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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.
03/26/2006
26 lies about 26 men.
I is for Ivan
�
The first time I saw Ivan naked, he was painting my bedroom ceiling.� I had just gotten my condo, and my best friend Auggie talked me into hiring this guy he knew to fix it up.� According to Auggie, Ivan advertised in the Gay yellow pages, had reasonable rates, and best of all, he was hot as hell.� Hot men make me nervous, but unlike Auggie, I have a real job, and was not planning on hanging around the place hoping to live out a badly written porn fantasy, so I thought I was safe.�
�
Unfortunately I was disorganized from the move, and forgot some files at home.� I came early to get some work done there and when I walked into the bedroom to get my extra briefcase from the closet, I saw Ivan standing in the middle of the room, arms stretched out pushing a roller along my bedroom�s ceiling, with the most perfect ass I have ever seen in my life.� I was so shocked I didn�t even notice that he wasn�t technically naked since he was still wearing his socks.
�
I blush easily and I must have looked like a tomato that afternoon.� He was listening to his iPod and didn�t even notice me at first.� When he did, he started pointing out what he had accomplished while I was gone, not bothering to mention his lack of clothes.� I was so distracted by trying not to look at his �equipment� to even pretend to pay attention to his work, and for once in my life I was direct and asked him about the elephant in the room, um, that is, I asked him if he always worked in the nude.
�
He laughed and said no, it was just that it had been a hot day, so he decided to strip down to his skivvies, but he forgot he was wearing his brand new black Unico briefs.� He wanted to wear them to an underwear party at a bar that night, and since he didn�t want to risk getting paint on them, he took them off as well.� The story made sense to me at the time, or maybe I was just too distracted by the naked man standing in front of me.� I wanted to tell him that it was not a problem, that he could always work nude if he wanted to, that in fact I would join him, but I�m not exactly that kind of guy.� While I was rummaging though my extra briefcase for the files, he said that since it was getting cooler again, he�d put something on, giving me another look at that perfect ass as he bent over to put his shorts back on.
�
Even though Ivan was perpetually an hour late for everything, and a little flakey, I hired him again and not because I was in madly in lust like Auggie said, but because he wasn�t too expensive and did good work.� I guess that maybe part of me was hoping to catch him naked again, but it was only a small, minor, insignificant part.
�
After a while, I finally had the condo the way I wanted it to be, but by that time we gotten to be more than just employer and employee, we were friends as well.� I learned that his getting naked that first day was just a very Ivan thing to do.� He�s not an exhibitionist, but he is very comfortable with his body, and doesn�t worry too much about things like modesty.� He teases me about being a prude, since I don�t even like taking my shirt off, but I guess that it is easy for good-looking people to be immodest.
�
He jokes that I need to stop being so �straight,� and to let my �gay self� be free.� Getting me to loosen up and be �gayer� became a pet project of his, like his found object art sculptures, or his wood pallet furniture, so he started inviting me to go out with him and his friends to go dancing at clubs and parties.� I normally avoid those kinds of things like the plague, but it was hard to tell him no, and besides, I admit that I was sort of curious.
�
I had always assumed that there would be nothing there but vain, pretty boys, and that I would stick out like a sore thumb, and while I sort of did, it wasn�t as bad as I had feared.� I was right in guessing that there would be lots of beautiful men who are so self involved that they would never lower themselves to talk to a person like me, but there are normal looking men as well on those crowded dance floors.� I even got brave enough to talk to a few of them.� For me, that�s very bold.�
�
The first time Ivan kissed me was on a dance floor.� I was standing against a wall looking staring at nothing in general, when he walked up to me with a grin on his face, and practically dragged me out to dance with him.� He even made me take my shirt off, and then he leaned down close to my ear to tell me something.� The music was so loud that I didn�t hear, and when I turned to ask him what he had said, he smiled and kissed me.
�
Afterwards he closed his eyes, and moved his body to the music the way he does, and I realized that I was in trouble.� Ivan was just being his usual outgoing, friendly self, and I was falling in love, which was utterly ridiculous.� I was a normal, boring, average gay man.� I couldn�t fall for a disco dancing, hot bodied, gym queen!� It was absurd.�
�
He kissed me a second time later that night, or I guess technically early the next day when he dropped me off back home.� One minute he was saying goodnight, and the next his lips were on mine again, and I was feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen.� Afterwards I managed to tell him that I wished he would stop doing that, and that even though I knew it meant nothing really, it was making me uncomfortable.�
�
All Ivan said back was that it was sad that I did not feel the same way about him as he felt about me.� For some stupid reason this annoyed me, and like an idiot I started listing all the reasons that he could not be interested in me, everything from how he is way out of my league, to how we were just too different.� I finally shut up after I noticed the hurt look in eyes.� Once I was quiet, he told me that everything I said was bullshit, that I was a good and interesting man, that I was not ugly, and that I really needed to get over my self esteem issues.
�
We stood out side my door talking for what felt like hours before he finally said that he had to go.� I invited him in, and he said no, but he also said that if I agreed to go out with him on a real date that next Friday, he would most definitely say yes if I made the same offer.
�
Even though it would be totally out of his personality do something like that, I spent most of the next week convinced that his offer of a date was some sort of a cruel joke, but it wasn�t.� That next Friday, he showed up on my doorstep, on time, dressed up in slacks and a dress shirt, instead of his usual shorts and tight t-shirt.� We had dinner at a nice restaurant, saw a movie, and when we went back to my place, I offered him coffee and more if he wanted, and he said yes.
�
It still amazes me that he continues to say yes, even though Ivan says it shouldn�t, because he thinks he�s the lucky one in the relationship.� Imagine that, he�s the lucky one.�