Page 3 of Whirlwind

Taylor rolled his eyes. “Do you even know his name?”

Julio shrugged. “It sounded like my place at nine.” Then he grinned. “It’s Ralph. What an un-sexy name for such a sexy guy.”

That was the other thing about Julio. He was generally kind and helpful, and fiercely loyal to Taylor, but the things that came out of his mouth were sometimes just cruel. Funny, but thoughtless. That was one of the other reasons Taylor had never mentioned his own dirty secret.

Years ago, Julio had broken up with one of his flings because the guy had asked Julio to buy him pretty panties. Julio didn’t quite turn up his nose at the idea, but he waved the man off as being too high-maintenance. And Taylor didn’t want to be waved off.

Julio walked past him, intentionally bumping his shoulder although there was plenty of space between the cars. His arm burned where Julio’s light, compact body had touched. “You could use a little bit of action, Taylor.”

Taylor shrugged. He’d tried dating for a while, but it never worked out. Even if he hadn’t been in love with his best friend for ages, when he tried to date other people, he wasn’t confident enough to ask for what he wanted. His fat, ugly body made that impossible.

“You haven’t been on a date in years. You’re smart, you’re cute, any guy would want to snap you up.” Except the one standing in front of him. Who was clearly only complimenting him out of sympathy.

“It’s too much work.”

Now it was Julio’s turn to roll his eyes. “You’re telling me that it’s more work to go to a club than Whirlwind?”

Whirlwind was their favorite queer dive bar, welcoming a wide range of folks for low-key drinks and basic food in good company. They went there most Tuesdays for trivia night with a handful of friends. “Or how about Grindr. That takes about two seconds. You, like, swipe or something and men show up at your door.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how it works. And it’s too much work to find what I want.”

“I could help you with that if you ever told me what your type was…”

They’d had this argument many times over. At least Julio just thought he was a prude, instead of the far more embarrassing alternative. “The problem is that I’m not anyone else’s type.”

Julio sighed. “I know you think that just because you look like a bear, you have to act like one.” That was hitting a little too close to home. Damn Julio for being observant at just the wrong time.

“But I promise, the right guy is out there for you. If you won’t tell me, at least put up a profile on Grindr. You don’t even have to use your real name. You just fill out the little fields with all of your kinky little secrets,” he winked, “and guys will send you invitations to meet up.”

“I don’t think it’s that classy. I think they send you dick pics. Have you even used Grindr?”

“I don’t need to.” He pretended to buff his nails on his shirt. “But seriously, it can’t be that hard. I’m sure there’s some kind of Grindr 101 page online that tells you what to do, what not to do, and all the little tips for making the best profile. What can it hurt?”

Julio knew him so well. If he ever did make a Grindr profile, he would totally read all of those tutorial pages first so he didn’t screw it up. “Listen, I’m actually going to do some work. That lady’s coming back for her Toyota in an hour.”

Julio made kissy noises at his back. Fucking Julio. He had work to do. At least that’s what he told himself.

***

But that night, several hours after Taylor should have been asleep, he was still thinking about it. He had kind of poured over all those Grindr advice pages on his phone while he was eating dinner. There seemed to be a lot of assholes out there—with whole pages dedicated to shaming them—but the real world was like that, too. He just needed to keep his expectations low, be cautious, and not try to mislead anyone.

So what if he did join Grindr? No one would know it was him unless they met up. And if he was actually honest about what he wanted, they wouldn’t meet up unless they were interested in the same things.

He would just put the whole messy situation out there. He was fat and unattractive. He liked to dress up in feminine clothing and probably wanted to be tied up and… more things like that.

If anyone messaged him back, there might be hope for him. And if not, he could go back to his sad, solitary lifestyle. It would be like… a test. He didn’t even have to meet them.

He flicked on his bedside lamp and grabbed his phone. He downloaded the app, which was the easy part. Then he stared at it.

The whole profile that he had to fill out only took up a single screen. Thank God. But, display name? How was he supposed to think up a display name?

And what the hell were tribes? It didn’t take long to figure out that none of them were big guys who want to dress up like ladies—in fact they all sounded pretty much the same. All masculine. And he definitely wasn’t trans.

He didn’t want to be a woman—if that was even what that meant—he just wanted to be… pretty.

He reminded himself sternly that no one he knew would ever see his profile. Anyone who saw it wouldn’t know it was him. He set to work.

Two hours later, he was done. He had written four complete sentences, selected two or three items from a list, entered his height and weight with only a little fudging, and uploaded a profile picture. He was worn out.

Just thinking up a profile picture and making it not look shitty was agonizing. He certainly couldn’t show his face. And it seemed like everyone showing their torso had at least a six-pack. His body just looked like he’d been drinking six packs. But he didn’t want some stupid picture of a cat or an island, either.

He’d finally remembered a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs leftover from a friend’s birthday party. They’d been a gag gift, but when the party was over and they were laying on the floor, he’d picked them up to return... and never quite given them back.

He’d thought about them a few times, but never quite got anywhere with them. And now there was a picture of one of his big, meaty hands handcuffed to his bedpost on the internet. Fuck, he hoped he was doing this right.

But as hard as it had been to think of a profile picture and then spend forever adjusting the lighting, those four sentences had been harder. He felt like he needed to be honest. Not just about what he wanted, which was difficult enough, but about what someone would see when they met him.

Getting no replies would be disappointing, but meeting up with someone who would take one look and turn around would be devastating.

And then he had to make it not sound too depressing and be a little bit funny. God, if he’d spent that much time on his essays in high school, he might not have needed so much of Julio’s tutoring.

That thought led him right back to Julio. Julio who had a new, cute guy on his arm every week. Julio who was everything he’d ever wanted—but who had made it clear with his backhanded remarks on enough occasions that he wouldn’t want anyone like Taylor. Julio, who he would not, could not, be hopelessly in love with.

Yep. It was definitely time to move on.

And with that thought, Taylor turned off the light and went fitfully to sleep.