy who some would say has it going on. Could have any girl I want, and that’s the kicker, I’m totally not into girls. All the research I’ve done allude to the fact that I might be gay.

Okay, let me not lie to myself, I am gay.

I fit the stereotype however; jock, teen, and in the closet. It’s not where I want to be, I want to be out, hanging out with my friends, doing the things we used to do. Only the difference would be this time I would have some fine ass dude by my side. Rooting for me at my games, going to the after parties with me. I want to tell them, hell, tell my parents even. They don’t know. But I’m afraid they won’t understand, won’t accept me for who I am, when in reality I haven’t changed, I’m still me. Underneath it all I’m still me, but will they see that?

What about the jokes Patrick tells his “Homo” jokes that I shamefully laugh at. Would I seem like a hypocrite, a coward…maybe? But they make it so hard.

All I know is I can’t keep doing this. This is unhealthy for me. I read about teen suicide more than I like too. I don’t want to be another statistic, not like that anyway. Hell, I want to be known as a leader, one who leads the pack not follows it. Who I sleep with or love shouldn’t be anyone’s business. My mother and father, say they love me, they should still love me. And my best friends, Patrick, Johnny and Matthew, we’ve been friends forever; me being gay shouldn’t change that…Should it? It’s not like I’ve patted them on the ass, made googly eyes at them or tried to cop a feel. Damn I hate that stereotype was well; just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you want every guy you see.

I can do one of two things. I can continue to spend my Friday nights alone in my room looking up at the ceiling or I can come clean. After all when it’s all said and done, it’s my life and I have to live it, no one else can live if for me. It’s not going to be easy and when I get up, head out there to tell my parents, I might chicken out and just grab something from the fridge and come back here.

If I don’t do it, that’s okay, there’s always a next time.

There will always be a next time, until that time arrives.