About To Come Alive
Aug 16, 2011 1:34:41 GMT -5
Post by Josef Muller on Aug 16, 2011 1:34:41 GMT -5
The first boy Josef kissed was named Billy, and they were both five years old. It was an accident, but Josef would later claim it was one he would never regret. It was after a karate lesson. They were both in the locker room, getting changed out of their clothes. He didn’t know a lot about Billy, who was small and red-headed and quiet. He stayed to the back during classes while Josef spoke up in the front, but occasionally Josef would turn his head to see the other boy smiling shyly at him. He would always smile back without knowing why. Then they’d change in the locker room, not talking, and leave with their parents.
That day would have been the same. They stood shoulder to shoulder, both focused on folding their clothes neatly so their moms wouldn’t yell at them. Except Billy’s pants were too long, and when he tried to step back, he tripped on them and fell right into Josef, who was a bigger boy and sturdy, so he caught him.
He didn’t really know how it happened. He was still of the age where kissing was icky and kinda gross. But somehow or another, his lips ended up on Billy’s. They were soft and tasted kind of like that mint gum that Billy liked to chew, and although it was weird, it was also kind of nice.
Of course, one of the older boys had to walk in. Billy and Josef were separated with a lot of commotion, and then Josef was sat down by his mother and told that Kissing Boys was Wrong and to Never Do It again. She grounded him when he asked why, if it was so wrong, she did it.
He never saw Billy again. Apparently, his mother had taken him out of karate. It was a shame. Even when he got older he still remembered that shy smile on Billy’s face, and the way he looked up at him as if he mattered.
The first girl Josef kissed was named Pearl, when they were both nine. He didn’t like it much. He’d been talked into it. Pearl was a whiny girl, as tall as he was, who always made him play house because she said he was the only boy without cooties. She had her messy black hair tied into a braid, and she was always frowning. Some of the boys liked her cause she always wore short skirts, but Josef didn’t understand the appeal. He just thought uncharitably that she always whined about the cold, and what did she have against pants? But Pearl liked Josef. She said she liked that he was a brown belt and she liked that he didn’t mind playing house. Josef just yawned and wondered when he could get back to playing flag football.
One day Pearl declared that she and Josef would grow up together and get married. Josef didn’t like this idea. He didn’t want to marry Pearl and her messy braid and too-short-skirts, but when he came to his mom, she laughed and just told him that it would work out for the better and not to worry about it. Josef didn’t like this idea, but he reluctantly did so, and became engaged to Pearl. He didn’t like being engaged. Pearl clung to his arm and dragged him over to her friends, and then began to complain that he never made enough time for her and he hadn’t even kissed her like a real boyfriend should. So he did. Her lips felt slimy from the lip gloss she used and her breath smelled bad. She said he tasted like peaches. He said it was like kissing a frog.
Needless to say, the engagement was off. Later, she married his best friend in high school, and Josef wished them well. And three months later, when she ran off with his friend’s secretary, he quietly collected his bets.
The first kiss Josef ever regretted was with John. John was fifteen—a beautiful man with black hair, dark eyes, and a wonderful smile. Sixteen-year-old Josef would sit and watch him in the classes they were in together, failing miserably at math just because he preferred to watch John answer the questions with such graceful ease, and even doing poorly in Spanish because he got distracted every time John answered a question and that perfect Spanish rolled off his tongue. He had it bad. His friends warned him against it. John had a girlfriend. John was flaky. John wasn’t any good for him. And he tried to listen, he really did, but every time he saw the other boy, he just kind of forgot it. They became friends, and would sneak out together to older people’s parties or to get alcohol from the older boys.
It was when they were at a party that it happened. They were both drunk, leaning on each other and giggling, when Josef realized that John was staring up at him.
“You’re hot,” he told him. And Josef, who was too drunk to realize this might be a bad idea, smiled back at him.
“You’re wonderful,” he said back, and leaned in. John tasted like the jungle juice they’d been drinking and smelled like alcohol, but it didn’t matter.
When they woke up in the morning, curled up in each other’s arms on the couch and still fully clothed, John freaked. He screamed that Josef had put something into his drink, that he’d never do something like that ever, and then ran out the door. Later, when they crossed each other in the hall, John called him a fag.
Josef’s knuckles took a few days to heal. John’s broken nose took a little while longer. They both got a scolding and Josef got detention, but he didn’t care. And much later, Josef found out that John had resigned from a promising career as a politician after he was caught peeping over the stalls in the boy’s bathroom.
Josef smiled a little and thought it was sad that some men didn’t figure it out until it was too late.
The first man who ever kissed Josef was a man he wasn’t quite sure about. But he was also the last man he kissed for quite some time. His name was William. He was a business man: comfortable, suave, wealthy and everything Josef was not. He’d invited him out for drinks, but he wasn’t sure that the man had gotten that it was supposed to be a date. Instead, he bought beers, talked about sports, and sat as far away from Josef as he could Josef sighed and drank his beer, thinking the evening had been a bust.
That was, until he turned to see William’s dark eyes staring at him intently.
“What?” he asked, a little unnerved. And William smiled.
“You’re cute when you’re confused.” And just when Josef had opened his mouth to protest, or to say anything at all, he leaned across the table and kissed him. And this kiss was neither soft, nor slimy, nor drunken. It was gentle and lingering and sent this curious tingling sensation down the man’s spine. When they separated, William’s smile was positively smug.
“Here’s to looking at you, kid,” he quoted, and laughed before drinking down his beer. And Josef, unsure of what to say for one of the first times of his life, just smiled back and said nothing at all.
Here’s to looking at you indeed.
That day would have been the same. They stood shoulder to shoulder, both focused on folding their clothes neatly so their moms wouldn’t yell at them. Except Billy’s pants were too long, and when he tried to step back, he tripped on them and fell right into Josef, who was a bigger boy and sturdy, so he caught him.
He didn’t really know how it happened. He was still of the age where kissing was icky and kinda gross. But somehow or another, his lips ended up on Billy’s. They were soft and tasted kind of like that mint gum that Billy liked to chew, and although it was weird, it was also kind of nice.
Of course, one of the older boys had to walk in. Billy and Josef were separated with a lot of commotion, and then Josef was sat down by his mother and told that Kissing Boys was Wrong and to Never Do It again. She grounded him when he asked why, if it was so wrong, she did it.
He never saw Billy again. Apparently, his mother had taken him out of karate. It was a shame. Even when he got older he still remembered that shy smile on Billy’s face, and the way he looked up at him as if he mattered.
The first girl Josef kissed was named Pearl, when they were both nine. He didn’t like it much. He’d been talked into it. Pearl was a whiny girl, as tall as he was, who always made him play house because she said he was the only boy without cooties. She had her messy black hair tied into a braid, and she was always frowning. Some of the boys liked her cause she always wore short skirts, but Josef didn’t understand the appeal. He just thought uncharitably that she always whined about the cold, and what did she have against pants? But Pearl liked Josef. She said she liked that he was a brown belt and she liked that he didn’t mind playing house. Josef just yawned and wondered when he could get back to playing flag football.
One day Pearl declared that she and Josef would grow up together and get married. Josef didn’t like this idea. He didn’t want to marry Pearl and her messy braid and too-short-skirts, but when he came to his mom, she laughed and just told him that it would work out for the better and not to worry about it. Josef didn’t like this idea, but he reluctantly did so, and became engaged to Pearl. He didn’t like being engaged. Pearl clung to his arm and dragged him over to her friends, and then began to complain that he never made enough time for her and he hadn’t even kissed her like a real boyfriend should. So he did. Her lips felt slimy from the lip gloss she used and her breath smelled bad. She said he tasted like peaches. He said it was like kissing a frog.
Needless to say, the engagement was off. Later, she married his best friend in high school, and Josef wished them well. And three months later, when she ran off with his friend’s secretary, he quietly collected his bets.
The first kiss Josef ever regretted was with John. John was fifteen—a beautiful man with black hair, dark eyes, and a wonderful smile. Sixteen-year-old Josef would sit and watch him in the classes they were in together, failing miserably at math just because he preferred to watch John answer the questions with such graceful ease, and even doing poorly in Spanish because he got distracted every time John answered a question and that perfect Spanish rolled off his tongue. He had it bad. His friends warned him against it. John had a girlfriend. John was flaky. John wasn’t any good for him. And he tried to listen, he really did, but every time he saw the other boy, he just kind of forgot it. They became friends, and would sneak out together to older people’s parties or to get alcohol from the older boys.
It was when they were at a party that it happened. They were both drunk, leaning on each other and giggling, when Josef realized that John was staring up at him.
“You’re hot,” he told him. And Josef, who was too drunk to realize this might be a bad idea, smiled back at him.
“You’re wonderful,” he said back, and leaned in. John tasted like the jungle juice they’d been drinking and smelled like alcohol, but it didn’t matter.
When they woke up in the morning, curled up in each other’s arms on the couch and still fully clothed, John freaked. He screamed that Josef had put something into his drink, that he’d never do something like that ever, and then ran out the door. Later, when they crossed each other in the hall, John called him a fag.
Josef’s knuckles took a few days to heal. John’s broken nose took a little while longer. They both got a scolding and Josef got detention, but he didn’t care. And much later, Josef found out that John had resigned from a promising career as a politician after he was caught peeping over the stalls in the boy’s bathroom.
Josef smiled a little and thought it was sad that some men didn’t figure it out until it was too late.
The first man who ever kissed Josef was a man he wasn’t quite sure about. But he was also the last man he kissed for quite some time. His name was William. He was a business man: comfortable, suave, wealthy and everything Josef was not. He’d invited him out for drinks, but he wasn’t sure that the man had gotten that it was supposed to be a date. Instead, he bought beers, talked about sports, and sat as far away from Josef as he could Josef sighed and drank his beer, thinking the evening had been a bust.
That was, until he turned to see William’s dark eyes staring at him intently.
“What?” he asked, a little unnerved. And William smiled.
“You’re cute when you’re confused.” And just when Josef had opened his mouth to protest, or to say anything at all, he leaned across the table and kissed him. And this kiss was neither soft, nor slimy, nor drunken. It was gentle and lingering and sent this curious tingling sensation down the man’s spine. When they separated, William’s smile was positively smug.
“Here’s to looking at you, kid,” he quoted, and laughed before drinking down his beer. And Josef, unsure of what to say for one of the first times of his life, just smiled back and said nothing at all.
Here’s to looking at you indeed.
