"Richard. Richard!" said Coach Smith
"What?!"
"You're drooling."
"Oh sorry... geez that's gross... I didn't... I wasn't... I'll pay more attention to you."
"I'd appreciate that."
But the truth was that I wasn't drooling because I wasn't paying attention to my teacher, it's because I was paying attention to him, Coach Smith, more specifically his butt. Coach Smith had an amazing ass; like a bounce a quarter off it bubble butt. His ass was too perfect for words, it was the very definition of muscle butt. Coach's ass looked amazing in all kinds of pants/shorts; dress pants, jeans, tracksuit bottoms, basketball shorts, cargo shorts, and with birthday suit pants... but I'm getting ahead of myself. I once heard a girl in my class say she had dreams about Coach Smith's butt and I don't blame her, she certainly wasn't alone in that confession. I had dreams about that booty on the regular, one might say I say I was obsessed with it... and they would be correct.
But I didn't dream about Coach Smith's butt solely, I dreamt about every part of him. Coach Smith was a God, in his late twenties he definitely was in fantastic shape; ripped arms, huge thighs, gorgeous calves, perfect pecs, and gorgeous abs (which I could only dream about until recently). Coach Smith wasn't just hot, he was funny, really funny. Everything that came out of his mouth made me laugh, I would gladly do any assignment he asked our class to do because all I wanted to do was please him. If I could make Coach Smith happy then I was happy.
Coach Smith and I had a strange relationship, for me at least I felt like I was more than just a student to him. He and I had a funny banter between us, every joke he made I would come back with another joke and even if none of my classmates thought what I said was funny he always got it. We would poke fun at one another, make wildly inappropriate jokes about the novels we were reading and geek out about comic books with one another. In many ways I feel like he saw himself in me, which I was fine with. Sometimes I felt like we were flirting with each other, or at least the way I acted around him was the way I flirted with someone.
I'm pretty sure Coach Smith knew I was gay. He asked us once to write what was more important Truth or Compassion and I managed to turn the essay into some diatribe about how people should be more accepting of gays. He gave me a 100. It wasn't like I was the most masculine acting guy in the school either, although when I finally came out after high school people were rather surprised. Coach Smith was a married father and way to respectable of a man to ever cheat on his wife especially with an underage... male... student (the odds were more than stacked against us).
Well my sophomore year ended, and I parted ways with Coach Smith. I gave him his end of year present (a Thor mask and socks with little cape on the back) and a huge hug. He told me something like "You're a fine young man and I can't wait to see what you do with your life because I have a feeling it's going to be something great." I left his room and cried for 10 minutes in a bathroom stall.
High school went on. I saw Coach Smith in the hall and we'd talk. But I still missed seeing him everyday and I could sense that he did to, there was just something about how his face lit up whenever he saw me. I graduated top of my class and gave a tear filled speech where I egged on the future while comforting the past and I talked about the teachers that had inspired me, with an extra long pause before I talked about Coach Smith. I saw him after graduation and our conversation went something like this.
"Coach."
"Richard."
"You're class was my favorite of all the classes I've ever taken."
"You were one of my brightest student's too Rich."
"I can't say I'm not going to miss this place."
"Yeah it's funny how kids hate high school when they're in it but miss it when they're out."
"I'm sure going to miss it alot."
"I'm sure it, the school, will miss you too. You really left a mark on this place kid."
"I was just being myself."
"Well don't ever stop doing that, being yourself. In my ten years of teaching I've never encountered a student with so much compassion and understanding. You can't let life rip away from you because it will try to really hard."
"I won't Coach."
"You promise."
"I... I... I promise."
And with that I went on my way.
I kissed Mark good bye as I headed out the door, suitcase in tow.
"Rich you need to hurry, the airline recommends you get there two hours early."
"Mark, that's bullshit and you know it."
"Fine, but if you miss your flight I get to point and laugh at you."
"I'll buy a dunce cap."
"I love you."
"You too babe."
I got hit on by five guys at LAX. Sometimes it's strange living in a place that's so gay friendly after growing up outside Dallas. I can't say it's not flattering but I would never cheat on Mark, my husband of two years, I couldn't betray his trust like that. We made a vow to one another, a vow millions fought for, and I'm not planning on through that away like some right wing asshole said I would.
The flight to DFW was uneventful, I got hit on by 3 flight attendants (two woman, one man), and there was a little turbulence but I like a little rollercoaster every once and awhile. I landed, got my bag, got called a fag after someone saw I was a member of PFLAG, and met my parents at the pickup lane.
I was a little bit nervous, but who isn't nervous when they come home, especially for your ten year high school reunion.
"How are things with Mark?" my tremulous anorexic mother asked.
"Good, we're talking about going to Uganda next year to adopt a baby."
"How exciting!"
"Don't talk about that shit around me," said Dad.
"Is that how this trips going to be Jim?"
"The boy knows how I feel about the matter."
"He's our son."
"But the queer PARTNER of his isn't."
"Husband, he's my husband."
"Not in Texas he isn't."
"DO YOU WANT ME TO GET A HOTEL ROOM?"
"Rich NO! Now Jim please, you'll keep your mouth shut if you ever want to see your grandchild."
"It won't be my grandchild."
"Pull over... Pull over!... GOD DAMMIT LET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKING CAR RIGHT NOW BEFORE I PUKE!!! I did NOT come back here to deal with this BULLSHIT! I don't deserve or accept this kind of abuse. I'm a grown adult and I DEMAND respect."
"Take your FUCKING suitcase bigman."
I stood on the side of interstate 30 and watched my parent's Lexus drive off, a covert PFLAG bumper sticker on the bumper, and grinned through the tears.
My hotel room was nice, I'd snagged a swanky room at the local Hilton for cheap with all the airline miles I racked up flying for job. I walked in the room and stripped naked. I laid down on the bed and just breathed. I watched as my stomach rose and fell... rose and fell... rose and...
The following day I awoke abruptly at 6:37 to the sound of a couple fighting in the room next door, from the sound of the door slam I'm betting he cheated on her. I ordered some blueberry pancakes from room service and settled in for some CNN. I called Mark with a mouth full of syrup and blueberry pancakes and tried to swallow as I broke out into tears.
"Your dad?"
"Ah huh."
"How far were you from the airport."
"5 miles."
"Wow that's 3 more than when I came with you last year."
"That's not funny."
"So have you decided on what tie you're wearing to your reunion tonight."
"Ummm what are my options?"
"Do I have to do everything? The royal and shy blue diamond one or the silky red one with the black undertones."
"The red one?"
"Good choice, that one make you look hot."
"I'll make sure to bring it home with. I'm feeling like wearing it again... only it."
"Naughty boy, do I need to spank you?"
"Yes please."
And that's the only part of that conversation you need to hear.
I arrived at the Reunion at 7:07, I was never one for arriving early for a party but my punctual nature prevents me from being too late, so I felt like 7 minutes late was fine enough. That reunion was in the ballroom at Southfork Ranch, where they had our prom. The decorations were as shitty as the ones for my prom that's for sure, our homecoming/prom queen Jenny Wilson was in charge of them, I mean never trust a straight woman to throw a party that has any kind of actual class. Over the stage where the DJ was hung a banner that said "Welcome back class of 2015!" I cringed at the thought of me graduating ten years ago, it honestly didn't feel like it'd been that long, especially since graduation and that moment with Coach Smith. Coach Smith, now there's a person I hadn't thought about for awhile, I wonder if that beautiful man is still around? I figured one of my classmates that hadn't left town would know so I walked over to my one time fleeting friend Connor Gregory.
"Connor my man!!!"
"Dick Davis, you son of a bitch, is it possible for you to dress like a bigger fag?"
"Hey, at least my hairline hasn't receded like the polar ice caps."
"You were always a fucking eco-terrorist."
"Seriously, I was wondering if Coach Smith was still around here."
"Sure he is! Coach Smith was promoted about 3 years ago to varsity football Coach. MUSTANG PRIDE NEVER DIES!!!"
"Indeed, so do you know how I can get in touch with him."
"Sure, he goes to Mickey's Bar after every loss, so he'll be there tomorrow night."
"Interesting thanks."
"Keep in touch you queer."
"You never let me touch you."
"Good one bud, but seriously it was good seeing you."
"You too."
The rest of the night was one giant blur. All I could think about was Coach Smith. I kept having flashbacks of his beautiful ass and popping a random boner, an action that hadn't been an issue for nearly ten years. Why was I so obsessed with seeing him again? Was this a sign? Should I pursue it? What would Mark think? Would it go anywhere between Coach and I? Oh my God I needed to see him.
Mickey's Bar was a dump. They carpeted walls reeked of vodka and vomit and the would floors were in dire need of some TLC. They Mighty Mustangs, a title which they had never lived up to, had lost as expected so here I was, in a dingy dive bar, in my home town, trying to pick up my 10th grade English teacher. Was that what was trying to do? Have sex with Coach Smith? I guess so. And then I saw him.
Have you ever had one of those moments where the universe seems to stand still? It's like all the air has been sucked from your lungs and yet it feels amazing all at the same time. That's exactly how felt when I saw Coach Smith, still gorgeous as ever (apparently he was the George Clooney type because if anything he'd gotten better looking with age.) He was certainly older, his hair had a 90s Jay Leno style grey patch in the front and there were a few more wrinkles on his forehead then there were 10 years ago, but if anything that just served to dignify his boyish charm. His arms were still as humongous as ever and his ass just as perky. He was shooting pool with the assistant coach, who I recognized as the former varsity captain of the football team, and I watched his ass as he bent over to take a shot, 4 ball back corner pocket. I considered going over to him, but figured it wasn't an ideal time, so I just ordered a Jack and Coke instead and sat down in a corner booth across from the pool tables so I could still see the view.
At around 11:45 I was getting ready to leave, because I was bored, tired, and a bit sweaty from the nerves, when all of a sudden our eyes met.
