It was beautiful. Lazy days. Just my brand-spanking
new boyfriend, Graham and me. I later learned after
our one-hour kiss fest under the pouring New York rain
that his full name was Graham Miller. He was a
carpenter whose pieces went for no less that $1000 American.
He was 6'3" to my 5'10", and he was originally from
Canada. Well, no one's perfect.

He and I would just talk and talk for hours on end
Not caring the amount of time that had passed, we would
sit in restaurants for four hours at a time and just
laugh. This city has approximately 8.5 million people
in it. For me, it was just Graham and myself.

I had neglected the boys. It had been almost three
weeks since we had gone out for brunch or dinner or even
drinks. I had to face the firing squad. I called Oz
at work, and he sounded almost shocked.

"Xander? Xander Lavelle Harris? The elusive writer
who has a problem with cigarettes, expensive shoes and
calling his friends?"
"I'm sorry, sweetie, but Graham has been taking up all
of my time."
"Oh my God. He speaks, yet he talks of other people
whose names I barely recall."
"Graham. Brand new boyfriend Graham?"
"Oh, and he CONTINUES to speak! Have you fucked him
yet?
I laughed. "Dinner? Tonight at Zuttos on 13th Street
and Greenwich?"
"The place where the sushi master is perpetually
drunk?"
"That's the one!"
"I'll call Wes and Giles."

I had to make up for my eighth deadly sin, abandoning
my friends, so I showed up ten minutes early. The
first one out of our motley crew that I see emerge from a
Lincoln Town Car is Giles looking resplendent in
Armani. Giles glared at me icily.

"You're a naughty boy for not calling."
"I'm paying for dinner and drinks."
"All is forgiven! So, how's the new lover?"
"I'll tell all of you collectively so that I don't
have to repeat myself? Is that Armani?"
"Why, yes! You noticed you darling boy, you!"

Oz and Wesley showed up about a minute later. Wes
said something about missing me a lot. We went inside
and sat down.

"Guys, I have a question to ask."
Oz said, "Shoot."
"What does it mean if you and a guy have a wonderful,
loving connection? You talk and talk and talk. You
laugh constantly, yet still after about three weeks of
enjoying each other's company, you haven't done it
yet?"
Giles squeaked, "You two haven't fucked yet?!"
Oz breathed deeply and dramatically, and then asked
the waiter for more Sake.
Wesley silenced Giles with a resounding, "SHHH!" and
then continued. "Xander, this can be a good thing.
He's waiting until it feels right!"
Giles looked at me incredulously, "What are you
waiting for? Just fuck his brains out already! Don't fall
for the merchandise until you've taken it for a test
run. That's always been my motto."
"Hence, the fact that you're still single," Oz said
jokingly.
Giles rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Oz
We all giggled.
Oz looked back at me, "Do you know what this sounds
like? A clear cut case of the straight gay guy."
Wes glared at Oz, "It is not that!"
"Oh yes it is. The signs are all there. He's a
carpenter. Big manly job. He's waiting for the "moment"
or whatever they call it nowadays. He's treating this
relationship as if it were heterosexual when in fact
it isn't." A man is a man. I agree with Giles. Just
fuck his brains out already."
I laughed.
Wes looked at me, "I personally think it's wonderful."

So this was very strange. Was this another gay urban
legend? A man who is willing to wait? I didn't want
to wait. I wanted to jump his bones right now. Yet
still, I waited for three weeks. Sure, it felt so much
shorter because all we do is talk and talk, yet; still
I could not help but wonder if the guys were right.
He was a carpenter. He knew a lot about sports. He
never ever ordered wine or a mixed drink. All he drank
was beer. He could pass for straight anywhere. Oh
God! Was I dating a straight gay man?

Giles said, "The symptoms of straight gay men are as
follows: A: They watch sports. Just the rough and
tumble kind. Then, they demonstrate a vast knowledge of
useless sports history. Quite frankly, no self
respecting fag in his right mind would give a shit about
sports unless the uniforms got tighter."

Oz took it from there. "They do manly things. They
refuse to bottom. They scratch themselves in public.
They insist on paying for everything. They won't ask
for directions. Oh Jeez, Xan, the list goes on and
on."

Wes said, "I cannot believe you two! You're taking
every heterosexual woman's nightmare and applying it to
us as gay men! Those rules don't apply to us. You
said so yourself, Oz."

Giles grabbed my hand, "Xander sweetie, do us all a
favor? find if he is a straight gay man then drop him
like a bad martini. Men like that can become abusive to
their lovers because they're ashamed of their
heterosexuality."

I took everything Giles and Oz said with a grain of
salt? OK, maybe two or three. Yet still, a straight gay
man? This had to be investigated.

I met Graham for one of our half-hour lunches that
normally ended up turning into two-hour lunches. He was
waiting for me in the restaurant. After a quick kiss
hello, I sat down and opened my big mouth.

"Graham, are you straight?"
He chuckled a bit, "If I were straight, kissing you
wouldn't be as much fun, no would it."
"Graham, please. I'm slightly serious."
"Oh. What the hell would make you think something
like that, dude?"
"Well, we've been seeing each other for the past three
weeks already and still no? you know."
"No what?"
"No action! No sex! No horizontal mambo!"
"Is it too much to ask that we wait a little?"
"Well, no, and I love speaking with you and laughing
with you. But we are breaking some gay code of ethics
because we haven't slept with each other yet."
He came close to me. He said in soft pearly tones
while holding my face in his hands, "Xander, dude, I've
done the whole hop into bed on the first or second date
thing. I've been to bars and picked up men for yet
another one night stand. I'm sick of the drama. I
think I found someone I can sit in the audience and laugh
at life with. C'mon, dude, laugh with me."

Then, he kissed me. I was on cloud nine. He pulled
back looking at my face. When a goofy smile played on
my lips, his eyes slanted slightly and he said, "How
far from here do you live?"
"About ten minutes. Why? Oh? OH!" I leapt out of my
chair, grabbed his hand and grabbed a taxi.

We ran out of taxi arm in arm and scooted up the
stairs to my third floor apartment. I slammed the door
behind us, locked it and attacked him with a barrage of
kisses. With those big arms of his, he lifted me off
the floor. I wanted it hard and fast. Graham had
other ideas. He silenced me in my hallway. I quieted
myself. Then he went to my ear, licked it and said, "We
have all night."

He kissed me and slowly unbuttoned my shirt. He
dragged the shirt off my shoulders with painful
deliberateness. He peeled off my undershirt and kissed and
sucked and nibbled every inch of exposed flesh on my torso
from fingers to nipples to navel. I was shuddering
with wanton sexual energy and painfully hard. He leaned
back up to my mouth and kissed me again. He was so
warm and alive and BREATHING. I wrapped my arms around
his neck, and he scooped me up threshold style and
brought me to my bedroom courtesy of few directions from
me.

He placed me on the bed and quickly pulled his sweater
and t-shirt off. He lowered himself unto my person.
He was so warm and vital. His chest was smooth and
powerful. All I could hear him say was my name over and
over again, "Xander, Xander."

Off went the pants, then his boxers and my pants and
my Calvin Klein underwear. Then, I realized why his
pants always looked a little bunched up in the front. I
was shocked and delighted at the same time. Sure,
Angel was big, but DAMN! What the hell do they feed
those Canadians anyway?

"What, Xander? What's the matter?"
"That is one? big? cock."
He started to laugh. "Thanks."
"Anytime," I said, and then I set to work thinking up
new and interesting ways to accommodate his girth in
my mouth.

I had a mouthful of Graham when he said, "Stop."
I said, "Mmmpgh?"
He looked down at me and winked then flipped my body
This Canadian eats his Wheaties!

Graham made a long slow trail with his tongue from my
neck to my dick and said, "Wow, Xander. You have such
a beautiful, big cock."
Before I could make a comment about American food, he
swallowed my considerable staff into his mouth up to
the hilt. So much for the straight gay man.

His dick dangled in front of me looking as "come
hither" as it possibly could. I did the only logical thing
to do. I blew him as he blew me. The 69 is the
greatest and most underrated positions during sex, provided
both parties both parties know how to give a decent
blowjob. As I (oh happy men) pleasantly discovered,
Graham was good? really good. As in, "Oh shit, Graham.
I think I'm gonna AAAAAAAHHHH!!!!"
Graham came soon after with a resounding, "Jesus
Christ, XANDER!!!!"

He came up from kissed me, our semen mixing within the
hollow of our mouths. He tasted like salt and beer.
I smiled. How butch.

With a smile, he cuddled into my chest. I wrapped my
arms around him, and we slept. Of course we got up
about an hour later and had more sex, but I'll save that
story for another time.

So, OK. Maybe I should stop listening to my friends
But, maybe there is such a thing as the straight gay
man? I guess I will never know. All I know is that I
have a man in my arms who is as queer as a three
dollar bill, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

~Fin