I walk into a party with Carlos that he invited me to when I told him that Alyna broke up with me because I got Casey pregnant. The first thing I notice is that there are no women at this party.
I say, “Is this a gay thing?”
Carlos says, “Of course. What kind of parties do you think I go to?”
“Why’d you invite me to a gay party?”
“It’s better than staying home by yourself.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Well, maybe you’ll meet a cute boy who’ll give you a blow job and make you realize how stupid you were to ever stick your dick in a pair of meat curtains in the first place.”
Then Carlos says, “I’m going to go mingle,” and abandons me in the middle of an apartment full of fags.
As I go to the fridge to get a drink I run into a guy who says, “So you’re here with Carlos, huh? I didn’t think he had it in him.”
“Excuse me?”
“To get somebody as hot as you.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Oh, I know. I’m just friends with every guy I’ve ever let fuck me in the ass, too.”
“I’m straight.”
“What?”
“I’m straight.”
The gay guy says, “Then why’d you come to this party?”
“Carlos invited me.”
“Yeah, but he told you we all suck each other off at the end of the night, right?”
I’m thrown into a catatonic state by the impact of the guy’s statement. Then he squeezes my arm and says, “Just kidding,” followed by a gay laugh.
He says, “We fuck each other in the ass…just kidding again. But he did tell you this was like an all-gay party, right?”
“No.”
“That little shit.”
Carlos comes back from wherever he was. He says, “Tedward, you better not be trying to suck my friend’s dick. He’s straight.”
Tedward says, “I know, that’s what he said. Why’d you bring him here?”
Carlos says, “He told me he didn’t have anything to do tonight. His girlfriend dumped him because he got his ex-girlfriend pregnant.”
Tedward says, “I’m so glad I’m a fag. I couldn’t handle some whore telling me she was pregnant and not really knowing the truth.”
It has never really occurred to me that Casey could be lying. I say, “What do you mean not knowing the truth?”
Tedward says, “Women lie constantly to get their way. They can be seriously bitter cunts. At least with a guy you always know they want to fuck and you always know they’re not pregnant.”
Carlos says, “He’s right. I fucking hate deceitful bitches. You know you should find out if Casey really is pregnant before you go throwing your life away and marry her or some stupid shit.”
I say, “How do I do that?”
Carlos says, “Get one of those home pregnancy kits and make her pee in it.”
I say, “She’s not going to agree to take a home pregnancy test.”
Carlos says, “You’ll figure out some way to do it if you really think she might be lying.”
Tedward says, “As enthralling as this conversation about cunts is, I must conclude my participation in it. It was nice to meet you”—he shakes my hand—“but I’m off to find a cock to suck.” Then he moves off into the crowd.
Carlos says, “He’s an even bigger slut than I am, and that’s saying something.”
I say, “Do you really think she could be lying?”
Carlos says, “Does a cunt smell like rotten fish?”
There is something comforting about the possible hope this suspicion has created in me. I don’t want to talk about it anymore for fear I might change my mind and accept her declaration of pregnancy as fact when I now know some doubt exists. I want the doubt.
I say, “So why didn’t you tell me this was an all-gay party?”
“If I did, would you have come?”
“No.”
“Exactly. But now that you are here, drink your drink and be my wingman.”
“You want me to help you pick up gay guys?”
“Of course. Why do you think I invited you? Fags are attracted to straight guys like moths to flame. All you have to do is just stand here and get hit on, then when you tell them you’re straight they’ll have to talk to me.”
“Jesus Christ.” I’m gay bait.
“Just shut up and do it, here comes our first victim.”
A gay guy comes up to me and says, “I’m Jim. You’ve got a great ass.”
I can’t even begin small talk. I just say, “I’m straight.”
Jim says, “Hey, man, I wasn’t hitting on you, I was just saying you’ve got a great ass.”
Carlos jumps in, “How is that not hitting on somebody? And what about my ass?”
Jim says, “Are you straight, too?”
Carlos says, “Nope.”
Jim looks at Carlos’s ass and says, “Eh, your straight friend’s ass is better.”
Carlos says, “Fuck you. How dare you.”
Jim ignores Carlos and says to me, “So you’re straight, huh?”
I say, “Yeah.”
Jim says, “You ever wonder what it’d be like to have your cock sucked by a guy?”
I say, “Nope, sorry.”
Carlos jumps back in, “Oh, and you’re a fucking bottom?”
Jim says, “Yeah, so?”
Carlos says, “So get the fuck out of here.”
Jim says, “Fine,” and walks off back into the party.
The same scenario plays itself out at least a dozen times, with Carlos getting a couple of phone numbers and ultimately blowing some guy in a back bedroom while I deflect gay advances for twenty minutes. When he comes out of the bedroom with the guy he just blew, he says, “I told you it would work.”
After the party I go back to my apartment with a new sense of the possible future—one in which Casey does not have my seed growing in her womb, one in which Alyna and I are together, one in which I still have no idea how to secretly administer a home pregnancy test to Casey.
As I close my eyes and reflexively start going through a mental list of things that I hate about Casey, I stop on one item—she never flushes the toilet after she takes a piss.