How I Met Michael

At age 24 I found myself in crisis. For the first time in my life sexual desire for another guy was dangerously close to making me act on it. If my feelings are misplaced I will no longer have a friend. It's risky even telling him I have feelings for him.

The venue was the balcony outside my livingroom overlooking the lawn. The object of my secret affection, not to mention lust, was Keith Ronson, my best friend for two years.

On my first day in my new job as a mechanical engineer fresh out of college the 26 year old was working in the cubicle next to my work station. Along with sharing technical information we also made small talk over coffee in the company cafeteria.

Keith is strikingly handsome. Light-brown hair frames a diamond-shaped face. His eyes are the color of the sky. Thin lips, spectacular high cheekbones and dimples give his face charm. At 5' 8 he is exactly my height.

An internet search for psychiatric therapy found Kyle Murphy, a therapist who counsels gays helping them deal with their sexuality. Troubled over my intense feelings for my friend, men in general for that matter, I made a Tuesday afternoon appointment.

At 4 45 I parked the truck in the lot behind the building and walked under the hot sun toward the two-story brick structure. Inside the lobby a directory mounted on the wall listed Kyle Murphy Phd room 25.

I opted to take the stairs instead of the elevator. Walking at moderate pace, I read signs_men,ladies, office numbers with names_ on doors as I passed them.

At the reception counter a woman with long dark-blond hair and blue eyes greeted me and notified the doctor. She gave me a questionaire to fill out.

Kyle Murphy turned out to be a six-footer wearing a gray athletic cut suit. Black hair framed his oval face.

He led me to a small office where I settled into a cushion chair.

"How are you today?"

"I'm well, terrified but otherwise OK."

He nodded so I continued.

"I think I've known since puberty that I like guys. I never could act on it. My friends are all straight. I'm afraid of losing friends."

"That's understandible. You'll find that true friends will stand by you."

"I had a couple of girlfriends in high school but I made excuses to get out of relationships. The relationships didn't feel right."

"What made you first suspect your sexuality?"

"I had a secret crush on a 'Dawson's Creek' character 'Jack McPhee'."

The therapist nodded then commented on the show. "It ran in reruns for years."

"'Jack McPee' is so sexy."

"I bet," said Kyle.

"You'd win that bet."

"Have you spoken to your parents about your sexuality?"

"No. They're very conservative."

"So you feel that they wouldn't be understanding or sympathetic."

"I doubt very much they would be," I replied.

My unconfirmed information hung between us. Though I set specific search parameters, I wanted to get confirmation from him.

"Are you gay?"

"Yes I am," he replied.

"Were you in the military when serving openly was prohibited?"

"Yes I was," he replied.

"I asked that because I thought about going into the army after high school. I heard that even though DADT was repealed being gay was still frowned upon."

"It was difficult. There were so many times when I wanted to go to a gay bar. I knew that getting caught there would mean immediate discharge and loss of benefits. I couldn't afford to lose my vet benefit, especially the college fund."

"That's too stiff a penalty."

"I totally agree," he replied.

I asked, " did you have gay friends."

"I have many gay friends. When I was in the military I knew that I wanted to at least make acquintances amoung LGBTQ people but military life forced us to stay closeted."

I felt comfortable confessing my deepest secret. How do I say it? I took a silent deep breath.

"I bought a calender that features naked men and I like to masturbate while looking at it. I guess I bought it for that more so than just tracking appointments."

"There's no shame in masturbating privately. Do you have a particular photo that brings out the desire?"

"Not really," I said. "They all excite me."

"It's normal to be excited by hot men. Name one gay man who isn't."

The implication was not lost on me.

I think you're hot. I could jump on your bones in this office.

My eyes shifted their gaze. He knew where they were looking.

"You can probably get away with that at a bar or a bathhouse. Have you ever been to places like those?"

"No, I haven't," I admitted.

"They're meat markets, perfect for a guy who just wants to get laid."

"Tell me about your experience. What was it like for you coming out?"

He spoke candidly. "I came out to my mom. I had come home on holiday leave from the army. She was ok with it. She told my dad and he was ok with it. That surprised me. Anyway I reported back to base feeling glad that a weight had been lifted from my shoulders."

"What holiday was it?"

"Christmas," said Kyle.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"I have a husband. When we were dating he told me that he will not be my 'dirty little secret'." He put up air quotes.

"He said that?"

"James was very much at ease with his sexuality even when we met. Because of him I became less nervous, less ashamed and bashful about being gay."

"What does your husband look like?"

"Like the picture on my desk," said Kyle.

In the privacy of my apartment I was given to masturbating. Keith would come to mind when I indulged in the act.

"I have a crush on my co worker and friend Keith Ronson. I don't know how he'll react when I tell him my feelings."

The therapist shook his head. "Tell him you're gay if you find the courage. That's a lot less risky then telling him that you're crushing on him. I have a feeling he won't ditch you. Good friends stay."

"Sometimes just thinking about him gives the urge to rub one out."

"It's perfectly ok to do so. It's your life. They're your feelings to act on as you see fit."

"Jerking off is something he makes me want to do."

"Go ahead. It will be our little secret."

Without wasting time I got naked. My clothes landed in the middle of his floor and my shoes in front of my feet. Within a few seconds a few strokes rendered my penis erect. My hand closed and slid rapidly both ways along the shaft.

SO what if this is a medical office. I need the pleasure that masturbating gives me. I also happen to need a boyfriend but I don't see that happening any time soon.

"Tell me about the young man who's the object of your affection."

"What do you want to know?"

"Just what comes to mind," said Kyle.

My hand stopped as my dick ejaculated cum to my belly.

He passed a box of tissues to me which I used liberally.

He asked, "is your friend well endowed."

"I don't know. I've never seen it."

"What do you imagine him to be?"

"Probably just average," I replied. "I'd like him to be well endowed if he's gay."

"They're are gay men in every walk of life, even many that you would never suspect. A few of them have come to see me. They've accepted their sexuality and claim that they feel so much more at ease since coming out."

My urge satisfied, I put myself together.

"Do you ever fantasize about being with a woman while you're masturbating?"

"No, never," I replied in a matter of fact tone.

"So you're not bi."

I talked about interactions with schoolmates_male and female. I talked about dating Caroline and Lisa, both of whom were popular. I told my therapist about how people's attitudes_both friendly and unfriendly_ had effected me.

"I haven't seen either of those girls since high school. I broke off both relationships but never came out to them."

"We should wrap this up. Would you like another session?"

"I think I'm ok now. I think I'm going to come out to my friend. Can I just see you about anything happening in my life?"

"Of course. I'll book another session."

I nodded accepting it.

That said, he booked a session for one month in the future.

As I walked back to my truck I thought about what I can and should say to Keith. I'll take my chances.

At the "office" the next day I sipped a coffee as the software opened displaying drawings which I had saved the previous day. My brain tried to visualize the end product.

In the cubicle next me Keith was a picture of concentration working quietly at designs.

My subconscious thoughts were on him even while I worked. I'll come out to him sometime today. The time was coming up on 2 30 when he and I were on our way to the cafeteria. I was preoccupied with how to say it, not to mention the potential consequences of telling him that I'm gay.

As we sipped our coffee and ate our donut I gazed through the large window for just a second or two.

"You're a million miles away," he remarked, snapping me out of my reverie.

"I'm gay."

"I know. You stare at me when you think I don't realize you're looking."

"I'm relieved that you already knew."

"It's not a big deal. My brother is gay."

"How old is he?"

"Under thirty," said Keith.

I accepted the vague answer.

"Does he have a boyfriend?"

Keith grinned and shook his head.

"I'm not cupid but if you'd like to meet him we can go to the Tavern this weekend, say Saturday afternoon. I'll tell him to go there."

At 2 p.m. on Saturday afternoon Keith and I took seats at the bar in Carl's Tavern. A blue-eyed blond girl probably in her thrties and wearing a black short-sleeved top and a tattoo on her upper arm greeted Keith as one would greet an old friend.

She put his usual drink, a tall Alagash White, in front of him then poured one from the tap for me. Minutes afterward as we sipped our brew and watched MLB game of the week a smokin' hot dude joined us at the bar.

"Mike this is my friend Steven from work. I told you about him."

He shook my hand with a firm grip then settled onto the stool next to me.

"It's good to meet you."

"You as well," I replied.

Blond hair frames his diamond-shaped face. His eyes are the color of sky. Bow-shaped lips stretched into a dimpled smile.

We chatted over beer and nuts becoming well aquainted.

Michael James turns out to be older than Keith by a year.

He had chosen a different career path, that of a graphics designer.

This prearranged meetup with the brother of a co-worker and friend was about to change my life. Our chat continued with few interruptions. We talked about baseball, school days, movies old and current, favorite actors, motocycles, and motocycle trips to name a few topics.

The time approached 5 30. Patrons had come to Tavern. Others had gone.

"What are you doing tomorrow morning?"

"Not much," I said, aware of where the question was going.

"Let's go someplace for breakfast."

Is this a date?

"Sure," I said.

I had retired to the bedroom at 9 30. The calendar sat on my dresser open to July, a photo of playmate of the month standing naked by the seaside.

As I lay naked stroking my shaft slowly giving myself a hard-on Michael James Ronson was living inside my head.