A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Sexual Orientation (16 page)

Jenny turned out to be one of those feminist mothers who wasn't afraid to punish the children without first consulting her husband. While it wasn't unusual for the kids not to be able to appeal a ruling by their mother, it was unusual that the husband couldn't. Jenny and Kenny must have had an unspoken understanding between them that she laid down the law and he followed it. Unfortunately, that meant someone now had to stay home with the boys, since one of them was grounded and the youngest would only be bored going out with us.

Jordan volunteered to remain behind so we could go. I wondered if he did it because of the exchange between us earlier. That was really a stupid thought. Of course that was why he didn't come, and I doubted I could have been much ruder to him. Didn't people like him get used to that, though? Didn't they know that by broadcasting something like homosexuality they would be practically advertising for trouble?

In light of that, it seemed rather pointless to embrace such a choice and go against the majority of society. No, it actually seemed more ignorant and self-destructive than anything else. Why would he do that to himself? Why would anybody?

"Let's get outta here!” Jenny yelled after we changed into our swimsuits, grabbed some towels and headed for the door. We pulled into a driveway a short time later, and another woman ran out to greet us. She had short dark hair, wore a swimsuit that truly complimented her body and carried a rather large bag.

"Diane,” Jenny introduced us as the woman got into the minivan, “this is my cousin from Michigan, Andy. He's a writer, so I wouldn't piss him off because he'll write about you."

Both women laughed. Apparently, this was funny to them. My parents were extremely supportive of what direction I wanted to go in life, and I doubt very much they would have laughed at that joke. My writing about them was exactly what my mother was hoping to avoid!

"A writer, huh?” Diane looked me over while Jenny backed out and headed for the open road. It was rather a relief to see that someone of the opposite sex was looking at me in that way instead of Jordan. I certainly felt a bit more comfortable, if not also more aware of my posture and lack of a physique. “Have you considered transferring out to UCLA? I think I heard that they have a really great writing program there, especially if it has anything to do with screenwriting. It's the perfect area for it."

"Yeah ... true. It's convenient with the university and Hollywood being so close together, but I'm not sure screenwriting is what I want to do yet.” Actually, I didn't know what the hell I wanted to do yet other than just wanting to write. Write what, though? Here was another great moment in my life with no focus. “So, I guess probably not."

"Jenny's nephew Jordan goes to UCLA,” She informed me.

"Then definitely not."

Diane gave me a puzzled look, but I ignored it. I wondered if she knew about him.

"Besides, the school I'm going to now shows some promise, and I really hate to cut anything short there without seeing if I've the potential for writing or for becoming ... a garbage collector.” I made a face that reflected my thoughts on having that as my future occupation.

"My husband's a garbage collector.” She spoke matter-of-factly.

"Uh ... hmm. There's certainly ... nothing wrong with that at all.” I was going to crash and burn quickly if I didn't come up with a save. It was a good thing Uncle Chester wasn't here to tell her how prejudiced I was against farmers and ditchdiggers, too. “It just isn't writing, which is what I seem to have a passion for. Heck, there's money to be made from garbage collecting.” I tried to sound positive and sincere. “It's an honest job, not like having to sell your body in some cheap strip club while taking clients in the back for a quickie and hoping that the tips cover the grocery bill for the next week."

"Actually, Andy,” Jenny gave me a side look, “Diane's sister is an exotic dancer in a strip club in Seattle, and she has to hope that her tips cover the cost of raising her four children and the grocery bill."

"Right...” Screw it. I was sunk. “Well, does anybody have a brother who's knocked up his girlfriend, quit school, married her, then gone on government aid and collected food stamps instead of getting a paying job of some kind?” I waited. At first, there was silence ... and then there wasn't.

"Well,” Diane said, “Jenny has a brother who knocked up three girls, skipped off to Mexico and is currently serving hard time down there for bestiality. Does that count?"

"You have got to be kidding me.” I understood that people had screwed-up lives, but this had to be a record in dysfunction.

"Yes!” They looked at each other and burst out laughing. While my parents wouldn't have laughed at their first little joke, I definitely wasn't laughing at this one.

Diane decided to tell me the truth, “In all seriousness, my husband is a computer program-mer and my sister's an attorney. The only time I've seen her dance was at her wedding, but I'm sure she couldn't hold a candle to what I heard you did last night at the Ambassador."

"Di!” Jenny smacked her friend on the leg. “You're going to embarrass him. It's like that time you bought Jordan that bright neon thong underwear for Christmas as a gag gift."

I really didn't want to be listening to this conversation. Jordan's life was already more of an open book to me than I cared to know, and this was pushing the limits. Diane was really a bit of a sadist!

Between the little joke at my expense and the one at Jordan's, she reminded me of my bitch aunt back home. Two years ago for Christmas, Aunt Patricia gave me a four-pack of condoms in front of the entire family with “a lifetime supply for Andy” written on the box in large bold print. My response the following year was the largest pacifier I could find with “I'm sure you haven't had anything in your mouth to suck on in a long time” written on the package. Again, I was the only one laughing. I wondered how Jordan had reacted.

"He was pretty red when you did that to him,” Jenny managed to get out between chuckles. “However, if I recall—and I have the pictures to prove it—you were the one who was the reddest at the end of the night when he walked out and modeled them for you in front of everybody."

"Yeah.” Diane blushed. “I was. If I hadn't seen that issue of the
Advocate
on the table, I never would have known they even had rainbow thong underwear. At least the gay pride symbol is colorful, and he has such a great ass, doesn't he?” Before Jenny could reply, if she was going to at all, Diane turned around and looked at me. “Andy, if you get a chance, take a look at it. Tell us what you think."

"I am not going to look at Jordan's ass!"

"He'd probably show you before any of us again anyway,” Diane teased. “And if his package is still anything like we glimpsed that night, he's going to make somebody a very happy man!"

It was obvious she knew about him after all. I wondered if there was anyone who didn't know about him. Why didn't he just take an ad out in the
New York Times
while he was at it?

"But that ass..."

"Andy's is pretty nice, too,” Jenny offered, “and there are plenty of witnesses who would back that statement up."

Here was more conversation I didn't want to hear.

"Hey, maybe we should compare them to see whose is better!"

"You people have demons,” I informed them matter-of-factly. So, this is what girl talk was all about? Guys discussed bust sizes and women chatted about rear ends. Was there no end to the magic of differences between the sexes? I wondered if their conversation would differ at the beach; Jordan would probably make better company for them, since all three could then discuss the asses and packages of the guys walking around. That certainly wasn't what
I
was going there for.

Jenny finally pulled onto a side street and found a parking spot. The three of us piled out, I with my towel and a book, Jenny with her towel and small bag and Diane with her towel and large bag. I was extremely curious as to what could be so important to take to the beach that required a bag the size of one I used for my laundry. I offered to carry it for her, mostly to see if I could take a peek at whatever it was, but she politely declined.

Now that we had everything, we followed Jenny as she set out towards the distant sound of waves and birds. This was going to be an extremely relaxing and monumental experience for me. I'd always wondered about the ocean and wanted to swim in it just to say I'd done it. Now that I was approaching it, though, the only thing I could think of was the movie Jaws. When I finally saw the water, I almost started to panic. Somewhere out there was a shark with my name on it. Maybe I'd just go in up to my knees. No, that was no good. I'd seen smaller sharks at aquariums that could survive and hunt in water that shallow. Maybe I'd just put my feet in. Wait a moment. Weren't there jellyfish in the ocean, and couldn't they sting someone into unconsciousness? Even if they couldn't, what if I was allergic to them? I would stop breathing, collapse and then the tide would carry me out to a shark.

The ocean was really losing its appeal.

I stopped a few minutes to smell the air and take a look around me. There were women everywhere! Some of them had children, so I ignored them. Some of them had boyfriends attached to their faces and waists, so I ignored them, too. Some, however, were alone and so absolutely ripe, so absolutely bursting in the bust area that I could barely contain myself. Those, I concentrated on.

Disturbingly, I didn't have the feelings of sexuality I suspected I should upon seeing breasts; mostly, I just wanted to see them jiggle and wiggle, like those Jell-O commercials. Maybe this was my second adolescence, or maybe this was just what it meant to be straight.

By the time I caught up to Jenny and Diane, they had already turned a small area of sand into a little oasis complete with a large umbrella, extra-large blankets and a tiny bar situated on a cooler. At least I now knew what she stored in that bag of hers.

Diane was making herself a daiquiri while Jenny was busy putting suntan lotion on.

"You should really put some of this on.” She handed me the bottle. “Michigan must not get very much sun, considering how white you are. You'll be red as a lobster if you're not careful."

"Thanks.” I started putting some on the exposed areas of my body while continuing to look around. “There are a lot of babes on this beach. This is great!"

"Yeah, I've never seen so much silicone and cases of liposuction in one place in my entire life,” Diane remarked. “I hope Jenny warned you about the women around here."

"What about them?” Did they like sex to the point where they almost killed mortal men? Were they carefree to the point of just making a public spectacle of themselves while engaging in killing their men with sex? Did they have extreme grading criteria? Well, so what. None of the ripe single women on the beach today would need to employ fruit to satisfy themselves. I was here!

"They can be a little rough,” Jenny cautioned me.

"Unmerciful,” Diane added, “especially in today's market."

"True,” Jenny agreed. “Maybe you should just stay here for a while and watch what goes on before trying anything. Have a drink with us and read a little of your book and just relax."

No way! There was no way in hell I was going to sit down and relax now that I was finally here. At least, I wasn't going to relax while I was still without the company of some fine women out for a piece of this ass people seemed to think was so nice. I didn't travel for four and a half hours by plane with a drunk grandmother who couldn't remember my name, deal with her overbearing brother and get kissed by some gay guy just to sit and read a damn book! I wanted some ... some ... some of what 2 Live Crew sang about in that first notorious song of theirs. This was war, and it was time for nookie!

"I think I'll just go ahead and wander around a bit and take a look at the selection. My friends back home tell me that I have a kind of charm that just attracts the beast in women.” I was lying, but it sounded like the thing to say. It was an ego boost if nothing else. Now all I had to do was fool my own ego.

"Suit yourself.” Diane sighed. “We'll be here when you come crying—” Jenny smacked her leg. “...crawling—” Another smack. “...walking back."

I gave them both a curious look then set out on my first expedition to score with a California woman. There were boobs as far as the eye could see, most of them pointing up towards the sky in hopes of being climbed and championed by some adventurous soul looking to share some of his spirit. Hey! That actually didn't sound so bad. Maybe I had a future in writing erotic stories. Most of those authors were writing about things they'd never experienced, and there was quite a bit I'd never experienced. As long as I could fake it like they did, there was money to be made.

The possibility of making a career out of writing about things I had no real knowledge of gave me the extra edge my self-esteem needed to include a few brunettes along with the blondes I was focusing on. There was no reason to set my sights so standard. No limits. I would just go with the flow. I'd ... Whoa!

There before me under the golden sun sat someone who would be my first attempt of the day at sexual satisfaction. She was incredible! She was blond but not bleached, thin but not frail, tanned but not burned, waxed but not scarred, shaved but not cut up and, best of all, she was alone!

She was also struggling to get some suntan lotion on a part of her back that was difficult to reach. While my heart went out to her, my anatomy was strangely silent. Wake up!

"Excuse me,” I greeted her, and she looked up at me. “Hi. You look like you're having some trouble, and I was wondering if I could help you with that."

"Sure,” she agreed, “for ten bucks."

"Ten bucks?” My face felt like it had dropped off my head. Either she thought I was out to have sex with her or something else was going on that I wasn't aware of. Well, actually I
was
trying to have sex with her, but I think she misunderstood my intentions, if that was possible. “Wait, I'm not ... Well, I mean ... Why would you charge me for putting suntan lotion on you? I was only being friendly."