The Evolution of Indifference (6)

Chapter 1


Chapter 2


Chapter 3


Chapter 4


Chapter 5


Chapter 6: Experimenting

My next experience was with my girlfriend’s brother. Yeah, I know – classy. You remember her, right? The one I went to church with who was pretty as hell and I really liked? Well, unfortunately, I didn’t like her brother at all … but, it was something to experiment with. It really wasn’t anything to write home about – we played frottage through our clothes. Big whoop. But at least I confirmed that you really, REALLY can’t wash remorse away with hot water. But that shower at least made me feel less dirty.

So, things were getting too close to home. I couldn’t continue to do this with people in my circle because eventually it would come to light. And I didn’t want it to. I couldn’t let it come out. In the end, I was still Latino amidst the machismo-ness of it all and still in church amidst the going-to-hell-ness of it all … so, no one could know. No one. So, I took to experimenting with strangers.

In public.

What a fucking retarded decision THAT was. In public! Because *that’s* a surefire way of not getting caught. You’re intrigued, aren’t you? Who – what – when – WHERE? Relax, I’m getting there.

You’d be amazed by the shit that goes on in crowded New York City subway cars. Fucking amazed. I mean, you’re packed into those mother fuckers like sardines, feeling people breathe on you, cough on you, jam an elbow into your ribs or a pocketbook into the small of your back … and occasionally, your hand ends up on some dick. I’m just saying – it happens.

I can’t tell you how many men I felt up. All willing participants, of course. Two are memorable – the man that was way too old to be fuckin with me who actually busted in his slacks when I reached behind me to grab a hold of what he was trying to bludgeon me with, and .. well … my regular. All the others just kinda fade into the meaninglessness in my life. Actually, these two do too, to be honest. But since I’m writing about it and forcing myself to try to remember those morning subway rides on my way to high school, those are the two I remember. The man in his 50’s that should never have been fuckin with me? I remember him because as he came he sounded like a blithering, blubbering idiot stammering out loud intermittently. He had no couth, among his many issues, and EVERYONE around us knew. Fucking idiot.

But my regular. It was a delicate dance on the subway platform figuring out where to stand to ensure we were not only going into the same subway car, but into the same door and also the last to get in. It’s less obvious when you’re by the door … you don’t have people completely all the way around you, so you can exercise discretion. Because, you know – you want to be considerate of the people around you and everything.

By definition, we crossed paths regularly. One time, he wore dress slacks and a long trench coat. After a bit of stroking, I played with his zipper. I looked up at him and he nodded yes. Except, I really didn’t know what to do after I unzipped him, so I didn’t. At the next stop, people disembarked (look, I didn’t want to say “got off”) and others got on … and he negotiated the barter of passengers on the platform with those in the train. As the train started up again, he grabbed my hand and moved it to his dick … and I mean his dick. Apparently, he unzipped himself and took his dick out his slacks and there I was … on a crowded subway train with this man’s dick in my hand, flesh-to-flesh with his overcoat hiding our dirty deed. While I stroked him, he spoke the only words I have ever heard him say. He whispered them and so till this day I don’t really know what his full voice sounds like. But I do know what that man whispers “I wanna fuck you,” it’s hot as fuck!

I don’t even know how that session ended – my memory ends right when he whispers that to me. I didn’t go anywhere with him … I made it to school like every other day. But to this day, I can go back into the recess of my mind that holds the memory of that session … and use it to its fullest extent when I’m flying solo. I know that I know that I KNOW that he’s the reason that talking dirty SO does it for me.

But even after that session, the remainder of the day went like any other. I made it to school, where I acted a fool, and later went to work at the Christian bookstore where I started every phone call with “Praise the Lord …”

I was a good little Christian … and worldly as fuck … all at the same time.

And my psyche was going to pay dearly for this duality.