Crushes

No clothes. Just water. Poured over their heads. Drenched in filth and happiness, these are my crushes.

First, it's Geo Boy. I see him every few weeks. So hot. He likes rocks. Eyebrow ring, check. Manibrow, check. Sports shorts, always... Well, it's winter, but he's NATURALLY sporty. Gay? Eh... No. He likes girls. I can tell. But he always manages to purposely not look me in the eye.

Day passes. I see The Kids sitting in their usual place. Hot Hat Boy. He's so intense. He just sits there with his legs crossed like a girl and I soak it up. He fucks girls and they think he's too sensitive. He probably is. But only on the outside.

Then there's Lancelot. Been crushing on him for years. Saw him in Mary's one night and had the nerve to say, "Why are you in a gay bar?" He's supposed to be straight. But he's not straight. He's the kinda guy you jacked off with in middle school. The kinda guy who liked dick until he was able to get pussy. Then he was normal. He'll come back. But probably not to me.

In the hallway, I see Bleach Blond (see: between classes). It's just me and her, and she sits RIGHT ACROSS FROM ME. I start hyperventilating. I'm trying to study French, but all I can think about is how perfectly her shoes match mine. You're gay, Hart. Remember, you're gay. Just let it blow through you. She gets up to go to the bathroom and this other girl comes up and tells me class is canceled. Damn. I won't be able to see Beard Scruff today (again: between classes).

I wonder what Beard Scruff's doing when I see Beard Scruff 2 (no less Scruffier). Keep seeing each other, but he's straight, too, so I'm keeping a guarded distance. He's wearing tight jeans, the kind my skinny-ass chicken legs can never pull off. The jeans are sagging in his ass and every time he walks, they ride his crack. I walk behind him all the way down the hall. He never turns back, but I know he knows I'm there.

Sitting outside class, waiting for Professeur Francais to arrive, I see Beard Scruff 2 again. He's talking to some girl. Slightly jealous. My friend tells me she knows the girl... I make a statement about how cute he is...

Moments later, he's approaching me.

"Don't I know you?" he asks.

I'm playing I've-Never-Seen-You-Before. I say, "Yeah, the courtyard."

He says, "Ahh, right, man. That's right. I thought I knew you. What's your name?" He extends his hand.

I shake his hand and it's so soft. Not like mine. Big. Not like mine. Manicured? Whatever.

I say, "Hartwell."

He says, "Oh, cool, my name's *INSERT NAME*."

We exchange nervous I'll See You Around's before he heads down the hall. I turn to my friend and ask, "What the fuck was that all about?" and bury my head in French notes.

Seconds later, I look across the hall. Burly Man is staring me in the face. I always see him catching glimpses, but he's too obviously straight to ever like me. He doesn't look gay AT ALL. And he's just sooo masculine. I wonder if he wants to trick me. No, not play jokes. Fuck me. Like a whore. If he thinks about me in the shower. If he understands I'm only in to monogamy.

Test time.

I'm trying to remember how to conjugate passé compose when I look up to see Burly Man exiting the room. He scans the entire class before zeroing in on my seat. His eyes burn a hole straight through my brain, into my crotch. He knows I know he knows. We're totally using telepathy.

Professeur Francais says something. My old crush for him returns. Burly Man leaves, and I wonder if Professur Francais has ever sucked one. Probably has. He IS French.

Driving home, I think about Facebook. It's been about two weeks and we're emailing back and forth, back and forth. But whatever. He's Midtown, you know, he's OUT THERE in the City and here I sit in Bumblefuck writing about it all.

But they are hot. And so mysterious. All these strangers interest me.

It's so erotic and DH Lawrence. I think about making love to them at the same time. In my huge, imaginary bed. With down everything and massive amounts of pillows. There's incense, poetry, wine, and art. We're talking up a storm.

Just one of them would satisfy me, but, together, in my head, they can all make me happy. I sigh. It's so wonderful here.