Pete looked good naked. To be honest, I wasn’t sure he would. He had little hands. Big arms, nice chest, broad shoulders, and baby hands. Not like genetic defect hands. More like, hey-I’m-a-little-petite-so-what hands.
Nevertheless, I liked him. Gorgeous smile, and he got my humor. When I text other boys, “Hey, do you think I should wear my onesie to the gym today?” they usually reply “uh….no,” or “why would you do that?” Pete replied, “Yes but not the mauve. I’m wearing that one.” He got me. Not only did he appreciate my candor, he said mauve when other boys would simply say purple. Creativity at its finest.
[EDITOR’S NOTE: Mikey does not actually own a mauve onesie.]
[EDITOR’S NOTE: Okay, he might.]
Pete and I had become friends through serving each other in some of Hollywood's not-so-finest watering holes. On Pride I met up with Pete in a new venue where the only things either of us was serving were oogly eyes. (Yes, I worked oogly eyes into a blog, and I don’t feel bad about it.)
The need for more drinks post last-call found us in his apartment with his roommate and a half dozen of our closest friends (What were their names again?). The need for privacy found us downstairs in his building's garage and in his brand new 2012 Jeep. While one eye was on his well-kept physique (even the hands!), the other roamed around at the track lighting... built-in blue tooth... lumbar support....
The back seats came down and what followed was something completely unanticipated in this situation: a really good time. That much alcohol... having sex in a jeep... let's be perfectly honest. That's all the makings for a 'meh' time and me asking myself an hour later if it was worth the walk of shame. It was. Why? ‘Cause it was fun.
The sex was good, and Pete kept his fiery personality even under the sheets... er... car roof. Huge turn on for me. There was no shame in my walk. Until I realized... holy shit. I like this guy. Like I want to go on a date with him. What the hell is that about?
So what is a guy to do in this situation? If we’re going to be brutally bitchily honest, I’ve hooked up with a few boys with whom I would have no desire to ever share conversation over a risotto. And I love risotto.
How do I know if he would be interested? I have no problem asking a guy out. Sometimes it’s successful. Sometimes I get a sympathetic look. I do have a slight problem with being the sad guy who mistook drunken sex for possibility. Could that the best way to find possibility? It’s like going for a spin through Costco and trying a sample of the mushroom puffs with no intention of purchase to discover, wait, I really like mushroom puffs.
Is there some rule I’m not aware of that you can’t ask someone to a movie after you’ve already bottomed in the back of their vehicle?
While I wish I had a nice little ending to this one, I pose this question to you:
How do I get paired with Pete? Or is it too late?
When the legs open, does the window of opportunity close?