Page 84 of Employing Patience

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ART

Another all-night fuckfest, another sleepover, another morning of Joey trying to convince me this should happen again before he slips out the door. And even though my mouth says no, I think it’s all reflex by this point. He’s clearly not straight, he’s clearly not unaffected, and the excuses I’ve been surrounding myself with are wearing thin.

I’m staring down the barrel of a decision that could change my life forever.

Continue leading the bachelor life.

Or give in and see where this thing takes me.

The terrifying thing is that one of those choices feels like pulling the trigger on a one-way trip to pain … yet it feels like the only real option anyway.

Every time I even try to contemplate ending things—really ending things and not just denying him because seeing Joey fight for me turns me on—it makes something shrivel up inside me.

It could be my heart, but I like to joke I don’t have one of those.

If I end up in a relationship, Christ, if I end up hurt, people will know it’s all bullshit. I don’t know how to be anyone other than the man who jokes around about sex and gets his dick out for anyone at any time.

It’s just past dawn, and I’m already craving a day in the brewery. Hard work and manual labor to get me through. I’m itching to move, keep my body occupied so that my mind can’t take over. I could hit the gym or make plans to go out dancing. I could go and bake with my niblings or go for a hike in the mountains or see what I could find out around town about people who might need my help.

Instead, I lie in bed, looking out the window, staring at the sky and wondering what Joey is doing right now. It’s the weekend, so I know he didn’t go to Freddy’s. Does that mean he’s at home? Does he like what I did to the place? I hate not being able to ask him about these things, but then that just adds an extra layer of confusion to this … situationship we have.

What I did as a concerned donor is one thing; paying off every little thing for the guy I’m starting to build feelings for is another area entirely. What would Joey think if he found out it was me? Would he care? Would he think I overstepped? These are questions I’ve never needed to worry about when I give the way I give. But starting this … something with somebody I’ve given a lot of money to opens up the kind of moral dilemmas I haven’t considered before.

People are tricky, layered, and unpredictable. I can hope all I like that he’ll take my generosity in the way I want it to be taken, but there’s no guarantee of that. I could keep it a secret from him, never reveal the truth, but even though I know shit all about relationships, I’ve picked up enough to know you should never start one on a lie.

I roll out of bed and stretch my arms high over my head, feeling each pop and strain of my muscles as they loosen from a night of hard fucking.

That itching feeling hasn’t left me. I’m almost bursting at the seams. A small part of me needs to talk about this, but I wouldn’t even know where to start or who I could bring it up with. That’s one thing about playing this set part all these years. People know me one way, the way I’ve always been. Twenty-five years of cementing this persona have led me to a very awkward position. I’m always telling my men that change equals growth and growth is good, and look at me here, not able to take my own advice.

I’m a hypocrite.

Joey doesn’t deserve a guy who’s all wishy-washy about him. Joey deserves the type of man who’ll claim him, who’ll be proud to be by his side. In my head, I can see myself being that man. I figure that has to mean something, considering I’ve never seen myself that way before. Never even wanted to.

And now, this loose-haired, cocky-attitude bartender has torn down everything I thought I knew about myself with a few pretty words and a fearless attitude.

But the more I see of Joey, the more I realize he’s exactly like me. He puts on a confident smile when he feels most displaced. He acts careless when he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. He pretends like absolutely nothing affects him when really, he’s driven, ambitious, and working toward something that I haven’t been able to put my finger on yet. Joey creates the character he wants the rest of the world to see, but unfortunately for him, I’ve been doing the same thing for far longer, and he’s making it too easy for me to read his cards.

I’m onto you now, Joey.

And with every glimpse he shows me, I only want to see more.

And isn’t that fucking peachy?

Two options. Two gun barrels. One choice is safe. Easy. It should be a no-brainer. Stay away. Avoid him. Give myself time to remember who I am.

Or pull the trigger.

Maybe a grenade would be better imagery, given the way Joey is sure to blow my world up.

* * *

Avoid and ignore, it is.

Or at least, that’s what I think my plan is going to be. Apparently, Joey has other plans.

On my usual Sunday morning at the market, picking up groceries for the week, Joey is there doing the same. He doesn’t give me more than a nod and a good morning, and I can’t figure out if he’s respecting my wishes over keeping this thing low-key or if he’s just pissing me off with his nonchalance.

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