Writing About Men: Brown Eyes

In Altoona Pennsylvania, there is a beautiful boy.  He’s probably younger than me by a year or so, but I first noticed him a couple months ago at a local bar.  I was originally there to watch my uncle’s metal band perform their gig, but my attention quickly shifted to the dark sparkly brown eyes of what may be the most adorable homosexual in central Pennsylvania.

As electric guitars blared in the background, I became entwined in enfatuation.  His skin was a perfect tan, and his hair was glossy, spiked, and black.  He looked at me a couple times during his stay, and seemed to whisper things to the two girls he had with him. 

Every part of me wanted to smile, but I was ashamed to show my gapped teeth.  After hearing so many jokes about my teeth from the people close to me, it finally began wearing down on my self-esteem. (Nobody really meant to hurt my feelings, it was all in good fun.)  And now, here I was in front of this beautiful brown eyed beaut, and I was AFRAID to smile at him for fear of scaring him off.

I left that night, wondering who he was.  I ran his voice through my head, and anaylized it.  “Definitely gay.” I said. “Do ya think?” My aunt replied sarcasticly.  Leslie has the gaydar that could be equated to the radar of a submarine.  I smirked, and pushed him to the back of my mind.

Then, the other day I found him again.  This time, hanging clothes on racks at one of the clothing stores.  I did a double take.  He looked up, and went back to organizing clothing. He walked away, with a cute bubble-shaped butt, accented with his pants just barely slid down; enough that you could see his black and gray underwear.

There’s no way in hell I have a chance.

~ by Michael on May 14, 2008.