Entry #3
I can't say much about this one. It's a little confusing, even for me. As you can surely tell, I'm Boris obsessed again.
Disclaimer: Nothing
-Looking Right Through-
And that was why Boris was gay.
Or so, he thought, anyway.
It first started when he realized that unlike all the other men, pushing past him, working with him, and occasionally hanging out with him, he did not stop to look at everyone. His colleagues would whisper amongst themselves, damn look at her – how short is that skirt, before another would reply, but Svetlana up in accounting is much sexier.
Their rambles and sex-talk tangents did not amuse him.
He determined, after musing one day, during his lunch hour, that men looked at every woman to pass their peripherals. They gazed at everything, one brief glance, and a casual stare or sometimes, they would gawk. Appeased or not, they simply had to do it.
Boris found the display, of the men rather, to be pathetic. Why did they bother looking at everything, as if they were entitled to it all? Did they not know their own preferences? Why did they browse, continuously? Eye-candy, they called it. It never hurt to look. But why waste the time and energy? For a brief, deluded fantasy? Was it worth it? Were they so horny?
He found it to be disgusting. Only look when you are interested. What if the other person catches your glance? Will you feel guilty? Will it be a mistake? Looks can be deceiving. Did these men not realize that they were only misleading themselves?
Men are not patient, he resolved. They did not take the time to slow down and carefully observe. Observations were not based on appearances, but based on your own personality, likes, dislikes, and taste.
Boris could sit, silent, lifting his eyes to stare at the occasional interesting person to venture by him. However, during these moments of peace, indulging in the breeze of the late afternoon, he noticed that his eyes wandered only for the masculine sex. His thoughts, so consumed with the follies of his gender, had become obsessed.
There was nothing wrong with being gay, he decided and accepted this conclusion.
The chain of thought, however, a cyclical process, in constant repeat, began anew, although slightly varied. Did gay men also look at everything to pass them? Did they openly admit to checking out every male to walk past them, straight or even perhaps, curious.
A glance, now and then is acceptable, but delusion, it not.
Boris gave up contemplating – it was another waste of time. He needed a drink and a bar to take the week's edge off. A first shot of vodka, a second, and then a beer. It all tasted the same and it made him smirk. He surveyed the room; dancers, other drunks, no one particularly stood out. The variances, he began to notice, were few and shortcoming.
What was the point of looking when everyone was the same?
It was his first time at a gay bar. There were women, but none spared him a look, nor did he acknowledge them. He had never really watched the opposite sex. He wanted a man and another beer. The round came and went; another ensued and while this continued, in a light stupor, he found himself finally staring at a face that captivated his attention.
Someone, just then, wandered over and dropped down into the chair in front of him. Boris realized that this someone was the same someone he was staring at – the smirking redhead, tall, slender, with gorgeous eyes, long legs, and a nice ass.
His smirking lips parted; a breath escaped before a string of words, daring syllables, spoke out above the boring music,
''For almost an hour now, you have been staring at me, out of all the people in this bar.''
''So, you noticed?''
''I did. I observed and decided accordingly to venture over.''
Some men, at least, perhaps even this redhead, had standards and knew exactly what they were looking for.
''I'm Boris.''
''Yuriy.''
It was that easy – or so Boris told himself. Why waste time? Why tease yourself? Why? Why? Why?
Why look right through everyone, instead of directly at someone?
Just because, they would say, at work.
Just because…
No thanks. His eyes found something they were interested in – a blue set, staring only at him.
-EndE-