Two Boys Kissing(37)

No matter how strong Avery gets, there will always be this subterranean fear, this nagging shame. We want to whisper to him that the only way to free yourself from shame is to realize how completely arbitrary it is—just what he was saying a day ago. Stupid arbitrary shit. He needs to take those words to heart. There is power in saying, I am not wrong. Society is wrong. Because there is no reason that men and women should have separate bathrooms. There is no reason that we should ever be ashamed of our bodies or ashamed of our love. We are told to cover ourselves up, hide ourselves away, so that other people can have control over us, can make us follow their rules. It is a bastardization of the concept of morality, this rule of shame. Avery should be able to walk into any restroom, any restaurant, without any fear, without any hesitation.

He is relieved that it’s a one-stall bathroom, that he can lock the door and have privacy. He is embarrassed by his relief, uncomfortable with the fact that he’s so uncomfortable. Ryan remains oblivious in the car. Avery envies that, and is also annoyed by it.

On the way out, the eyes are still there, the extra self-consciousness. Avery won’t let it change his actions, not anymore. But he can’t deny it’s there. It’s always there.

We didn’t lose our fear until we didn’t have anything left. But we still feel fear for other people.

When Avery gets back to the car, Ryan is texting with some of his friends.

“Everyone wants to meet you,” Ryan says. This fills Avery with another kind of anxiety.

“Everyone?” he asks.

“I may have told one or two or seven of my friends about you. I mean, they saw us dancing the other night. I had to keep them updated.”

Avery starts the car and asks, “Where to?”

“Do you want to meet some of my friends?”

The answer is yes, and the answer is no. The answer is that Avery wants to see more of Ryan’s life, for sure. And the answer is that he likes it just being the two of them for now.

“Maybe later?”

“Oh, definitely later. I just need to know whether to put them on standby or not. But we’ve got hours of us-time to spend before that.”

Avery likes the sound of this. But he still feels uneasy. Not because Ryan’s making him feel wrong. Maybe he’s just uneasy because nothing is easy. Unease is the natural state.





Cooper is driving his car around to recharge his phone’s battery. He wants to go back on the hunt, see if maybe he can find someone better than the guy from last night. One last chance. One last time.

He goes back to the Starbucks and sits in a corner so no one can see the screen. It’s just past noon on a Sunday, but the sex sites are full of people, full of comeons. He’s got ten messages from last night, people he ignored while he was chatting with Antimatter.

It’s all so boring. He feels like he’s spent his life looking at these faces, even though he’s only had this app for a couple of months.

Twinkhunter’s the one who pushes him over the edge. He’s blocked this guy at least ten times. But the guy just creates a new profile and starts sending messages again. You’re so cute. You’re so hot. I think we’d have a great time. The guy looks like he works in a bank. He’s got a shirtless photo even though he’s too old to have a shirtless photo.

Before, Cooper’s just hit the block key. This time, though, he types back.

You’re disgusting.

Twinkhunter responds:

You into that?

And Cooper doesn’t care anymore. Why the fuck does he have to be polite to people like this?

You are nothing more than a desperate, pathetic pedophile.

Within ten seconds, Twinkhunter’s blocked him.

Cooper likes the way that feels. So he goes on.

He tells the guys who want “masculine only” that they’re just as bad as homophobes, trying to make masculine into some macho gym ideal.

He tells the guys who say “whites only” that they’re racist scum.

He tells the sixty-year-olds who are looking for “under 18s” that they are pedophiles.

He tells the younger guys with naked pics that they should stop prostituting themselves.

You’re pathetic, he writes.

You’re desperate.

Are you afraid to show your face? Is that why you show your dick?

Does your boyfriend know you do this?

I think there’s something wrong with my screen. I can’t tell if that’s your ass or your face.

You’re looking for a good time? Do you really think you’ll find it here?

They all start blocking him. Just like that, they disappear from his phone, disappear from his life. Antimatter isn’t on right now, but Cooper feels that if he were, he’d easily find a way to get blocked there, too.

There’s one guy, thirty-four, who says he’s long-term-relationship oriented. Cooper writes back, How long-term do you think these relationships are? Two hours? Three? If you want to find a husband, maybe you should stop looking for someone to fuck.

Cooper figures he’ll get blocked in record time. But the guy, whose screen name is TZ, writes back:

Why are you so angry?

Cooper responds, I’m not angry. I’m just truthful.

TZ doesn’t buy it. Who hurt you? he asks. Do you need help?

Cooper blocks him right away. No way to undo it. Gone.