Brad’s Search : Part 1


“Wow. Look at her legs!”

“They are pretty impressive.”

“Why don’t you go ask her out?”

“Come on guys; you know how shy I am.”

There we were again for the thousandth or so time. Gary, Harry, and I usually found ourselves spending time with each other at Cooters, the local straight guy hangout. Well, mostly. Even though Gary and Harry are two of the friendliest and most accepting straight guys I have ever met, they are still straight, and while they do enjoy occasionally going to the variety of gay bars we have here in Seattle, we seem to hang out at Cooters more often than not. I don’t seem to mind it, because every time we go, Gary and I inevitably try to set Harry up with one of the busty waitresses or one of the few single female customers. It never seems to work. We should vary our strategy.

“If you keep using your shyness as an excuse, you’re never going to get laid. Dying lonely and a virgin is no way to go, Harry.”

“Maybe once I’ve had one more beer.”

“It’s always just one more beer.”

“How’s work going, Brad?” Harry is apparently through with our attempts to set him up for the night.

“It’s work. The pay is OK, but I know I could do better.”

“Why don’t you go looking for another job?”

“I would, but my boss and coworkers are actually pretty good. Plus, I can’t really take the time off to interview for other jobs, with Stan running into some financial difficulty.”

Our waitress comes by and refills our drinks. She asks Harry if he wants one more beer, and Harry shakes his head to indicate that he is OK for the night. I see his cheeks turn a bright shade of red as the waitress walks away.

“What’s wrong with Stan? I thought he had enough money to finish his degree.”

“He did, until his parents found out he was living in sin up in Seattle with me. They just pulled all of his tuition money. He’s supposed to finish in two more semesters, but it looks like that won’t be happening any time soon. We’re still trying to figure something out.”

“See, that’s why you need to just break up with him. He depends on you way too much. He needs to learn how to depend on himself.”

“But I’ve helped him out this far. As much as I agree with you, I can’t pull out now.”

“Well just pretend you’re one of us straight guys who really doesn’t want to get his girlfriend pregnant. You’ve got to pull out, dude!”

“I really can’t do something like that to him.”

“You’re way too nice, Brad.”

We are nearly done, and it is getting pretty late, anyway. We swig down the rest of our drinks, pay our waitress, and leave Cooters, sure to return soon. Gary drives us home, since he usually offers to be our designated driver whenever there is alcohol involved.

I walk into my apartment with all the lights off. Stan is usually at home on a weekday working on assignments or studying, but lately he hasn’t been home after his classes until really late at night. I do sometimes wonder where he is, but I try not to be jealous or untrusting. He hasn’t come home bloody or with clothes torn, so I guess I shouldn’t worry, right?

He has been out late for three nights in a row, and he always gets home long after I’ve been asleep. I can’t wait up for him, and I also can’t ignore the growing sexual frustration inside me, either. I peel off all my clothes and take a quick shower to relax. I dry myself off and lie on top of my bedsheets.

My hands start rubbing my chest and head lower and lower toward my torso. I start rubbing one out, getting closer and closer to climax, but I cannot stop thinking about Stan and how frustrated I am with his whole situation. Why can’t his parents accept him for who he is? How is he going to pay for school? Is he going to drop out even with two semesters left?

I look down at myself. I’ve gone limp. Great. I decide to call it a night, crawl under the sheets, and go to sleep.