| dewy decimal |
2003-07-15 - 12:47 a.m.
Had dinner at Jeff�s the other night with Twan, Tori, and Bud. Mango salmon steaks, mozzarella and tomatoes...yum yum. Jeff�s dog looks like Santa�s Little Helper from the Simpsons. Later we all checked out pictures from his digital camera on his imac. It�s funny how so many gay men have totally turned the digital camera into a tool of narcissism. Pictures of tucked torsos. A panoramic shot exploring the small of the back. Your best angle, three hundred dots per inch. We all pretend not to see, a little embarrassed. Bud and Tori are from Texas. They have been together for five years now. Everyone always talks about how gay years are like dog years but really it�s so much more. I keep using this word, but it�s because things are relative... Magic.
On our way home, I tell Twan that I need to get some new porno. I�ve had the same porn for 2 years now. If I ever come across one of the porn stars in my pornos I would feel totally comfortable telling them that my name is Dustin and that their dicks are boring, because I just know them so fucking well.
So me and Twan go to the Video Warehouse, which is a dreary bunker constructed of porno. In the further recesses there exists a dank hall with jerk off/action booths. Transvestites and married men prowl the humid halls searching for the discreet to commit indiscreet deeds. Twan immediately disappears into this hall while I shift the empty porn boxes on the wall, practicing my art of indecision. The gay section is given the most blatant well-lit wall. It feels like being stoned in a convenience store, only you're shifting through gay porn. I try not to worry about it, as we are all perverts here.
Being displeased with the poor selection, I look around for Twan. Instead I see my co-worker R clad in his usual hoodie and jeans. At work, R is a smart, funny, and over -qualified guy. I look up to him so its kind of weird to see him physically decide what box/spine he�s going to take home with him tonight. Looks like Bang Cock Chicks 5. I, without outward indication, freak the fuck out. I discreetly put Cobra Cocks back on the shelf and make a reserved dash into the dark halls of money slots and tissue to grab Twan and get the fuck out before I�m clocked yo.
I see Twan, he is alone, pacing like a runway phantom. I explain my dilemma and he laughs unsympathetically.
�Dusty, its just porn baby.� I explain that it�s not so much the porn itself as the mere awkwardness of that impeding conversation.
�Hey R, Did you get out on time today?�
�Hey Dustin. Yeah I did actually. So what are you up to?�
�Ah you know. Heh heh.�
�Yeah. Uh heh heh�?�
�So,uh, is that any good or what?�
�Well I haven�t exactly rented it out yet or anything.�
�Duh! Hahaha Its not that it�s even really my preference or anything,, if you know what I mean.�
�Right.�
�Well uh hey man, it was good seein ya.�
�Yeah uh well uh, bright and early right?�
�Oh for sure.�
�Take care dude.�
�You too buddy.�
Softly, �ahem.�
Then it dawns on me that being caught in the shady hall would look even worse than thumbing through the porn. So I tell Twan to look in the video area and make sure R is gone so he doesn�t see me emerging from the crevice of shadiness thinking I was having a j/o session or worse. Like taking Twan, who for all he knows might be a total stranger, home with me. The absurdity of my thoughts go on an acid trip. What if he comes back here? That would be just too fucking weird to not be filmed.
So I put myself into a booth and paid money to watch porn that I could barely even think about. You have to pay or else the red light above your booth won�t light up and the guy who works back here and cleans the caked up cum blemishes will tell you to get the fuck out (What a horrible job). Twan leaves me in this moment of utter panic to pursue a military dude in cargo shorts. I don�t lock the door so that Twan can come back and let me know when R is gone.
Suddenly the sticky door swings open and a guy who I can barely see is pressed up against me. My head is numb and I say something like, �Oh, uh, dude, no, no, no, its not. I�m heh.� Shadow Dude looks mad annoyed at me. I close the door and lock it.
Finally Twan gets back five minutes and five dollars later and says that R is still loitering the Asian section. Out of cash, Twan leads me briskly into the video area as we dash like Madonna through an airport and into a weightless parking lot. Twan says R didn�t see us. Dubious.
The next day, R calls in sick but I suspect he just got some unbelievably good porn yo.