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I had a friend in high school named Cayce. She was a small mouse in stature with a pouty face. She always had the worst luck with men. What surprised me looking back is that Cayce never did grieve the loss of a lover. They just left. No ice cream tantrums or Facebook stalking to see her ex's ugly new girlfriends-- none of it. She had one particular "toy" by the name of Jeb-- a mutt of a hound with a bitch of a mother.

I was always fascinated by sexual perversion. I remember the times when I was around twelve-- with explosively raging hormones-- sneeking peeks at the other boys' packages in the showers after gym. I was obviously gay and some boys got a little privy to my plan of letting them strip first as I fiddled in my backpack with slanted eyes at the different penises bouncing around the room. Some did not take it well-- they threatened to kick my ass had I ever done something like that again and said I was sick and they would pray for me. Some seemed to like the attention, for whatever reason-- as long as I was looking and not touching, it didnt matter to them.

Cayce did not just look. She touched everything. I remember when we were sixteen and Cayce had told me that she had had sex for the first time-- with Jeb. I was more than a little curious for the brass-tax details.

"I'm only half a virgin." she had said to me.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked her.

She looked nervous. "I wouldn't let him put it in my cootch because he didnt have a rubber... so it didn't count the full way, but he came so it was a half way."

I giggled. "Excuse me....."

"He came and it got in my hair and it was sticky..." she said.

"gross..."

She was antsy in fourth block... world history class I think... and someone asked her why she was wiggling so much and I spoke up for her.

"It's because her chair isn't quite right and she is somewhat 'ANAL' about how her chair sits. Isn't that right, Cayce?"

She turned beet-red and didn't come back to school for two days. When she returned she said she forgave me and that was the christian thing to do. I reminded her she was a catholic and not a christian.

"Same fucking thing, asshole." she said.

Not too long after Jeb got his nut, whether it was received from the butt or cooter, he wanted nothing to do with pouty-faced Cayce. She wasn't sad. She said she didn't really love him. She didn't care. She found a new boy, a wolf if I remember, named Ethan-- who also got his ejaculation and left.

Cayce was unlucky in love, but it was her own damn fault so don't feel bad for her.

I tell you all that because I never quite was able to do what Cayce did. I could not seperate sex-- the big nasty-- from real love. If I had sex it was because I loved them-- and it wasn't often this little fox got his bone. I didn't need it-- which set me apart from the other gays who were either knot deep in a new man or finishing off the lastest chew toy.

---

So, after I left the confines of Le Vieux Carre, I ended up sleeping until noon the next day. I woke up to see no one in my bed, which was not a surprise, but it's always a good thing to check after a rather inebriated night on the town. I made myself some eggs and I waited.

Back in middle school when I was peep-stalking the boys in the locker room, those boys were learning how to express limerance, date, love, and break-up in healthy ways that were best for both the boy and the girl. I was not so lucky. I had taught myself to cherish another being as obsessively as possible. I never learned how to deal with other people in a romantic way and I beleive that is the case for most gay and lesbian individuals because we were so enthralled in the confines of our big 'secret.' Yes, I did have a relationship with the cutest boy in school, a slick rabbit by the name of Nolan. Looking back on old journals I have even read entries where momma was gonna send me away to have his bastard child. My relationship with Nolan was all angst-ridden, it was all unrequited, it was as sexy as I could imagine, and it was all made-up.

Watch out, because I don't know how to love; but, I know how to stalk your ass.

Sunday came and went, I was biding my time until I could get back to that bar to see if that reptile would show himself again in public.

Monday.

Tuesday. The mail came-- bills as usual.

Wednesday.

Thursday.

Friday.

Saturday came at last! I had to actually speak to him. What was I going to say? "Hi. whats your name?"

Yes, I had to know his name.

What if he wasn't there?

I swallowed my fruit stripes gum-- I beleive someone told me it stays in your stomache for seven years, what bullshit-- and walked into the doors of Le Vieux Carre, tripping over the threshold and falling to the floor.

Yep. It was a great start.

"Are you okay, Fifi?" I heard Ms. Kraven screech from the bar, making no real attempt to leave the shirtless boys around her.

"I think I'm fine." I touched my face to check. I looked to my paw and saw blood. "Uhh... Ms. Kraven, Do you got a band-aid?"

"In the purse I think." she calledto me and she reached for her bag so she could scavenge through it. "Yeah, Darling, here's one!"

It was a big bulky band-aide designed for a decent gash from a sharp razor. It was overkill for my small wound. "Thanks, love!" I called to her and I ran to the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror the cut was so much bigger than I had anticipated. It didn't hurt so I guessed it wasn't too serious, and I covered it up with the bulky band-aid. I exited the bathroom and ordered my Jager-bomb. I closed my eyes and chugged and when I opened them he was sitting next to me. He was staring at me. He was talking to me. There is a god!

"So, how'd you get the band-aid?" he said.

"It's a pretty long story." I laughed.