THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS 

I remember being a closeted gay sixteen year old and trying to figure out how to flirt with nice gay men that worked at Banana Republic and other fine clothing establishments.  It was my way of reaching out.  I am not sure what I hoped for in these interactions but I most definitely hoped someone would flirt back.  This all sounds sad now but, as an innocent teenager (yes, I was innocent once) it was the only contact with other fags I was able to have beyond internet porn that took minutes to download (those were the old days of internet).

I reminisce tonight because of an odd situation I had at the restaurant.  I could interpret the odd encounter as similar to my own odd attempts to make contact with fags like me.  Then again, the situation could be explained simply as the result of some weird dorky kid not knowing how to communicate with people.  Here’s what happened:

As I was walking through the restaurant I noticed a kid that was staring at me and smiling.  This happens on occasion so I smiled back.  When I returned to his section he continued to look at me and, again, I smiled.  At first I did not interpret this in anyway that was sexual.  He was young (probably fifteen or sixteen) and was with his family and was probably bored out of his mind.  

Things changed, however, when he followed me into the restroom.  During one of my required checks of the lav, he followed me in and began chatting.  I am not really sure if this kid even used the bathroom for all I remember is that he came in after me and started up a conversation as I restocked the paper towel dispenser.

His conversation started this way:

“Do you know the name of the beach that’s out there?”

He’s in Waikiki.  He should know the answer:

“Waikiki Beach,” I said.

“Oh.”

He continues the conversation by telling me about his home, Louisiana, and goes into great detail about how far away he lives from New Orleans.  The conversation continues for about ten minutes and ends when his father comes into the restroom to tell him that his family is leaving.  The poor boy says, “Well, I guess I have to go now.  I’ll see you around.”

To those wanting a high spice level on this tale, I must disappoint.  He’s young and I’m no cradle robber.  This does not end with a bathroom hookup or a promise to meet behind the banyan  tree at eleven o’clock.  Heck, I am not even sure he’s gay.

So, to conclude, I pose this question:

Closeted Southern young fag OR Weird Southern dorky kid?

The world may never know.

2:08:19 AM