Clueless Camping - 6. Shopping expeditions

Jacob asked me if I wanted to be alone when I read the emails from my mom. “No, please stay. It’s easier than telling you afterwards.” He kissed me, and dragged an extra chair over. I noticed the email from Kristin was sent before the ones from Mom, so I opened it first.

Kristin to Russell: Dear Russell. Well, you have certainly made things exciting over here! Apparently your coming out gave Mom the last push. She has given Father an ultimatum: Accept Evan and you and welcome your partners into the family or she’ll leave him. Maybe this threat to his image as the perfect husband and father can bring him to his senses. Though I‘ve told her they’ll need some counseling with someone who knows how to handle Father’s bigoted opinions. He needs to actually change his views and not just pretend.
Mom was a bit freaked about Jacob being your boyfriend when she phoned. But don’t worry; I’ll talk to her and make her understand how happy you are now. Evan sent me the photo of you and Jacob, and I can see he’s been good for you.   I was like ‘Wow my baby brother is HOT’. Send some more pictures please and tell me what you’ve been doing.
Ehm, I don’t mean private stuff, but what you’ve been experiencing of Denmark while hiding. Love, Kristin

I started laughing after finishing the message and so did Jacob. He told me Kristin had sent him a similar email telling him she was impressed with the change.

“And she wasn’t talking about the physical stuff, Russell. She mentioned it, but she went on and on about how content and carefree you looked. She said you hadn’t seemed happy since you were over here five years ago. If I could make you smile like that for the rest of your life, she’d welcome me as a brother-in-law with gratitude. You know, I got the impression she’s been rather worried about you.”

Wow. This was somewhat unexpected. Kristin hadn’t come home much in the past four years. She mostly turned up for Christmas and birthdays and other family events, such as my parents’ Silver Wedding Anniversary two years ago. Evan would always be there too, of course, and we’d spend time together as siblings. Mostly Kristin and Evan talked and I tagged along on shopping trips or walks, and relished the fact they always included me. I had no idea my older sister worried about me.

Now to Mom’s messages; I reached out and grabbed Jacob’s hand with my left hand and used my right to open the first of my mom’s messages, the one from her old account.

Isabella to Russell: Dear Russell. I have spoken to Jacob’s parents. I understand you are planning to get married! Are you sure this is wise? You don’t need to go to such extremes to prove you love each other and to get us to accept you as a couple. I’ll admit it was a surprise and it took me some time to get used to the idea. But after talking with Evan and Kristin I guess I’m feeling better about Jacob being your boyfriend. All I want is for you to be happy. Love, Mom

Tears of relief filled my eyes. Just as Jacob had said, my mom just needed to think things over and be reassured that we really loved each other. My boyfriend squeezed my hand.

“See, Russell, I told you so. Now read the rest.”

I opened the next emails from her new account. They were mainly concerned with her plans to come to Denmark and more reassurance of her accepting us as a couple, marriage or not. In fact, I got the impression from the last email that Mom would prefer for us to get engaged, but not marry in such a rush. I asked Jacob and he nodded.

“Yeah, I get the same feeling and in a way I’m glad. I think we need to sit down with her and my parents and work out what is the best solution. And later today I’ll tell you my idea, so you have time to think about it.”

I nodded and went back to Mom’s messages. The only other important content was her warnings about Father and her suggestions on how to keep in touch.

Isabella to Russell: Russell, I want you to ignore messages from your father. Don’t even read them. Unless your father has an honest change of heart, I don’t want you to be in contact with him. I’m still hoping he’ll realize that this is the 21^st century. Unfortunately, his religious beliefs are a lot more old-fashioned and inflexible than mine. This has never been a problem until now, but I’m not sacrificing the happiness of my sons on the altar of a hypocritical and bigoted Catholic Church.

I’m bringing your phone, but I’m having it fitted with a new SIM card and an unlisted number, and it’ll work from anywhere in the world. It’s on Kristin’s account, so it can’t be traced by your father. I’ll transfer money to pay the charges. I suggest you set up a new email account as I’ve done and then we can keep in touch directly. Love, Mom.

The implications of our present email accounts being compromised and accessed by Father were clear, and I knew she was right. I went into gmail and within moments I had a new email address. I sent messages to Jacob, Evan, Mom, Kristin, Charlotte, Oliver and Kathrine. Then I went back to Facebook and deleted my old public email address and removed all my contact info. I had deselected email alerts when people sent messages or posted on my public wall, so no need to list my new email address in the system.

“Don’t you want to spend some time on Facebook?” Jacob asked, when I was about to log off.

I shook my head. “No, I’m not posting anything or answering messages until I know how things turn out. But wait a minute, let me see what Evan says on his page.”

I followed the link from mine to his and couldn’t help smiling when I saw it. The top update on his wall was an exuberant “I’ve heard from my twin and he’s fine. Russell is enjoying his vacation in Denmark, and Chris and I will fly over and join him tomorrow.” There were likes and all sorts of comments, ranging from ‘have a nice trip’ to ‘where’s Denmark?’ and ‘glad to hear your brother is OK’. Apparently some of his friends knew Evan had been worried about me.

I looked around for a bit and while Evan wasn’t flaunting it, most of his postings showed he was in a committed same-sex relationship since Chris figured prominently. “Chris and I went to see this movie and it was funny/awful/amazing,” or “Chris and I visited his parents yesterday. His dad does the most awesome barbeque and his mom’s cakes are to die for. My future in-laws are cool.” I smiled and hoped I’d be able to say the same after tonight.

“I assume Evan wasn’t this obvious on his profile before he came out to your parents,” Jacob said.

“No, definitely not. I looked at his page a couple of days before he came home, and it was nothing like this. In fact, he didn’t use Facebook much more than I did and his privacy settings were pretty strict. No one could post anything on his wall or comment on his few status updates. I think he must have decided to drop pretenses for good, after he had confronted Father. And he seems to enjoy it.”

My boyfriend chuckled. “He certainly does. I hope you’ll be just as comfortable being out, when you’ve become used to it over the next few weeks – or months.” I didn’t say anything, but apparently this was revealing in itself.

“Come now, love. I’m well aware you’re freaking a bit about being out. It’s only natural; lots of people feel this way, even here. And you’ll encounter prejudice and stupidity, and insensitive comments, online and in real life. But when all is said and done, you will know who your real friends are. And you’ll be able to pursue the future you want and not the one your dad had mapped out for you. Hopefully you’ll be happy and think it was worth the trouble.”

This was easy enough to answer. “As long as I’m with you Jacob, it’ll be worth any problems I might have to face.” As always, declaring my devotion to him got me an intensive kissing session with lots of sweet whispers. Oh, and a few naughty ones too; fuck! How many boners can you get in a day without suffering permanent damage?

Our making out was curtailed by the need to get to the hairstylist. Before we left, I sent a quick message to Mom, Kristin and Evan saying I looked forward to seeing them in Denmark. I added that wedding plans were on stand-by, but I hoped they’d be happy to celebrate me getting engaged to Jacob. My future fiancé looked pleased and said he’d tell his parents the same.

I went back to the bedroom to retrieve money from my suitcase. I hadn’t had time to change it to Danish kroner, but maybe we could do so before shopping. When Jacob saw me with the bundle of dollars, he shook his head. “No, leave those here, we’ll use my card.”

“But I don’t want you to pay for everything. You’ve paid the whole summer, now I need to contribute.'”

“Your mum has transferred plenty of funds to my account, Russell. And we may need your dollars as cash later on, so it would be silly to exchange them and pay a fee.” Well, I had to admit that made sense.

On the way to the hairstylist, Jacob slowly revealed his idea. He hoped my mom would approve of us backpacking together for three or four months. He wanted to go to Asia and Australia and New Zealand. If things worked out, we could end up in New York around Christmas. We’d celebrate the holidays with my family, and his parents would most likely join us. Jacob would be able to stay in the US on a tourist visa and maybe find a company who’d let him be an intern while he wrote his thesis.

We were walking, because the weather was nice, and in between explaining Jacob pointed out the sights. He told me the name of the short bridge going from Christianshavn to the inner City was Knippelsbro and pointed out Christiansborg, the castle which houses the Danish Government. When I spotted one of the tourist boats in the canal, he promised to take me Evan and Chris on a tour of the harbor.

However, most of his attention was on outlining the future he envisioned for us. “We can come back to Denmark for a spring wedding. Afterwards we can either stay here or move back to the States and be close to wherever Evan and Chris are, or where you can get into a good art college.” I loved the way Jacob included just what I’d wish for. But I guess it was fairly obvious, considering what he knew about me.

We crossed the main pedestrian street in Central Copenhagen, Strøget, and Jacob led me past the Stork Fountain and up Købmagergade, a side street which is also pedestrian only, but with the occasional car or delivery truck. However, people on bikes apparently felt they belonged too, and Jacob had to save me from getting tangled with one of them, since my attention was on his words more than our surroundings.

“If she’s gone through with the divorce, I have a feeling your mum will either be living in the same area, or at least near Kristin; – watch out.” He yanked me sideways. “Så pas dog på, din idiot[1],” the snarled Danish words were directed at the guy on the bike, who just flipped my boyfriend off. Jacob shook his head and returned to the topic of my mom. “Although, if things are really bad with your dad, she might even return to Denmark. But let’s hope he has learnt his lesson and will accept his sons.”

“Wow, you’ve really made long-term plans. But I can’t afford traveling like that for four months.”

“This is why we need your mom’s approval. She’ll have to allocate funds for you. I can manage my own costs; and in any case traveling together will make some things easier and cheaper.”

“Have you told my mom about this?”

“Yes I have, but only as one of several possible solutions.” Jacob was looking at me when he confessed, and I quickly smiled to show I didn’t mind him mentioning the idea to my mom. “However, the fact she’s bought you a phone with international services gives me hope.”

“It sounds absolutely fantastic! I hope Mom says yes. I’ve never thought about her being independently wealthy, but I guess she must be, since she set up the tuition fund plan. I know they had a pre-nuptial agreement, but I don’t know whether it has clauses about their assets before marriage. But she must have access to funds which aren’t under Father’s control. Otherwise how would she have gotten all the cash on the day we left?”

I grinned and skipped around a small tree in a happy twirl. “Evan will be soooo envious. He’s always talked about wanting to travel around the world. Maybe for once I’ll get to do something cool before him and have him wish he were me. Oh, he’ll be thrilled for me and he’ll help persuade Mom. But I can’t wait to see his face when I tell him. Just imagine! It’ll be like we have our honeymoon in advance.”

I was so excited and happy I hugged Jacob and kissed him, right there in front of Rundetårn, the 17^th century tower famous for its stepless equestrian ramp leading up to the Observatory. The look of delight and pride on his face showed me how happy he was to have caused me to act like this.

I giggled and held his hand as we walked on and told him he was the best boyfriend in the whole world and I couldn’t wait to show him how grateful I was. His blue eyes got rather intense and I snickered, knowing I’d made him horny.

Fortunately we arrived at the stylist, or else I might have had my mouth ravished. Jacob permitted himself one small kiss as we were waiting and one hot whisper in my ear “Wait till we get home.” Damn, now I had to stop my blood from going south. Just then the hairstylist approached us and moments later I was sitting in a chair covered by a smock, so there was no risk of any groin tents becoming visible.

Jacob said that I wanted to keep my hair long but needed a trim and a repair treatment. I kept my mouth shut. If Jacob liked my hair long, then long it would be. The hairstylist whose name was David was gently camp, talkative and easy going. He chatted to Jacob and me in a mixture of Danish and English while his hands were busy with my hair.

Once he had cut it, he applied a hair treatment and placed a heat lamp around my head. He fetched a cold drink and a magazine, before he began cutting Jacob’s hair in the chair next to mine. They now spoke Danish and I focused on reading and waiting for the ten minutes of heat torture to end. Once the timer went off, David called for an assistant to rinse and blow-dry my hair.

Meanwhile, he finished with Jacob and returned to me for the final styling with a bit of wax. “You have wonderful hair, Russell, thick and healthy with just the right amount of curliness to make styling easy. Oh, and the color is great, we rarely see this auburn brown naturally in Denmark. Together with your beautiful green eyes you’re quite the cutest little fox.”

He was flirting, but carefully and in the same non-threatening way I’d experienced with Mathias on Læsø. It was just enough to tell me he considered me attractive, but nowhere near the level of hitting on me. Or at least that’s how I felt it, but admittedly my experience of flirting with was almost non-existent.

In any case he certainly knew what he doing with my hair. It looked fabulous and to be honest not even Evan had sported a nicer style than this; probably because Father never approved of shoulder-length hair for us. Thinking about it, Evan did have longer hair when I saw him on Skype last night, but it was still shorter than mine. My mouth opened to spill my thoughts.

“My hair looks fantastic. I’ll have to bring my twin here when he comes over. I think Evan would love to have you cut his hair too.” David smiled and Jacob voiced his approval, both of my hair and the idea of bringing Evan here. I think he realized this was my first attempt to acknowledge my looks could compare with my twin.

Jacob paid and proceeded to drag me through several clothes shops. When we finished our expedition, I was equipped with multiple sets of comfortable shorts, jeans, shirts and T-shirts. Most of them were suitable for backpacking. He also insisted on new underwear, and some of the styles he chose had me blushing madly. He made me change my old loose briefs for a pair of black satiny bikini briefs before we left the shop. Problem was, now I had to walk around with yet another boner.

Along the way we ate hot dogs at one of the small mobile vendor’s (pølsevogn) which Jacob said were typically Danish. He insisted I should try the full garnish option with ketchup, mustard, remoulade (a unique Danish relish), ristede løg (an onion based specialty), and agurkesalat (fresh, sliced cucumbers pickled in vinegar). It was weird, but nice once you got used to the taste. But I was glad to have a drink, and later on, ice cream to remove the slightly greasy flavor of fried-and-dried onions.

I have to admit I enjoyed spending time with my lover dressing me up and admiring me. Even if he did buy me a pair of awfully tight jeans and a green sleeveless tank top, which even to my inexperienced eyes screamed ‘gay’. At my feeble protest Jacob gave me an arch look.

“Remember Oliver told us to go dancing. I’m sure Chris and Evan will want to experience the nightlife of Copenhagen. Don’t you want to look sexy next to your twin?” Right, just chalk this up as another battle lost, Russell. Your lover thinks you look sexy in this, so he gets to buy it for you; along with some really naughty underwear. Jeez.

I tried another tack. “But those jeans will be too hot. I’ll be sweating before we even start dancing.” Five minutes later I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. The helpful shop assistant, who I suspected was ‘one of us’, by the way Jacob alternately scowled and smirked at him, had found a pair of the most indecent shorts I’ve ever seen. They were like cut-off jeans, black and so tight I felt they were crawling up my butt. Even with bikini briefs they felt uncomfortable.

“Fuck, I can’t wear these; they’re sort of pushing my underwear into…” I gestured at my ass, and Jacob grinned. He was standing in the doorway of the dressing room, keeping the curtain closed, so no one could see me.

“Yeah, that’s why you have to wear a thong.” He held up the black ‘thing’ he’d made me try on earlier. First on top of my old briefs and once he’d bought them as being the right size, he’d ordered me to strip and try them again. I was glad he had dismissed the shop assistant for that part. Having Jacob stare at my almost naked butt with desire was bad enough. Only my embarrassment prevented me getting an erection then too.

“Go on, try them again with the thong.” I sighed and peeled the obscene shorts off, switched to the thong and put the shorts back on. This time they hugged my ass perfectly and since the thong contained my package in front, they even felt comfortable there. Just then the shop assistant returned with a couple of other selections. Jacob pulled the curtain open. “What do you think?” he said to him.

If looks could kill, both of them would have been reduced to small piles of ash. But the guy didn’t bat an eye. “Yes, they’re perfect. I’ve got the same brand and size here, but in dark blue. And if you’re feeling adventurous, try the leather version.”

I think Jacob knew this would be a step too far. But he still teased. “We’ll take the blue shorts as well. Russell, does Evan wear the same size as you? He might like the leather ones.”

I gulped, but I couldn’t lie. “He… he might. Maybe we should come back here, when he and Chris arrive. Or he can just wear the blue ones.” We bought all three pairs to the delight of the shop assistant. But I had the feeling Evan would want to shop here as well. They had a selection of colorful T-shirts I’m sure he’ll love.

Finally, Jacob pronounced that we were done, except for one thing. “Time to go and look at rings, Russell.” Fuck, ten thousand butterflies appeared out of nowhere in my stomach. This was it; we were actually going to buy engagement rings. I had sort of pushed those plans to the back of my mind while we were having fun shopping. I looked at the multiple bags in our hands, and Jacob shared my thought.

“Let’s go back home with these. It’s too inconvenient to drag them around.” We were close to a Metro station, so it only took us twenty minutes to dump the shopping bags and return. It also gave me a chance to use the bathroom and brush my teeth. I tried to hide my nervousness from Jacob, but he admitted without shame he felt jittery too. “I hope we can find something we like.”

“Do you know any good jewelry shops?”

“I asked the two same-sex couples I know who have married within the past year. They recommended two places. I thought we’d check them out first. One is a traditional jewelers and the other is more experimental with styles and materials. Do you know which kind of ring you’d prefer?”

“Well, I’m sorry to be boring, but I’d probably prefer a plain ring.”

“That’s OK, I’m not fond of fancy jewelry either. Why don’t we visit the ordinary shop first, as it’s closer, and then have a look in the other one, before we decide?”

“Fine by me.”

Jacob held my hand while we walked up Strøget. Again I was amazed at how little attention we attracted. Oh, there were some disapproving as well as admiring glances, but the kind of people I would have pegged as intolerant at home (a group of jocks, three elderly ladies, two burly ‘farmer’ types) didn’t even pause as we walked past each other. In fact, the only obvious negative reactions I experienced came from a group of young teenage boys who by their looks were not typical Danes.

Dark-haired, with skin types I’d think of as Latino back home, and with obvious macho posturing, they stood out on the busy sidewalk in an uncomfortable manner. I noticed they were avoided and deliberately ignored by most of the pedestrians walking past. Girls who caught their attention were ‘rewarded’ by catcalls and comments, but the rowdy boys rarely rated even a glance in return. Older people sent them disgusted and disapproving glares, above and beyond what I’d expect as reactions to loud but seemingly harmless teenage behavior.

By chance there was another gay couple in front of us as we approached the group of dark-haired teens. Or at least I assumed they were, since the two guys were holding hands too. To my surprise they let go of each other just before they got to the point where they’d become visible to the noisy group, from behind all the other people walking in the same direction. I know Jacob noticed this too, because he gave a small annoyed grunt and his hand tightened on mine. The two boys heard and turned their heads enough to see us. I realized they were younger as well as smaller than me.

Three things happened at the same time. When they noticed our joined hands, the blond guy grabbed his dark-haired boyfriend’s hand again. Some of the guys in the group spotted us and began to make loud comments or call out derogatory words. I’m not sure all of them were Danish phrases, but it was obvious from their sneers, that the meaning wasn’t complimentary. Jacob spoke in a calm firm voice to the couple in front of us. “Lad som ingenting og bliv ved med at gå[2].”

The two boys glanced back again and returned Jacob’s reassuring smile with shaky ones of their own. I looked away from the teen group on our right hand side and tried to gauge the reactions of people around us. To my surprise I saw several highly irritated and condemning faces, but they were all directed towards the guys hazing us. Any looks in our direction only seemed to contain sympathy or pity. It seemed we were more acceptable than a bunch of brash, intolerant teens. Or had Danes gotten to the point where they rejected bigoted behavior as a matter of course?

A few minutes later we were out of sight and earshot and the boys in front drifted to the side of the street. Jacob followed and once we were out of the flow of people walking, they stopped and turned round. They must have heard Jacob repeat his words to me – “Ignore them and keep walking” – in English, since one of them chose this language to speak to us.

“Thanks, it helped a lot you were there.” The guy who spoke had short fair hair and a soft round face. His blue eyes still showed a hint of anxiety. His boyfriend, who was even shorter and slender, had straight black hair and Asian features. He gave us a small smile but stayed silent.

“No problem guys, and in any case you were brave to stay firm and ignore their stupid comments. I’m Jacob and this is Russell, he’s from Florida.” My boyfriend didn’t seem to find it necessary to shake hands with them, nor did the boys make a move to do so. Sometimes I find it hard to figure out the behavior of Danes.

“I’m Markus and this is Kenny.” Kenny and I muttered equally shy ‘Hi’ greetings at the group.

At Jacob’s suggestion we went to a nearby café and had coffee and ice cream while we talked. They were both seventeen and in high school, where they’d met. Markus was out to his friends and family, but Kenny wasn’t or at least not to everybody.

His dad had arrived as a child with his grandparents who were Vietnamese boat refugees in the mid-70’s. His mom was half Danish and half Vietnamese. Kenny quietly described how his parents chose to ignore the issue rather than be openly disapproving. I could sense it made him sad but he also preferred this situation to one where he’d be estranged from his family, who turned out to be Catholic too.

Needless to say I understood him completely. I didn’t go into details about my own problems but just told them my father objected to Evan and me, but my mom and sister were supportive. Kenny just gave me a compassionate look, but Markus who was charmingly tactile, reached over to pat my hand.

In the back of my head I noted how nice it was to feel instantly connected to and understood by someone I’d just met, as had been the case with Oliver on Læsø. I’d never been so relaxed in the company of my peers, even people I’d known for years in school.

I decided we’d be better off changing the subject, so I brought up the incidence which had caused us to get together. “What was up with those guys hazing us? Are they a gang or something?”

The three Danes exchanged knowing but resigned looks, which increased my curiosity. As expected my boyfriend took charge.

“Well Russell, this is sort of a sore subject for most Danes, so I might as well warn you about bringing it up. But I’ll try to explain as briefly as I can.” Markus rolled his eyes and Kenny looked down and fiddled with his spoon.

“Those guys are what we call second-generation immigrants or ‘nydanskere’ which is a euphemism meaning new Danes. Their parents are usually from the Middle East, Moslems, and often poorly educated. The guys have a dual problem. For religious and cultural reasons they’re harshly homophobic and also suppress women. They encounter discrimination and condemnation based on their looks, so they have a hard time getting jobs and have genuine reasons to feel resentful. But they’re also quick to play the ‘racism and religion’ cards if anyone tries to question their views or actions.”

Jacob sighed. “Gay guys from their culture have atrocious problems, as do girls who try to escape the strict control by their fathers and brothers. And I bet all of us know at least one guy who’s been gay bashed or had hate-speech crimes committed against him by these ethnic groups.” Markus and Kenny immediately nodded. “In any case their intolerant attitudes piss me off, quite a lot.”

As always, I was fascinated when my cousin got intense about something. His handsome face took on an animated or stern look, depending on the subject. His eyes focused on his listeners, and he started to wave his hands around. He could probably entrance and convince even the most skeptical opponent. Suddenly Jacob laughed.

“The only funny part is that those Danes, who hate these immigrants the most, are usually also fiercely homophobic for their own cultural or religious reasons. Sometimes they despise feminists too. They want to throw these dark-skinned people out, but they don’t want to use intolerance as a reason, in case this labels them as pro-gay. So they usually point to them as being criminals, or potential terrorists, or non-assimilated, or whatever. None of which is necessarily true.”

I tried to understand. “So the reason people got annoyed with them wasn’t so much because they condemned their behavior, but because they were prejudiced against them as a group?”

My boyfriend shrugged, “probably a mixture of both.”

Kenny clearly felt uncomfortable with the subject and Markus responded. “Well, never mind those jerks now. We need to get going or we’ll be late. We’re meeting my sister and her boyfriend soon.” He got out his phone. “Can I get your numbers? It would be great to stay in touch. Maybe we can go out together one night?”

I suspected the chance of being in the company of a broad-shouldered, handsome, protective hunk also played a role in his suggestion, but I could hardly blame them. After all, I enjoyed being protected by my Viking too. Jacob gave them his number and we parted with promises of staying in touch, although he warned them we might go traveling soon.

It was now close to four thirty, but Jacob assured me we had plenty of time to look at rings and get home and ready to visit his parents. If we ran late, he’d call them.

“My mum won’t have dinner ready before eight anyway. We can look at rings and maybe take some brochures with us or take pictures of those we like. Then we can discuss them at home before we make a decision.”

This sounded like a great idea to me. It was only a short walk to the jeweler Jacob had in mind. When we went into the shop, I tried to let go of his hand, but he held on and shook his head slightly. The shop was fairly large and we weren’t the only customers. There was a female shop assistant, who was probably in her late twenties, and an older man who I’d guess to be almost sixty. Both were busy, and we found our way to where men’s rings were displayed.

As we looked at them and quietly discussed which ones we liked, I could see the young woman out of the corner of my right eye. She finished her business with two girls, and I assumed she’d come over to help. But to my surprise she busied herself with tidying up the trays of earrings and only reacted when a guy came up and spoke to her.

“Kan jeg hjælpe?[3]” The soft Danish words made me turn to the left. The older man was now standing next to Jacob and smiled at us as if he was sharing a sweet secret.

“Yes, please. We’d like to look at engagement rings.” My boyfriend didn’t hesitate.

“Certainly. Any particular style you prefer?” He switched languages seamlessly, and while his accent was Danish with a strong British overlay, his speech was quite fluent and easy to understand. It was amazing how everyone in Denmark spoke English and seemed to think nothing of it. It was even more astounding how Jacob’s request was treated as completely natural. Was it a matter of not scaring potential customers off or did he notice our joined hands before approaching?

He moved behind the counter and unlocked the glass doors. Jacob indicated the tray with the white gold rings, which we’d been admiring. The shop owner, if that’s what he was, placed it on the counter top and asked us if they were meant to be used as wedding rings at a later time.

“Are you left handed or right handed? Sometimes there’s quite a difference, so you have to get the rings sized up or down before marriage.” We both said we were right handed. “In that case I’d advise you to have your ring size measured on both hands to see the difference. Unless you already know it?” Head shakes from both of us.

He got out the appropriate equipment and efficiently but gently sorted out ring sizes on all four hands. He wrote them down for us too, which would be helpful for the other shop. My size was almost the same on both hands, but not surprisingly Jacob’s fingers were at least three full sizes larger than mine. He did have a distinct difference between his right and left hand.

“Well, since the size of the second knuckle often decides the final ring diameter and there’s not much difference there, I think you can get by with a ring which will be slightly loose on your left hand and fit better on your right. After all, you’ll hopefully end up wearing the rings longer on your right hands.” His kind smile was more than just the polite expression of a clever salesman.

For some reason my eyes were drawn to his hands and the two beautiful rings he wore. The one on the right seemed new. As if he’d noticed my interest he held out his hands.

“My husband and I got married the moment we could. We’ve been committed to each other for twenty years, and we decided to get new rings rather than move the old ones. I guess my left hand would feel naked without my original ‘engagement’ ring.” His soft laugh and calm demeanor revealed no regrets over having to wait to get married. But right then I knew how lucky I was to be young in a more accepting day and age. His next words confirmed my feelings. “I enjoy being able to sell rings to everyone who wants to get married.”

We let him show us several sets of rings in the price range we felt we could afford, although we also let ourselves dream about expensive rings, including a plain but handsome titanium set. Jacob used his iPhone to take photos of the five rings we liked most and we got the business card of our helpful new acquaintance plus a brochure about the shop. He reminded us to check out their web site for a wider selection too. We promised to get back to him within a few days.

As we walked along to the other shop, we were both feeling happy and exuberant about the nice experience. I shared my observation about the female shop assistant with Jacob.

“I noticed the woman didn’t come over and offer to help us. Do you think she knew the jeweler would want to deal with us himself?”

“Perhaps, but you’ll notice shop staff in Denmark are often less aggressive about contacting customers than what I experienced the time I went to New York. Though it’s changing and especially in brand shops owned by international companies. They probably make their employees comply with sales policies in the US, including letting a greater part of their pay be commission rather than basic salary. But in many Danish shops they’ll let you browse and keep an eye on you. Once you start searching for assistance even by a look, they’ll approach. Or they’ll do what he did and ask ‘Can I help?’ after a while.”

We found the second shop and browsed, but soon agreed the selection was too advanced for us, both in design and prices. Jacob asked if I wanted to try more shops but I declined. He suggested we could look online too. If we found nothing we liked better than the rings we had already seen, we could go back and try those on. He even hinted at asking Evan’s opinion if I wanted, but for some reason I dismissed the idea at once. Jacob looked happy when I told him we didn’t need help to choose the rings which were right for us.

As we were slowly making our way towards Christianshavn, we walked by a shop selling art and drawing supplies. My steps faltered as I cast longing glances at the displays of pencils, paints, easels and sketchbooks. Naturally Jacob noticed and he immediately turned around and dragged me into the shop. Despite my objections – which honestly faded pretty fast – he proceeded to buy two sets of expensive graphite pencils, three sketchbooks of various sizes, ten sheets of high quality art paper, and anything else he could persuade me to mention.

“I want you to start drawing again, Russell. No matter if we’re staying here or going to travel, you should get your skills up to standard and beyond. I’ll do some nude modeling for you, if that’s what it takes.”

Fortunately, we were on our own in a corner of the shop when he suggested this followed by a short but hot kiss. I had time to get my erection under control before we went up to the counter and paid. I refused to indulge myself in planning scenarios with Jacob as my model, since acquiring sketching material had me drooling with delight as it was. Now I had acknowledged my intention to take up my old interest, my fingers were itching to start drawing.

We finally arrived at the apartment and since it was now six o’clock, we only had time for a quick check of emails and showers. But Jacob hadn’t forgotten his promise of a blowjob, nor had I. He took a shower first, while I wrote to the community college and cancelled my enrolment. Then I replied to the emails in my new account.

Charlotte said she was glad to hear I wasn’t rushing into anything, “although getting engaged is pretty serious too.” She finally admitted to having had suspicions about me and Evan not being interested in girls, but never enough to justify asking about it. She repeated her unconditional support and wanted to know whether I was coming out to everyone.

I’ve checked Evan’s Facebook page and a few people from high school, who have seen it too, have started to ask questions. What would you like me to say?

Russell to Charlotte: Just say we are both gay and I’ve gotten a boyfriend while on vacation in Denmark.

I thanked her for being a faithful friend and for the compliments about Jacob being good looking. I ignored her effusive ranting about the photos of me on my boyfriend’s Facebook page. But I did enjoy the content. Mostly because I knew Charlotte didn’t believe in empty flattery. If she told me that I looked good, she honestly thought so.

Evan’s message gave their travel information. Their flight from Chicago to Copenhagen would leave around ten pm Central time. With a nine-hour flight time and a seven-hour time difference, we could expect them around two pm the next day, which was Friday. He hoped we’d be able to pick him and Chris up and included his boyfriend’s phone number, since his cell phone had international coverage. They would stay until the following Sunday, the day I officially had to leave Denmark.

Mom and Kristin confirmed their plans for coming to Denmark too. They would arrive over the weekend. Kristin had managed to get a week off from work and would go home the same day as Chris and Evan, but early in the morning. My mom had an open-ended ticket. Both of them thought an engagement party sounded like a wonderful idea. I wrote back to confirm our intentions to pick them up and to ask if they wanted me to book a room at the same hotel where Chris and Evan were staying.

It was one Jacob had recommended and close to one of the first Metro stations on the way from the airport to the city. Since it was new and good value for money, situated halfway between his parents and us, yet only 10 min travel time from the City by Metro, he considered it more convenient than a town location. Since Kristin’s home flight left at seven am, I’m sure she’ll appreciate the five minute travel time to the airport.

Just as I logged off, Jacob came out of the shower. He called me from the bedroom and I went in there. As had been the case this morning, my lover was gloriously naked, and I got achingly hard. He made me strip while he lounged on the bed and sent me into the shower with the admonition to ‘be a good boy and get back quick’. No problem. I washed rapidly but carefully and five minutes later I stood in front of him, erect, nude, half wet, and needy. After all his teasing today I knew this would be fast.

I think Jacob knew it too. He knelt in front of me, still naked, swallowed my dick and eased a lubed fingertip into my ass. I had no control and within a few minutes spurted violently into his mouth. He stood up and kissed me, but a rather nasty taste made me pull back with an eeww exclamation. This was followed by a blush as it dawned on me that I’d encountered the remains of my juices in his mouth and my disgust was probably unacceptable. Jacob only laughed: “Oh well, one step at a time, huh?”

He sauntered off to the bathroom and returned with minty fresh breath to claim a deep sensual kiss from me. His manhood was only half erect, and my lover gave no indication that he expected me to suck him off in return. When I hinted, he shook his head.

“We need to get going, Russell. You’ll get a chance to show off your oral skills when we come home.”

Right; no loss of virginity tonight it seemed. Damn. We should have bought those white gold rings with the small diamond and green sapphire insets my fiancé preferred. They were fucking expensive, but they would have gotten me laid.

Oh well, I’d better focus on making a good impression on Jacob’s parents. Benedicte and Jens, I reminded myself, as I dressed. My boyfriend tried once more to convince me shorts and a nice shirt would be OK, but in the end we both wore jeans.

I had insisted on bringing a gift for the hosts, and Jacob said his dad liked micro-brew beers. We’d gotten two bottles in a specialty shop on the way home. For his mom he’d recommended a small box of a particular brand of dark chocolate she favored.

We caught a bus which would take us all the way to Dragør on the other side of the airport. I suddenly recalled his parents had a nice villa with a view of the water and Sweden. Jacob said the most prominent features were still the Oresund Bridge and the Turning Torso in Malmø. I’d seen both from the air as the plane approached the airport almost three months ago.

I couldn’t quite believe how fast those weeks had gone by and how much I’d changed. The clueless, confused and resentful teen arriving on that day in spring had had no idea of what he was fleeing from or the fate which awaited him. Would I have felt better if I’d known? Would things have gone differently? I honestly don’t know. Right now I was focused on holding Jacob’s hand and basking in the light of his love.