I met him in a bathroom under the West Escalator in Grand Central. That’s a shitty place to meet a guy (no pun intended) but he was cute. In a masculine way, which I like. I was never into guys who were consumed with their femininity. There’s women for that, after all, if that’s what you’re into. I don’t think we still need to play those stupid old games. Leave that to the straights (regardless of their sexuality). The most masculine women and feminine men I’ve ever met have been straight.
He was humming June is Bustin’ Out All Over, I admit that openly, but contrary to popular belief that’s not gay. Not necessarily. I’ve known straight guys who adore Rodgers & Hammerstein and Kander & Ebb and West Side Story. Why not? Just because you’re straight you can’t get that? That’s heterophobia, my friend, and decent people need to shun it.
He smelled like a brewery, which worked for me because I like the smell of a brewery. He had that lived-in aroma to him. There was definitely something alive in this one.I don’t know how he could’ve washed his hands anyway, since the sleeves of his sweater went over his hands. That was a cute thing too. He was folding in on himself all over the place. I don’t know why I like that kind of thing, but I do.
I caught up to him (or maybe he caught up to me) when he slid into a doorway and then back out into my face. He didn’t even say anything. He knew exactly what I was up to.
Words & Music by Mike Power 