Stories from a man who fails to meet media expectations of what it means to be gay:
white, frivolous, over sexed yet sexless, shrill, single, stylish, a clown, unimportant, et al.

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Attraction

Yesterday I ate some sopes at a King Taco purposely avoiding thinking about all the work I had to do that afternoon, and instead spent my time slowly looking around the crowded noisy room, my mind obviously far away from work and obsessed with other matters.

-There was a thirty something dad eating tacos with his wife and daughter. They were a cute family, but I was more interested in why he was cute. Stocky, light brown skin, a standard short hair cut with the sides buzzed to near nothing, a blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and collar opened to reveal his neck, dorky black frame glasses, and wide gentle smile. Smiles and sweet faces always get to me.

-At another table a gang of tired, worn looking men in paint splattered clothes (painters? Day laborers?) were making fun of their youngest member, a young man barely out of his teens, calling him changito (a bit of a slur, though in this case I guess meaning that they thought he had a monkey face). The kid did have sort of a round head with ears that pointed out somewhat, but while he was hardly the standard of beauty, he wasn�t exactly ugly either, and happened to also be the best looking man at the table. It perhaps helped my opinion that his hair was buzzed and he was in need of a shave, and boy does the sight of a stubbly face and head do things for me. There were also his large kissable lips, and with a mouth like that, well who needs movie star looks?

For the most part their conversation was drowned out by the loud um-pa-pa, um-pa-pa of the jukebox, though the canciones did stop long enough for me to hear a couple of the men telling their young friend to put off getting married as long as possible. Another song started up and I didn�t hear their reasoning, though I did spend a couple of minutes idly wondering if their advice had less to do with vicariously living the singles life and more with wanting to put that mouth of his to better use than sucking down on a large soda.

-Two paramedics sat down at the table next to mine, their radios buzzing and squeaking while they ate a hurried lunch. The first to sit was a very light skinned Latino man, his face red from sun. While his nose and cheeks were burned, his forehead was pale and his hands were tanned brown. I imagined that his body was probably a map of conflicting lines and sharp contrasting colored flesh.

His partner was darker skinned, a rich warm brown. Of the two he was the more handsome with strong sharp features, but as he sat down, I noticed from the name patch on his uniform that we had the same last name. Initially an odd coincidence, at least until I bothered to think that since I have a very common surname, it�s really not that note worthy. My handsome would be primo and his sunscreen-lacking partner never took off their sunglasses despite being indoors and spent their entire meal complaining about their �needy� girlfriends.

-I rarely find pretty to be attractive, though if I did there was a young man there who would have been worth looking at. Except that being a high school aged goth boy he was at least a couple decades too young to bother with. Time and age may eventually rework his delicate features into something more noteworthy, but for now, the only thing remarkable about him was that he was much prettier than any of the dressed all in black girls he was hanging out with.

-When I was getting ready to leave a few men in suits came in and caused confusion in the line to order because they clustered instead of queuing in an orderly fashion. They were all boring looking except for the tallest, a large muscle bound thug of a man with an almost ironic sweet looking baby face. He looked to be barely constrained by his suit and tie and it seemed as if he could burst out of his clothes at any moment, to either beat you to a pulp, or to bury you under passionate kisses.

I almost sat back down on the slim to nonexistent chance that he would tear out of his clothes, but no, in the end I did get up, drop my tray off and left to head back to work.

More later,
nico

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