We just sat there, staring out into space.
I didn't know what to say. What do you say to a guy who's got the hots for you? How do you let him down easy?
When I was dancing, I had more than one of the other male dancers try to get me in pants. I just ignored them. They were a bunch of flaming stereotypes. Fags whose only concerns were torch songs and taffeta.
Greg was different.
I know he's got this thing for straight guys, but other than that, he's all right.
I'd egged him on in the beginning. I knew he wanted me, so, I used that to get what I wanted. I needed a place to stay, a job, I'd show him my ass and he'd get them for me.
I never thought I'd end up liking him.
I had to tell him that there was never, repeat, never going to be anything between us. I liked him, but only liked him. I wasn't going to become queer, fall into his arms and run away with him to fairyville.
So, there we sat.
Which way should I tell him?
The "Be nice and let him down easy" way or the "So long, loser" way?
I'd been on the other side of the bench enough times myself.
When I was 13, my girl, Sheri, came up to me and said, "I don't like you anymore. I'm going out with Monty now."
I sat there by the basketball courts and felt my heart break.
We were in the sixth grade and had been going together for a whole day.
I wanted to do now what I did then; go home and hide under the covers for two days.
I looked over at Greg.
He smiled.
"Greg," I said. "I like you; but I don't like you - like you. I'm going out with Jane now."
