For the next few months, I saw him regularly. Like clockwork.
Every Tuesday and Thursday morning as I prepared for work, he would be up also preparing for class. Every Tuesday and Thursday we had the same general exchange: "how's it going?" "Going to work today?" "Got class? That must suck.", "Take it easy." During these exchanges, I was always blurry-eyed and exhausted and he was always shirtless. It was nice. Every Tuesday and Thursday, I got to see his beautiful naked body as he stepped into the shower. Sometimes in case I overslept, I'd run into him just as he was exiting the bathroom. He would drape his 6-foot, 180 lbs frame in only a tiny maroon bath towel that barely made it around his waist. It was so small in fact that a sliver of his toned, slightly hairy thigh would peek through as he walked by. I thought that I was the luckiest gay man on the earth.
By the way, we finally introduced ourselves.
"Hey," he said to me as I passed him in the lounge one night. "My name's Tim."
"Oh I know." I shot back. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "You're friends with Jason. He lives next door to me. He calls you `T' and I used to think he was shouting for me until he told me it was you." Good save, I say to myself.
"Tom, then right?" "Yep." "Cool."
Then I decided to get bold.
"Now that we've been formally introduced," I begin as I sat by him." Tell me something about yourself." He snickers, nervously. "Well I'm from Canton, Ohio..."
I drift off into his eyes.
I never really noticed before but he has really pretty eyes.
Sparkling soft blue.
I guess I never really noticed before because, not surprisingly, I've been too busy focused on his beautiful, naked body every Tuesday and Thursday.
He also has this glint in his eyes that really give him this boyish, innocent quality.
His eyes belie his stature and interests, which are both incredibly masculine.
Tim is a former football player who's been permanently benched because of a torn ligament in his calf. He doesn't really dwell on it because as he stated it, it gave him more time to focus on his studies. He's studying to be an accountant.
He then turned the tables and quizzed me. I gave him the quick and dirty of my life: I'm from Youngstown, Ohio, I busy with this, that and the other, I work 3 jobs, I'm majoring in Sociology and Journalism and that in my spare time I like to drink to relax. I expected that last tidbit to elicit a snicker or a macho "yeah man!" But it got nothing.
So I decided to get even bolder.
I asked him if he "partied", which in college lingo means, "get altered by way of alcohol or other substances." Well, he informed that he doesn't, in fact, "party." I was in shock, my friends. He is a former football player who lives in the notorious "party" dorm on campus. I just kind of assumed that he'd act accordingly. He doesn't. The sociology geek in me was pleasantly shocked. I revealed to him that I stereotyped him as a drunken jock-boy, almost as soon as I met him. He shrugged off my admission and proceeded to fill me in on his back-story. You see, Tim transferred to my school from Mount Union College, and all of his friends there drank like fishes, but he never got into it; His friends at Hiram all party but he doesn't partake either. "Everybody thinks that I party. I don't at all. It's just not my thing." "Why?" I pressed. "It's just not my thing, that's all." He repeated snickering. "I just thought..." I stammered. "You stereotyped me didn't you?" He shot back. "Well, yeah." I admitted, feeling like a total ass. "That's okay, we all stereotype. Hey, I didn't think you partied."
"Touche" I added. Hmmm, I thought to myself then, quite insightful for a straight boy.
God, I'm totally stereotyping aren't I?
I left him that evening feeling very full; It was one of the first time that he and I had an exchange further than just "hey," or "how's it going."
I went a while without seeing him. I picked up from our conversations that he loves to go home and fish over the weekends but it's been nearly a week. I resign myself to the thought that maybe I've just been too busy to notice him around.
Then one night as I returned from our local bar obliterated, I spotted him in the computer lab. As I passed by and noticed him I waved. He waved back. Content, I continued walking. "Tom!" I swung around and responded probably slurred.
"Can you help me open this file?" "Sure."
He held the door to the computer lab open for me; he smelled like the outdoors.
I sat in his seat and began fumbling with the keyboard trying to open some file that he desperately needed. I was surprised at how lucid I happened to be even though I was incredibly drunk. However, this file was just being precarious. "Tim, I don't think..."
When it happened I looked over at him and our eyes locked.
I felt as if more than just our knees touched...
"Can you figure it out?" He asked staring into my eyes. "Um, I don't think I can. I thought I could."