Have you ever met someone who, upon meeting them, changed your life so completely? Sometimes for the better, others not so much. It either leaves you missing the days before you met them, or wondering how you ever lived your life before. Meeting Connor was like that for me. I began to question things almost from the moment I met him. Questioning where my life has been and where it is going. But more so, where could it go instead?
Outwardly, I was your typical heterosexual married male, comfortable in the role I was expected to play. Privately, I was anything but. I admit to myself at least, that I have certain bi-curious tendencies, even though I knew they would never turn into anything. Ones that have only gotten stronger and more frequent the longer I deny them.
As things always do, it starts with sight, an idle fascination from afar. Be it through magazines, pictures online, or people-watching. Just like with food, with some exceptions, we eat with our eyes first. The initial fascination grows, so we want to see more. The imagery gets more revealing. But in the end, that's never enough. So the curiosity extends to the next sensation, touch.
Minor contact with someone you find attractive, progressing to longer touches, to wanting to feel them. To explore their body, every part of it. From there, the fascination working its way into your sexual fantasies is only natural. The entire time, it's like a rollercoaster. Going from wanting it, then to denying it, believing it's wrong for some reason. Slowly wanting it again. Each time, you push further than you did before, only to end up denying it again. The process repeats. Eventually, you end up giving in and accepting that you like it, even want it. All while you accept the fact it will never happen. It's just fantasies after all.
That's where I'm at. I resign myself to admiring from a distance. Convincing myself that there's nothing wrong with looking, as long as I don't touch. As long as I don't give in. Most commonly during my nightly workout routine. There are a few regulars that I like to look at. I even find myself trying to time my shower with theirs so I can get a better look. But never going further than that.
Being married, it would be wrong to act on those fantasies. It's not like I couldn't have. I pull enough looks while working out to know that I am attractive. I could have my pick of people if I so chose. It wasn't always like that. I was your typical geeky kid growing up, large in both height and width. Teased for it from an early age throughout high school. It was rough, but I survived it, even developing thick skin because of it. Then one day, shortly after my 19th birthday, I decided I had enough. I was sitting in the university cafe reading a book. Well, half reading, half listening to the conversations going on around me. Being the geeky and chubby kid, I was invisible to almost everyone. As such, people would talk about almost anything without even realizing I was there.
The conversations I would overhear were vast. The one that got to me the most was between a small group of college girls talking about the guys they were interested in. What they liked about them. Comparing their behaviors. Ranking them. Which ones they thought they had a chance with, and so on. Not once did they talk about guys who had a future and could provide for them. Not once did they talk about the nice things guys did for them. It was almost exclusively about looks, unless their family was wealthy. That was a common exception.
Thinking back on it, it was a common theme. One I would overhear often. A few days later, I was sitting in the lecture hall listening to my professor talk about marketing tactics, specifically about the importance of first impressions. "If you can't get them to the front door, you'll never be able to sell them what you're offering." I don't know why, but that one line reminded me of the various conversations I would overhear in the cafe. Without something to attract them to you, why would they be interested enough to get to know you? To learn what kind of a future you would have together? It's not always about being able to provide them stability. Something has to create the initial attraction. I know that line of reasoning is way deeper than the conversations I would listen to, but it made sense in my mind.
Mind you, I knew looks weren't the only way to attract someone. But it was one of the most common. I spent the remainder of the lecture lost in my own mind. Thinking about myself and the fact I had never had a girlfriend. Thinking about what my future currently looked like, the future I wanted, and how I could accomplish my dreams.
Before the class ended, I decided it was time to change the one thing about myself that I didn't like. I got a gym membership and made it a point to get into shape. I knew that due to my height, if I could get the muscle, I would be an attractive guy. It became part of my daily routine. All the eye candy at the gym, both male and female, helped with the motivation. It was there that I first recognized my curiosity. At first, I thought it was because I wanted to look like them. But then I started to compare them, recognizing traits that I liked. The ones I found myself looking at the most were grouped into two categories. The ones I wanted to look like, and the ones I just liked watching.
It was when I finally asked myself, "Why are you watching them, that's not what you want to look like?" that I finally realized I was watching them because I was attracted to them. Things went further after I started to show results and I started to notice people watching me. I liked it. It gave me the drive to keep going.
By the time I graduated college, I was happy with the results. Standing 6 foot 2 inches tall, 240 pounds with a good amount of muscle. I hadn't reached my goal, but I was no longer the type of guy who was ignored. My dark hair was kept buzzed short and clean-shaven, mostly for the low maintenance aspects of it. I knew I was no longer the same person when girls in my class started to approach me. Girls that would never have given me the time of day only a few years before.
I like to think I didn't let it go to my head. I had the looks, but I was still shy. So I worked on that aspect of myself next. What better way to work on my social skills than working in a bar? But not as a bartender. I didn't know enough about all the various drinks and how to make them. So I took a job as a bouncer. It didn't take long to develop the confidence to go with my new looks.
When I was twenty-four, I landed a great job working in the marketing department for a local group of hotels, finally putting my degree to work. Being that I was single, I dove headfirst into establishing myself. This allowed me to rise through the ranks quickly, giving me the financial position where I could buy my own home. I spent a lot of my time coordinating events, mostly at the bars owned by my company. I admit, I used my looks as a tool to help me reach my goals. I worked hard for my body, so I had no problem showing it off.
That's where I met my wife, Sherry, at twenty-six years old, in a bar at a company-sponsored event. I had asked all of my friends to come and bring others to show support. Jeff, my neighbor from when I lived in an apartment and now my best friend, arrived in a rather large group. Sherry was with them. Jeff made introductions, and we hit it off, so much so that we hooked up that night. Then the next night, and the next. Before I knew it, we were dating. After about six months, she was just kind of living with me. I'm not sure how or when it happened, it just did. Not that I'm complaining, the sex was great. She worked in corporate finance, so we both had a strong business sense and were career-oriented.
Two years later, we were married. Thanks in part to a lot of pressure from my parents. They liked her a lot. I wanted to ask Jeff to be my best man, but she pushed me to ask her brother-in-law, Cliff. You know what they say. Happy wife, happy life. So I asked Cliff. Jeff was still part of the wedding party.
After about two years, maybe three, things started to slow down a bit. Only natural, I suppose, for a married couple. She took an extended leave from work to help take care of her parents. And thanks to my income and the comfortable life it afforded us, the extended leave became permanent. I didn't mind. As long as she was happy, I was cool with it.
Then, out of nowhere, for reasons I could not explain, she started obsessing over wanting a baby. Not exactly something I was eager to do. I was barely thirty years old, and my career was on the fast track. I told myself kids would only slow that down. It's a bit of a selfish opinion, I know. At this point, I reported directly to the head of marketing, and he was due to retire soon. The position was mine. It was already offered to me. But in my mind, it wasn't mine until he actually retired. I wasn't prepared to do anything to jeopardize that. A kid? That changes things.
It's not like I went into the relationship with a different opinion and changed my mind later. When we first started discussing marriage, I told her I wasn't sure I even wanted kids. She even said it was the same for her, but something changed, as it always does. I told myself I would at least consider it after I got the promotion. I even told her that, but that wasn't good enough.
Before this obsession with wanting kids, our sex life had started to become inconsistent. Through no fault of my own, my sex drive was just increasing. The few times we did have sex, it was still amazing, for me at least. But there was something different about it. It was so inconsistent that I started to suspect she was getting it elsewhere. I mean, do people go in swings from wanting lots of sex, to barely wanting it, to wanting it again? Over and over?
Once the obsession started, she wanted it all the time, just like when we first got together. I wasn't complaining. I wish I could say I tossed out the idea that she was getting it elsewhere because of it. But once suspicion enters the mind, it is not so easily cast aside. So I guess I should count myself lucky that she at least appeared to want the kid to be mine. But due to those suspicions and her relentless drive, my paranoid brain kicked in, thinking she would find a way to make it happen despite my opposition.
This caused me to be extra careful when we were having sex, always using protection and pulling out just in case. You know, the usual. The arguing began one morning when I woke up to her riding me without any protection. That's when I started to fear she would wind up pregnant one way or another. I stopped going to sleep naked after that.
Her interest in me had changed. It was strange. We would argue about everything. One would think that would cause you to lose interest in sex with them. But for her, at night, she always wanted it. I don't know if a day went by that we didn't argue. Was it angry sex? Or makeup sex? Maybe. Either way, she wanted it, so I wasn't going to say no. I would just be extra careful. At one point, I even considered secretly having a vasectomy.
The arguing did get to the point where I would look for excuses not to be at home. I started making it a point to stop by each of the hotels at least once every other week or so. Those visits were usually followed up by a drink in the hotel bar to kill time and people-watch. That's where I met Connor, about four months after the wake-up incident.
He was eye candy, and I think he knew it. About 5'8", dark spiked hair, and clean-shaven. He was wearing cargo shorts and a green polo shirt that clung to his body. You could tell he worked out, which I appreciated for more than one reason. I found the natural V-shape of his frame incredibly attractive. He was playing pool with a small group of people. I couldn't quite tell if they were friends or just random people he encountered. You could tell two of the girls were really into him. He seemed less interested in them.
I, on the other hand, didn't think I was being overly obvious when I was checking him out, usually via the mirror behind the bar. But with the number of times I looked directly at him, I guess it's easy to assume I was interested or just creepy.
I shouldn't have been surprised when he walked up to me at the bar and said, "If you're going to stare, the least you could do is buy me a drink." Yeah, he used one of those lines. At first, I was a bit shocked that I was caught. Eventually, I got a laugh out of it. I immediately offered apologies and, of course, offered to buy his next drink. "Don't stress it," he said, and then ordered a Mai Tai. His choice surprised me. I had expected him to be the typical college kid and order a beer of some form. "I have a thing for the tropics," he told me.
"Hey, I'm not judging. Just surprised is all."
"Good, I like being a surprise. It's better than being predictable." He paused for a moment and looked me up and down. Not in the way you would when checking someone out, more like sizing them up. "So, let me guess. Married, kids, not getting any at home, and you've got a curious side, but will never act on it."
"What makes you think that?"
"You've got the ring on your finger, which tells me you're married. And I've seen you before, so you aren't here visiting. But you're here alone, which says things might not be so great at home. So why would you be here checking me out rather than home screwing her? She doesn't want it, possibly due to being stressed out over the kids," he said.
His analytical mind impressed me. He looked deeper than the surface. The fact that he remembered seeing me before, when I don't believe I'd seen him before, flattered me. Maybe he was checking me out previously. Otherwise, why would I stand out in his memory? That was probably my ego, but hey, a little ego boost never hurt anyone.
"How do you know I'm not married to a guy?"
He looked me up and down, studying me for a moment, then shook his head and, with a grin, said, "Naaa." I wasn't sure how to take that response to my question. Should I be insulted in some way? Or was there something that just screamed straight about me? Bad style? That couldn't be it. Eventually, I decided it wasn't important and addressed his earlier assessment.
"You're close. Very close."
"What did I get wrong?" he asked with a flirtatious smile.
Hoping I wouldn't need to get into it, I replied, "It's a long story."
"Sounds interesting. I'm Connor, by the way."
"Ryan."
"Well, Ryan, nice to meet you. Let's go over there. You can tell me that long story. I've got plenty of time." He said while gesturing at a quiet area of the bar. It didn't sound like a request either. The guy had confidence around him, and that told me he was used to getting his way. Normally, I don't respond well to people like that. I usually liked putting them in their place, unless it was work-related. But something about him made me go with it. Maybe it was his looks, or that he seemed very charming, or both. More so, I think it was that he was interested in learning more about me.
We moved to one of the secluded sofa areas meant for small groups of people to comfortably relax and talk. I jokingly asked him if he was even old enough to be in the bar. I had him pegged at being 21, maybe 22 years old. But it turned out he was 25, with youthful good looks. We talked about how he moved here for college and was staying in the dorms at the local university, ASU, studying Hotel Management. A little bit of a late start, but at least he's doing it.
When I explained what I did for a living and that the company I worked for owned the very hotel we were in, he proceeded to ask me a million questions, which I eagerly answered. I was a bit relieved I didn't have to give the backstory of my crazy marriage. Normally, I think someone wouldn't want to talk about work when they're off. But I, on the other hand, enjoyed my work. So I enjoyed talking about it. Two hours and several drinks later, he changed the topic.
"So, you still haven't told me which parts I was wrong about."
"Do you really want to know?" I asked. He just nodded. I probably should have explained when we first sat down, because now I had a few more drinks in me and was talking a bit more freely than I would have before. I explained about the home situation, that I was indeed married but without kids. I went on to explain about the arguments and that the marriage was kind of on the rocks because she wanted kids and I didn't. "Maybe it's a bit selfish of me, but I don't want to introduce that kind of complexity into my life right now."
"It's not selfish. She's selfish. From the sounds of it, you were honest about it from the beginning, right?" I nodded my confirmation. His statement gave me a bit of reassurance that I wasn't the asshole in all of this.
"So lately, I don't want to be at home because I would rather not argue." I went on to explain my fears of her trying something to get pregnant, knowing that if it ever did happen, I would ask for a DNA test. It would piss her off big time, but I would need to be sure. Maybe that's why she didn't try to get it from someone else. Maybe she knows that would be my reaction. "It sucks having sex but being guarded the entire time. It makes it so you can't fully enjoy it."
"Is that why you're here tonight, looking for someone else to fuck instead?" I couldn't tell if it was an offer or not. At least his tone of voice told me it wasn't a condemnation.
"No, not at all. I don't want to cheat on her. I'm not like that. I just needed some time away from the house. A chance to clear my head and decide what I want to do next. Besides, I try to stop by each of the hotels at least once every few weeks, making my rounds and such."
"That's respectable," he replied. "But it still doesn't explain why you were checking me out."
"Nothing wrong with looking, is there?" I teased.
"So, you admit it. You were checking me out," he said with a smug smile. It was adorable.
"Guilty. I'm guessing you're gay, or at least bi?"
"I classify myself as gay, but given the right situation, I'll fuck a woman. And you are?"
"Curious?" I replied, maybe a little too quick. "And you have a thing for guys older than you." It was a reasonable question, given the fact he had previously taken notice of me and then approached me this time. It was a poor attempt to turn the conversation back to being about him.
"Maybe I do. I go for guys my age too," he replied. "You're not that much older than I am. What, 27?"
"32," I replied, flattered that he had shaved off five years from my age.
"That must really suck," he replied in a joking way. Then went on to explain. "To be in your prime and not able to act on it because you have a wife at home. A wife you can't even fuck without dealing with bullshit." Then, without asking for my permission, he reached over and picked my phone up off the table. This just reassured me of my prior opinion. He was used to getting his way.
He turned it toward me for me to unlock it, and I did. I guessed as to what he was doing, which was confirmed when he handed the phone back. I saw that he had not only entered his number into my address book but also added it to the favorites list. "I doubt you would have asked for it. So now, you don't need to."
Maybe it was all the drinks I had, but I immediately tapped the button to send him a text message. "And now you have mine too."
We continued to talk for at least another hour, an hour that went by way too quickly. I was high on that feeling you get when you meet someone you immediately connect with, a feeling I had virtually forgotten existed.
"You may want to consider getting home to the wife. I believe I have significantly monopolized your time tonight, enough so that you may be in trouble." He was right too. It was late, very late. To say that I was in trouble with the wife when I got home was a bit of an understatement. I made up a work excuse, which just pissed her off even more, as she knew work was my primary reason for not wanting kids.
More arguing followed, this time with accusations that it wasn't about work, that I was out meeting some slut. That was the first time she had actually accused me of cheating. It took everything in me not to throw that accusation right back at her. I couldn't help but wonder why the change. Why the accusation when she had never done that before? Was she projecting her own guilt? Eventually, she stormed off to the bedroom and slammed the door shut.
I used the guest bathroom to take a shower and opted to sleep in the guest room. I figured it was the safer path, especially if I wanted to get any sleep at all. As I lay there, rather than stew over the argument, I chose to think about my evening with Connor, in part hoping that he would be in my dreams.
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