Isn't It Fabulous?

By Grant Bentley

If anyone or anything in this story seems familiar, it is purely coincidental and totally not my fault.

My name is Jameson and I’m seventeen years old, actually seventeen and a half.

According to the statistical experts, I’m one-in-ten.

In case you’re wondering one-in-ten what, let me explain.

If you took me to Paris and put me in a hotel room with nine other guys and a gorgeous naked girl, I’d be the guy looking out the window at the Eiffel Tower saying,

“Isn’t it fabulous?”

You see, I don’t like girls. Well I do, but not the way I’m supposed to. They don’t excite me, you know, down there.

I’m what the politically correct refer to as gay.

That doesn’t necessarily mean I’m always having a good time, that I’m particularly happy or that I enjoy Broadway Musicals.

It means I like boys, but not the way I’m supposed to. They do excite me, you know, down there.

I figured that out when I was about fourteen.

That’s also when I decided to ‘go into the closet’, like way into the closet.

Now, before you start feeling all sorry for me, closet dwelling really isn’t all that bad.

Just think of it as taking my gayness and hanging it up in the very back of a closet so no one would ever see it.

Like, right next to that navy blue sweater with the big yellow snowflakes on it my grandma knitted me for Christmas.

Unfortunately, keeping my gayness in the closet isn’t as easy as keeping the sweater in the closet.

You see, gayness keeps trying to sneak out, like some bratty little kid.

And it always picks the worst times.

Like in the boys’ locker room, more precisely, in the showers of the boys’ locker room.

And, because I’m in the shower with twenty other guys, I can’t beat it and make it go back in the closet.

I have to try and hide it or hope it goes back on its own.

Picturing Olga the security guard naked or even with clothes on never fails. Well almost never.

Like this one time, in the locker room, under the shower,

I’m facing the wall and thinking of Olga. And it’s working. Yes! I’m so happy.

That is until Simon Proctor decides to shower right next to me.

When Simon Proctor is standing next to me naked, nothing works.

The more I try to think about Olga, the more I think about Simon.

The harder I try to stare at the wall, the more my eyes wander towards Simon.

Now I know you are wondering how this could get worse? You were wondering that right? Of course you were.

When Simon taps me on the shoulder and asks me to wash his back, that’s how.

Maybe if I pray really hard, like REALLY hard, a hole will open up in the floor and I can disappear.

I close my eyes and concentrate. Nope, not working. Still here. Damn!

Maybe I can just turn my upper body around, grab the soap and then wash his back.

Yeah, well, that might work if he wasn’t standing three feet away.

Okay, if I shuffle backwards towards him first, that’ll work.

Of course it’ll make me look like a complete idiot. So, choose….complete idiot or gay boy.

I think complete idiot. Yep, works for me.

I shuffle backwards towards him, turn my upper body, and reach for the soap.

Yeah, you guessed it. What else? I dropped the soap.

Okay, now what?

Of course, the soap is behind me and I can’t bend down to pick it up twisted half way around like this.

So to pick it up, I’ll have to turn around. Damn!

Or…I could ask him to pick it up. Yeah, that would work.

Then I hear the words, “You know I don’t care.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t care that you’re gay.”

“What makes you think I’m gay?”

“Just turn around and I’ll show you.”

Oh…..My….God. Now what do I do?

“And how the hell can you twist your body like that. Doesn’t it hurt?”

Well thank you SO much for bringing it up.

Of course it hurts.

Okay, okay, okay, now I’m getting a cramp. Ow! Ow! Ow! Damn! Damn! Damn!

Make the pain stop! Make it stop! Ow! Damn!

Immediately, he steps forward and begins to massage the cramp.

Ohhhh, yessss! It’s working. The pain is going away.

Wait a minute!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Simon Proctor is touching me!

Oh my God! On my God! Oh my God!

He’s naked! I’m naked! He’s touching me!

I am so screwed!

How can I ever hope to hide my gayness now?

There’s just no way I can hide it.

With Simon touching me, it’s just too hard. Damn!

Then suddenly I realize…

The cramp is gone…

And the pain is gone…

His hands have stopped moving…

But, they’re still holding my waist…

Then he turns me around and smiles.

Oh wow! He’s one-in-ten too!

Isn’t it fabulous?