kinky_af

So I logged out and created myself a new identity, skank_boy, and sat down to wait. It took two hours. He joined but didn't say anything. I'm sick of this, I thought. Time to wade in.

skank_boy: Hey

rl_sucks: Hi

skank_boy: Also, what the fuck?

rl_sucks:??

skank_boy: It's J

rl_sucks: Well WTF back at ya. Did you get yourself banned or something? I don't even know how you'd do that.

rl_sucks: Unless you're actually underage. If so, please...just log out, okay? And don't do this.

I suddenly felt stupid. As in, more stupid than I usually did.

skank_boy: Nah, I guess I just wanted to see if you were cheating on me.

rl_sucks: haha. Wait really?

skank_boy: I more wondered if you were cheating on somebody else the way you left it yesterday. Sure you can find a guy who's up for that but it's not me sorry.

rl_sucks: Not like that AT ALL. Can you, like, log back in as you? Please? This feels way too weird.

kinky_af: here you go

rl_sucks: Shit, that's a relief. For a moment I thought... ugh

rl_sucks: Anyway, sorry about last night. I was definitely up for something, especially after you told me what you do, 'cos doesn't everybody have a hot tradie fantasy

rl_sucks: except I heard my flatmate yelling and banging shit and I went to see what was up and some fucking valve had come unstuck behind the dishwasher and there was just water pouring out everywhere and even when we managed to pull the dishwasher out it still took ages to work out how to get it to stop and the whole fucking kitchen was flooded

rl_sucks: and it was after eleven before we got it all cleaned up and by that point I never felt less like sex in my life, I was just angry and dirty and wet in all the wrong ways

rl_sucks: but yeah sorry to leave you hanging dude.

kinky_af: It's okay

rl_sucks: Sure?

kinky_af: Yeah

rl_sucks: You seem kinda quiet.

kinky_af: Well I am kinda quiet.

rl_sucks: Can I run something by you? I was actually gonna ask yesterday before I was interrupted by that stupid fucking dishwasher.

kinky_af: Fire away

rl_sucks: Are you interested in maybe meeting up sometime?

rl_sucks: I mean I wouldn't normally ask because that screws with the anonymity, but we got that out of the way pretty fast as I recall and yeah, I like talking to you. And...I'm curious. Like, rabidly curious. I wanna put a face to this voice - wanna put a VOICE to this voice.

rl_sucks: Would you give it a go maybe?

kinky_af: Maybe?

Without knowing what he was proposing, I couldn't do better than that. Not without a match on an app, without a photo. I wasn't committing to hooking up with somebody without having some sense of what he looked like, what sort of energy he gave off, what level of crazy he seemed to be...

rl_sucks: We can just keep it real casual and short? Like maybe a coffee after work tomorrow?

kinky_af: I go out with the guys from work after Friday knock-off.

rl_sucks: Saturday brunch then?

kinky_af: Working until 12. But could do lunch I guess.

rl_sucks: Since when do tradies work weekends?

kinky_af: Since labour shortages. Also I need the money.

rl_sucks: Okay, let's do lunch. Where at?

kinky_af: I'll be in Frankton. So maybe the Subway down there? Needs to be low-brow sorry cos my budget's kinda tight right now.

rl_sucks: I'm fine with Subway, esp at the south end of town, since I'll be coming up from Te Awamutu.

kinky_af: Dude, you live in Te Awamutu? WHY?

rl_sucks: Houses are cheaper there.

kinky_af: Holy fuck, you own a house? That's mental.

rl_sucks: Not really. The BNZ and the Bank of Mum and Dad own a house on my behalf which I'm slowly paying off with help from a flatmate. And it's a real shitter into the bargain.

rl_sucks: So are we on?

kinky_af: Yeah, why not? 12.30.

rl_sucks: You wanna swap numbers so we can find each other?

kinky_af: Nah, it'll be fine. I work for McCaskells, so I'll be wearing one of their shirts. You'll see me.

I managed to extricate myself from the conversation without handing over my number and without having to pretend to jack off to another of his imaginary body parts, wondering what I'd let myself get suckered into. But what the hell, it was only lunch at Subway. There was a limit to how wrong it could go.

Or that's what I thought before he arrived. I'd said 12.30 so I could be there before him, watch him show up, walk toward me, have ten seconds to take stock before I had to be calm and composed and on top of things, and fuck I was glad I had.

He saw my work polo shirt from the doorway and made the connection, grinning as he started in my direction, a giant toothy megawatt smile. He looked so fucking thrilled to see me, but I did not feel the same.

There was no problem with his appearance; he was plenty cute, in yeah, a nerdy way - tall with dark brown soft floppy hair cut short at the back and sides, falling onto his forehead at front, wearing glasses that weren't the hip sort, with those chunky frames, and weren't the 'I'm being ironic here' old-fashioned-y wire spectacle kind either, but some in-between version which I was pretty sure had never actually been in, and which suited him utterly perfectly...

...aaand unfortunately I recognised him.

He worked at Bute Street Pharmacy, where I filled my scripts because it was just around the corner from J.A. Russell Wholesale, which meant that if he recognised me and joined the dots, he would know exactly how broken I was, and this little adventure was as good as over before it even got started...

He threw himself messily into the seat opposite and started talking excitedly before even bothering to order, and I realised it was stupid of me to have worried about that. He'd see probably thousands of customers in a week and I only went in once a month for a few minutes at a time.

Having stopped freaking out about that, I relaxed into the conversation. It wasn't difficult, because Reid was carrying things and I was just chipping in here and there. Not that he was overbearing with the talk, just...he didn't run out of topics like I would've in his place.

After maybe twenty minutes, and partway through a meatball sub which he was managing to eat pretty tidily all things considered, he suddenly stopped and frowned at me.

"Y'know, you do actually look vaguely familiar. You don't use Bute Street Pharmacy by any chance?"

"Uh, yeah. I go there sometimes." As in, I used to go there sometimes but in future I will very definitely go someplace else...

"That'll be it, then," he muttered, tucking the last third of the sandwich into his mouth like it was nothing and daintily wiping at the corners with a finger and thumb.

"Holy shit," was all I said, eyes bugging out, momentarily forgetting...um...everything.

He grinned wickedly, having just swallowed like a python - I saw the plug of dough going down. "Oh yeah. I can get a lot in there."

I laughed. Really loud. Loud enough that everybody else in the place turned to stare at me.

"You're a freak," I told him. "But I think I like you."

Reid nodded, but he looked unsure of himself for the first time. "So...J? Having seen you, I feel like you're probably somewhat out of my league, but...on the off chance...would you maybe be interested in meeting up again?"

Now I was floundering. Because the answer was yes. Like...absolutely, yes. I wanted to road-test that impressive mouth of his, I wanted to see that impish smile turned back toward me egging me on while he was arse up face down on my bed - or maybe his bed, given you could barely find mine under the assorted shite that'd piled up in my room - but...

I still didn't know what he was proposing. Anything more complicated than a hook-up, it'd go to custard pretty fast. And it'd be my fault. I knew that already. It always is. One of the few things I excel at is disappointing people.

Also, if I spend any length of time around one person they become aware pret-ty-quick-ly of my need to swallow a handful of pills every twelve hours religiously, and then when I refuse to have a conversation about it they feel offended, or upset that I won't confide in them or some such fucking shit. Or maybe they start worrying I have syphilis. Whatever the reason, the outcome's never great.

The silence was spinning out, and I had to say something.

"I...um...yeah?"

"Cool," he said, almost business-like, apparently less bothered by my long pause than I'd thought. "So Fridays you're out with the bros. Are you working again next Saturday? Do you wanna maybe head on down my way in the evening and have some dinner with me in my hovel? Or is that, like, too heavy?"

Again I didn't quite know what his angle was. I mean, dinner? At his house? But possibly it was just a way to get me to his house without brutally saying I should come over so we could fuck the night away. I couldn't read between the lines.

"Are you Netflix-and-chill-ing me here?" I said. "Or are you literally asking me over for dinner?"

Reid shrugged, and his eyebrows did a funny little dance-y thing behind his glasses. "I'll take either." His face split into a grin. "Or even, both?"

Damn. He had a really pretty smile.

"Yeah, okay. Sounds good," I told him, balling up my sandwich wrappers and biffing them at the bin.

They missed, and I stood up to go fetch them. "Thanks for this, man. Think I'll head out now. Hit me up on that stupid chatroom sometime this week with your address, eh? See you next week."

I put my litter in the bin and escaped. Cos as soon as I agreed, Reid had pulled out his phone - he was gonna bug me for my number so he could text his address, which...fair enough, but...but I don't just give my number out to every rando I come across. I can't, because...

...because sometimes I just need to go awol from everybody for a while and the more texts and messages and unread emails my phone shows, the more beeps and pings it makes, the worse I feel about how I'm not coping and it all spirals and sure I could block people but when I'm like that I would just block everybody and then where would I fucking be, so I have to have a really curated contacts list made up of the tiny number of folk who know about my issues and understand and give me space and who don't go into a tailspin just because I'm going into a tailspin and...

...and a guy I literally just met and who I'd kinda like to not scare away before I'd even had a taste didn't fall into that category. Not yet, anyway.

My chances of getting that taste took a major dive in the evening when I went to get my meds and noticed I was down to six doses. Which would cover me up to Tuesday morning, and then...then I would have to drag my arse down to Bute St pharmacy for a repeat script - and what were my chances of flying under the radar this time? Close to nil.

I paced up and down the hallway trying to think of a plan until Nick threw open his door and asked me what the fuck I thought I was doing, whereupon I moved to the empty lounge and paced in circles there instead.

I needed an out. I so badly needed an out. But there wasn't one. The system's tied up tight on purpose to stop folk abusing it.

I couldn't go to a different pharmacy without a fresh script and I couldn't get a fresh script without a doctor's appointment, which even if I could get one before Tuesday - and haha, good luck - it would end in a 'no' because I wasn't due for a fresh script and I couldn't say that I had 'lost' my repeat script because they're not even a physical thing anymore - the pharmacy just holds all the info on their computer and you go in and show some ID and they look you up and it's all there, what you need and when it's due, and you can't get it before it's due, and you can't get it from any other pharmacy either. Not until you have a new script. A fucking amazing system for somebody like me who loses practically everything, and really, really not what I needed.

Two years ago, maybe even one year ago, I would've gone; ahh sod it, who cares about the pills - I wanna get laid. But...no. Not going there again. Which meant I was going to the pharmacy instead.

I went at lunchtime, instead of near the end of the day like I usually did, in the hope that maybe Reid would be on a break and the other guy, the older guy, would be there by himself making up scripts.

Actually it was Reid who was there by himself. He didn't see me come in, head down working away on the little raised platform of the dispensary at the back of the store, behind the plexiglass screen. Maybe if he was really really busy he wouldn't notice, I thought, wouldn't pay any particular attention to the names on those little sheets the preened blonde assistant clipped up in front of him...maybe.

I basically whispered my name to her and flinched when she chirped back that it would be 'ten minutes max, Douglas'...but Reid didn't look up. Well. Douglas was a common enough name for guys old enough to need heart pills and arthritis creams. I knew that much already.

I huddled in to wait between some racks of sunscreens and hair accessories, watching Reid work. He was wearing a short-sleeved white lab-coaty thing with a mandarin collar, which was both cute and hot on him. It worked, same as those dorky glasses, right now magnifying his long dark eyelashes as they flickered here and there with his gaze...

When it seemed like he was about to start working on mine, I dropped my head and studied my boots instead. I didn't want to see whatever was about to pass over his face, assuming he recognised my name, didn't want to know. Less than a minute later, the counter girl called it out - way too loud, again - and I grabbed up the paper bag she passed me and shuffled miserably to my car.

Tossing the package onto the passenger seat, I noticed something. A heart. The fucker had drawn a little heart, in biro, next to where he'd taped up the bag. And a winking emoji. So...yes. He'd recognised the name. And...he was being nice about it. Which for some reason hurt more than if he'd decided to suddenly pretend I didn't exist...

It took me most of the drive back to the site to work out why that was, but yeah...of course he was being decent about it. What else could he do, realistically? He'd pushed for us to meet, and then for us to meet again. If he bailed now, he'd come across as a colossal douchebag. He was kinda trapped by his own enthusiasm.

I decided to give him an out.

Right after I'd finished cleaning up the fucking kitchen again, it being Tuesday, I locked myself in my room and pulled up that chat. His username was there, blinking away, and solo, thank god. I didn't wait for him to say anything.

kinky_af: Well I guess now you know. I'm fucked in the head. You dodged a bullet there aye? Nearly had a mental case over for dinner. Who knows what would have happened.

rl_sucks: FFS give yourself a break J. So you have some anxiety issues, so what? What am I meant to be shitting myself over here?

rl_sucks: and I think what would have happened is that we would both have seriously enjoyed the process of getting to know each other better and I hope that still is what will happen

rl_sucks: because you didn't get any less hot between Saturday and today and I btw definitely want to blow you sometime while you're wearing those fuckin amazing pants with the reflective tape around them because they are something else

kinky_af: haha

rl_sucks: but before I go too far down that road I wanna know why you would go about calling yourself a mental case...I mean I get that it's self-applied and probably not for me to critique in the same way that a couple of black dudes n-wording each other really don't need my lily-white input on the topic

rl_sucks: but I'm gonna wade in anyway and ask if it makes you feel better to be labelling yourself in that way? Does it work for you, to be putting yourself down like that? Does it help somehow?

Dude, fuck you, I thought. I wanna be able to be angry and rejected and you're not giving me anything to work with!

kinky_af: Nothing helps, alright? Except the pills. That's why I take them.

rl_sucks: Yeah? Let me tell you something J. Right there with that, you have a better insight into your situation than probably seventy percent of folk on long-term medication. The pills work, people start to feel better. Then they tell themselves they don't need them anymore, or they feel so much better they can't even remember what it was like before, so they stop taking them and go off the deep end

rl_sucks: or on the other hand their compliance while taking them is so poor that the meds never really get a chance to fully take effect so they conclude they don't work and stop taking them and honestly 'The pills work and that's why I take them' is WAY too sensible a line to be coming from a guy who's a MENTAL CASE so just stop already!

rl_sucks: Okay no more lectures from me. Nice evening though. You wanna go for a walk maybe? I'm in town still.

kinky_af: How come?

rl_sucks: Round at my folks for dinner.

kinky_af: Dude. You're hanging out in a gay chatroom while you're at your mum's house for dinner? That's rank.

rl_sucks: We've had dinner. They're watching Seven Sharp. They think I'm checking my emails

rl_sucks: And I'm only on here because I wanted to catch up with you and give you my address and I didn't get your number on Saturday. Can I get your number?

Again with this thing with my number. Why could the guy not just leave me alone to be fucked up and alone by myself? I left it a full minute before replying.

kinky_af: I dunno, man...

rl_sucks: Okay. No probs. When you're ready. But how about that walk?

I sat and stared at the message, trying to will myself to do something, anything. Leave the chat. Say no. Even just close the lid of my laptop. Anything.

Another message flashed up.

rl_sucks: C'mon...what's the worst that can happen? I mean I'm not gonna fucking abduct you am I? I think we both know you could take me in a fight. Where are you atm?

Oh jeez. I really wanted him to just piss off, but at the same time I really didn't...

kinky_af: At home. Fairfield.

rl_sucks: Okay, I'm just in Chartwell, so not too far. Wanna meet me down by the river at the Esplanade entrance?

kinky_af: What one? North or South?

rl_sucks: What's quickest for you to walk to?

kinky_af: South.

rl_sucks: Okay. See you there. 10 mins?

kinky_af: Sure.

I logged out of the chat, closed my laptop, and then - somewhat to my surprise - hunted up my keys, brushed my teeth and hair, threw one of my last clean t-shirts on, and headed off in the direction of the river. How romantic, I thought to myself sarcastically. An evening stroll along the riverbank. Whatever next?

It turned out to be a bit more...romantic...than I'd bargained for, given that Reid clearly wanted us to hold hands.

"You are out, right?" he queried when I hesitated.

"Of course," I told him. "Dude, yes."

Yes, I was out - in the sense that my family, my friends, my workmates all knew. But not in the sense of wearing Pride t-shirts and going to rallies, not in the sense of being all gay-coupley on a public walkway on a weekday evening...

I let him do it. If I could've relaxed into it, I might even have enjoyed it. But I was too churned up about...other things. Like, why am I doing this? Why are you doing this? What even is this, that we're apparently doing?

After a couple of minutes in which we crossed paths with about five dog-walkers, none of whom gave us so much as a second glance, Reid said;

"J? I just wanna say I'm sorry about how things went down today, okay? Like, I totally get that conversations about personal health...stuff...they're not something you wanna be diving into after only one date, and-"