Friday, August 11, 2006
Summertime (Black and) Blues
Maybe it was talking to E after so long…. Maybe it’s the immanent weekend at the beach… but for some reason, all morning, I’ve been thinking about Uncle Peter.
Now, Uncle Peter was neither an uncle, nor am I sure his name was Peter… in fact he's not even my story to tell, but since SOME PEOPLE have neglected their blogs for their jobs like negligent parents too busy with work to spend anytime nurturing their children… it looks like the story telling will be left to me.
It was the summer before Senior year. I know this because my Beetle was brand new and I still wouldn’t let anyone else drive it, despite the fact that I was such a reckless driver a drunken Helen Keller could have driven circles around me.
Alabaster, E and I were spending a lazy summer afternoon at Robert Moses State Park Beach. E and I had underestimated how intense the heat would be, and thus were forced to strip down to our Day-of-the-Week underwear to tan.
After Alabaster, E and I had covered ourselves in baby oil and deep fried for a few hours while listening to Phish, They Might Be Giants and Liz Phair, respectively, on our walkmen, Alabaster decided it was time to roam.
Now, the beauty of this particular beach was that, aside from not being overrun by "undesirables" (i.e. children), there was a mile long stretch of nude beach, accessible only to those in the know.
You know who loves nude beach? Well, in Europe, everyone, but here in America it's mostly limited to old people and gay dudes... the same demographic that enjoys figure skating. Imagine an entire Celine Dion concert stripped naked and placed on a beach and you've got a pretty good idea.
Knowing this, E and I didn't have to put a lot of thought into where we should start our search for Alabaster after an hour and a half had gone by and we were sunburned and ready to leave.
Rather than merely search for Alabaster, E and I decided to get the most entertainment possible out of the situation. We found some paper and a pen, and made signs that said "free advice" and affixed them to our bodies. Seeing the signs, other beach goes called us over and we helped them with whatever their specific issue was, be it love advice or a comprehensive plan to get out of going to work on Monday... we had tons of fun. Then we got to the nude section of the beach.
Here's a lesson you only have to learn once... do NOT offer free advice on a nude beach. 9 times out of 10 the advice ends up being "Dear God, please put some clothes back on."
We removed the signs and continued our search. After combing the beach for nearly an hour, we finally found Alabaster. he had made friends with an elderly couple and a man whom we would refer to for years after as Uncle Peter. Uncle Peter was handsome, tan, well endowed, undeniably sexy... and since at 17 he seemed to be about 100, I'm guessing he was probably in his mid 30's.
Alabaster seemed indifferent at best that we had sent two hours looking for him, and less than enthusiastic about leaving quite yet. It was about that time that Uncle Peter suggested all of us get to know each other better over some drinks at the local bar.
On our way to the bar, there was heated debate about the nature of these drinks. Alabaster insisted that Uncle Peter was gay and that these drinks were a warm up, where as E thought these were friendly-get-to-know-you drinks which wouldn't lead anywhere, and I thought there was a 50/50 chance Peter was straight and told all involved that if I was right he was mine.
Over drinks, the debate escalated. The elderly couple were completely oblivious to any sexual tension between anybody and really were just there for drinks and conversation, which kept E occupied while Alabaster and I tried to out flirt each other. Uncle Peter was definitely game for something... and yes, he did seem to be leaning toward Alabaster, but I wasn't willing to give up the fight so easily.
After a drink, Uncle Peter invited everyone back to his apartment for dinner. The car ride over to his place was spent pleading our cases.My logic was that, were he gay, he and Alabaster would have fucked already and only straight men draw out the process so unnecessarily. Alabaster claimed that the delay was due to some vestigial sense of right and wrong which was preventing Uncle Peter from having sex with an underaged stranger.
We got to Uncle Peter's place and the old people settled into the couch to sift through takeout menus while the rest of us got a tour... which ended conspicuously in the bedroom. Uncle Peter excused himself to use the bathroom leaving the three of us alone in his bedroom.
Being extremely mature for our age, we handled the situation like adults; we jumped up and down on his bed and played Rock Paper Scissors for the right to fuck him.
I won two out of three rounds and thus decided it was time for Alabaster and E to get the hell out. Alabaster was a sore loser though, and insisted that winning Rocks Paper Scissors wouldn't make Uncle Peter anymore straight, and that he had found him in the first place and E and I better get our asses out of his bedroom, like, NOW.
Sulkily, she and I left and rejoined the couple in the living room. Uncle Peter returned to the bedroom and after 10 minutes I had to admit defeat. We all ordered pizza and sat around chatting. Alabaster and Uncle Peter (conveniently) finished up just as the pizza was arriving. We ate a few slices while I glared at Uncle Peter and Alabaster who were smugly eating their pizza while looking disgustingly contented.
After theat, we left and I made Alabaster drive home. I always hoped for a family reunion someday, but so far, no luck.
Yes, I was sad about being wrong about Uncle Peter, but at the end of the day, hey... free pizza.
Posted by Carmela Machiato at 9:28 AM