William Akers

November 1999

Unfounded Infatuation

A note to the reader, from the "very gay" author: When approached to write a "gay" article for this 'zine by a friend of mine, I had no idea what it was that I was going write about. I'm 18, gay, and was told that I could pretty much write about what I wanted, as long as I didn't curse or talk about nasty topics. For me, that was a lot to ask...but I felt that it was a good challenge. Most of my writing is filled with bad language and talks very frankly about topics that a lot of people might be embarrassed to speak of, but laugh guiltily at in the privacy of their own homes. So, I felt that this would be something different, but something that would take some planning. So, I jogged downstairs to smoke a cigarette, and was confronted with exactly what I knew I should write about. Here it is:

I am completely infatuated with this boy that works in my building. We're talking about hard-core-I've-never-heard-you-talk-I-don't-know-you're-name type of lust. I am completely wrapped up in how cute this guy is and it's really beginning to break me. How could I be so superficial? How could I care sooooooooo much about how a guy looks that I completely disregard everything else about him? I mean, I am to the point that if he talked like Rip Taylor and had the eating habits of a farm animal....I probably wouldn't care. And, well, that kind of scares me. I scoff at large groups of homosexuals who seem so wrapped up in this guy's six pack, in that guy's legs -- it usually makes me sick to see how infatuated we are with the way people look. But, alas, I find myself no better than them these days -- however, at least I realize it.

With this guy, I find myself wanting to do all those creepy obsessive things that you see in movies -- take pictures of him when he's not looking, find out his name and what cologne he wears, that kind of thing. It's the weirdest thing -- every little tidbit of information I learn about him, no matter how obscure, excites me to no end. When I saw him getting out of his car, I was horrifically excited simply because I knew what kind of car he drove. It frightens me that such simple and insignificant details thrill me like that. It's dangerous too, I'm piecing together this whole painting of who I think this guy is, and I've never even spoken a word to him! Worse than that, I find myself doing this a lot. Not just with this guy, but he is the cutest and most recent case, but with a whole slew of other guys that have come and gone -- nameless, completely devoid of any human characteristics in my mind, except their bodies and faces -- GOOD GOD I MAKE MYSELF SICK! Since I don't even know this guy's name -- I've christened him "Dolly Boy" because he's always pushing something around on a dolly each time that I see him.

Evaluating my predatory senses towards guys that I don't even know has made me so sick with myself that I have decided to do something about it. I plan to at least approach "Dolly Boy" and try to start something with him. I'm not saying that we're going to get together and live happily ever after, but I might as well see if my lust is even valid -- why waste my time with some loser that just happens to look good? It makes sense to me to evaluate exactly why it is that I am so infatuated with this boy. I mean, maybe I'm simply on this new mission to make myself feel better about myself (meaning, if he turns out to be a really great guy and we get along, it'll be fantastic -- I won't seem like such a superficial homo for latching on to this boy.) That could very well be my entire motivation behind this whole thing, but who knows, I don't even know, it just feels like the right thing to do. I'm just sick of being so disgustingly infatuated with this boy, so I have to at least TALK to him.

Which presents a problem in and of itself -- how am I supposed to talk to a guy I don't work, go to school with, or even live near? And, if I did, what would I say to him? 'Hey there, Dolly Boy, I am completely infatuated with you. I don't know you're name, I've never heard you talk, but I can't keep from thinking about you every time I see a dolly or a cardboard box that looks like it needs to go somewhere. I'd like to videotape you licking your lips for three hours, if you wouldn't mind. In fact, afterwards, I'll leave you alone.' If I didn't get punched in the face, I'm pretty sure that approach would destroy any slight chance I had getting acquainted with this guy.

So, I racked my brain and figured it all out. With the help of a gay friend that I work with, we devised a fail-proof plan. We would wait for Dolly Boy to drive up to the loading dock, and then approach him with a problem we were having. We told him that we were taking pictures from our catalog and that we needed a picture of a delivery boy. We asked him if he wouldn't mind being in the picture for us. Of course, he agreed, everyone wants his or her 15 minutes of fame, right? So, we took the picture, and step number one to the fulfillment of my plan was complete: recognition. He now knew who I was and had a reason to nod at me and say what's up when I saw him. To execute the rest of the plan might take a bit of craftiness. I had a free screening pass to the movie "Bringing out the Dead" that I figured I would give him. That way, I was doing him a favor and now we had some common ground. I figured if I saw him there, I could ask him if he wanted to come over and hang out, we could get drunk or high or something and talk, get to know each other and such. It was all piecing together so nicely that I was surprising myself.

So, the next day, I took the pass over to him when I saw him at the loading dock, we chatted for a bit, introduced ourselves and I told him I would see him there. I walked back upstairs feeling triumphant, but then a new sense of self-disgust crept into my glorious moment. Here I was, ragging on myself for being infatuated with a guy I didn't even know, so mad at myself that I had decided to do something about it to make myself feel better. How selfish could my motives be? To what incredibly grotesque and conniving lengths would I go to to entrap this boy? Here I was planning this whole perfect meeting situation between the two of us, and he was oblivious. He had no idea what I was doing, he just thought that I was a nice guy -- putting him in a catalog, giving him free movie passes, etc. I MAKE MYSELF SICK!

However, I'm through all that, I'm over it now. I got an e-mail while I was thinking about all this that was entitled "Carpe Diem" it was all about taking advantage of situations that came across your path. It was exactly what I needed -- because it made a lot of sense. If I never approached this boy, the possibility that he is gay and a great guy and that we could live happily ever after would be nagging at me until the day I die. I had to take advantage of the situation, I had to do something about it, something that would at least put my mind at rest. Now I've figured it out: he is either gay, and something will happen between us, or he's not, we'll hit it off, and I'll have a hot new friend. Either way, I'm happy. I am so okay with just being friends with this guy, sure I want more, but sex is so unimportant and a selfish motive that I might even be MORE happy if we just became friends. But, I'm not completely sure, and I guess, only time will tell.

William Akers

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