Get Out! GAY Magazine – Issue 357– March 7, 2018

BY IAN-MICHAEL BERGERON
@ianmichaelinwonderland
A Far Too Decent Proposal
Two weeks out from my most
recent breakup, I went out for
a work meeting at Mexicue,
making sure my co-worker
knew I had to be at dinner by
7. Three margaritas and two
hours later, it was 8:00.
I ran down to Art Bar, where
my best friend Southern Belle
C and his boyfriend were
signing their check. “I’m so
sorry I’m late,” I breathed,
sliding into the booth next to
him.
“We already ate,” Southern
Belle C spat, pursing his lips.
“You smell like a barnyard.”
“I had a margarita.”
“Are you smoking again?”
“Just one, on the way here?”
Some witty banter later, he
calmed down, and we made
our way over to Flannery’s
bar. A rum and coke later,
very drunk indeed, I watched
the only other gay guy in the
bar put Shania Twain’s “Man,
I Feel Like a Woman” on the
jukebox and dance like there
was no tomorrow.
“I’ll get you your next drink if
you get his number,” Southern
Belle C taunted. Without
pause, I walked over to him
and his friends at the bar.
He was with four girls, and all
five of them had shots in front
of them. “Ooh, are we doing
shots?!” I said, a little too
enthusiastically. They stared
at me, blankly, wanting me to
leave. “Bartender—can I get
a shot of tequila?” Annoyed,
but nice enough, they waited
and took their shots with me.
“So listen,” I said to the Only
Other Gay Guy, “my friend
said he’d buy me a drink if
I got your number.” Only
Other Gay Guy, now that I
was up close, was incredibly
handsome, and also about
6’2”.
“That sounds like fun.” He
gave me his number, I ordered
another drink, and some fuzzy
moments later I was in a cab,
heading back to his place.
Now, without going into
details, I hadn’t had sex in a
very, very long time. Drunk
Ian-Michael was ready to get
down and dirty. But when
we arrived at his apartment,
after I stripped down to my
underwear, he paused. “I
haven’t had sex in a while,”
he said, quietly. “I’m kind of
taking a break, I guess.”
“Then why did you ask me
over?” I wondered, but
instead turned my libido off—
which is when I realized just
how drunk I was. I sat back,
shut my eyes—and fell fast
asleep.
In the morning, we jerked
each other off, and I walked
him to the subway on his
way to work. He was
sweet; I might see
him again, since I
have his number.
Walking home, I
realized it was the
closest thing to a
Walk of Shame I’d
done in two years.
I wondered how I’d
feel if we did have
sex: Am I ready to
move on? Would I
feel liberated, would
I feel relieved or would I just
feel empty?
I got McDonald’s on the way
home to cure my hangover.
Some voids can be filled
easily.
PHOTO BY STEVE BRENNAN