Twinkle Toes by Seth King

Author:Seth King [King, Seth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-02-26T18:30:00+00:00

Social media update from @AndyRob:

Another note to self: never consume gourmet spicy meatballs the evening before you want to have sex with the man of your dreams, because YIKES.

5

I wake up in Gus’ room the next morning, slightly hungover and bloated as hell. As I slouch into the bathroom I marvel at the previous night’s memories flashing in front of me.

Spoiler alert: we didn’t get to have sex. A lot of women don’t understand gay sex, and honey, you have to use the same hole for your vagina and your…well, you know. So your diet plays into the equation to a huge extent. Sometimes the gay gods smile down on us. Sometimes they don’t. Most of the time I can hop into the shower and clear things out with my finger and some prayer, but this time…well, my lunch came out to say hello. But it was fine, and after I desperately cleaned up and washed off with soap five times, I hopped back into bed and did…well, everything but sex.

But holy shit, did I really get to hook up with Gus Sanchez, though? Life is becoming a dream, and I can’t wait to shove it all in Hattie’s face and tell her every single jealousy-inducing detail! Most people feel guilty or ashamed after a one-night stand, but I don’t equate sex with shame. And besides – holy shit, again, I just had almost-sex with Gus Sanchez!

As I watch the exceedingly hot man sleep next to me, I take a moment to look back and marvel at how I got here in the first place. When I was younger, I thought my gayness was a secret burden I would have to live with forever. I thought it was so shameful, so disgusting, I’d go to my grave with this side of me locked away. When I was little I thought I’d have to die with the secret of my sexuality hidden inside me. It still astounds me that I am allowed to be my colorful, irreverent, sassy self in public – trust me, the life I saw for myself as a child looked nothing like this.

I did slip once, though. For some reason I see a vivid flashback of the moment I accidentally blurted out to my mother that I thought I was gay. We were fairly close, and she seemed like the best person I could talk about my feelings with. (I just didn’t know I’d go as far as actually coming out of the closet to her.) We were watching one of those Bachelor-type dating shows she loved, because gays are the first fag hags, and we did everything together. The guy picked the wrong girl, the villain, and so the girl-next-door type was sent home in a flood of tears inside some cheesy limo.

“No fair,” my mom said. “Stupid men. She had a degree and was so passionate about that dolphin charity, or whatever. You’d be good to end up with a woman like that one day.”

“What

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