Three Strikes - 11. How to say stupid things - Shane 1/2

Kurt Yarley, one of my best friends, owned a landscaping company and seven years ago, he’d roped Aaron, Drew, and myself into playing baseball—just a group of buddies playing ball and the rest is history. We had a fairly well stacked team and usually ended up with the Championship Title, which was nothing more than bragging rights, but we were totally fine with it.

I played sports all of my life and was a respectable athlete. There weren’t too many sports I didn’t play at some point or another. It was baseball, football, and wrestling that consumed my time in high school.

I’d been a catcher since I was nine-years-old and never had a desire to play any other position. Of course, I did because they forced me to. But catching was second nature to me and I loved the pressure and the adrenaline rush you can only get when squatted behind home base. Plus, it was a prime view for all of the men that passed by.

I wasn’t interested nor was I good enough to play in college. It didn’t hurt my feelings at all, I was busy trying to stay ahead in school and get decent marks in my classes. I would’ve died, had I had anything else on my plate. I was always somewhat of a nerd wrapped in a jocks body. I loved sports but more so I loved academia.

I got great grades and dreamed of going to college to become an architect. Unfortunately, my father had a very strict view on what the role of a man should be. He only just accepted me as gay, thanks to my love for sports. Drawing pictures (as he referred to it) for a living crossed some line in his mind. It wasn’t something that men did, not real men. If it was one of my straight brothers I don’t think it would have been an issue, but I was gay, therefore I had more to prove. He never explicitly told me I couldn’t be an architect, but it was strongly implied, and there’s something to be said for not wanting to disappoint your dad, no matter how old you are.

Instead, I became a structural engineer and specialized in commercial buildings. I’d grown very passionate about it and considered myself mildly successful. I worked for myself and whore’d myself out for a comfortable amount of money.

*** *** *** ***

I remember the day vividly, it was the first baseball practice of the year. There’s always something magical about the first practice of the season, of any sport. The freshly mowed field, the smell of old leather, dust from the equipment bag, and the sudden change of physical activity (that one gets harder to cope with as the years go by).

Our team great, which made practices enjoyable. There was electricity of excitement in the air as we played that opening practice. We were winding up practice when the team scheduled to practice after us started filtering in. There were two reasons I didn’t pay them any attention; they were the competition, and I don’t typically waste my time getting to know people.

Typically.

It all changed when I dropped the ball and it rolled behind me. After retrieving the ball, I was struck dumb where I stood when I glanced at the group of guys watching us finish our practice. He was standing there, laughing with his friends and, in my feeble mind, it was every cliché that ever made me want to throw up.

As a whole, he and his friends were not my type. They were over the top and flashy; everything I’d been trained to dislike. But he stood out to me. He was taller than most of the others. He was over the top compared to every gay man I’d ever met in real life, but less over the top and obvious about his sexuality than his friends. His hair was too perfect, his face was slender, soft, and sharp all at the same time.

Whenever he laughed or smiled, his wide smile and thin lips lit his face up like a roaring fire. Whereas his mouth was big, his eyes were the opposite, they were narrow and almost exotic—and when they caught mine for the first time, my breath hitched in my chest. They were a deep-green that danced in the evening sun. He was beautiful and radiant and, for a moment, nothing else existed.

I did the only thing I’m capable of doing; I said something that was sarcastically rude and/or condescending. Yep, that’s what I do best. I don’t remember the exact words I said because they had no meaning, they were just words I said to break the ice while protecting myself.

To my friends and random hookups, I exuded confidence and charm, but to guys I was actually interested in? Forget it, I’d make a better impression if I was dead, and that’s exactly what might as well have happened.

His face hardened at my comment and I instantly regretted opening my mouth, but I didn’t know what else to do. Most guys wouldn’t take anything I said seriously because they knew I was nothing more than a moron, but he wasn’t typical, and he didn’t know me. I wondered if he was going to be emotional, like a girl, and make a big scene. I didn’t have a lot of experience with the really feminine types, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Heck, I wasn’t sure if I was actually interested. I only knew he’d caught my attention, but was it enough?

So, I watched him at his practices and even went to his games. It didn’t help, I only became more confused and more hated by him. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the stupid.

I was surprised by his natural skill and felt that with a little practice, he could be a decent ball player. I also I found myself wanting to be the one to show him the ropes. He seemed to have good form but lacked the strength or training to be anything more than mediocre, which was to be expected from someone of his...delicate qualities? I don’t know. For a gay guy myself, I could be really clueless.

My confusion and frustration seemed endless. One minute, I’d be entranced by him and the next, I was annoyed by him and his friends. Some of us took baseball seriously but they clearly didn’t. They literally pranced (and I do mean literally) around the field and danced like a bunch of fireflies after a rainstorm.

Between games and practices, I watched him befriend almost everyone in the league, including my best friends. Yet, after trying multiple times to talk to him, and making things worse, it became clear I wasn’t going to join his friend group in the near future. I could never seem to say the right thing. ‘The right thing’ being anything that resembled kindness. Deep down I blamed my dad. It’s hard to change years of condition.

My work schedule prevented me from doing my normal morning workout routine so I ended up going mid-week/mid-day, and—boom—there he was, running naked on a treadmill. Ok, he wasn’t fully naked, but his itsy bitsy running shorts left nothing to the imagination. His lithe, toned body flexed and rippled with every step, and he had a little bubble-butt that jiggled as he ran. It was his slender and beautifully sculpted back and shoulders I loved the most, though. I was a sucker for a sexy back.

In an effort to mend things, I decided to talk to him. I stepped onto the treadmill next to him with the plan to say hi like a normal person. It really shouldn’t have been too hard. The guy was a bit intimidating though. He wasn’t big or mean looking, but he had real confidence—the kind that I lacked. I opened my mouth but instead of ‘Hi, we haven’t met, but I’m Shane’, I insulted him and called him a girly boy. It was in a sarcastic tone, the same way I talk to my friends, but it was obvious we weren’t there.

I wanted to hit myself. Of course, I didn’t stop there. I kept digging a nice hole until he finally got tired of it and left.

*** *** *** ***

It was Wednesday and I had some of the afternoon off, which was a nice change of pace. I was driving through town, on my way to the grocery store, when I saw a white Toyota 4Runner parked at the hair salon. I’d seen Gordy (I found out his name from Drew and Aaron) get into a white Toyota 4Runner after a game one evening and ever since then, I swear I saw every white 4Runner that ever came off the assembly line. Without a second though, I made a U-turn and pulled into the parking lot. I could use a haircut I justified to myself.

After a little pep talk of promising myself I wasn’t going to say anything stupid, that I was going to be a decent human being and say nice things, I walked through the door. The place was fairly busy but he was easy to spot. He was effortlessly laughing as the woman finished his hair. I was surprised, I didn’t recall him needing a haircut.

I let the door close behind me and walked through the building. He was on the other side and I decided to be bold and sit directly in front of him. It was a little awkward, especially when he finally called me out for being a creep.

“Can I help you?”

He was annoyed. Of course he was. I told myself to be casual and not to do anything stupid. I ran my fingers through my shaggy hair.

“Nope, just waiting to get my hair cut.” It was true, I just needed an excuse to do something about it.

His lip curled in the cute way I’d seen it do before, not usually to me of course, but when he talked to Aaron and Drew.

“Such a shame. Your hair is your best feature. Once you cut if off you’ll have nothing going for you.”

I didn’t know what to say. I sat there in silence and watched him for a few more minutes before he got up to leave. At least he acknowledged me before he left. That was real progress in my book.

“Alright, go ahead and hop into the chair and we’ll get started. Do you want a trim or a full cut?”

I scoffed.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

Obviously, I wasn’t going to cut my hair anymore, not if it’s the one thing he didn’t hate about me. I got up and left without another word. I went back to my original plan of grocery shopping—nothing big, only a few things for dinner.

I had accidentally run into him at the gym, then stalked him at the salon, but running into him at the grocery store was fate. There had to be some kind of rule that made three a lucky number.

I saw his car parked in the middle of the shopping center which meant he could be in any number of stores, and that wasn’t good for me. I decided to flirt a little by parking my truck real close to his driver’s side door. I thought it was cute and brilliant.

I was finishing up in the checkout line when I saw him run into the store and grab his keys from one of the other check-out stands. Thinking that maybe my luck was turning around, I quickly grabbed my bags and happily followed him out. I smiled as I walked behind him through the parking lot. He was so adorable in his own little world, waving his arms wildly as he hummed a show tune. I decided to once again be bold and say something.

“What are you doing?”

It was a real question. I was curious. His head jerked back and as soon as he saw me, he looked annoyed. He said nothing as we loaded our cars together. The next thing I knew, he was handing me a coloring book which caused me to turn fifty shades of confused.

“You appear to have a hard time staying within the lines. I thought you could use this book to practice.”

He was joking with me. I didn’t hold back my smile as he continued until he was shooing me away. I set the book in the cab of the truck and decided to turn on my own charm. I walked back to where he was impatiently waiting for me to move my truck.

“Actually, I’ve decided I have a few more things I need to do, first. I’ll see you around...Gor-dee.”

I punctuated his name and walked away, smiling. I didn’t know where the fuck I was going, but I loved seeing him all worked up over me. I was also proud of myself for not saying anything stupid—I was getting better. Baby steps.

*** *** *** ***

I woke up excited on Friday. We were finally playing Gordy’s team and I was going to charm the shit out of him with my mad skills as we beat the crap out of his team. Gracefully, of course. I was going to impress him.

As it turned out, they had all of us fooled—they were fucking amazing baseball players. They catfished us, so to speak. Yet, it was still surprising when the last play of the game was Gorty hitting the ball out of the park. I sat there stunned.

I wasn’t totally paralyzed, of course. As much as I wanted to show off, it was hot watching him dominate the game. I had to stay squatting longer than normal to hide my arousal as he literally danced and shimmied his way to home plate. I didn’t like all of the dancing and attention grabbing, but I liked watching his body move. His confidence was a turn on, too.

Everything went crazy after that. My friends lost a bet and made me go clubbing with them. They didn’t exactly give me a choice. I didn’t know details, they were like ‘hey, we lost a bet so now we have to go clubbing, and you have to come with us...here’s address…’

Imagine my surprise when I showed up to find my three straight best friends getting drenched in glitter spray by a very angelic looking Gordy. I’d spent months making fun of guys in rompers so, of course, that’s what Gordy was wearing. How he made them look good is something I’d never know.

I was standing there with my hands in my pockets, trying to play it cool with Gordy started barking orders. At first I had no idea what he was talking about, then I realized he was giving very specific details on how to find him a hook up.

I had no clue that part of losing the bet was that everyone was supposed to help Gordy get laid. I wanted to punch Aaron because he’d never tried to get me laid as hard as he was trying to get Gordy laid, and I didn’t want Gordy getting laid by anyone but me.

Soft hands? I never paid attention to such a thing. For the first time in my life I discreetly rubbed my hands together under the table. They weren’t overly soft, but I wouldn’t say I had alligator hands.

Honestly, I didn’t think he’d have very many guys interested in him since he was, you know, loud and feminine? Boy was I was wrong. The twins hadn’t been joking when they said Gordy was popular. I spent the whole evening trying to undo what everyone else was doing.

I walked around telling people that Gordy was short for Georgia and, after a long and draining road, she was at the beginning stages of her transformation. I told some that he was on day one of antibiotics for chlamydia, and others, his herpes was between outbreaks. It seemed to cool their interest. What I hadn’t expected was that the constant stream of disappearing guys would to piss him off—not at me of course because he didn’t know what I was doing. If I thought about it, then yes, I understood why he was frustrated.

I didn’t have intentions of doing anything that night but everyone was leaving the club and he looked so amazing. All I wanted was one dance. He hated my guts so it wasn’t exactly an easy task to get him to agree. Actually, he didn’t agree. I ended up dragging him out to the dance floor and then I had to hold him like a pouting child who didn’t wanna go to bed. It looked like I was dancing with a limp, blow-up doll. Except a blow-up doll wouldn’t have resisted as much as Gordy did. Maybe I was a jerk for making him dance, but his resistance was mostly for show. I gave him plenty of chances to walk away but he chose to stay and pout. It wasn’t ideal, but it was leaps and bounds better than nothing.

The amazing sex? I don’t know how it happened. I mean, I know how it happened because I was there for the whole thing, but I don’t know where it came from. It was only a kiss. An unexpected kiss….except the kiss turned into something more when Gordy decided he was into it.

Everything became more when Gordy decided he was into it. From a lifeless blow up doll to a full-fledged sex god. I felt desire I didn’t know was possible and I never wanted it to stop. The things that happened on the dance floor, and in the cab I stole from Aaron, were nothing compared to what had happened in bed.

When he was naked, Gordy was a sight to behold. He was long, lean, and had tight muscles. I couldn’t get enough of him—not with my lips, my hands, or my body. I thought I was going to knead his ass right off of him.

When I closed my eyes that night, I felt more satisfied than I ever had before. Being wrapped around Gordy like a lifeline was pure bliss and, for the first time in a long while, I was excited for what the morning would bring.

Except the morning wasn’t good.

I woke up to an empty bed when I heard the door click shut. Foolishly, I thought Gordy was making himself at home in the kitchen so I got up, pulled on my boxers, and went to find him. What I found was the absence of Gordy, and an amused Aaron who told me Gordy had left in such a hurry, that he didn’t put his shoes on.

Talk about feeling shitty. I ended up driving around the neighborhood for forty minutes while trying to find a man in a romper. I received some weird looks from people when I asked about him, but no one had seen him. For a moment I thought I’d gotten lucky when I saw Allé, but it turned out he hadn’t seen him, either. I didn’t know what to tell him. Did I want him to give Gordy a message? Or maybe he’d give me his number? Or tell me where he lived?

In the end, I had no choice but to walk away empty handed.