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| Me. (Tom) |
Alex firmly replies, “Just stop, Tom. No gay guy needs to hear a straight guy telling him how lucky he is or how much easier he has it because he’s gay.” I open my mouth but stops me, “In any context. Not these days. You say it way too much. Okay?”
I nod. I do say that to him a lot. Break ups. Dry spells. Dating. In a relationship. So, yeah, all the time. I didn’t know it bugged him. Maybe it didn’t, maybe it’s just my timing. Or maybe it’s because Alex is the most chill guy I’ve ever met. I’ve never heard him yell at anyone or about anything in the three years we’ve been neighbors. And I would hear it. He’s certainly heard me yelling and being yelled at. I can be a volatile guy.
We share a non-brick wall between our lofts that isn’t very soundproof. I’m 28 and he’s 32. We’re both busy. He’s heard me with a lot of chicks. One day, we were shooting the shit. He joked about it. I admitted that I’ve heard him with guys, too. His fucks sound very physical. A lot of grunting. And there’s even what sounds like dirty talk. I can’t make out the words, but it’s the tone. It’s kind of hot. I bet he can say stuff to his guys that would get me slapped or sued.
