A Night at the Bar

Lane sat at a table inside of the bar, nursing a beer. He looked around, a somewhat nervous sparkle in his eyes. He tried not to look at the guy across the bar, sitting with his friend. They were both chatting vibrantly while scanning the bar - obviously looking for cute guys. Lane found that he could not stop looking at the guy. He's had something of a crush on him for quite sometime, but the guy - whom Lane once heard someone call Brandon - didn't seem to have much interest in Lane. That was okay. It stung a bit upon the initial realization, yet Lane was used to such reactions. Let it roll off your back, he'd tell himself time and again. Anyone who looked at Lane often wondered why he did not have a boyfriend or at least an opportunity to pick someone up before deciding that something was wrong with him and move on. 

Lane had accepted his fate long ago, settling into a pattern of never gaining the attention of those whose interest in him never developed beyond a curious glance and a quick deterring if their eyes happened to meet across a crowded room, street or store. Lane knew that Brandon held no interest in him. However, he could not help himself from looking at him whenever they happened upon each other. Lane thought Brandon beautiful...and he liked to look at beautiful men.

"Don't look now, but your secret admirer keeps looking over here."

"Ugh! When will he get the fucking message?"

"Why don't you just tell him?"

"He might rape me or something. I don't get black guys. I've never been into them yet they seem to be all over me."

"I know what you mean."

"Why can't someone really hot treat me like that? Like that guy over there."

"Oh, he's hot. Man! Take me and fuck me all the way to Hell."

"Don't touch, he's mine."

"Brandon, you can't have them all. Leave some for the rest of us. Besides, I don't see you making any kind of effort."

"I'm waiting until he looks and discovers how beautiful I am and for you to go somewhere sometime."

"Oh fuck you, pal."

"I'm just kidding. However, it does seem that the only time I see him is when you and I decide to go out together."

"Maybe he's reading one of our minds. And it can't be yours because he doesn't seem to be out when you're alone. Wait a minute, you're never alone. You know ninety-four percent of the city..."

"Check out those biceps and that five o'clock shadow and those deep blue eyes."

"Randy is beyond hot..."

"Wait a minute, beyoch, you know him?"

"No. I know someone who knows him though."

"What a fucking friend you are. You know how much I'm in love with him. Why can't you get your friend to introduce him to you so that you can introduce him to me?"

My heart's beating really fast. I'm trying to calm down, taking deep breaths between every sip of my beer. If I can just get my mind off of the promise I made to myself then maybe I can chill out a bit. God, he's the fucking hottest guy I've ever seen in my life! Why would he want me? I've never seen him with anyone. Some people think he has attitude, but I also heard that he was a nice guy. Besides, I've seen his expressions before on plenty of everyday black guys...the kind that aren't stereotypically thugs or drag queens with sharp tongues or so deep into hip hop culture that they feel as if they're on the DL. It is an expression of being invisible, alone and accepting their fate. I can't say that I'm into black guys or anything like that because it doesn't matter to me. If a guy is attractive, then he's attractive. I don't get where skin color becomes such a big deal.

Anyway, I guess its just what it is. Okay, he just looked this way. Damn! I don't think he saw me. 

I see him in the gym sometimes, quietly working through his routine - not giving a fuck about those other queens falling all over themselves. He seems that he's alright in his own skin and doesn't mind being alone. He's even got a cute name, if Lane is his name. I heard someone call him that once.

Okay, I will never know unless I take the risk. I just don't want to appear to be nervous or anything. Okay, I will have one more drink and then I will do it.

"Hey, Randy!"

I turn around. Its my friend Jon. "Hey, Jon how's it going?"

"Well, have you did the deed?"

"I'm going to have one more drink and then..."

"Dude, just fucking do it. Go over and introduce yourself and start a conversation."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It is. Give it a try."

"I...I'm not..."

"Get your ass over there before I drag you over there and introduce you to him."

Oh fuck!!! Shit like that never works out. "Okay, okay." I take the last gulp of my beer, stand at attention and hope that the look on my face reads as possitively calm. Oh, he sees me coming over. Shit! What am I going to do now? Don't panic. Don't change your confident expression...

"Hi."

"Hey there."

"I...I'm Randy." I offer my hand.

"Lane. Nice to meet you, Randy."

His handshake is firm and assertive. "Yeah, same here."

"You go to my gym right?"

"Yeah, I've seen you around."

"Can I buy you a drink?"