Update
Notes: Just a short one. Thanks to LeAnn -
a question she asked set my mind
working
Brians Journal
Sunday 20th April - my fucking birthday
Its early in the morning, and hes still asleep. Hes lying
curled up on his side and he looks about twelve years old. When hes
sleeping, the longer hair somehow makes him look even younger than he used
to. Its only when hes awake that you can see the marks of experience
in his face, in his eyes. When hes sleeping he looks like that
no-so-innocent little virgin I picked up under a streetlight.
I woke up early and couldnt get back to sleep, so I decided to get
up and make him breakfast for a change. But its still really early
- outside it only started to get light half an hour ago - and after the week
weve had, he could probably use the sleep. So instead, I put the coffee
on and for some reason I got this out and started writing.
I havent written anything about the famous experiment over
the past couple of weeks. Hell! I havent even really thought about
it. Its fucking weird
it was such a big deal when I started
it. It meant a complete change to the way Id lived my life for the
past ten or eleven years. It meant finding a whole new way to operate; it
meant even thinking of myself in a different way.
Now
and its only a few weeks later, not even a month
now that all seems to have faded into the background. Its trite to
say it seems like a dream but it does. Its hard to remember what I
thought the big deal was. I mean, I remember. And part of me thinks, yeah,
fuck! it was a big deal. It is a big deal - Brian Kinney turning into some
sort of monk. Except that thats not how it was. Or is. I mean, when
I think about never fucking another guy, I still get
crazy, sort of.
So I dont. I dont think about it. Not that way. I just think
that right now, this minute, I dont want to. And Im not sure
why I ever did. At least, once I had Justin. Why settle for anything but
the best, right? Why hurt him, over and over, for the sake of my fucking
pride?
I look back at the stupid fucking shit I was when Justin was with me before,
and I cant believe I could have been that much of an idiot. I mean,
my IQs high enough. Ive been around enough to develop some sort
of a clue, you would have thought. But maybe its that thing they say,
where you can have ten years experience, but its really only the same
year, ten times over. Fuck! in my case it was probably the same fucking month,
one
twenty times over.
Im not saying that Im never going to find myself with some stranger
sucking my cock again. But if it happens, it sure as fuck wont be because
I think thats what I have to do because Im Brian Kinney and the
whole fucking world as I know it is going to fall apart if I dont fuck
half a baseball team every week, with the catcher and the refs and the guy
who sells fucking popcorn as an encore on Saturday nights. If it happens
it will just be because like every other guy Ive ever met, I cant
always be relied on to keep my dick in my pants if the temptation comes
along.
And, no! when I do trip over my hormones, I sure as hell wont be buying
him any damned fucking roses to try to worm my way back into his good books.
Ill just have to hope that if
when
I fuck up, hell
find a way to get over it. Just like Ill have to get over it if he
strays. Not that I dont think it might cause us problems. It
could. Hes a romantic little twat, still, and Im damned sure
that it means something to him that Im not shoving my cock up anyone
elses ass or down anyone elses throat. So, no matter what he
says, no matter how honest he thinks hes being, its gonna cause
fucking ructions if I fall off the wagon. But thats okay. I know that.
I know if I fuck up, there are going to be consequences, and Im going
to have to deal with the consequences. Well, *were* going to have to
deal.
But I hope, I know, that he does understand me enough now to know that
its got nothing to do with not being satisfied with him. Its
just
Im a fucking guy, and were all shits sometimes. Anyway,
the thing is that Im okay with him being pissed about it. Thats
whats so different now. Back then, just the idea that he might think
he had any shadow of a right to be pissed off at me for fucking someone,
that was enough to make me go out and do it, just to show him that I could,
and he didnt.
Now
now if he honestly didnt care at all
fuck! that would
really smart. Thats what I dont think I could deal with now.
If he didnt want the right to care any more
that I dont
think I could fucking deal with. Maybe a lot of that is because that would
mean I didnt have the right to care either, if he went out and started
getting it elsewhere. I mean, hell! Ive watched him fuck other guys.
Ive watched other guys suck him and fuck his face. Ive fucked
them while hes sucked them off. But now
Now I dont have any idea how I did that. Let alone why the fuck I would
want to do that. I guess I thought it was hot. Maybe I thought that hed
want to get it on with a whole lot of guys just like I always had, and that
was okay as long as I was part of it too. Im fucked if I know. I know
that if he
if it happens, if he finds someone else that he wants to
fuck, then Im going to find that a hell of a lot harder to deal with
than he will if I go off and get my cock sucked.
Partly thats just because Im a selfish shit, and just because
I want the right to slip it to someone else occasionally doesnt mean
that I want to let anyone else near him. But a lot of its because of
what happened with the fiddler. Of course. I try not to think about what
it was like when
how it felt the night he walked away from me. How
it felt through all the fucking years after that before he came back to me.
I guess if Im ever fucking tempted to stuff things up, then all I have
to do is remember those feelings, because there arent many things that
would make my cock go soft faster.
I wonder sometimes what I would have done if Id known when I first
saw him how much my life would change because of him. My bet is that I would
have faked an interest in some dick hanging around the alley, or faked passing
out in the jeep, or anything to keep from heading towards a future that included
buying butt ugly cars and fitting them with baby seats. A future that included
Saturday nights when instead of heading off to
Babylon, I was curled up in bed asleep by
midnight. A future where this morning Im planning to take my partner,
lover, boyfriend, whatever the fuck he is, breakfast in bed.
Which just goes to show, boys and girls, that even terminally dumb pricks
with their heads up their asses are capable of learning something, because
Im sure as fuck a lot smarter now than that dickhead was back then.
For the first time in the whole of my fairly fucked up life, Im happy.
I feel like I matter. I feel like me being happy is okay with the universe.
Like the whole thing isnt going to fall apart at the fucking seams
because Brian Kinney is happy. Like I can trust that everything isnt
going to turn to shit just because Ive had the fucking gall to think
that maybe there might be a time in my life when it was okay to be
happy.
Content.
In love.
Fuck! maybe I should just break out the fucking
no, not violins! Never
again with any fucking fiddles. Well, not unless theyre playing a damned
Irish jig and not that pretentious arty shit that
shit! dont
go there, Brian.
So Im in love. So what? Like its okay for the rest of the world,
but not for me? Well, fuck that! Im putting in for my share. And yes,
I remember the guy who said he didnt believe in love. I told you he
was a dickhead. Mind you, he hadnt had a lot of chances to know any
better. I know it seemed like I was a totally callous shit who kicked tricks
to the curb on a routine basis without compunction or remorse. And I was.
But you want to know the truth? There werent too many of them who were
begging to stay around for more than one more fuck.
They just wanted to get their rocks off and then go dish to all their friends
about what it was like to take it up the ass from Brian Kinney. Not too fucking
many of them actually gave a rats ass about Brian Kinney himself. As
long as they got brownie points from my reputation, thats all they
cared about. And yes, Im sure there were guys out there who might have
been interested in the long haul, but who were put off by that same reputation.
But if they were so chicken shit scared that their feelings might get hurt
they wouldnt have made the grade with me anyway.
It took a little twink who was brave enough to fall in love right off the
bat, dumb enough not to know better, tough enough not to let anything I did
or said put him off (well, except for a small detour that I dont want
to think about today), and smart enough to know that most of that was bullshit
anyway, to
to make me admit that most of what I was saying was such
fucking crap.
The thing is, I believed it at the time. Or I believed that I believed it.
I honestly thought that trying to have any sort of relationship
was just copping out to the harsh reality of life as a gay man - the theory
of reality that said being a gay guy was all about getting your cock serviced;
that said the only things that should stay in your closet were the rest of
your designer clothing and your heart.
But although I honestly believed it at the time, looking back now I can admit
to myself, at least, that most of it was bullshit bravado. What else was
I going to say? Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I want to have it. But no, I
dont have the balls to go looking for it, because my fucking family
taught me that no one, no one, was ever really going to love me. That Id
sure as shit better make myself believe that I didnt want it, didnt
need it, didnt believe in it. That the only hope I had was to find
a way to keep going without it, cos I sure as hell wasnt going to find
it anytime soon.
Except from Mikey.
Which would have been great, except that
even if Id felt any
sort of spark at all, I would probably have been too gutless to go for it.
But as it was, that question never really arose because much as I love
yeah, I guess I do still love him
much as I love Mikey, there was
never anything there. I know there was for him, but for me
nada. I
mean, I tried sometimes. I tried kissing him drunk, sober, tweaked, tired
but
it just was never going to happen. And maybe some people
can make their dicks feel what they want them to feel
fuck! Ted and
Emmett seemed to. But
I knew, I always knew, that it would never be
enough. That if Id been with Mikey, I would never have stopped tricking.
Never even have paused. Because I need the heat. I need the rush. I would
never have got it with him, no matter what he thinks it means that we once
jerked off over Patrick Swayze. Jesus! we were fourteen! We got hard every
time we got a glimpse of some guys butt, or anyone mentioned a boner.
It wasnt anything to do with the fact that I was sitting on the bed
with *him*. I just got hard, and he was there, and
Maybe Justins right. Maybe if Deb hadnt come in then, things
might have been different. Or maybe they would have been worse. Whatever.
As it was, dickhead though I might have been, at least I had some sense,
because Mikey could never have been enough for me. And that would have
well, it would have led to a worse mess than were in now, which is
saying a shitload.
Justin, on the other hand
Justin
Justin is almost more than
enough.
Justin makes me feel like
like you feel after youve had the
perfect meal, and you know theres another one just as good, even better,
coming along tomorrow, or even later today, so you can really relax and enjoy
and savor the feeling of being satisfied. Because you dont have to
start looking for the next one as soon as youve finished this.
Thats how Justin makes me feel.
Well, he also gets me hot and horny as hell, and can drive me totally nuts,
and get me to the point where I want to heave him out the window, and make
me act like some lovesick lesbo, but
thats all good too. Because
the main thing that Justin makes me feel is loved.
And safe.
And happy.
So against all the odds that anyone would ever have given against it, today
Ill go meekly off to my fucking birthday lunch and sit down and play
nice and do all the fucking family things that are so important
to the little shit that I live with. And I wont even complain. Much.
Ker-ist! Thirty two fucking years old and I have to start learning to live
like a family man. Weve bought a fucking childs car seat for
Gods sake!
As for the experiment
I know I said Id try a month, but
it seems kind of pointless, just for the sake of saying I made it through
a month. I dont intend to fuck up anytime soon. I mean, I might.
I might fall off the wagon tomorrow. But if I do, Ill just take my
licks and climb back on.
So I think Ill just declare the experiment a success, and implement
those findings immediately.
Now all I have to do is find a way to tell the little twat that without him
thinking it means were on our way to fucking Toronto.
Meanwhile, Id better get my ass moving if I want to get his breakfast
ready before he wakes up.
Shit! I am so turning into a damned dyke. Or some hetero hubby.
Fuck! too late. Hes starting to thrash around a bit, so I guess hes
already awake.
Oh well, I guess we can fuck first and then make breakfast together. Its
my birthday, after all. Surely that earns a birthday fuck or suck or both.
Maybe well just have a snack later. If I know the Munchers theyre
going to force feed us almost as much as Deb would at lunch time, so we
dont have to waste a lot of time eating
well, food anyway.
Now hes calling me. And the sound of his voice goes straight to my
balls.
Coming, dear! I answer, all high pitched and prissy. But I bet
Ill come close to breaking the through-the-loft speed record getting
up those damned stairs.
Like I said.
Im in love.
Sue me.
Jan 18th 2004
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Experiment