I thought my bud Bill, married for forty years to a woman, with two grown kids, an accountant by profession, and supposedly a mature man of the world, would know better, particularly with a career faggot like me to guide him as his mentor. But while he may be 60 chronologically, he’s a naïve 16 in gay years. Desperate to find love after sowing his oats for the past two years, he’s let his dick overtake his brain. He’s turned into the mushy, prom-girl persona we used to make fun of in other guys.
He’s fallen for a loser.
This loser’s name is Jesse. He’s fifty, once a leatherman beauty, now getting worn around the edges, after non-stop partying and two decades as a poz guy. Jesse’s never held down a regular 9 to 5 job, and after a brief stint in the Navy, came out and worked mostly under the table as a bartender, DJ, and sometime male escort so he wouldn’t fuck up the $693 he collects a month in state disability because of his HIV. To his credit, Jesse was the on-again, off-again paramour of a wealthy man for the last fifteen years, who essentially supported him while he treated Jesse like shit, but didn’t leave him a dime when the old man died of cancer. But hey, Jesse’s got a clear head: he’s also on meth.
And my Bud Bill, the perpetual Daddy, loves Jesse, and not just because he’s a great fuck, and believes Jesse when Jesse says he loves him. Remember that Bill admitted to me he was never rejected – never ever rejected – by anyone in his obviously charmed personal life, and fell for that made-for-TV Logo movie about “The Life” which he thought was populated by wealthy, highly artistic men.
Not that he would support anybody, Bill really thinks Jesse, with his fatherly guidance, can rehab his life and go str8 – hold down a responsible job, get his own place, get off the meth, etc. Now Jesse says he wants to undergo that rehab and find his inner soul in New Orleans where a buddy can put him up and a bartending job – in a dive gay bar with a backroom, where else? – awaits him. So following a week at Bill’s condo after being kicked out by his brother, Jesse is ready to flick over to the Big Easy.
Got to hand to him; Jesse may be 50, with no job and no money, but he has his PhD. In manipulation.
Beams Bill like a schoolgirl with a crush: “Once he gets settled, I know he’ll get his own place and we can visit one another til he’s ready to make a fresh start here in Lauderdale.”
What do you think?
Know what I think?
I think Bill’s the one on drugs.