He's seventeen....

MacAvity's picture

Let's call him Geoffrey because that's his name, and I already have enough trouble remembering that that's his name without giving him a codename to confuse things.

Geoffrey is seventeen years old, he's a junior at my old high school, and he came out a few months ago. I met him at the showing of a documentary film about coming out at this university, for which film I had given an interview a couple of weeks ago. It was kind of an instantaneous thing; he walked into the room and I thought, I like your face, I'm going to go talk to this kid after the film. So I did (this is kind of an accomplishment for me, actually doing something instead of lurking and listening and positioning myself where the other person might initiate contact), and it worked - we ended up having an actual conversation, about coming out, and the old high school, and how he wants to go into the fashion industry, and all sorts of stuff.

He was there with his mother, who works at the university and is so into the whole gay thing that it kind of made me wonder. Not about anything specific, it just seemed like an oddly lucky coincidence that this guy who's into fashion stuff and has a super ally for a mother would also be gay. But I guess it happens. And maybe she just became a super ally after her son came out, I don't know. She seems really nice. Almost excessively nice, but hey, I'm not about to complain about anyone being nice. Nice is a good thing.

So I was proud of myself for taking a bit of initiative and successfully initiating contact with someone based on nothing other than 'I like your face,' (which I didn't say, of course, just thought it). And that, as I thought, was that.

But then last night they showed up at Pride Prom! And I danced with Geoffrey all night!

All night is probably an exaggeration, but I did dance with him a lot more than I danced with my actual prom date at senior prom last year. At first it was hard to get him away from his mom - kind of lame to bring your mom to prom, but hey, he was the one highschooler among a crowd of college kids he'd never met before Thursday, so it's understandable. And he did spend a lot of time with her, but she didn't want to dance much, so I was able to just take his hand and say, 'Come on, let's dance,' and get him out to the dance floor with me.

Eventually it got so that he saw me dancing alone - not lonely-like, just grooving away among the other people but not with the other people - and actually came over and started dancing with me.
I felt triumphant.
Neither of us was bold enough to initiate dancing with anyone else, so we spent most of the time either with each other or alone, or sometimes in those ring-shaped globs of people that form at dances so that people can dance in groups. And we often caught each other's eyes and smiled at each other when we were dancing in the circles.

At one point I somehow got caught up in a sweaty knot of guys grinding together in a sweaty gay knot - it was... uncomfortable, and not especially sexy, but somehow enjoyable anyway - validating, maybe.
And later, a hugely drunk acquaintance (who had been all over everybody all evening, while his boyfriend followed him around making sure he didn't get into too much trouble) popped out of nowhere, put his hand on my chest and his drunk face right up in my face and said 'Avity, you are the most beautiful man I have ever met!'
I don't even care why he emphasized man; that was incredibly validating. Being called a beautiful man by a rather handsome bisexual guy, even if he was drunk out of his wits. Actually it might have helped that he was drunk; 'most beautiful man I've ever met' would sound totally creepy from a random sober person.

And at some point Geoffrey and I were dancing and I put my hands on his waist and we danced like that for a while.

There was even a time, late into the night when the noise was maybe slower than it had been, and lots of people were snogging as they danced, that I kind of wanted him to kiss me. Kissing's just another dance move, is how I saw it at the time. Guess the mind drops a lot of its defenses after dancing into the middle of the night. He didn't kiss me, and that's okay.

I feel like this journal is making it sound like I'm more attracted to him than I am. I'm not even smitten, don't even have a crush. I just like him. And I like that I was able to have a night of almost flirtatious interaction - it strongly resembled a date in many ways - and that I pushed his comfort boundaries a little. I like the way I acted.

I know most people do this sort of thing all the time. But this is new for me. This is almost a break from the none whatsoever. Certainly it's progress in the right direction. There's hope for me yet.

This probably won't go anywhere, and that's fine with me. I'm happy with what we did last night, don't need any more, would even be content to never see him again. But we'll see.


jeff's picture

Wrong gender, but...

"You can judge the whole world on the sparkle that you think it lacks" - Dawes, When My Time Comes (http://youtu.be/Z0FrcTX6hWI)

MacAvity's picture

Catchy song.

The age difference isn't actually a big deal to me, now that I've gotten used to it - I'm only nineteen, and thoroughly inexperienced. I'd probably try to pursue something if he were on campus all the time and didn't go to a different school than me. I probably should have given my journal a different title, this one makes it seem like his age is really bugging me.

jeff's picture

Nah, you're fine...

"You can judge the whole world on the sparkle that you think it lacks" - Dawes, When My Time Comes (http://youtu.be/Z0FrcTX6hWI)

elph's picture

OMG... What an idyllic evening!

You danced as two gay boys... very much smitten with each other?

MacAvity's picture

Idyllic indeed...

And yes, we danced as two gay boys. Smitten might be an overstatement, very much smitten definitely would, but there was at least a little bit of liking there....