LARGETONY Blog

Every Friday afternoon, me and a handful of my co-workers spend our last fifteen minutes or so of our week together, standing line at the bank to take care of our paychecks. Some Fridays it goes faster than others, but we all tend to shoot the shit with the guy in front or behind (and sometimes someone in the line on the other side of the divider ropes) while making our trip to the teller window in 2-3 step increments.

In front of me this Friday was a guy from work who is probably the youngest on the crew. Travis (not his real name, he just looks like a Travis to me.) is twenty-one, I think. He and a buddy of his started working with us this past Spring, but the other kid didn’t last long. Anyway, Travis is a good kid. He doesn’t really talk much, but when he does its a mile a minute. Southern accents tend to go two ways, either slow with a drawl (like mine) or rapid-fire and energetic. Travis falls into the second category.

After Travis had already gone through the line, and I wrapped up my own deposit (with a little cash back for walking around) I was out the door and on my way to the truck. Just as I was crossing the parking lot, Travis drove through and pulled up to me. He was going for a beer and wanted to know if I wanted to hang out. I had a little time and some fresh money, so I figured ‘why not?’. It was hotter than hell out and I had planned to hit the shower and drink a beer as soon I was home anyway. In fact, it was so hot, I probably wouldn’t have made it past the refrigerator and the beer would come first (hell, I might just have taken a shower while drinking a beer).

By the time I got to the bar we had agreed on, he was already out of his car and was changing out of his work shirt into a plain old white ‘beater. I often keep an extra shirt or shorts in my truck,too. But it’s the end of the week and laundry is needing to be done, so I didn’t have anything with me. I was stuck with my work clothes. It was really no big deal. There was nothing fancy about this place.

We went in, went to the bar and each got ourselves a cold one, then he picked out a table near the window. Close enough to see out, but still out of the direct sunlight. Both of us being quite types, it took a while to really get much conversation going. It wasn’t like an uncomfortable silence, it was just silence. But eventually things started rolling. As we chatted I realized that even though we have worked together for several months, we really haven’t talked all that much…I mean, in the sense of getting to know each other. So, that’s sort of where conversation led…talking about our lives. Over the course of a couple of beers I found out that Travis still lived at home with his step-father (who runs an auto shop), mother, and sister. He worked for his step-father on weekends, and that, combined with the money he saved by living at home, allowed him to drive the early90’s Corvette that he does. He told me what a piece of shit it was when he got it five years ago, before he even had a license.

He told me about all the work he had done on it and all the plans he had for it in the future. He talked about how he hopes to get another one in the next coupld of years that he will recondition and then sell. Maybe start a business doing that sort of thing. But he made it clear that he would never sell the current one, telling me that “the first one is special.”

That Vette is everything to him and he got so excited talking about it that he wanted to take me on a drive. It probably wasn’t the wisest idea to strap into a powerful sports car driven by a buzzed twenty-one year old who was hell-bent on showing it off, butI did. At least we were basically out in the country instead of on the interstate. And I got to hand it to Trav. He handled the car with no troubles at all. I never for once felt unsafe. But then, maybe my mind was a little altered from drinking, too.

After a while things got quiet again. Either he was worn out on the topic, or he thought he had worn me out on the topic. Or maybe he realized that my knowledge of cars is pretty limited and I wasn’t able to appreciate much of what he was saying, beyond his excitement. But we continued to drive around, going nowhere in particular. His easy-going nature was starting to fade. Travis is a big smiler and always seems to have a postive energy, but I could tell that something wasn’t right just now. But he just kept driving.

A few minutes later, he finally spoke again. In a really quiet way he told me he wanted to ask me something. Oh, man. I knew where this was going. Somebody on my crew finally figured out that I’m gay. “Go ahead,” I said. Next, he told me to not be offended. Yep. The time had come.

“Do you know anybody queer?” he asked me.

I thought that was a weird round-about way to ask, so I gave him a round-about answer. “Yeah, I do.”

“I thought you do.” Naturally I wondered what made him think that and he reminded me of a debate some of us were having at work a few weeks ago about prejudices. During that discussion I had said that racial prejudice is, in a way, tougher to fight than some others because bigots can make a determination on sight. I used as an example that if someone is gay, you don’t always know it before you get to know the “person” and therefore a bigot’s eyes may be opened a little more easily to the fact that we’re all humans. If someone is black, the bigot can shut down immediately because they see it. (I hope I explained this clearly. Maybe I will write an entry that expands on it a bit more one day.)So, based on this discussion at work, Travis figured that I must have experienced meeting someone and later finding out they are gay.

“How did you find out the dude was a gay?” he asked me next. I chuckled a bit in my head because it always amuses me when people use the word “gay” as a noun with “a” in front it. “A gay” like it was “a shoe” or “a potato.” It just sounds funny to me. But, I answered his question. “He told me.”

“How’d he tell you?”

Since I have never had anyone really “come out” to me, I didn’t quite know how to answer that. So I just said, “I don’t know. I guess it just comes out in conversation.” (No pun intended.) Then he asked me how I felt after “the dude” told me…if it changed anything. I asked him why he wanted to know this cause now I wasn’t sure what he was getting at. He didn’t say anything for several seconds. Then it all came out…or, I should say, he came out.

“I think I’m like that. I think I’m a gay.” There was that phrase again, “a gay.” But time I was floored! It never had even crossed my mind that Travis was one of us. Never for a second. Before I really had a chance to say anything, he let fly in one breath that he was sorry for telling me, but that he has been wanting to tell somebody, and he didn’t have anybody to tell, but he could tell that I was cool and might understand and wouldn’t hate him.

I told him that he had no reason to apologize and then I asked him why he thought he “might be” gay. He went on to tell me, with embarrassment, the things that will give him boners and that even though he has never been with a guy sexually, he only has a mild interest in girls. Then he begged me not to say anything to anyone. Naturally, I won’t.

He pulled up to a gas station and I offered to pump the gas while he went in to pay. Just before we got out he asked once more. “You ain’t gonna tell nobody, right?” I assured him once again and he knocked his fist against mine and said, “You’re a straight up dude, Tony.”

I watched him walk up to the store while I filled the tank. It was wierd, but now that I knew that Travis is gay, it did seem to make a difference. Not in a bad way. It made me look at him for the first time in a physical way. I caught myself checking him out as he walked away. Although I never had before, I was assessing his attractiveness. This is not to say that I never noticed that Travis is a good-looking kid. He’s got really beautiful cat-like eyes and a very fit tight body. Not too skinny, not too muscled. He wears his hair shaved really close on the sides to where it appears that his entire head is that way, but on the very rare moments that he removes his ball cap, you can see that he has a little length on top.

I wasn’t taking stock of his looks because I had an interest. I’m almost ten years older, for God’s sake. So why, then? I’m not sure. Maybe I was trying to figure out how well he would do out. There was no doubt that with his looks and build, he could be a little fuck machine if he chose to. Maybe I was looking at him as competition. After all, the was the first gay guy I knew who was sort of like me. An uncultured redneck homo living in the country. Or maybe deep down I have always wanted to check him out, and his coming out has sort of giving me permission.

When he came out of the store he was carrying a brown bag twisted around a “forty.” He looked around for the law, then took a big swig and offered the bottle to me. I told him “no thanks” and suggested he save the rest of it til he got home. He apologized again and we headed back to my truck. The whole way, neither of us said anything else about his announcement. In fact, neither of us said anything at all.

When I got out at my own vehicle, he stared up at me looking a little worried. “Tony, are we cool?” I told him we were better than cool, and that anytime he needed to talk about something I’m there.

Driving home I went over in my mind what had happened in the last couple of hours. Here was this kid who had nobody to turn to, so he picked me. Why me? Was it really just because of that discussion at work that he thought I would understand, or did he have a feeling about my own homosexuality? I didn’t tell him about me. I wasn’t completely sure why. I’ve always been of the feeling that if someone asks me, I’ll be honest, but otherwise keep it to myself and friends. Sort of need to know basis. The questions was, did Travis need to know? Well…yeah, he does. Because I think we’re gonna need each other.

Everybody needs somebody in life who is like them. That’s what helps us survive. Just knowing that we are not the only one. Travis, at this point in his life, needs me becuase he needs to know he’s not the only one who is gay. I need Travis, at this point in my life, because I need to know that I’m not the only one who is a redneck and gay. On a rational level, we both know that we aren’t the only ones. But humans are hardly ever rational, are they?

I don’t know exactly when I will let Travis in on my story. Like any news, the timing has to be right. I don’t regret having not told him initially, if for no other reason than that the moment was about him. I think maybe he purposely invited me for a beer and was looking for the right time to say something. It was something he needed. He needed the comfort. It would have been real shitty to steal his thunder.

This entry was posted on Saturday, August 13th, 2005 at 12:50 pm and is filed under being tony. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.