Page 20 of The Virgin Playboy

“Graham, it’s not idealistic to want to be friends with someone you’re being intimate with. What you’re describing is just friends with benefits.”

“Yeah, but I mean, real friends. People that hangout. Take part in each other’s hobbies. Not just meet up once a month whenever they want to have sex. I want a genuine friendship with a person. I probably have a relationship in me, but I don’t have the time to be a proper boyfriend right now. Not with my school and volunteer schedule. It’s just, New York sucks navigating it all alone. But I guess I chose this life for myself.”

“Trust me Graham, you’re giving me a lot to think about,” she grimaced.

“Oh no, Jaq. I wasn’t talk about you. I…I get where you’re coming from. I didn’t want you to think by sharing all that with you, that I was asking you to cross a boundary for me. It was pretty loud and clear the first time that you’d rather have someone with more notches on his belt. I’m not offended. It bruised my ego a little at first, but I’m a big boy. I compartmentalize fairly quickly,” I joked.

“And it’s a really attractive trait about you, I wish I was that good at it. I’ve had so many bad experiences and I do have to take responsibility that I’m the common denominator in those situations, but it was why I was initially attracted to you. You’re just so different than someone I’d usually get to know, I figured it couldn’t hurt to fly far from my comfort zone. I’m literally kicking myself for not giving you the space before to hear your story.”

“That’s okay, Jaq. I didn’t take it personally after a while. It must have been a heavy burden to carry the weight of someone’s emotional regulation on their shoulders. To know I might have triggered that response for you at least gives me a reason for that night. Gives me faith future encounters won’t always end up so disappointing.”

“Graham, we were both carrying things that night that would have made it a total bust. I’m almost glad we didn’t.”

“Well, thanks for trusting me and giving me the floor to explore my trauma,” I held out my hand to shake.

“Thank you for honoring all my annoying questions. I’m sure you hate all the stereotypes associated with being LDS, but thank you for indulging me for why a Black or brown person might consider the path your family took.”

“Can’t argue with good old-fashioned colonialism,” I joked, lightning up the mood.

“You just have…I don’t know. Even when you’re discussing your worst moments, you do it still managing to wear a smile on your face.”

“Better to laugh at trauma, I always say.”

“I’m glad we got this time to talk. I wonder…if maybe in the not so far off future, if you might be open to…I don’t know, hanging out?”

Pointing to myself, I asked in disbelief. “With me?”

“Of course, with you.”

“Honestly? I’d love that. If I had had a choice, we would’ve never stopped.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’ve never met someone like you,” as she reached in and soothed the back of my hand.

“What? A ruggedly handsome, cool yet corny twenty-eight-year-old virgin?”

“No. Just a person who isn’t trying to be someone he’s not. Someone who’s actually genuine. And someone who might make a good friend. In a time where we chase validation over connection, it’s nice to know people like you still exist.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jaq

Surprisingly enough, once we cleared the air and got our mutual confessions out the way, the rest of the afternoon with Graham had been a blast. Noir Noise’s music scene was more of the wavelength that I was on, since I at least had an idea of the lineup, but despite that, everyone was off doing their own thing having a good time. I was happy to see my friends being open to step outside their preferences.

Without the pressure of sex or a date, I learned a lot about Graham and there was no doubt at all that he was a great listener. He wasn't the kind of person to interrupt. He let you get all your thoughts out before contributing to the conversation, and that contribution was always well thought out, meaningful, and hardly one-sided.

Most men barely said five words when you asked them a question, or wouldn’t shut up, so he was a nice blend of the two. In the few short hours, I discovered he was the second born of four and the only boy. That his most listened to albums were Thriller by Michael Jackson and the Jimi Hendrix experience, Axis Bold as love, and that Māori people were so superstitious, they avoided cutting their hair or nails at night.

He asked me more about my upbringing, and while I didn't share his mixed-race identity, we both shared growing up in a multicultural household. Even after our failed hookup, we got along so well that I actually looked forward to the next time we’d get together just to talk. My gawd, was I developing a crush on him? Who even had those anymore?

Regrouping, we'd all returned back to the house, high off the festivals merriment and not wanting the fun to end. Yenory's famous fiancé’s chef had prepared a host full of dishes.

Pasteles, arroz con gandules, and pretty much every Puerto Rican dish and dessert known to man, as we all helped ourselves to hefty servings. Mouth full, Avi announced to no one particular.

“I ain't gonna lie, I don't really fuck with none of that emo shit. But hearing Black folk make it, it ain't half bad. I'm definitely gonna be secretly bumping to some of them tracks getting hyped on leg day,” he joked, as I took a bite from the gandules that really hit the spot.

“Okay, but why secretly, though? A lot of folks un-secretly bump to problematic artists, and you're telling me you'd rather listen to someone unproblematic in secret? I don't know, it's giving no ma'am,” I challenged, as he pursed his lips comically and plopped down on the couch next to Graham’s equally attractive cousin.

“See, now that's why I like talking to you, Jaq. You stay calling me out on my dumb shit. But you gotta admit, a lot of people in our community don't be knowing not one non-white person singing punk and shit. If you do have guilty pleasures, it's the mainstream white artists.