There are those who believe that some people have a sixth sense, an ability to see or hear something that might be of another realm. I doubt I possess this gift, but one night in July of 1989, I felt something creeping up on me. I was in the back part of the record store behind the customer service counter. I would help customers locate CD‟s on the computer to see if they were in stock at any of our other stores. Since my store was also the central warehouse, all the stock came to our location before being shipped out to the other stores. We didn‟t get that many walk-ins, but we did have a few loyal patrons who stopped in every week to discuss music, art, and life. Because this chain was well known for its classical music selection, it appealed to many of Washington, DC‟s upper crust. So I got to know a lot of our customers and greet them when they came in. On this particular weeknight, I was going about my business when I suddenly felt a presence. I looked up and saw a tall, young man of about 30, blond, wearing shorts and a nice collared shirt, standing before me. He had piercing blue eyes and a self-assured stance. Something told me he wasn‟t going to ask me where the Mozart section was.
“Can I help you?” I calmly asked.
“Yeah”, he replied, “I‟m here to see Becca Jennings.”
“Okay, I‟ll go get her.”
I thought to myself, Oh, this guy is probably a record company rep or a family member or a gay friend of a gay friend. I‟m sure he‟s nothing to be concerned with. I walked into Becca‟s office, holding my breath, and told her she had a visitor.
“Send him on back” she said with some excitement in her voice.
I walked back out front and told the gentleman to follow me. I guided him to Becca‟s office, and once he stepped inside, I turned around and walked back out front. I felt like I was going to have a nervous breakdown. But I tried to convince myself that he could still be a cousin or other relative. A few minutes later, the two of them came out of her office.
“What time does the movie start?” she asked her new friend as they walked past me. Before he could answer, she noticed me and said good night. We were still on speaking terms, and she was trying hard to continue to be my co-worker without any problems. I watched them walk to the front of the store and exit. It was about 8pm, and I felt as if I had just been thrown overboard in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. I walked back to Becca‟s office where Keith was still working (they shared this office), looking for any clues that might tell me who this mystery date was. I asked Keith if Becca was gone for the night. Without looking up from his computer, he told me yes. He still had no idea that I was in love with her.
As July became August, I would see this fellow - we‟ll call him Joe - come into the store several times a week. He would now just walk on back to her office as if he worked there. It was blatantly obvious that the two of
them were going out. Every time they left the store, I would discreetly walk into the unlit front office, which had a window that looked out into the parking lot, and watch them through the blinds. I wanted to see whose car they took to get to wherever they were going. If they took her car, she would have to bring him back. Same thing with his car. But if they took both cars, I knew neither one of them would be coming back. If curiosity did indeed kill the proverbial cat, then my curiosity nearly put me in an institution. It had certainly put me into therapy (more on that coming up), but one night I thought it was all over. I know I‟m being melodramatic here; most people would say, “Forget her, dude! She has a boyfriend. Get out there and find someone else!” But my mind was made up. I could no more let go of this fantasy than I could all the girls before, going all the way back to seventh grade. I had a sickness, maybe even a psychosis in this instance. So, on this fateful evening, Becca and Joe had left earlier in the evening and taken his car. I knew he would be bringing her back to her vehicle, and I was determined to be around when it happened. I waited in the front office, lights off, and stared out into the night. I had already clocked out, and there was one other guy working in the stockroom, with whom I would usually work late nights. He knew nothing about this, so I was safe sitting in my little spy room. Finally, I looked up and saw the two of them standing together in the parking lot across the street, leaning up against her car. They had pulled into the lot when I was momentarily out of the room, so I had come back just in time to see them standing there. They were laughing and touching each other, and even though I couldn‟t hear anything they were saying, it was quite clear that they were enjoying themselves. This went on for about 15 minutes, but I was willing to sit there all night if necessary to see how it concluded. Finally, I got my answer. I saw her reach up and put her arms around Joe‟s neck as he put his arms around her waist. He pulled her close and began kissing her passionately. Their heads were moving back and forth as they kissed, and then he did something I could only dream about. He reached down with both hands and grabbed her ass and started pulling and squeezing it with all his might. She responded by jumping up and wrapping her long, toned legs around his torso while their kissing became even more intense.
“Oh no! Oh no!” I screamed as loudly as I could without being heard by my colleague in the stockroom.
My “love” for her would win out over all the other jocks and pretty boys that would be chasing after her. It was my reasoning that, after all the workouts in the gym, the contact lenses, the hipper wardrobe, and the tanning salon visits, I should be the one standing there in the parking lot with Becca. Not some guy she just met a few weeks before. But the hard truth about Becca‟s life behind bedroom doors would be accidentally revealed to me one late evening in the store.
Life is a whore, just pay your dues and fuck her hard
Life is a whore, just pay your dues and fuck her hard