As They Say - (Revised) - 40. Entry 52

22nd June 1991:

I was in Thomas's bedroom today. Oddly, it is superbly clean, undeviatingly organised— down to the arrangement of the pencils on his working area. Every book spine on his shelves extruded perfectly with the neighbouring ones; it was unholy, ludicrously immaculate. Thomas sat on his bed while talking to me on the floor. That's where I choose to sit since I don't usually get to sit on carpeted surfaces at home, figuring we don’t have any. It was so plump and cushy under my ass.

Thomas seemed extraordinarily nervous. He kept showing off his accomplishments and his medals to me, which is cool when I think of it. Thomas has more than Carl and I combined. But it wasn’t the fact he kept sticking to the topic for dear life, it was as if Thomas sought recognition or acceptance from me by showing me all the nice possessions he owns. I have never experienced him in this light before. All he is: is nervous. When I think about wherever the telescope was aimed at, it keeps striking a chord that makes me feel a tad bit uneasy.

I need to stop thinking about it. I don't have any actual evidence to back up my theory that Thomas is spying on me. Then again, the fundamental idea of it all is creepy and awkward all at the same time: it's gross, right? No... Not right... that's a weird way to phrase it, but it's the fact that someone might be interested in me. Thomas does not strike me like a crazy lunatic or something. Or that he is gay.

Am I starting to overthink this?

I should stop pondering around it before I start going all stupid, and my common sense dwindles to nothing.

As I said, the two of us were in Thomas's bedroom, and he showed me everything. It was okay at first, but then it started to get old because, you know, it was repeated. There's only so long you can listen to someone babble on about how great they think they are. Or perhaps that wasn’t his intention; maybe Thomas is just trying to appear popular with me. I don't know why, though... I don't think I'm popular, but to him, I might be famous. When I take a look at Carl, Carl is pretty well-known around town. Everyone knows him for his ability on the GAA team and his dedication to his father's farm. In essence, I guess you could say Carl is the pinnacle of a country lad. Me, on the other hand, I think I'm just a fish out of the water. I don't know exactly where I fit in. I'm just here; that's all I know.

Not that living here is a complete drag. I love my friends: it's just the location is sometimes dreadful. As much as I say that the countryside is as bland as bland can be, I love it... It’s my home. I’ve travelled to Killarney, Limerick, and Galway, and there is one thing that always hits me when I arrive in one of the cities.

How many people are crammed into such a confined space?

I find it overwhelming for a little while when I first get out of the car after the long drive. There is nothing more pleasing than a vigorous, peaceful walk in the countryside, something the city knows no such thing about.

At a point in time, Thomas officially gave up mentioning his medals when he saw or possibly presumed I was becoming tired of his affections. When Thomas shut up about his accomplishments, the entire conversation died. It was so cumbersome; I never realised before, but that was the only thing holding the conversation together. I guess I could've tried a little harder to be, you know... with it, but I couldn't. Thomas began fiddling with his crossed legs on his bed; he clenched his hands around his ankles and pulled at the tops of his socks as a form of distraction.

Then Thomas finally asked, "So hey... I was thinking... my mam is taking me to see The Naked Gun 2 ½. Would you maybe want to go with me?”

It took me a whole 10 seconds to reply. I wasn't exactly sure what this meant, but was Thomas asking me out?

No, perhaps I'm thinking of things backwards.

Of course not; he's not asking me out. I've known him since I was like four; we've only begun talking in the last year or two. He wouldn't ask me out. Not that he knows about my secret, but what if he did?

I didn't know what to say to him, so I said, "Ehh… I'm not sure; I have to check with my mam."

At least I can still use my Mam as an excuse because I'm not sure whether I want to go with him or not. A small part of me wants to go with Thomas for some unknown reason, but the other part says I have Ross.

Then again, maybe he's just asking me out to see a conventional film, and there's nothing behind it. But Thomas has been acting weird lately, so I'm not too sure what's going on with him. I don't want to hurt his feelings because he seems like a nice person.

On the other hand, I'm not sure what to think about the telescope thing.

Do you think I should give him the benefit of the doubt?

Thomas hasn't done anything wrong. My Mam said that the most valuable thing you can give to someone is your time; he seems to want it.

Right, well, I better go to the bathroom and forget about all of this; I'm bursting here while I'm writing this entry. I'll think about the film and get back to him.

Night,

Adam