Thoughts on this Election from a Gay Soldier

Thoughts on this Election from a Gay Soldier

By Dustin Anderson

*WARNING*The is a bit of back story to this so be prepared for a long ride

I guess you can say that I have been confused throughout most of my life. There has been a battle that rages in me, and a fear that remains ever present in my mind. Growing up I never wanted to be different I always wanted to just fade into the background and not be made fun of (which never happened I was made fun of a lot as a kid), but there were always those thoughts of one day being someone who was considered “cool.” Telling a joke that went over really well, doing something that made the other kids cheer for me, etc. that “heroic-self” was always a dream and never really manifested into reality. So, I leaned into my awkwardness. Mom showed me Star Wars at a young age so I asked for Star Wars books, I wore Pokémon shirts (even though I was called a baby because of it… this was also at the height of Pokémon idolization so take that for what it is worth). I bought comics with my allowance, I saved up and bought all of my video game systems. I always lived inside this bubble of otherness, and this includes dating.

Now, I don’t think I’ve ever put down or fully explained what the coming out process was like to anyone, but I feel like there is a part of me that can convey an accurate, and brief synopsis. I had my first gay experience when I was very young, around ten. Yes, it’s young. Yes, I didn’t quite fully understand the situation. I was curious. I kissed my only friend at the time, I really liked the feeling. In the interest of full disclosure, we weren’t being supervised and only had the discussions of adults to tell us what else to do. Let’s just leave it as we “did other stuff.” Later, my mom called me into our living room and asked what we had done. Apparently my friend had told his parents what we had done and they were furious. My mom asked me what happened. The thing I remember most about this experience is the look of fear and anger washing over her face. So I lied about it. From that day on, my feelings for the same sex would remain buried until I got some courage from braver people. Throughout middle school and high school I chased the dream of becoming a cool kid. So I lost my lisp, thanked god when my vocal register dropped a couple of octaves, and started trying to look at girls. I got into my first relationship at the age of 12, lost my virginity at the age of 14, and even though I never felt quite satisfied with any of it I took solace in the fact that I was only being made fun of for hanging out with the nerdy kids. After my fourth relationship I came out as bi. Why? I had found a group of friends that wasn’t going to drop me at the first sign of homosexuality, and I finally had gay acquaintances that helped me to follow their example. I had my first real gay experience at the age of 17 with someone who was known as the “gay whore” in the bathroom at a public library. It made me feel good, but there were comments made by people that made me rush back into the closet. I am a little embarrassed that thing that made me rush back into the closet were just some comments. I met a group later on that was extremely accepting, and filled with more LGBT people. So I went back out of the closet, but not really. I said I was bi. Had some more gay experiences, but then went back to dating women because it seemed easier to be cool when I was straight rather than gay. That led to me getting engaged, which led me to the military.

When I got to the military I loved it. I was exercising, I had people that liked me, but it challenged me in every way. It challenged my body, it challenged my resolve, and most importantly (since it relates to the theme of this post) it challenged my politics. I was a die hard democrat before the military, but listening to people and keeping an open mind made me fall somewhere in between the lines. The thing is that I still wasn’t a cool kid in the military. There were tons of people with louder voices, better jokes, and more confidence; it’s just here it didn’t matter. There were also people that didn’t care if I was the loudest or the funniest they just cared about me getting my work done. It’s sometimes the simplest answer that makes the best answer. If it weren’t for me going into the military I don’t think I ever would have had the courage to come out of the closet completely, which I know is most likely the weirdest fucking thing anyone has said about the military in the history of the military. So when “Don’t ask, Don’t Tell” got repealed, it was my time. I left my fiancé (which I still feel really bad about but that is a post for another time), dated one more person to make sure, had a sit down with myself, and finally did something for myself instead of something that would “get me into the ranks of cool.” I came out. Completely. I am a gay man. I am in the military. It felt like I had woken up. Later meeting a man that I feel head over heels for. I finally had both of the things I had always wanted.

Flash forward to this election. We are finding out the people who are vying for candidate in both parties. My first thoughts were “Oh, Trump. That would be cool. A none career politician, who isn’t bought by anyone because he already has a lot of money. Let’s go with him.” A week later, anti-Mexican remarks, anti-Muslim remarks, anti-LGBT remarks, Anti-Female, anti-African American then my thoughts went to “ok. Not him. No need to vote for a lunatic, and even if he isn’t bought by the politician’s people I doubt he isn’t owned by someone. That was kind of stupid for me to think that just because he is a business man that means he isn’t corrupt. They are some of the most corrupt mother fuckers out there besides politicians.” It literally goes “you know the only thing that lies more than a used car salesman? A politician.”

So not trump. Hopefully Marco Rubio gets the vote for Republicans, but I’m a registered Democrat. I need to pay attention to them. I see Bernie Sanders. I see videos of him having the same views in the 80’s (when it wasn’t popular to have those opinions) on topics important to me, and he kept those views today. Now my thoughts “Ok. Here is a guy that I can get behind. He may have unrealistic notions about how money in the government works, but at least he’s consistent and that is the best thing I could ask for from a candidate.” I looked at Hilary and said “you know who’s not consistent. Her. I really hope she doesn’t get elected into the democratic spot.”

Flash forward again. “ok. So neither of the people I hoped for won, and I am morally opposed to both options in the major spots. Maybe I should look into a third option.” I see Gary Johnson. “ok, here is a guy I can get on board with. Friend to the gays, fiscally responsible, a couple of shitty parts but nothing I can’t live with really. Let’s go with him.” I posted stuff on my Facebook, got in political arguments, but soon realized that I was most likely wasting my vote. I was back in that “cool kid” mentality. “I should probably just vote for Hilary because if I don’t my rights are going to go away as a gay man. Maybe we will get a better option later.” So I kept Johnson’s page as “liked” on my Facebook because I morally stood with him, and I still fucking hate the two party system.

Flash forward again. I get told I have a military class I need to take. I know this is going to make me miss the election. I look into my options, but there doesn’t seem to be a way for me to get a vote in on the weekend before I have to show up to this class. So I suck it up and drive on. That’s the military mentality, just got to get it done. So I silence all of my opinions about who should be elected, or the people that aren’t voting because I can’t vote, so if I can’t vote I have no right to tell someone else how to vote in my stead or that they should go out to vote even though I am not.

Now here we are, I am still in training, and the elections have come in. I’m back to that cool kid wannabe mentality because I don’t want to blatantly disagree with people Trump celebrators about things he said, I don’t want to blatantly disagree with Hilary supporters because of how it will make me look. If I were to put myself in an alternate universe where I was able to vote, and I am really honest with myself I know I would have voted for Hilary but for no good reason accept that I felt unsafe by the thought of Trump.

As I sit here combing over people’s pleas on Facebook I have nothing to do but think. People are angry and rightly so, the first thing I did when it looked like Trump was going to win was look to see if he could take one of the few things I care about in this world away from me, the military. Started worrying about violence, started worrying about marriage, my mind has been racing, and I haven’t been able to get it to stop. A part of me knows that there is low possibility of this actually happening, but there is still more of a possibility than before. There is still more of a possibility than if they didn’t control the house, the senate, and the presidency. There is still a big possibility that I could get fucked, and hard; however, I never stopped respecting the decision of those who thought differently than me. Someone who isn’t gay, or a minority as a whole, is going to think the way they think because they have never been forced to think in a different way. Not every person who voted for Trump is against minorities, we know that, they cared more about finances than they did social equality because they either figured that the president was all talk about social issues and would never act on them, or they just simply cared more about the other issues. I hold no ill will to those who voted differently than I would have. I damn sure don’t hold people accountable that voted for a third party because they wanted to vote away from the third party system. I know these people think differently than me, for time they thought in the same way I did before I changed my mind. Being around people from different places shows you that they aren’t inherently bad people, and everyone really needs to stop thinking of them as Satan’s army.

The election is over. It’s time to mend fences, it’s time to look someone in the eye and realize that there reasons for voting were different than yours. Things could very possibly get very hairy for us, but that is nothing we aren’t used to. If there is one thing I know about the LGBT community or any minority is that we are fighters. It is in us to fight, it is written in our genetic code. So let’s fight. If the time comes, we will be ready.

The Quest for More Hearts

I recently created a new story for my Creative Writing class, the objective given was to observe someone in a public setting and write a fictional story on something that happened to them based on what I saw.

I saw a skinny, pale man asking any and all questions to a girl controlling the front counter. It was pretty obvious to me that he was nervously trying to find excuses to talk to this girl, and he was enamored with what she represented to him. Since I see this type of thing all the time, when people try “flirting” with people, this presented more of an opportunity for a story. For the sake of this story I’ll call him Fox, since he was wearing a Starfox shirt (for those of you who don’t know Starfox is a videogame character.)

The Quest for More Hearts

By Dustin Anderson

Fox sat outside of Gamestop in his 1995 Honda Accord, and looked in the window at the girl who filled his nightly dreams. She wore a black polo representing her company’s logo, a lanyard with her name on it, and a pair of khaki’s. Her short purple hair perfectly sculpted the shape of her face and ended at her jawline, making her pale white skin become more vibrant in the soft florescent light. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror, and sighed as his confidence for asking her out slowly diminished. His pale cheeks were covered in acne or acne scars, and his long hair did little to distract people from this extremely irritating condition. He blew his breath into his hand and took a big sniff, trying to see if it would offend her. A putrid stench of Mountain dew and Taco Bell hit him, but since he was used to this smell he didn’t think anything of it. He looked at his clothing to see if it was up to his usually standards, the purple Starfox shirt and grey shorts were par for the course as far as his usual affairs go. He exhaled sharply as his nerves mounted a revolt against the actions his mind was concocting. Today was the day, today was the day he finally asked her out, but how should he go about it. “I am just some hopeless nerd, one of hundreds she sees every day” he said to himself, highly overestimating the Gamestop foot traffic. “How do I do this?” his brain answered for him as a videogame inspired Heads Up Display (or HUD) came up in his imagination. The HUD pointed him towards the door of Gamestop, he took the directive and got out of his car.

            As he passed the threshold of the door and heard the ding-dong welcome of the store, a tiny chime went off on his head as his first objective was completed. He smiled to himself when the next objective was displayed for him and read, “casually go up to the front desk, in front of the female store clerk.” He walked briskly to the front counter and an alarm went off in his HUD. The objective text he looked at bolded the word CASUALLY, and he quickly diverted his path to the POP figures on his left. He looked at the figures trying to make it seem like he wasn’t trying to not look at the female clerk.  He put the figure down and strolled towards the Nintendo section picking up a copy of the new Starfox game. Even though he hadn’t had the money to get the new Nintendo system it was released on, his HUD blipped with a suggestion box saying “CONVERSATION PIECE” in bold letters. He took the game up to the front counter, making sure to stand in front of the girl instead of her male counterpart who was scanning items into their computer. The male counterpart looked at Fox as he waited for the girl to take notice of him, and warning bells went off from his HUD. Fox quickly averted his eyes back to his objective. The male clerk was about to say something until the girl clerk spoke up.
“Checking out?”
Conversation prompts came up in Fox’s HUD for him to choose from, they read:

1)    “Yes, please!”

2)    “Oh yeah I am” with a command prompt to wink at the end

3)    “Yes, do you have any information on any new Starfox games?”

Fox chose the 3^rd prompt.
“Oh, let me check that for you.” She said and smiled as her fingers raced across the keyboard.
While she checks, more conversation prompts appear for him to choose from.

1)    “So do you like Starfox?”

2)    “How’s your day going?”

3)    “Have you gotten the new Starfox game?”

Being a bit nervous, even with his subconscious trying to help, he choose option 2, and she responds, “Oh, it’s fine. Just a lazy Sunday afternoon. You”

1)    “Pretty good.”

2)    “Better now that I’ve seen you.” Another prompt to wink at the end.

3)    “Good, now that I finally got that game.”

He chooses option 3, and she responds “You’re a big Starfox nut I take it,” eyeing his shirt.
This time he doesn’t need a prompt, he answers for himself. “Oh yeah, you like Starfox?”
She responds, “it never really took with me, but my boyfriend loves it.”

His imagination shuts down the simulation trying to aid him, and the transaction is completed with minimal conversation. She wishes him a good day, but he can’t comprehend how that would be possible since she just unknowingly broke his heart.  

Tendency

I was given an assignment for my Creative Writing class. To write a story about one of the following things in the third person "a man has lost his job, a fifty-year-old woman just found out that she is pregnant, a boy saw a ghost, a young girl just lost something that wasn't hers, a woman from another country has decided to move to another country for love." I chose the boy who saw a ghost, and I hope you enjoy. 

Tendency

By Dustin Anderson

“Mommy… Daddy... I can’t sleep.” A young boy stood in the archway of his parent’s room, his blonde hair bouncing off the soft light coming from his elder’s alarm clock. The light put a red hue on his favorite pair of Pokémon Jammies. He seemed anxious as he stood there waiting patiently for his parents response. There was an acrid smell wafting from the room and the boy noticed that only one of the parents seemed to be in the bed. He tried to see which of his parents were in their so he would know the type of caution to approach with. He couldn’t get a good look though since whoever it was wrapped themselves tightly with the covers. He tiptoed closer to the bed going into more detail about his predicament as he approached.

“Mommy… Daddy… there is someone watching me from my window, can I please sleep in here?”

He made it to the bed and noticed the alarm clock’s light bouncing off something wet underneath his parent. The red hue from the alarm clock made it hard to discern what type of substance it was so he called to whoever was under the covers again.

“Mommy… Daddy… Did you wet your bed?” He shook the form under the covers to no avail.

“Mommy… Daddy… Please wake up. The person outside my room is scaring me. Please wake up.” He shook more, and more, as the covers refused to release whatever spell they had over his parent. His shaking loosened something from under the covers, it fell to the ground with a noticeable metal clank.

It was a knife. Stained with the same liquid that covered the bed.

The boy looked up and saw the curly, brunette hair that belonged to his mother finally peeking out of the covers.  He held the knife in his hand confused, as the light came on to explain the scene. His father stood in the archway of the door, horror stuck by the sight in front of him. Blood covered his marital bed, and the murder weapon still in his son’s hand. He ran over to see the lifeless body of his wife, and turned to his son.

He struck the boy across the face with the backside of his hand. “What have you done? You little demon!” He struck his son again and shook him for an answer.

“Daddy!” He screamed through the shakes, “I don’t know what you are talking about!” The boy truly couldn’t comprehend the situation as his father kept shaking him. “What’s wrong with mommy? Why won’t she wake up?” His father furiously picked the boy up, and rushed them downstairs so he could call the police.

On their way down stairs they pass his sons room. The boy looks inside, at the window, as the person who was looking at him starts to wave. There was a deep cut mark on her wrist as she gave a depressing, melancholy wave towards the boy. He waved back at her as his father frantically dialed the phone.

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

I recently created this story for my creative writing lcass. Thee assignment was to create a story with a moral. I hope you enjoy.

Blood, sweat, and tears

By Dustin Anderson

                Debra looked at herself in the mirror as the cases from her long day swam through her thoughts. She had pulled another 15 hours work day, and didn’t think her brain could take anymore. Working as a state appointed attorney was supposed to be some sort of patriotic duty, but now it just seemed like she was going to become a martyr for the people she was defending. Martyrdom actually might be the only way that she could win a case for some of the people, since none of them are getting her full, undivided attention. Out of her fifteen hour day she was handed 17 cases to work, she touched base with all of the potential clients, and asked for a plea deal for all but three of them. These three seemed, to her, to be the least guilty. Out of those three, two of them were trial by jury and had a substantial amount of evidence brought against them at the last minute. She fought the evidence as not being registered before the trial, but it won’t make the jury forget about what they saw. She now had to go through the process of getting the case thrown out. The last one was just a kid who was hauled in for being an accomplice to a robbery. She actually got the kid off due to a lack of evidence but it still didn’t stop her from thinking of all the people who had to do some jail time, just because she didn’t have time to fight their cases.

                She stared at the water in her sink as it swirled down the drain, lost in her thoughts and regret, until she suddenly saw something red go down the drain with the water. She blinked and looked harder at the sink for a couple of minutes, but didn’t see anything. She must have imagined it, this lack of sleep was probably getting to her. She looked back up at the mirror and saw her bloodshot eyes staring back at her. These eyes were so easily tricked after a long day in the court room. As she was gauging her eyes she saw a red drop fly down into the sink, through the mirror. She looked at the sink again as she saw the running water wash it away. She looked up and saw a dark red puddle formed on the roof of her tiny bathroom. The puddle was small and only formed above the sink, it looked like blood. She slammed her back against the wall, scared of the recent discovery. The drip was slow, menacingly slow, as it seeped through the popcorn ceiling, trickled to the middle of the puddle, and the drop finally grew large enough for gravity to take hold and bring it down to the sink. She sat on the floor of her bathroom for some time, watching the slow drip continue, as her mind raced for a conclusion to its origin. Too scared to actually look into it, and too tired to think about it anymore she left it. She said to herself, “It’s probably an animal or something, I’ll call someone to look at it while I’m at work tomorrow.” She walked to her bed from the joined bathroom and fell like a brick from a high rise onto the soft mattress. It didn’t take her long to pass out, even though she was still rattled from the blood in her ceiling, her need to sleep was greater than her fear.

                She feel unconscious and dreamed of court cases. The people who she had represented, the people who she had failed to defend properly, flooded her mind. She was caught in a dark room with nothing but their faces to keep her company. The faces surrounded her and eventually rose above her. The faces looked down on her in judgement and began to cry. The tear drops fell on her, all around her, they soaked her from head to toe. She began to cry in the dream as she looked at her tear soaked body. In a flash those tears turned to blood, and she woke up in a start. Her face was buried in a pillow and looked at her clock. Two hours had passed since she fell asleep, she buried her head in her pillow to try and scream out her frustration from being woken up by a stupid dream, but was startled by something dropping on her head. She felt through her frizzy, auburn hair to find a wet spot. She looked at her hand to see blood covering it. She recoiled from the sight, and stood up out of her bed. She wasn’t bleeding, there was no pain to speak of, there was just a dark, red spot on her head.  As she looked at the blood on her hand she saw a drop of blood hit the spot where her head was. She looked up to find another pool of blood on her ceiling. She stepped back and began to grow curious. She went back to the spot from before. There was still a puddle of blood dripping into her sink. She began to get scared when all of a sudden she felt her phone vibrate. The sudden vibration caused her to jump against the wall, but she soon steeled herself and looked at her phone. A text message from an unknown source. She looked at the message. It told her to “look in the roof.” Another text followed it “Push the ceiling tile up and look in your roof.” Nervously she adhered to the demands of this stranger. She didn’t know why she did what it told her to. Maybe it was out of fear of some sort of repercussion. Maybe it was out of curiosity. She didn’t know but she did it anyways, in spite of herself.

                She stood on a small stool and looked in the roof. It was too dark for her to see anything but she smelled something that almost made her fall off the stool. Instead of falling she got off the stool and threw-up in her sink. She then gathered herself again, turned the light on from her cell phone, and went back into the roof. Her head poked up and she pointed the light from her phone in the direction of the blood puddle. She found a dead animal, the initial shock was lessened as her imagination built it up to be much worse. She recognized the animal somewhat, it wasn’t a rat, it almost looked like a ferret or a  weasel. She was very confused until the light from her phone caused something on the dead animal to shine. Her curiosity got the better of her again as she reached for the shiny object. She pulled it off the rodent and saw that it was a necklace with a cross pendant. She felt her phone vibrate again and this time the sudden shock did cause her to fall from the stool. She fell hard on to her back side, but the pain wasn’t enough to make her forget about the message alert she just received. She looked at it and it said “go to the other spot.” This time she gained the confidence to respond.

“No” she sent it and waited for a few minutes with no response.

“I refuse.” Another couple of minutes with no response.

“I’m calling the police.” She went to the dialing potion of her phone and suddenly got a vibration.

She read the response and turned white, “you’ll be dead before you can finish dialing.”

She looked around in a panic and yelled “show yourself!” she felt a vibration in response “go to the second spot. NOW!”

She quickly ran to her bed, which now had a puddle of blood covering the sheets, she threw the ceiling tile back and shined her phone light towards the puddle in the ceiling to find another dead weasel. The weasel had a picture attached to it, which she tore off in a rush. It was a picture of two young Hispanic boys. She recognized them, almost like she had seen them on a train or on the sidewalk in passing. This feeling was short lived as she felt a sharp, hot pain go through her stomach. She remained standing for a little while until she coughed up blood. She fell back against her bed with the picture in hand, and saw a large knife sticking out of her stomach. She began to scream but was quickly stopped by a leather-gloved hand covering her mouth. The man stared at her, and put his index finger against his lips to signify for her to be quiet. She did not comply as the pain was too great for her to remain calm. The man then grabbed a roll of duct tape from his pocket and secured a strip over her mouth. The woman began to grow hazy from the pain and stopped screaming. She noticed this man, clad entirely in black, as a slightly older version of one of the boys from the picture. He went to her hand and snatched the picture from it. He held it in front of her face and she was barely able to make out what he was saying through the throbbing in her ears.

“You remember this man,” he said pointing to the man who obviously wasn’t him “Alejandro González. Do you remember him?” She faintly shook her head from side to side. “Didn’t think so. Two years ago he went to trial for manslaughter. You told him to plea. He was sentenced to 25 years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit.” She mumbled something through the tape that almost resembled an apology. “I don’t care what you have to say, I just thought you should know the reason you are dying.” She felt a quick pain in her stomach followed by a slash across her throat as darkness consumed her vision.

The man wiped his knife on her bed and left her house. He walked down her street to get to the car he parked a mile away but he lost the feeling to his legs and kneeled down. Tears covered his vision as he cried on an empty street in the sleepy neighborhood. He looked towards the sky for forgiveness as continued to cry on the abandoned sidewalk. 

A Matter of Health

I recently wrote a short story for my creative writing class. The assignment was to write a story that involved two people fighting over an object, let the object take symbolic signaficance. It may have the same meaning for both people or different. I hope you enjoy it. 

A Matter of Health

By Dustin Anderson

                Tom sat on the couch in his living room watching his girlfriend, Harley, play videogames. Tom and Harley had been going out in an excess of three months and things were getting to a breaking point for him. Three whole months and the most they had done is hand stuff under the covers. Tom looked at Harley, as her thumbs flew nimbly over the game controller, he looked at her in a way only someone as in love as he was could ever look at her. She was a beautiful, blonde, short girl who loved video games and all the other pop culture things that he loved. He had often thought that Harley was way out of his league, so he didn’t want to try fate’s hand by asking for sex. He just wondered if the time would ever come that she would grace him with such a blessing. Harley stared back at him and smiled. She paused her game and as if reading her boyfriend’s mind said, “want to go into the bedroom and watch something?” Tom was stricken by this comment. It couldn’t be the reason he was thinking about, she was probably being nice and thinking about something they could do together. He smiled and nodded in agreement back to her, they then left the living room to go to his bedroom. On this short trip, Tom thought about this more clearly. “She wouldn’t ask me to go into the bedroom just to watch some random show on Netflix when we could do the same thing in the living room,” Tom thought to himself. “No, this is definitely the time I should make my move. Instead of offering it, she is putting the ball in Tom’s court now. As soon as we get in that room I’m going to throw her on to the bed and give her exactly what she wants.”

                The door to Tom’s room opens and as it does Tom looks at his girlfriend as she sits down. He sits next to her, his heart racing a mile a minute, as his brain yells at him for chickening out. She scans through the selections on Netflix and Tom thinks of the right time for a second shot. She turns towards him to ask a question and is met with Tom kissing her. She rolls her eyes and moans a faint sigh of relief. As the two get more and more intimate they start to take things further than they have ever gone as both start undressing and Tom hears a sentence that he has been waiting to hear for some time now. “Do you have a condom?” Harley says in a breathy, erratic way, taking off her final articles of clothing. Although Tom had been waiting to hear these words for some time now, he was completely unprepared to respond with the right answer. He had no condoms anywhere in the house, he didn’t know when he would ever need them. His mind raced for a solution as one came through the front door of his 2 bedroom apartment. Jake, his roommate was home, from another one of his wild nights out on the town. “I’ll be right back?” Tom said as he left his girlfriend confused and naked on the bed. Tom jumped from his room wearing nothing but a towel, completely interrupting Jake, who was kissing a very tall muscular man from his nighttime adventure.

“Hello Tom?” Jake said inquisitively, “This is my roomm- STRAIGHT roommate Tom.”

Tom nodded to the mystery man, who nodded back.

“Jake you mind if I ask you something in private, please?” Tom said impatiently and Jake felt the urgency.

“Could you give us a minute darling? Apparently my roommate is struggling with something. I’ll be right in.” Jake gives his guest a deep kiss, as the guest leaves for Jake’s room. Jake’s guest almost goes in the wrong room but is stopped by Tom and led to the right one, eliminating a potentially embarrassing situation for Harley. “What is it Tom?” Jake said after closing the door making sure that his guest was securely out of earshot.

“I need a condom.” Tom cut to the point abruptly, knowing that Jake had one. Jake was the type of guy to remain very clean when going about town, he wouldn’t be caught dead club hopping without a rubber. He pulls a square shaped package marked “Trojan” from his pocket. In a rush, Tom grabs for the condom saying, “Thanks” before Jake yanks it away saying, “It’s my last one.” A painful silence fills the air.

“Come on man, it’s mine and Harley’s first time together.” Tom said pitifully.

“Aww good for you,” Jake says putting his hand on Tom’s shoulder in a congratulatory way, Tom smiles as he thinks he won the fight early, but Jake finishes, “It’s my first time with him as well.”

“Are you in a relationship with him?” Tom reasoned.

“Nope, but I could be by the end of this.” Jake fired back

 “Really? What’s his name?” Tom replied skepticism surrounding each syllable

“First name: Doesn’t, Last name: Matter”  

“Dude, what do you even have to worry about? He looks clean.”

“So do most needles but if I stuck a random one in your arm would you be ok with that?”

“How do you not have like a million of these if you’re that worried?”

“Fair enough. How do you not have at least one of these if you’re this hopeful?”

Tom sighed as he pulled out his last ditch effort, praying silently that this would work. “ok, Jake. What do you want your godchild to be named? I was thinking I would name him after you but-“ Jake put his hand up to cut his friend off as he rubbed the stress from his eyes. “Fine,” Jake said in a defeated voice. Tom thanked his friend quickly, and disappeared just as quickly as the words left his mouth. Jake entered his room and smiled a half-hearted smile at his guest who was already naked.

“Wanna’ watch Netflix?” he sighed.

Blissful Naivety/Wasted Experience

I was given an assignment in my creative writing class recently. The parameters of the assignment were to "Write a short (one page) story as a child. Then, write a short story as a seventy-year-old man. Both characters should be on an airplane or train or in a car. These should be two different stories, and you will assume first person in each." Hope you enjoy.

Blissful Naivety

By Dustin Anderson

I didn’t know where we were going only that the part of town we were in was very scary. I wanted to go play right after school, but mom had to make a stop before we got home. I had never been on one of mom’s stops before I only knew that when she got back home I wouldn’t see her for the rest of the day, and that I was in charge of dinner. We pulled up to a house that had wood in the windows, blocking out anyone from accidentally glancing inside. The outside of the house was painted a dark brown and some of the paint was coming off revealing white spots underneath. The yard had a bunch of trash lying around it aluminum cans, tires, tools, a bunch of grown up stuff. All of the other houses in the neighborhood had trash in their yards too, I was surprised their moms hadn’t told them to pick all of this up.

“Wait here,” mom said “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Mom left the car running and the radio on as I watched her walk up to the scary looking house, in the scary looking neighborhood. She made it to the door and knocked. A tall man in a tank top and saggy jeans answered the door and craned his neck for her to come inside. I wanted to get out and ask about his tattoos, but I followed moms orders. Tattoos were so cool. I bopped my head to the pop song playing on the radio as mom disappeared inside the house. I looked around to see if there were any kids in this neighborhood I could play with if we ever came back, since mom was keeping me from playing with my friends. I saw a little trike in the front yard of the house next to us, it was too little for me but I didn’t mind playing with younger kids.

I continued to look around for toys until my eyes fixed on a man running towards our car from the back of the scary house. He didn’t seem scared of anything, he seemed more exciting like he has playing a game of tag. It was definitely a game of tag since he kept looking over his shoulder back at the house. Even though he looked really happy mom always told me to lock the car if I see anyone trying to get in, so I made sure it was locked. The man looked a lot like the man that told my mom to come inside the house. He didn’t have a shirt on and his pants were really baggy. It looked like he needed new pants anyway there were holes in the knees. He knocked on the window with a big smile on his face, and I lowered it a crack.

“Hey kid, you’re Roxanne’s son, Right?” The mysterious man said through a grin. I nodded in response making sure to adhere to my mom’s other command of never talking to strangers. “That’s great, your mom is a real nice lady, and I close friend of mine.” I nodded again, not knowing what else to do in response.

“What’s your name kid? He asked, but I said nothing in response.

He grinned wider, like a clown “Do you like our cool house?” I shook my head yes in response.

“Hey does your mommy ever talk to anyone important?” I gave him a strange look, and he spoke again, realizing his mistake. “Like does your mom ever talk to any policemen? Has she ever gone to the hospital after coming here?” Unsure of what he meant I was about to ask a question in response, but was quickly cut off by seeing my mom come from the house. She had a brown bag with her and an angry look on her face as she stared at the man who had been talking to me. The man turned around to meet my mother before she came back to the car, and it seemed like they were arguing. I got nervous and turned up the radio to make sure I couldn’t hear my mom’s yelling. The two screamed, their hands were flying around in every direction as they spoke, and it seemed like mom was going to hit him until she walked off in a huff.

I unlocked the car for mom to get in and turned the radio down so she wouldn’t yell at me for having it too loud. She ripped open the door and put her brown bag down between us. She looked at me sternly “I told you never to talk to strangers,” she said in her mean voice.

“I didn’t he asked me questions but I never said anything, then you came back.” I said fearing discipline.

“What did he ask?” she said concerned.

“He asked me name and if I liked coming here and if you had been put in the hospital or talked to any police officers.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, you came back.”

The man was still looking at us from the spot mom left him. His arms were crossed and he was still smiling. My mom made a gesture I didn’t recognize at him, and took off from the house fast. As we left for home, I started to notice how much the bag smelled. I was going to ask mom about it but she seemed way to angry and I didn’t want to provoke her. Instead I listened to my music and hoped I was still allowed to go play with my friends when we got back home.

Wasted Experience

By Dustin Anderson

                I sat in the plane contemplating the all-encompassing truth that I have grown far too familiar with. I was looking at a child, being painfully reminded of the 70 years that I seemed to have wasted. What was I going to right now anyway? Was I going to be confronted, yet again, by the friends who had secured a vast amount of success while I wither away in retirement from a fast food joint? The plane rumbled a bit as the gravity defying machine met an incursion of strong winds from a storm. The child’s parents buckled his seatbelt as the light flared to life above us, I followed suit as I continued to stare at him envious of the future he has. Would things have been different if I planned more when I was his age? The friends I was going to see were all businessmen, lawyers, or doctors. They had large houses with full front and back yards. I had an apartment in Florida that I was still struggling to make payments on. They all moved to different parts of the country seeking their fortune and obtaining it. I stayed in the same place the rest of my life because I could never bring myself to take a leap of faith.

                The kid moved around in his seat, the restraining seatbelt was making him uncomfortable. The plane shook more violently then before, and the kid became still.

It wasn’t just their monetary success that got under my withered skin, they had beautiful families. They had grown a successful life surrounded by loved ones. In every way I was their opposite. I had always wanted kids, always wanted that constant stream of love and attention. No woman would see fit to marry a poor Burger King manager who constantly came home smelling of onion rings. Why was I born into this pauper’s life? I was smart in my youth, I was constantly on the Honor Roll. All of my friends thought that I was going to grow up to be some big shot. Why didn’t I ever do anything with that? Maybe that’s why I hated these yearly get-togethers. Beyond siphoning more money from my pockets it became a constant reminder of how inferior I was to them. Damn this kid. Damn this kid for making me feel like this.

                The plane shook violently again and more people began to get nervous. The flight attendants raced, in a hurried walk, back to their seats.

                I had to admit this turbulence was a bit strange for me. I was largely unconcerned with it, having made peace with whatever fate I could suffer, but what about this kid? If we were to go down right now, he would never be able to be a big shot like my friends. He would never be able to move away from his friends and grow completely uninterested with the people he left behind. He would never get to feel the kind of love my friends do every day. He would never have children, grand-children, great grand-children that would carry on his legacy until the end of time. Does the world need another story like that? Does the world need another unassuming kid that eventually grows into an uncaring adult?

                The plane shakes to the point where some passengers are lifted from their seats, and the lights on the plane begin to flicker. The passengers mumble things to each other as I notice something that flew from the overhead compartment. A coloring book. That takes me back. I would always color while my friends would play games. I noticed that the kid in the chair was grabbing for it. This dumb kid was completely unaware to the world around him right now, the most important thing to him was that stupid coloring book. In all fairness this is what I would be most concerned about at his age. The world could wait as long as I had my coloring book. The plane shook even more violently, the emergency lights came on and some people started to scream as our future seemed to be as dark as the clouds that surrounded us. The captain mumbled something inaudible to these half deaf ears of mine as I looked at the kid beginning to cry. Was he crying about the circumstance or because he couldn’t get to his book? In any case, if I was going to die with life unfinished at least I could get this kid his coloring book. I unbuckled my seatbelt and crawled to the coloring book.

“Sir! Please return to your seat!” I heard from ahead as a flight attendant stared me down. I didn’t stop. What could she have done killed me before the fall did? I grabbed the book and place it in the lap of the crying kid. His parents eyed me, confused as to why I thought their son cared so much about his coloring book. The kid’s eyes were closed to what he had in his lap and didn’t he stop crying. I didn’t know how much I helped but at least that kid could die with something he truly cared for. As I returned to my seat day began to break through the windows at the front of the plane. A calm of relief came over the passengers as some punk began to clap for the recent weather improvement. I rolled my eyes and looked at the kid. His parents calmed him down enough so that he would open his eyes, and when he opened them he saw the kindness I left on his lap. He hugged the book and began looking around for crayons. His parents looked as confused as mine would have been in the same situation. The kid may 

Act Your Orientation

Wrote this as an assignment for my Creative Writing class. The assignment was to write a one page non-fictional story, with one fictional element. This story doesn't exactly hold me in the greatest light. I hope you enjoy. 

Act your orientation

By Dustin P Anderson

It was a hot, Florida-like day on the morning of the day I would become a man in society’s eyes. I was by the pool at my current girlfriend’s house and I looked at her with the same curiosity that I always had, wondering silently to myself if there would ever be a moment that I would truly be attracted to her. I could see other boys looking at her in the hall, I could definitely discern that she had attractive features, but for some reason my mind could not escape this trapped feeling of never wanting anything more than a close friend that I was obligated to see every day. I could see she felt the opposite way about me. She could hardly keep her jubilation hidden every time we kissed in a hall way, or around her friends. She acted the same way when we were alone like we were currently, but it was more of a show when we were in public. Like I was a prize her friends should recognize. It was like I listened to her thoughts during these moments and kept hearing the same mantra recited back to me: “look, I got Dustin, the guy that doesn’t seem interested in anyone.”

My lack of interest in the opposite sex had gathered some negative attention from other boys in the school. I was constantly asked “what are you some kind of fag bro? You need to go ask some of these hotties out.” I always said that it was my extreme lack of confidence that led to my sexual solitude, in reality I couldn’t stand lying to someone that seemed to truly care for me in a way I could never care for them.  I didn’t know if I was “some kind of fag” at the time, I could never admit it to myself. I always thought more of the boys in my classes then the girls, and I was often aroused by those thoughts but I could never bring myself to act on them. My father always let me know that having the kind of thoughts that raced in my head would lead my soul to an eternal pit of torment. The kids in my school would constantly harass the boys who would come out of the closet. Some would be beaten physically, while others would be ridiculed mercilessly until they eventually stopped coming to school all together. I was a true coward in the face of social adversity, instead of realizing my feelings, I buried them.

That cowardice led me to this moment, the moment that would allow me to be seen as straight to all of my comrades. The moment that would finally allow me to live a life of non-confrontation. The day I lose my virginity. While I sat there hoping for some sort of attraction to appear, looking at this girl in a bikini, my brain was at war to save me from a path moral questionability. “You’re too young. You just got done with middle school, give it at least until your second year of high school.”  The angel on my shoulder said. “You know at least ten other guys that have done this already. You’re fine.” The demon on the opposite shoulder responded. “She has been baking in this sun for quite some time. She will probably be too burnt to want to do anything.” The angel hoped for me. “This is her plan. She wants to do this regardless of a little sunburn. She intentionally invited you over to spend the night with no parents. If you look in her drawer I bet you’ll find a condom.” The Devil blocked. The two went back and forth in my mind for some time until she arose from her baking, to smile at me. We went through the rest of our day like normal, relaxing with some television, sharing kisses here and there until the night came.

She had invested in some candles for our first sleep over and my shoulder angel was ringing off warning bells as she lit them. We completely undressed each other and my shoulder Devil’s premonition turned out to be mostly accurate as she unveiled a condom from her purse. I asked her multiple times if she was sure this is what she wanted, I assured her multiple times we could wait, in some last ditch effort to save my soul from this wretched engagement. Nothing worked and we eventually found ourselves embraced in a post coital cuddle. I made sure to be very attentive to her needs, figuring thtat at least one of us should derive some pleasure from this; even with this thought in my head, I was beyond ashamed of myself. I committed the ultimate misogynic sin by using a girl for my own ends instead of truly being in love with her. Although she seemed happy by this outcome I know that if she could read my mind she would feel disgusted in me. My pit was only dug deeper as we continued this activity until our eventual break up, my pit was only made wider as she wouldn’t be the only girl I would do this to. The path of redemption for my soul wouldn’t begin for some time after I was done with high school. I still pray to this day that it is not beyond saving for my crimes against those women’s feeling and my own conscience.

-The one fictional thing about this story is that we never had any candles.

Five stages of homosexuality

Denial

By Dustin Anderson

I am not the evil demon you speak

I’ll show you full well my devotion

My wrist is like a ruler, never meek

My love for sports causes commotion

How could you make this mistake?

When I drink my weight in beer

I know that you think its fake

But you have nothing to fear.

I can’t even look at that part for long

I stare at the right parts for hours

I was admiring the ass, that’s not wrong,

You know I don’t deserve those glowers

My love remains correct to this day

So stop with these assumptions of gay.

Bargaining

By Dustin Anderson

Is there any way to make me free?

Feeling trapped in my own head

By thoughts that make people flee

From friends whom I’ve constantly pled.

I would do anything to be like you

To walk down the street and not think

“Does that person know who I screw?”

“Do they discuss our common link?”

I’ll never date again if you can repair

The only thing that makes me unique

Please, oh please, hear this prayer

You can’t have made me this weak

The only thing that remains to pay

Is this overwhelming urge to be gay.

Depression

By Dustin Anderson

I stand in the face of my crumbling future

No children to carry on my wretched name

I try repair my mind with a begrudging suture

My emotions are the more true test to tame

I beg my parents to mend our tattered bond

They turn their nose in disgusted contempt

Dad curses at the evil wretch he spawned

Mom refuses to let the house go unkempt

I turn to my friends looking for some solace

They all can’t believe the enemy I’ve become

They thought my sexual reputation was flawless

Now they can only think of me as lowly scum

Why did god choose to make me this way

To wallow in my sorrow as a goddamn gay

Anger

By Dustin Anderson

You can’t tell me who to screw

You can’t strip my humanity

This rainbow flag is for my crew

A marker for our insatiable profanity

Our words ring out “love is love”

Battle cries ring over picket signs

Men and women, hawk and dove

We will topple your gender shrines

The day has come to mount an attack

Hold onto your bibles as we ascend

Our victories will continue to stack

We prove that we will not be penned

If we offend you then begin to prey

Nothing will stop the rise of the gay.

Acceptance

By Dustin Anderson

I don’t need to force a joke to make you happy

I don’t need the acceptance of lesser minds

I don’t need to keep my responses snappy

I don’t need to hide my face behind the blinds

I need to look forward to the lazy days of love

I need to develop into a member of society

I need to realize that I have risen a level above

I need to let my thoughts overtake this anxiety

I have all that I need in a world beginning to fix

I have the love of my life regardless of parts

I have support in the face of some pricks

I have freedom for my mind in the arts

I never knew how good it would be to say

That I am loved and it happens to be gay