Page 21 of Greedy Grizzly
When puberty finally hit, I discovered masturbation. It had been amazing. Like who needed a girl or a boy? While all the dudes in gym talked about “doing this girl and that one,” all I needed to do was wrap my hand around my dick and do myself as I thought of cute boys, like Paul. The release I’d get had made everything so much better.
I recalled one morning, while waiting for my best friend to meet me at school, I was thinking about Paul. Paul, Paul, Paul. It had always been Paul who lit me on fire. The excitement pulsing through my body was ridiculous. Almost like I’d explode from the intensity. It made me wonder if that was how guys felt about girls.
At that moment, I’d suddenly realizedIwasgay because of the way boys made me feel. Still, I denied the truth and forced the stupid thoughts out of my head. I told myself I wasn’t a fag, but my heart said differently.
So much of my youth had been spent trying to convince myself I was just a mixed up, confused kid. That the dudes in my class wereonlycool. That Ionlyadmired them.
The sun was still high in the sky, typical for a summer’s evening. This far north, sunset wasn’t until almost nine. Riding solo, I could easily see the landscape around me.
There was nobody to follow, like when the club was on a run and I’d be stuck in the middle, somewhere behind Storm. Right here, right now, I felt free. Just my Harley and me on the open road, where no one cared who I was or about my past.
Memories of the guys I’d obsessed over were assaulting me left and right, as I flew down the highway. There weren’t a ton, only a select few who’d made me feel excited and turned me on.
Jon, the swim instructor.
Eric, the class clown.
Troy, the loner in the lunch room.
My heart sank as I remembered the emotions that had consumed me when I was a young preteen. It’d been hell. I’d honestly thought I had a mental illness. To some degree, I still felt that way.
Of course, I was a grown man now and knew better. But I still hadn’t accepted myself and openly shared it with my MC brothers or the world.
Being me was frustrating. As hard as I have tried to have eyes only for Libby, something was missing. Or rather, someone. Toby could be the link. The one that made me feel whole.
Yeah, only in my dreams.
I arrived at Nye’s and found a spot to park. For the first time, in what felt like forever, I had no worries. It was just me and my thoughts, and the rest of the world could F-off.
Finding a vacant seat at the bar, I got comfortable and scanned the many faces in the mirror in front of me. Why did it seem there were always more women than men? It must havebeen me and my hypersensitivity to just about everything. The saying I’d heard long ago came to mind and I altered it to apply to me…When Grizzly has a problem with everything, the problem is Grizzly.
Weirdly, I recalled how I’d made myself look at girls and pick out the things I liked about them. Hair and eye color. Tall or short. Athletic or nerdy. I’d tried to force myself to be attracted to at least one to “cure” me. Naturally, it hadn’t worked.
Homosexuality wasn’t a disease, no matter how much I’d wished it’d been a cancer, one I could’ve had chemo for to kill the “unnatural desires” inside me. That was the wishful thinking of a twelve year old.
“It sucks being different,” I muttered to myself, taking in the room. Speaking of different…
Nye’s Bar had been renovated several years ago, after developers bought the property beside it. The original owners had planned to close the place, but the community had shown up to encourage them to keep it open. Pretty cool, right?
I’d ridden by Nye’s many times, but had never gone in. Sort of bummed me out now. I’d have liked to see it in its original glory.
The brick walls, red, and gold accents were nice, though. I loved the jazzy vibe, something I would never admit to any of mymanlybrothers at the club.
I’d always kept most of my thoughts to myself. Some had called me the strong silent type. But really, I’d been too afraid to speak, fearing I’d accidentally reveal my homosexuality.
How had I survived all these years?
Why had I allowed myself tonotbe myself?
Why had I cared what others thought about me?
So many questions and no answers. I didn’t know why I hid my sexual orientation. Or why I was embarrassed to see a shrink. For years, Libby had encouraged—and sometimes begged—me to make an appointment. But I couldn’t risk my club finding out.
Now it seemed everything was coming to ahead because of Libby.
“What can I get you?” a man behind the bar asked.
For a split second, not a single word formed on my tongue. He was gorgeous. Seriously hot. “What do you recommend?” I quickly recovered and maintained some decorum.
