Part 4 - Exploring the New World
This story relates how I morphed from being straight as a ruler to being bisexual. These events happened in spring '03. While I obviously can't remember every detail, the basic story is true. I've added detail where it was needed. If you haven't read parts one, two, and three, you should before reading this or it won't make much sense.
The weather had cooled overnight, and the Sunday had dawned gray and damp. I'd slept in that morning, leisurely relaxing the day away, munching, picking at a book, finally sitting down at the kitchen table with my Calculus homework spread out in front of me.
I was stuck on a particularly tricky volume problem when I heard the doorbell. Shit, I remembered, that loser was coming over. I glanced at the clock. 3:10. I briefly considered not answering the door, then discarded the idea. Mitch'd get it anyway. I stood and moved into the entry room, turning the brass handle.
Immediately, I sized up the man that stood there. Maybe two years older than me, he wore dark, loose-fitting clothing, kind of a cross between skater garb and gothic style. His jet-black hair tumbled back halfway down his neck, making his face seem particularly pale. Hazel eyes greeted mine, a sarcastic glint showing in the corner. "In most of the civilized world," Brian drawled, "expected guests are allowed into the house."
I smiled blandly at his petulance. Moving back, I swung the door wide for him. "I think Mitchell's upstairs. You can wait here for him."
Closing the door behind him, I turned and called for my stepbrother. Feeling my responsibility fulfilled, I proceeded back into the kitchen as he dropped his backpack to the floor.
To my mild irritation, Brian slowly followed me and sidled up behind me as I settled back into my homework. Looking over my shoulder, he asked, "Looks like you're having fun."
"It's a hard problem," I replied disinterestedly. I had no expectation that this loser would have any comprehension of what I was working on.
"More than I would expect from a meathead jock."
I stiffened. He'd hit a nerve. I'd working fucking hard to keep above the reputation that jocks have for being academically sub-par. Fact was, my grades had been stellar throughout college. Advanced math really appealed to me, and I was good at it. "What the fuck do you know? Not all meathead jocks are morons. Now I'd appreciate it if you'd let me fucking do my goddamn homework."
He remained silently behind me a moment as I scratched and erased. Suddenly, I found his finger pointing at an equation on my paper. "Substitute a natural log there. You can integrate by parts then if you use cylindrical coordinates."
Surprised, I glanced up at him. He smiled sarcastically at me. "Not all punk-ass losers are morons." I looked back down at the paper. Yes. Yes, that would work. I still had about two pages of work ahead of me, but the path was laid out. Once again, this guy had surprised me. I looked back at him with grudging respect. "What's your major?" I asked.
"Medicine. Minor in computer science."
"No shit?" We started talking then, and as we did I began to get a feel for what he was about. Smart. Fucking smart. I could see that the rumors about him had very little basis in .
Trying to concentrate on something we had in common, we got into a conversation about the applications of Fourier and Taylor series in Trig function computations just as Mitchell bounded down the stairs. Hearing what we were talking about, he shook his head and sat at the table, waiting for us to finish, resuming work on the sketchpad he'd brought down with him, occasionally glancing up at Brian's face. He wasn't a math type, having done the minimum possible to get by in his chosen field of Architecture. His talent lay in drawings. His penchant for pencil sketches had produced some remarkable pieces of art.
After a few minutes, he tossed the pad on the table and stood up to get a soda. I glanced at the pad. Though the drawing was rough, the resemblance was unmistakable. He'd drawn Brian's eyes.
Brian saw it too, and reached for the pad. "Nice work," he said, tossing Mitch a lopsided smile.
Mitchell shrugged nonchalantly, taking his seat back at the table. "They got my attention." He took the pad back and laid it face down. "Want anything to eat?"
"No, I had lunch," came Brian's reply.
I began putting away my homework. I couldn't think with all the distractions. I'd finish up later. I rose and went into the living room, flipping on the TV. I heard them talking quietly in the kitchen, getting to know each other. After a while, they sauntered into the living room and sat next to me.
"We all know why I came," said Brian. "You gonna join us or not, Trevor?"
"I'm not sure," I admitted.
"Why?" he asked simply, his eyes locking into mine.
I thought for a second. This guy wasn't who I had thought he was. The same distrust I had had for him was largely gone. Still, I had a couple of doubts. "People say things about you..." I trailed off, uncertain how to segue from that.
Brian shrugged, facing forward. "People say a lot of things." He leaned back, interlacing his fingers behind his head. "Let me take a crack at it. Hard drug dealing, assault, and theft. I'm a faggot, and I've two STD's so far." He chuckled. "The truth's a lot less exciting. I got thrown off the team two years ago because I smoked some pot." He looked at me. "I took a long, hard look at myself then. My life was going down the shitter. I cleaned up my act and hit the books. Not much of what you've heard about me is true."
"Are you a cum slut faggot then?" I asked, arching my eyebrow.
He laughed. "While I was on the team, I blew two of the seniors. One had a . Could he admit that he had come to me? Had almost begged me, he was so pathetically frustrated with his sex life? Yeah, I'd messed around with guys before, and I've messed around with guys since, so I didn't consider it a big deal at the time." He shrugged again. "I guess he had to make it clear to everyone that he was a big man, so he made sure everyone knew that he'd dominated me. The stories got more elaborate with time."
"Anyway," he continued after a moment, "I never have given much of a shit about public relations. I couldn't care less about the rumors. Sometimes they're pretty funny. My friends know me." We sat for a moment, listening to the TV. Finally, he looked over. "Why else aren't you sure? I'm not the only reason."
I studiously avoided his gaze. I knew what the answer was, but I hadn't yet figured out how to put it into words. "I guess," I ventured, "that I don't want to be gay." I took a deep breath. "Sure, Mitch and I have been messing around the last couple days. We started it because we were desperate. It was an accident. We've kept going because it felt good." Finally I met his eyes. "But with him it's different. We're as close as brothers. It feels almost natural with him. But..." I paused. "If I mess around with you, I'm pretty firmly crossing a line. It's no longer desperation or curiosity. It's lust." I looked back at the TV. "And that changes things."
Mitchell just sat there, listening intently. Brian shifted in the sofa. "You know, Trevor, just because you do things that feel good doesn't mean you're gay."
Mitchell broke in, "How do you know when you're gay?"
Brian turned to meet his gaze, shrugging. "I don't know. I'm not gay. I'm bi. All that means is that I do whatever feels good with whoever wants to do it with me. Shit, I fucked a girl last night at the party, right up there on the balcony, while you two were downstairs." He sat back in his chair. "But I do know why a lot of guys turn to having sex with men."
"Why's that?" I queried.
"Shit, there's a dozen reasons. Some are like you. They're experimenting and it feels good. Some are like me. I decided years ago that I wanted to be counter-culture. I wasn't going to do things like other people. I didn't want to be like other people. And since is opposed to what people consider acceptable, I embraced it as part of my life." He paused, reflecting a moment, then continued. "Some people feel a genuine emotional connection with others of their own sex, and that leads to the lifestyle. Others are just horny and find men easier lays than women, or they like the sex better, or whatever. For some, it's a compensatory reaction to being abused as a child. I'm sure there are other reasons I haven't come across yet."
He shrugged again. "In any case, this idea that you're born gay and can't help it is a load of shit. It's a copout, an abdication of personal responsibility." He shifted again. "Bottom line is, you're not gay until you make that decision, whether actively or subconsciously."
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