“Coming out with us?” he asks when Etna and I are looking at him.
“Caulder Haines,” we answer in unison.
Julian laughs. “That’s not going to happen.”
“He’s gay and never stepped foot into the club and yet, it happened,” I point out.
“If they just suck your dick, they’re not getting pregnant. At least, not from you,” Julian points out.
“Seriously, have fun,” Etna says. “I’d rather kill zombies or something.”
Julian shrugs.
“And pretend they’re refs,” someone behind us mutters.
We all nod in agreement. Too bad we couldn’t add faces of our own onto opponents. Okay, that’s probably not a healthy way to go about life and it’s a good thing that’s not possible, but still. It’s fucking frustrating.
There’s very little talking on the bus. I’m sure we’re all pissy about the same thing. I’d be surprised if a bunch of the team didn’t go out tonight.
I’ve never been into the club scene, so while I’ve gone with Etna and the guys a couple times, it’s never my first choice of how to spend the evenings. When I want to hook up, I much prefer apps. I always wear a condom and always pull out before I finish. Just in case. Especially after the Caulder thing.
It’s not just because our old teammate and friend, Laurent “Lo” Duval, started dating him, but I think it was hard to watch for a lot of us. The possibility of shit like that happening is far greater when you’re a celebrity, rich, an athlete, or somehow perceived as ‘above’ the general population. When your life is as a public figure, people want a piece of you, and some will stoop to shitty lows to get it.
It was also a great example of how fickle the public is. Everyone was immediately against Caulder, confident this girl was right. At least half of them swung in his favor once he came out and demanded a paternity test. The rest either fell away or quietly supported him when the test results came back.
No one wanted to admit a pregnant woman could lie or falsely point out the father of their child. I admit I wasn’t entirely confident he didn’t do it when the story first broke. Not until I saw Lo’s reaction to it. That was the first thing to give me pause.
The second was imagining being Caulder in that situation. I don’t think I’ve stepped foot in a club since. Yeah, I’m good. To this day, every time someone mentions a club, it’s the first thing I think about. It was close to home with Caulder being Lo’s boyfriend, even if we hadn’t known from the onset of the accusations. But it’s also close to home because he’s a pro hockey player.
I’ll take my viral “outing” over that any day. If someone claims they know my sexuality better than me, have at it. Idon’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. Bottom line is that their opinions don’t affect me. If it makes them feel better and sleep at night insisting I’m gay because I drunkenly kissed my best friend on the beach two summers ago, then good for them.
Everyone gets drunk and kisses someone they wouldn’t otherwise at least once in their life. That sure as hell wasn’t my first time, though I’m hoping to make it my last. Who knows who I could have knocked up and not remembered? It would be a different Caulder situation, but one I probably would have been stuck with.
But that was my fourth drunken kiss. The first was when I was sixteen and snuck out one night to party with my teammates. Drunkenly kissed the center. I only barely remember it and if I’m not mistaken, he kissed me.
Twice in my single year of college. Once with a girl I was really into, whowas notinto me, and another with… well, someone. I’m a little foggy about who they were. I’m not sure about gender or general features. Only that it happened.
Thankfully, drunken kissing seems to be my limit. I haven’t drunkenly fucked thus far, and I’m going to keep myself out of that game before I cross the boundary and have something to truly regret in my life.
Besides, I’m enjoying being a gay guy playing hockey. For the first time in my life, the work I do off the ice feels important. I feel like I’m reaching people. Like I’m making a difference just by existing. I’m showing queer youth they can play sports and be fucking good at it.
Yes, I worry it’ll come out that I’m lying one day. In a way, I find it a little comical. A manpretendingto be gay. Usually, it’s the other way around.
However, I never outright said I’m gay. In fact, the only time I said anything on the matter was to contradict it. I saw how wellthat went over, so I haven’t bothered since. Apparently, drunken kisses revealed my truth.
Whatever.
Bottom line: I never claimed to be gay. Those words never left my mouth. Any time—and I do meanany time—someone brought up my sexuality or the video or Etna not on the ice, they receive nothing but silence and a polite smile from me until they get back on subject.
If I tell the truth, they say I’m lying. The world only accepts my lie as truth. All because of a stupid video of two men with blood alcohol levels so high that neither of them remembers the incident at all. If it weren’t for the video, no one would be any wiser. It might as well not have happened.
I glance at Etna. He’s staring out the window, eyes half closed. I suppose if I were going to kiss any guy, I’d kiss him. He’s my best friend, so why not, right? I guess he’s attractive.
Frowning, I try to determine if I think that’s the case. He has the qualities that girls find attractive, anyway. Body of an athlete. Carelessly hairy face because he’s too lazy to shave every day. Confident. Nice smile.
Wait. Is it a nice smile? Maybe I need to ask him to smile to study it for a minute.
Shaking my head, I lean back in my seat and stare at the back of the headrest in front of me. Guess I’m tapping into my supposed gayness by trying to figure out if my best friend is attractive. At least it got my mind off of stewing in anger over the game for ten minutes.
