Part 5
"I was afraid to be gay, you know," he said very quietly. "Or to admit it anyway. I've never known many gay guys well and it's kind of hard to meet them, you know, on a social level." I nodded, understanding what he meant.
"Of course, there are the flamers, but I'm rather put off by the effeminate ones. You're not like that at all."
"Well, I'm surely not a jock type of guy, but I guess I'm sort of average," I said.
"Hell no, man, you're not average. You're damn good looking and sexy." I grinned at him.
"That's not what I meant, Art," I said, "I meant that on the effeminacy scale, I think I'm pretty much at the low end. Not as masculine as you, though." He laughed.
"Oh shit," he countered with a chuckle. "I think we're both pretty much sort of normal, if you know what I mean. Some of those swishy ones really put me off."
"They're not really my type either, but I've got a couple of very good friends who are slightly effeminate and I like them too much as friends to let that stand in the way." He nodded in a way that let me know he was trying to understand.
"It's just like I prefer dark-haired people over blonds," I said with a laugh.
"So I shouldn't go blond, is that what you're saying?" We both laughed at that.
After we walked back inside, I helped him load the dishwasher and then we sat down on the sofa together.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked very quietly. I was stunned.
"Are you sure you want to do that?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, "I really like being with you, and I've been thinking a lot about doing that." I smiled at the statement.
Suddenly, he leaned over and kissed me quickly then pulled back. It was more like a brotherly kiss than anything passionate and that was fine.
"You know," Art said, "That's the part I couldn't handle when I was a kid."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, I could handle the sex because that felt so damn good," he said, "But I dreaded the kissing and holding stuff. That meant I was really 'that way.' I admit I had to struggle not to laugh at that remark.
"Art, are you really sure you want to go down this road?" I asked. "I like you very much but you don't have to do anything sexual to be my friend."
"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't know shit about being gay. I don't know much about being straight for that matter, as my failed marriage proves. But I do know this; you are too nice and too fine a guy to get tangled up with a screwed-up dude like me."
"Now that is bullshit," I countered. I reached across and took his hand in mine. "Stop it, Art."
"What happened to your marriage, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Nothing, really. I had no problem having sex with my wife, but it was like neither of us was really happy being together. We're still pretty good friends, and fortunately we didn't have any kids."
We sat there for several minutes, me holding his hand while he cast his eyes downward and didn't meet mine.
"You know what I think?" I asked finally. He looked up and our eyes met.
"I think we need to slow this train down. Let's get to know each other a little more before we decide where we're going. I like you and you say you like me, and that's a fine basis for a friendship.
"If something more develops, that will be great, but we're not going to do anything until you feel completely sure that it's what you want to do. Not because you're feeling horny, but because you really do want to be with me that way. That starts with your mental attitude and I don't think you're really comfortable with that yet."
"You're right, of course," he said very quietly, "I just feel so confused."
"Okay, how's this?" I asked, "Today's Friday. How about you come to my house for dinner on Sunday and we'll talk some more?"
"That'll be great," Art said, "I've got to go see my Mom tomorrow anyway and that's a two-hour drive each way. I don't get home too often and I need to go this weekend.
I thanked him again for the dinner and he walked me out to my car.
"I really do like you," he said quietly as I opened the car door.
"I really like you too, pal," I answered, smiling as I got into the car. He smiled back at me.
Part 6
When I invited Art to dinner, I had completely forgotten that I was supposed to go to an art gallery opening with Dennis and George that afternoon. I decided to make spaghetti al forno, something I could get all ready ahead of time and then bake it when Art got there.
It took me a couple of hours to do the Saturday errands: clothes to the dry cleaners, shop for food, gas up my car and then do the laundry back home. While I was waiting for the final load to finish in the dryer, I fell asleep reading a book.
I'm not good at napping, and part of the reason is that I always dream, which I seldom do at night. That day I dreamed about Art but not in a sexual way. Instead I was trying to catch up to him, first in the car and then on foot through my neighborhood. No matter how fast I went I just couldn't seem to catch up to him. I awoke with a start and shuddered. What was that all about?
I heard the dryer buzzer go off and got up and folded that load of laundry and then put everything away. I got the spaghetti made for tomorrow.
I spent some time giving the house a good clean-up and then spent some time on the Internet looking for some websites I'd read a year or so ago. I made a list of those and printed it out.
Dennis called to remind me of the gallery opening and we agreed that they would pick me up and drive since parking was rather tight in that part of town. I explained about making the dinner date and Dennis assured me we'd be home well before six o'clock.
I went to church Sunday morning and suddenly found myself praying in my mind for guidance and help about Art. It was almost an unconscious thing but it startled me. Afterward, I had lunch with Dennis and George and we went to a gallery show an acquaintance of theirs was putting on downtown. It was an impressive show from the rather young artist who was present. My gaydar went off big time, but he really wasn't my type. He certainly did look artistic in his offbeat wardrobe!
Dennis and George listened to the latest update on Art and grinned at me and at each other.
"You'll be walking down the aisle in a month of so," George teased.
"I don't think so," I said with a laugh, "If you guys promise to be discreet, why don't you stay and have a drink with me and you can meet him tonight. Then you can tell me what your gaydar tells you. They agreed, but insisted they'd leave after meeting him so they wouldn't intrude.
I set the table for two when I got home, with Dennis and George teasing me about bridal showers and so forth. I suddenly remembered part of my conversation with Art and walked back into the living room to address a slightly sticky issue.
"Guys, I've got to say something, but I must preface it by reminding you that I love you both," I said. George laughed.
"I know, I know," he said, "Here comes the 'butch it up' speech, isn't that right?
"God, this is embarrassing," I said, but the both laughed.
"Don't worry, my friend," George said, "I'll act as straight as I can, I promise." George isn't exactly effeminate, but he does sometimes lean in that direction. As I said, I love them both, despite any of that, but I was glad for his reassurance.
Art arrived right on time with a bottle of very good Chianti and a package of chocolate biscotti. Very considerate, I thought.
I made the introductions and explained about the gallery opening we'd attended that afternoon. George and Dennis were on best behavior and easily made conversation with Art as I fixed his drink and returned. Ten minutes later, Dennis insisted that they had to leave and go home. We all shook hands (it was hugs for Dennis and George and me) when they left.
"I didn't mean to intrude on you and your friends," Art said.
"No problem," I answered, "I'd forgotten about the art show when I invited you, but they weren't going to stay for dinner anyway. They've suffered my cooking before." I added a laugh and he groaned.
"Was that guy the one you told me about?" Art asked, "You know, the slightly effeminate guy?"
"Yeah, but he's such a good friend, it doesn't bother me at all."
I sat down next to him on the sofa.
"He didn't bother me either," Art said, "I thought they were both very nice guys."
"So how was your visit with your Mom?" I asked.
"Quite interesting, as a matter of fact," he said, "I want to tell you about it. My mother is fine, although I don't think she'll ever get over my Dad dying; she's pretty lonely. She did, however, tell me something very interesting about an old high school buddy of mine.
"Seems he moved back to town after having been away for about ten years and guess what, he's gay." I'm sure I looked surprised.
"The funny part of it was, though, that when my Mom told me, she didn't say he was queer. She said he was gay and that he had a partner. Very matter of fact too, like it was a nonevent."
"So, you mean she didn't say he was a queer and an abomination to God and all that?" I asked.
"Nope," he said with a grin, "It was like she was perfectly fine with this guy living in her neighborhood." We shared a pretty good chuckle right then.
The evening proceeded through dinner and we took our coffee out onto the balcony of my apartment. I went back to my office and brought out the pages I had printed out the day before.
"These are for you. You've got some important issues on your mind and that's just the way it is. Here's a list of sites on the Internet that deal with some of the things we've talked about. Why don't you check them out when you have time?"
"Thanks," he said, carefully folding the papers and putting them in his pocket.
I shifted the conversation away from us to talk about a couple of things connected to work that were quite interesting. He actually surprised me about that.
"You know, I like my job, and I think I'm pretty good at it, but I'd like to move on and put my metallurgy degree to work. I've been talking to Roy (the Metallurgist for the plant) and he's putting in a request next year for an assistant and I'm gonna try to go for it."
"You've got my support," I answered, though we both knew that didn't mean he was a lock for the new job if it was created.
"Thanks, man," Art said, "That means a lot to me. Well, I better get going. Five o'clock comes very early in the morning, you know!"
"I do," I answered, "And I'm glad it's you and not me that has to get up that early." I couldn't help but return his grin.
When we got to my apartment door, he stopped and faced me.
"Are we dating?" he asked and I had to laugh.
"I guess you could say so," I answered.
"Well, I usually give my date a kiss after the second or third date," he said with a very cute smile.
"Here goes," I said and moved my face toward his. First it was a gentle peck on the lips and then he came back again, this time with his mouth slightly opened. When our lips met, it was like I got an electric shock as he kissed me for almost a full minute.
"Hmmm," I said, "That was very nice." So, I kissed him again and it was very nice again.
"I better go," he said, casually adjusting himself down below in a way that most people wouldn't have noticed. I noticed.
"See you tomorrow, pal," he said and was out the door.