See How Much Ass I Get?


Ass by any other name...
Before you start thinking I'm a cold-hearted manwhore, I wasn't planning on the Most Fabulous Superbowl Party Ever Thrown! being my final experience with Billy. Granted, I was shaken by the inappropriateness of his comment, and the realization that accompanied it, but I was by no means running for the hills after it happened.

His stock value plummeted, but I wasn't bailing. And my chance meeting and amazing first date with Steven W. (a total blue chip) was not an intentional move to devalue Billy further. I was simply diversifying.

I could work on Wall Street. Grrr. Bulls and Bears.

So, to be clear, I did not drop Billy like a bad habit. I called him the day after my whirlwind date with Steven W. and admitted to him that I was dating someone else. Billy and I had not yet talked about being exclusive, or whether we were dating other people or not, and after three weeks now seemed like as good a time as any to bring it up. As receptive as I was hoping he'd be to my dating someone else, I had a suspicion that he'd feel stung.

There was no masking the pain in his voice as I told him. He stammered and told me how surprised he was. Then he asked me when Steven W. and I had met. I was not prepared for this. I couldn't possibly tell him I'd just met this guy last night? How would that make him feel?

<I><font color = 'cyan'>I just met him last night and I already feel like I like him so much more than I like you after spending three weeks getting to know you.</font></I>

Ya just can't say shit like that.

My instinct was to tell him that we'd met around the same time Billy and I had met. I figured it would hurt him less, thinking they were on a level playing field.

Oi, the tangles.

<I><font color = 'yellow'>You've been dating him this whole time? You're always so busy; when did you see him? Or is he why you're busy? Did you bring him to meet your friends at work too? Was he busy for the superbowl party? Is that why you asked me instead?</font>

<font color = 'cyan'>No! I asked you because I wanted you to come with me.</font>

<font color = 'yellow'>Why me and not him?</font>

<font color = 'cyan'>Because... </I>(Because I hadn't met him yet?) <I>Because I know you don't like football so I thought this might be something new for you!</font>

<font color = 'yellow'>That is so stupid! Does he like football?</font>

<font color = 'cyan'>I don't know...</I> (...much. But I know I-)</font>

<font color = 'yellow'><I>So you don't know if he likes football, but he's obviously important enough to you that you need to tell me about him. Does he know about me?</font>

<font color = 'cyan'>Yes.</I> (No.)</font>

<font color = 'yellow'>What did he say about you dating me?</font>

<font color = 'cyan'>He said he's okay with it.</font></I>

Or might be. If he knew.

I thought maybe by telling him how okay Steven W. was with me dating Billy, that Billy would be okay with me dating Steven W. That was my hope. That was the reason for the final lie I told Billy in the string of lies that was this conversation.

<font color = 'yellow'><I>I need to think about it.</font>

<font color = 'cyan'>Let me know.</font>

<font color = 'yellow'>I will.</font>

<font color = 'cyan'>I miss you.</I></font>

And that was not a lie. Nor was the silence I heard from his end of the line. Nor the click that promptly followed it.

I missed him because I knew that even if we did speak again, or see each other again, or even continue dating, that it would never be the same. If he had called me and said "Ya know what? You're fun, Shane. We have a good time together. Let's keep hanging out. And not necessarily have sex right away."

Was that what this boiled down to? Was I losing interest in Billy because I knew I could have him? Or was it because he proved to me what I hadn't fully accepted yet, that I prefer to bottom, and I need to be with someone who can fulfill that need?

But then what about Steven W., who came along and in one evening had become everything to me that Billy was not? Was that even possible? Was Steven W. a dream?

I missed Billy because he had done everything right. He was right to confide in me that he wanted to be intimate with me. It was a big step for him, and it drove me away through no fault of his own. He was right to be honest and communicative with me, and it was not his fault that I did not give him the same. And he was right to have never called me again, which is exactly what happened.

His smile is one of the brightest I have known. And he did nothing but adore me.

Billy, wherever you are, I hope that smile's burning for someone who truly deserves your ass.


Next... the tale of Steven W.

Where you'll learn that it IS possible for the magic of one evening to continue on...
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Ass by any other name...
To be continued. When I get around to it, apparently.

Was that a cliffhanger or what?

What can happen in six and a half years?

A lot, it turns out, and it includes an escape from New York, international intrigue, a summer in Montana, emergency brain surgery, and the two most significant relationships of my adult life.

I'm not sure anyone is interested anymore, but I have some stories to tell.

About Steven W., a closeted Brit, death threats via Friendster, and a 6'4" blue-eyed Southern boy. I hope some of you are still around.