Come on and do me and do me and do me in. (Take 2)

Ok, so my thing with Senior Girl created an interesting love triangle, the third side of which was Senior Guy. Senior Guy was a good friend of mine, who also had a thing for Senior Girl. So when I “got her,” being the compassionate guy that I am, I of course seized every opportunity to rub his face in it through very public displays of spit-swapping, tonsil hockey, bodily contact, etc.

I know. What a friend. But it was all in fun. The three of us spent a hell of a lot of time together, and we enjoyed one of those vulgar, mocking, playfully antagonistic rapports, always showing our mutual affection through biting sarcasm and witty insults.

Looking back, I can now also acknowledge that my friendship with Senior Guy was marked by a healthy dose of sexual tension. I didn’t realize it at the time (seriously) and don’t think he did either, but you know what they say about hindsight. We’ve had limited contact in the years that have followed, but suffice to say, if the stars were to align themselves in such a way, I’d totally fuck him.

But I digress.

So when Senior Girl tired of me and took her leave, Senior Guy and I remained close friends. He didn’t even attempt to go after Senior Girl himself, because by that time he had had his own tragic and confounding first guy/guy experience. And I was his shoulder to lean on. And that is all.

But this is where it gets B-movie ridiculous... Around that same time, I was cast in a local summer production of Brigadoon. I am not kidding. Huge cast, with lots of guys parading around in skirts. I mean, kilts. And never having worn a skirt before (sorry, kilt), our first dress rehearsal was an experience for me and the number of other guys in that particular position.

Well. Let’s just say that there were any number of, ahem, more experienced fellows in the cast who were more than willing to lend a, um, hand in helping to figure out the specifics of getting in and out of our skirts. Kilts. Sorry.

I’m so not kidding (wish I were). So there I was, standing in the dressing room struggling with this confusing piece of plaid fabric, when I was approached by a particularly helpful cast member, easily twice my age, with whom I suddenly found myself in the cheesiest of porn scenarios. Chalk it up to youthful naïveté, but as he reached up underneath my skirt (kilt!), I honestly was shocked when the groping started.

I was so pissed! What the fuck?!?! Standing in the middle of a crowded dressing room?! I pushed him away, retreating to a nearby chair so that I could...collect myself. He stumbled backwards, attracting the attention of those around us, mumbling something stupid and making some lameass joke.

I repeat: I was so pissed! I was also so...aroused. Motherfucker! Trying desperately to conceal my hardon, I strode into the bathroom, only to be followed by cheesey porno man. And in a moment of extremely questionable judgment, we got down to some quick bid’ness before reporting to the stage for rehearsal.

I felt kind of used and disgusted afterwards. (I know, wah wah. Shut up, bitch.) But it wasn’t a really pleasant memory, and cheesey porno man and I didn’t relate well to each other after that. But at the same time, as I made out with a girl that night who was also in the show, I’d be lying if I said my mind didn’t keep wandering back to that completely unexpected encounter just a few hours earlier...

[Episode I can be found here.]