Date: Sat, 27 May 2006 10:19:29 -0400
From: cgard 43 <cgard43@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Art of Love 11

Comments welcome to Cgard43@hotmail.com


Part 21

Darren:
     I'd meant what I'd said to Dennis that night. Though I felt I really
loved Art and was probably also 'in love' with him, I felt just slightly
apprehensive about the commitment. It wasn't that I doubted my feelings, but
I was well aware of just what a novice to gay life Art was.
     Art had to work late on Monday to cover for someone's vacation, so I
was home alone in the evening. I did something I often do when I'm trying to
make a decision. I sat down at the computer and made a "Yes and No" list. I
made a list of everything I liked about Art and then tried to make a list of
everything I didn't like or at least had a problem with. I came up short on
that side of the ledger.
     Art was good looking - sexy in fact - smart, affectionate, honest,
hardworking, amusing, and evidently loyal. Sexually, he was the most
stimulating and satisfying man I'd ever been with. Although still a relative
novice, he was certainly a willing learner (big smile!), and very good at
those skills he'd shown me.
     When I finished at the computer, I closed the Word document I'd been
writing in without saving it and walked back out to the living room. Just
then the phone rang.
     I checked the Caller ID but didn't recognize the number. I did,
however, recognize the area code and it was the same as Neil's. I ignored
the call and it went to the machine:

"You son of a bitch. I was only trying to have fun with you. You know I
wasn't doing anything but that. How dare you call the phone company. My
roommate got that call and now he's not even speaking to me. Why are you
trying to ruin my life?"

     I considered picking up the phone and answering him, but decided
against it. It was true that I'd reported him to my local phone company
early that morning, but I had no idea they would move that quickly.
Obviously, despite the disastrous break-up of AT&T years ago, the
communication between the local phone companies was still in place. When
he'd finished his tirade he hung up and I simply walked over to the machine
and deleted the message. Art wasn't going to hear that one.
     Two or three minutes later, the phone rang again. This time it was Art,
calling from work.
     "Well, I'm almost done but I think I've got fifty percent more foundry
dust on me than I usually do. I think I'll just go home and shower," he
said.
     "Your choice, babe. I'll come over to your place if you want. I don't
want my man to be alone unless he's okay with it."
    "Darren, that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me, but I'm not
only dirty, I'm exhausted. How about we get together tomorrow night."
     "Great with me; whatever you say," I answered.
     "I can hardly wait," he said. Then he lowered his voice almost to a
whisper.
     "I didn't get to tell you all day, but I love you."
     "I love you too," I countered.
     "I'll come over if you want." I laughed.
     "No, babe, go home, have a shower and something to eat and get a good
night's sleep."
     "It won't be as good as sleeping with you, but I understand and you're
probably right. Again, man, I love you."
     "And again, I love you too. Night, babe."
     Art joined me for lunch the next day at work. He seemed slightly upset
but didn't say anything specific was wrong as we talked about the morning
and work stuff. Finally I asked if something was bothering him.
     "Well, sort of. A buddy of mine called me this morning and asked why
I'd been avoiding him and another buddy. Seems they talked last night and
realized neither of them had heard from me in weeks."
     "Ah," I answered with a grin, "I guess you've been busy, huh? You do
need friends you know, regardless of me."
     "I know you're right, Darren," he said, "But right now you're all I
want and I don't think I'm willing to keep you a secret if you know what I
mean."
     "Let's talk about this tonight," I suggested. "It's just one of those
things that's never come up before and we can talk more freely at home."
     "I figured that so how about you come over for dinner?"
     "Sure," I said, "But let me go home and change first and then I'll be
over."
     "Sounds like a plan. See you later." He winked at me, which, while not
as nice as a kiss, was still a great gesture.
     We both went back to work for the remainder of the day.
After work I went home, changed my clothes and checked my home email. There
was a note from Dave in Chicago:

        Did you get another call from Neil? He left a message on our machine
        complaining that I'd reported him to the phone company. Guess he's
not a
        happy camper. How about that? It serves him right!

     I wrote a quick reply confirming what had happened at my end and
agreeing with Dave's assessment. I send greetings to Hank and signed off.
     On my phone machine was another message from my Mom, inviting Art and
me to dinner the next weekend. I called her and accepted, though I explained
I'd have to confirm it after I talked to Art.
      As I drove to Art's house, I got to thinking that the subject of
friends had to come up eventually. I mean my closest friends were Dennis and
George who already knew about us. My family knew about us, and I'd already
mentioned to my best straight friend that I was seeing someone. I'd been out
to him for a couple of years and he had no problem with it, so that was a
non-issue.
     I assumed that Art had friends, probably all straight, and that if we
were going to be a couple, we'd have to figure out how to face that issue. I
do not like living in the closet; hell, I'd even told my boss at work I was
gay just so my position couldn't be compromised if someone else found out.
He seemed cool with it.
      What I didn't know was (a) whether Art would want to out himself to
these buddies, and (b) whether Art's buddies were wildly homophobic or not.
     My perception is that, thanks to TV and movies, more and more people
were realizing that gay people existed beyond drag queens, hairdressers and
florists, but that doesn't mean there aren't still some very homophobic
folks out there.
     Art was well along with dinner when I arrived, but he stopped and we
each had a drink along with some casual kissing and hugging. What a nice way
to come home in the evening; I could really get into this.
     "Tell me about your buddies," I said, figuring we'd get to the issue
right off since it was bothering him.
     "There two guys I've known since I was in college at night. Joe teaches
English at the high school. He has never been married, but certainly seems
as straight as can be to me."
     "So did you when we first met," I said with a slight chuckle. He
grinned.
     "The other guy's named Freddie. He was married but got divorced a
couple of years ago. He's got a son he sees every other weekend, and he's
the customer service manager at that big Toyota dealership across town.
     "We used to get together every couple of weeks for a few drinks or to
go bowling or whatever. They're good friends and I like them a lot."
     "They sound very interesting," I said. "Now comes the big question. Do
you want them to know you're gay? Do you want them to know about us, or do
you want them just to think you're the same guy you've always been."
     "You sure go right to the heart of the matter, don't you?" Art said
with a grin. "The answer is that I don't know."
     "Next question: how do you think they feel about gay guys? Are they
rampant homophobes like your Dad or are they the kind who are apt to be
accepting if they were to find out?"
     "I don't remember ever talking about gays with either of them," Art
said. "It just never came up. You know how repressed I was when we started
getting together." I smiled but kept quiet.
     We moved on to dinner and the subject changed to other matters. I
figured it would be just as well for him to have some time to think all
those things through and I was willing to give him all the time he wanted.
After dinner, it was he who brought it up again, but from a different angle.
     "Here's the way I see things," he started, "I love you. I want to be
with you, and I want us to be a couple. In a perfect world, I'd like us to
live together and share everything. Is that what you want?"
     "Well," I answered, "Talk about getting right to the nub." He laughed,
but he just sat there looking at me, waiting for an answer. I looked into
his eyes and suddenly felt a wave of emotion pass through me.
     "Did you just ask me to marry you?" I tried to make it sound like a
joke if that's the way he wanted to take it.
     "Yes," he said flatly but quietly, "If you'll have me."
     We'd finished dinner so I stood up and took him by the hand, leading
him to the living room.  We sat down on the couch, side by side.
     "I love you too, Art," I said, our eyes glued on each other's. "I'd
like nothing than to try to build a life together. You and me together."
     "Oh, thank God," he whispered, "That's what I really want too."
     We kissed and kissed after that. Small, gentle kisses and big, deep
French ones. In common parlance, we made out like mad. I'd had a hard-on
since he'd popped the question and I could see a very sizeable bulge in his
jeans as well. When we finally broke the kiss, he pulled his head slightly
away.
     "Well, now that we've answered that question, it makes the others a lot
easier," he said.
     "What do you mean?" I asked, not sure I was following him.
     "Simple," he said, "If it's gonna be you and me together, then Joe and
Freddie are going to have to know about it. If they accept it, we're all
friends. If not, then I guess it's time to move on."
     "Well, that's certainly direct," I said, "But I think you should think
about this a little while before you do anything drastic."
     "Oh, I'm not going to publish it in the newspaper," he said with a
grin. "I'm gonna get together with each of them and tell them about us and
see what happens. Hopefully, they'll both want to stay friends." He sounded
so sure now of the path he wanted to take I thought I'd just have a bit of
fun with him.
     "What do you mean? No wedding pictures in the paper? Oh damn," I said.
He looked completely startled. This was obviously part of my sense of humor
he'd never seen before. I laughed.
     "I'm kidding you, babe," I said finally and he started to relax. "Of
course my mother is gonna want to have a big party."
     "Stop it, man," Art said, but he couldn't help smiling. "You're killing
me here."
     It was all in good humor and we had a wonderful evening, ending in bed
with some oral and prostate massage therapy. Way to go!

Part 22

Art:
     Granted, I felt pretty confident once Darren and I had agreed to be
together, but the more I thought about coming out to my buddies the more
apprehensive I became.  It wasn't that I thought they'd slug me or anything
like that; it was that I knew I was putting myself at risk to lose two very
good friends.
     On the other hand, every time I thought about Darren I just got this
warm feeling. Yes, the sex was great, but it was the man I wanted to be
with. I liked everything about him from his looks to his personality to his
warmth and tenderness when we were together. Besides that, the guy kept me
almost permanently horny.
     I decided to talk to my friend Joe first. He was easier to get together
with because he was single and was only teaching a couple of summer classes.
So I called him on Thursday and asked if he'd like to meet for a drink after
work. He knew I always went straight home to shower and change, so he
suggested just meeting at my place, which was fine with me.
     Joe Eagan is a really nice guy, and as I'd explained to Darren we'd
known each other for about eight years. He'd been a great help to a lot of
us guys in college classes; he was just downright intelligent, but he didn't
mind sharing his knowledge and he tutored several of us in certain courses.
     Since we'd graduated, we didn't see each other that often, but we
always picked up right where we left off the last time when we did. He was
just so friendly and easygoing that it was easy being with him. He was a
nice looking guy - not that he appealed to me in that way, but he certainly
was a nice guy to have as a friend.
     He'd never talked a lot about his social life, though he kind of hinted
that he had an 'understanding' with another young teacher - a woman of
course and that they often attended social functions together. It didn't
sound to me like they were serious or 'marriage-minded' but that was just
something I'd never ask about.
     When Joe arrived, we settled into easy conversation just as we always
had. He talked about school, and he had the usual complaints about
unmotivated kids and interfering parents, etc. Everyone has some issues with
their jobs; we just got them out of the way.
     After I'd served our second drinks, I told Joe that I'd had a reason to
want to get together.
     "Sounds serious," Joe said, "You gonna tell me you found Ms. Right?"
     "Not exactly right, but not exactly wrong either." He frowned to show
me he didn't understand but kept quiet and waited for me.
     "Several months ago, I met someone at work who made a heck of an
impression on me. So much so, in fact, that it made me go back and take a
good look at my life and the way I was living it. In the process, I dug up a
lot of memories and experiences and for the first time in my life, I got to
know the 'real' Art."
     He sat there silently, just letting me proceed at my own pace. I bit my
lip, took a deep breath and plunged ahead.
     "The bottom line is that I finally realized that I've been gay all my
life."
     "Whew," he said and whistled. That's all he said.
     "And," I went on, "Obviously, the reason I'm telling you about this is
because I've met someone - a guy, who is totally special to me. I'm so in
love with him, Joe, and I've never been happier."  He sat there for about
ten seconds and then stood up.
     "Can I use your phone?" he asked, but didn't stop as he headed into the
kitchen. I sat there frozen. Who was he going to call? Was I headed for
trouble?  I missed what he was saying at the beginning of his call. I only
heard the last words he said before he hung up.
     "So get your butt over here NOW!" he'd said.
     He came back into the living room and returned to his seat in the chair
across from me.
     "Congratulations, Art. I'm proud of you, man," he said. "I'm sure this
whole thing was a wrenching deal for you and I'm glad you found yourself."
He smiled very pleasantly but I was so confused by this reaction.
     "I'm also very glad that you told me, and told me in person. I'm sure
this has been very difficult for you to do. I nodded.
     "What's his name?" he asked gently. I answered and explained that
Darren and I worked for the same company and that was how we had met.
     "You're not telling me this guy recruited you to be gay, are you?" he
asked.
     "No, absolutely not. In fact, what he did was to encourage me to really
get to know myself and without any pressure. He certainly never put any
pressure on me about sex or anything. He's not the kind of man to try to
convert anyone."
     About eight or nine minutes later the doorbell rang. I went and
answered it. It was my other buddy Freddie Pearson. What the hell was going
on here?
     "Come in, Freddie," Joe said amiably. Then he turned to me.
     "Art, this is Freddie. On some nights he's my wife and on some nights,
he's my husband. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
     I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but once I'd figured out
what he had said, my face cracked into the biggest grin in the world.
     "What do you...? No, not that. Are you guys kidding me or something?"
     Freddie walked over to Joe, wrapped his long arms around him and gave
him a big kiss on the lips. Well, I guess that answered that question.
     Then they walked toward me and each in turn hugged me. Joe kissed me on
the cheek.
     "How about a drink, Freddie?" Joe asked. He turned to me.
     "Where are your manners, man?" I started and quickly went and returned
with a beer for Freddie.
     "I'm afraid we owe you a big apology, Art," Joe said quietly. "We
should have trusted you enough to let you know about us."
     "Oh, that's okay," I said. "I guess I understand why you wouldn't do
that. You were probably worried that I couldn't or wouldn't accept it.
Believe me, I never suspected."
     "Nor did we suspect about you, Art," Freddie said. "Otherwise we'd have
told you for sure."
     "How long, guys?" I asked.
     "About two years," Freddie said. I realized that was not long after his
divorce. Then Freddie went on.
     "The truth is I've been in love with this guy since I first met him,
but I took the long road to come to realize it. Fortunately, he kind of
waited for me to catch on."
     "Well," Joe said, "I didn't exactly wait. I mean I wasn't an angel, but
I did always love Fred, even when I watched him get married and become
unavailable to me."
     "So, that wasn't the reason for your divorce?" I asked Freddie.
     "Not at all," he answered. "But Joe did kind of help me figure things
out after my wife and I split up."
     We sat and talked for quite a while after that. We shared, as friends
share, our thoughts and feelings in a way we had never done before. Down
came all the masquerades of 'straightness' and we truly opened up to each
other.
     "So, when are we going to meet this super guy who finally set you
afire?" Joe asked. I chuckled.
     "How about tomorrow night?" I asked. I hadn't cleared that with Darren,
but I couldn't wait for them all to meet.
     "In fact, let me call him right now," I said and did so. Briefly I
explained that I'd come out to them and they had come out to me. He was
understandably excited for me and we confirmed plans to meet for dinner the
next evening.
     Once the guys had left I called Darren again.
     "Baby, you don't know what a relief this is and what a wonderful
feeling it is for things to work out like this," I said.
     "Sure I do, Art," he answered. "Being accepted by your friends for who
you really are is one of the most important things in life. I can't wait to
meet them."
     "I'm just so excited, I can't stand it," I said.
     "Tell you what, I can be at your place in about twenty minutes if you
want me to. I haven't even had a drink."
     "You're on, baby, I want you so bad I can't stand it." I said.
     So Darren arrived in a short while and we shared our excitement and
happiness, first in conversation and then later on, in my bed. We were both
so excited that the making out and the frottage that evening was rather
brief but definitely explosive.
     I was totally in love, and one very, very happy man.