philco

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I pay people to do things on the internet and write down things my best friend says and put them on the internet.

4 Mar 10

i hope they don’t mind being outed. my heroes. quarterstories: It was at that moment their hands touched. Gary moved first, jerking slightly in his seat. He didn’t want the client to know that he and John weren’t actually gay. He tried to act natural, but all he could do was try to conceal the reflex of his hand withdrawing from the graphic design. John’s hand was on top though, and Gary’s effort to hide the awkward hand contact simply left him with his eyebrows up and his mouth half-open. He had gone to such lengths to sell this design campaign: a vintage tie, wool sweater vest, metrosexual haircut and beard. John was all-in as well, with his cosmetic glasses and fancy Italian watch. Leading up to the pitch, the day had been spent exclusively at a spa, receiving lavender oil massages and manicures. Gary even tolerated an exfoliating facial. The two of them were somehow convinced that this charade would land them the job. And until that moment, things had gone swimmingly gay. Alistair had met them on the porch when they arrived. He had his thumb in the crack of a thickly bound romance novel and clicked his teeth before he said, “I never did see why Fabio couldn’t go on being on the cover of every one of these books. It’s all painted for the fantasy anyway.” He held the book up to display the cover, found his bookmark, and thrust it between the pages. Drinks followed; fancy ones. Alistair insisted that John and Greg each try a Cosmopolitan while Alistair prepared himself a double Cherry Screwdriver. They talked about the latest display at the local gallery, dismissingly. “Art isn’t worth talking to unless you’re talking down to it,” Alistair said. Then the presentation began, and as Gary and John lisped their way through the pitch, they moved in tandem, removing each piece from the portfolio, each holding one side as if they were two halves of the same person. As the final element came into play, that hand-on-hand moment arrived, settled in, and now continued, lingering. John realized his mistake in reaching for the rough red fabric on the demonstration piece, but only after half-committing to the nudge at the base of his neck which demanded he retract his hand. Was it social programming or old-fashioned ego that held his eyebrows raised? Either way, they were out of the closet.

i hope they don’t mind being outed. my heroes.

quarterstories:

It was at that moment their hands touched. Gary moved first, jerking slightly in his seat. He didn’t want the client to know that he and John weren’t actually gay. He tried to act natural, but all he could do was try to conceal the reflex of his hand withdrawing from the graphic design. John’s hand was on top though, and Gary’s effort to hide the awkward hand contact simply left him with his eyebrows up and his mouth half-open. He had gone to such lengths to sell this design campaign: a vintage tie, wool sweater vest, metrosexual haircut and beard. John was all-in as well, with his cosmetic glasses and fancy Italian watch. Leading up to the pitch, the day had been spent exclusively at a spa, receiving lavender oil massages and manicures. Gary even tolerated an exfoliating facial. The two of them were somehow convinced that this charade would land them the job. And until that moment, things had gone swimmingly gay. Alistair had met them on the porch when they arrived. He had his thumb in the crack of a thickly bound romance novel and clicked his teeth before he said, “I never did see why Fabio couldn’t go on being on the cover of every one of these books. It’s all painted for the fantasy anyway.” He held the book up to display the cover, found his bookmark, and thrust it between the pages. Drinks followed; fancy ones. Alistair insisted that John and Greg each try a Cosmopolitan while Alistair prepared himself a double Cherry Screwdriver. They talked about the latest display at the local gallery, dismissingly. “Art isn’t worth talking to unless you’re talking down to it,” Alistair said. Then the presentation began, and as Gary and John lisped their way through the pitch, they moved in tandem, removing each piece from the portfolio, each holding one side as if they were two halves of the same person. As the final element came into play, that hand-on-hand moment arrived, settled in, and now continued, lingering. John realized his mistake in reaching for the rough red fabric on the demonstration piece, but only after half-committing to the nudge at the base of his neck which demanded he retract his hand. Was it social programming or old-fashioned ego that held his eyebrows raised? Either way, they were out of the closet.