BEING GAY STEP-DAD IN YOUR EARLY TWENTIES

MARTIN NOVOTNÝ

PROLOGUE

I was born in a small village, and the first things that chased after me were angry chickens my grandma used to have. Then came the boys. I was so afraid of the chickens when I was little, but never the boys or should I say the old men, well, the older men.

The next thing in my life that I was afraid of was having a step-daughter who really wanted to become a boy.

CHAPTER 1

You see, my life used to be quite boring and common. I used to be one of those gays who would end up in their “favorite” club or bar when going out even though they told their friends they would never ever go there again because it was dirty and outdated and played too much Madonna and one of my biggest achievements in my social life was getting more than hundred messages on Grindr in one night, though my profile photo was topless so I was kind of asking for it to be honest.

But, dear readers, I have always wanted more. I knew it couldn’t be it. You know how they say life is your oyster and how Forrest Gump said something about life being like a piece of chocolate or something.

I have been through various relationships, all of them lasting exactly two years. Sometimes I am wondering there has got to be something about the two years benchmark in my life. I mean, first year is always pinky perfect, lots of love, sex is great and there is still that fresh vibe of something new and unexplored.

But the second year, you both know what to expect from each other so it gets more and more difficult to surprise him and when there is such a surprise, it is usually in a bad way.

It is that time of the relationship when taking his freshly washed and neatly packed socks because you are too tired to find yours is considered stealing.

I met my boyfriend, though he likes to be called my partner, on May 3, 2012. To be honest, I met him online few days before the actual day, but is it even proper to say you met someone online even though you actually haven’t? I guess it is.

Someday in May, 2012

I was browsing my Facebook page, posting silly posts and doing literally nothing when he poked me. I mean, on Facebook, he poked me. I opened up his profile photo to have a better look. He was hot! I liked him instantly. Beautiful smile, 36 years old, cute, sexy, hot and his name was Milan. (Back in my crazily-young-cool-and-too-queer days, my former roommate John and I, we used to have this list of names we would never go out with and surprisingly, Milan was one of them, apart from Bartholomew, Humphrey, Ickory and Hermitt, though I think I knew someone called Bartholomew and he was quite cute, so maybe the whole list idea was just plain stupid. Not maybe, it was).

The problem with me on the dating market is, I suck at keeping distance when meeting and dating potential boyfriends and partners because I am hearing those bells ringing after few dates, and usually, he is so not hearing them. I hate seeing him only at weekends, texting, and skyping. I like it to get real, fast; the truth is, too fast. Actually, I am not into dating at all, I mean, dating in terms of going out occasionally, eating out, and going to the movies. I am more of an old fashion dater and my perfect date always starts with home cooked meals and good wine and long meaningful conversation. What kind of people go to the movies to actually get to know each other? How are you going to get to know the person with Angelina Jolie trying to save as many orphans as possible while fighting Russian military on the big screen in front of you?

I always had a thing for older men and my mum always teases me that she would love it if I started seeing people who are actually younger than her. But the thing I have for older men is not the thing gold diggers have for gold, expensive watch or fat wallets. I find them attractive, smart, and charming. You see, in the gay community, admitting you are into older men is like coming out of the closet twice, because they all start judging you instantly. To be honest, I don’t like the word community in terms of my different sexuality at all, because community, it sounds to me like a group of people who share ideas, hobbies, jobs, gardening tips and just because I prefer penises over vaginas does not make me an urologist.

Let’s leave penises and vaginas and move with the story. So we changed couple of typically polite messages about how we liked each other photos etc. I had a feeling we might click and I was also still shaken up by my not-so-recent break up so I invited Milan to my concert. Yep, I am a musician, even though my one and only success in the music industry is getting through to the boot camp of the X Factor show and playing charity calendar launch event that literally no one showed up to, not even the organizer.

But Milan showed up. Just like that, driving more than hundred kilometers just to see me. How sweet and romantic.

And that, my lovely readers, was the day I met the man of my life. (so far) If I only knew there was more of his DNA to meet.

May 3d, 2012

Milan agreed to come to see me performing. Yay, I am finally meeting him. Well, the word performing might be overrated; he came to see me singing for fifty slightly drunk tourists in a fancy club in Prague that did not come to the club with the intention of listening to Katy Perry and Britney Spears acoustic guitar covers and couple of my original songs I have written in language they don’t understand a word in. There were some familiar faces in the audience. I really do appreciate my fans (I have got over 2000 fans on my Facebook fan page, but I have met only 10 of them, counting Milan. Are my fans even real? Where did they come from?) There is this fan of mine who comes to all of my concerts, he is really sweet and I like having him around as a fan because it makes me feel good as a singer and musician but I suspect he is hoping to get a chance to become more than just a fan, more like a personal bed sheets warmer.

This is it. I am performing. I close my eyes, and the instrumental version of Jar of Hearts, I downloaded legally from iTunes, started playing in the background. I opened my eyes and started singing.

“No, I can’t take one more step, towards you……”

Not bad, I thought. There were some people who actually started clapping and applauding, or was it just my creepy stalker fan who was making all that noise? I never told Milan but because of the excitement of my gig, just for a tiny minute I completely forgot he was supposed to come and meet me.

But then I remembered and started looking for him in the audience. It was quite difficult since there was a spotlight (I call it spotlight to sound more pro and theatrical as an artist but it was really just a bigger light bulb I managed to place in front of me) and then I finally found him. He was looking even better than his Facebook photos. Tall, handsome, sexy, with prospective physical characteristics.

BUT!

He was sitting behind the farthest table from the stage (there was no stage really, it is just me being theatrical again) so I sort of panicked. Is it because he doesn’t like the real off-Facebook me or my voice or both and he is hoping to get away early so I wouldn’t notice he is gone? Oh my, this is awkward. What am I supposed to do? Should I greet him or at least wave? But what if he wants to leave for real and if I waved it would be like stalkerishly forcing him to stay till the end. Am I even ready to face the facts of this highly possible scenario?

“Hello Martin, I am so sorry but you are not that good looking as I thought you were and your voice sounds nothing like I thought it would so I am going to leave and stand you up if that’s OK”

I decided waving was unprofessional so I went on singing and performing and kept checking if Milan was still there. I did feel like a crazy stalker even though he was the one who came to see me, so technically, I shouldn’t feel like I am forcing him to stay. But still, why did he choose to sit so far away from me? There were plenty free tables right in front of me and this is our first real off-Facebook date so I thought he would have liked to have better view. Or was it because he just wanted to see me first, while being unseen, to decide whether he should proceed with the date?

He did not leave.

When the show ended I thought not going to greet him would be considered even more unprofessional. After all, he put quite an effort to come.

I thanked the audience, said couple of supposed-to-be-funny things, promoted my fan page and the show was over. I started walking towards the table and it felt like a mile to get to the place where my future husband was sitting. He was checking his phone so he did not see me coming.

For a second, I closed my eyes for the second time that night and put on my best smile. After all, if he seriously wanted to leave, he would have already done it. And if the reason for checking his phone was to find another hook up as a substitute, it was too late for him.

“Hello, I am so glad you came to see my show. It is so nice to finally meet you,” I said in a tone that would suit to the old news reporter lady the whole country hates so much for her annoyingly not proper way of bringing news. Why do I always speak like that when I am nervous? I am aspiring to be a professional musician, after all, so I should focus on speaking as well as on singing.

“Hi, thank you for having me, it was actually very good. Your voice is very nice and the music you have written is beyond anything I would expect” replied Milan. Wow, his voice is even sexier than his chocolate brown eyes and thick eyebrows, so soothing but erotic at the same time. My mind started going to all the different places.

I just stood there, staring at this beautiful man, when another thing started singing, my stomach. I haven’t had a proper meal since breakfast and by the look on Milan’s face I realized he heard my stomach’s gifted vocal chords as well. Great, now he thinks I am a poor hungry little boy with gifted stomach.

“Have you eaten yet?” said Milan, trying to sound polite and caring.

“Not really, I haven’t had a time to eat since there were lots of rehearsals for today’s show and I wanted it to be just perfect.” Oh god, who am I trying to impress here, rehearsals? It was just me playing the guitar, it wasn’t like there was a band who needed to have thousands of sound checks.

“Fine, I haven’t had a dinner yet so why don’t you sit down and join me for dinner,” blurted Milan casually.

I sat down, opened the menu and another wave of shock mixed with embarrassment hit me. Did I mention my financial status was not that gifted as my voice and stomach? The place where I had my usual gigs was not the place where I would go for a night out since I can’t afford paying fifteen bucks for a chicken salad. Looks like my stomach is going to have to sing a bit longer.

“Is there a problem?” asked Milan with the tone that sounded like he knew what was going on.

“Not really, it’s just my back account doesn’t feel very welcome in this restaurant. The food is great but since the chicken salad costs more than I just earned by singing for almost two hours I guess I would prefer eating somewhere else, if you don’t mind.” I responded, trying not to sound cheap and desperate. My stomach kept asking for more attention.

“Oh come on, that’s fine, just have anything you want. After all, I didn’t pay for the ticket to your show so let me make it up to you by quieting that Hunger Games soundtrack your stomach is trying to perform,” said Milan and I knew he meant it.

Whatever, after all, he was right. Of course I ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, which was the chicken salad.

“So, tell me. Where is the catch?” asked Milan. I closed the menu and ordered my salad. Oh god, his eyes were just like two magnets trying to attract the iron buckle on my belt. He was probably the most handsome man I have ever met. I already told you I suck at keeping the distance so I told myself to do my best in delivering my dating abilities.

“What exactly do you mean?”

“It’s just you are cute, young, perspective, playing the guitar. I think everybody in this room would like to switch my place at this table. How come you are still single?”

What a question. I guess you don’t advertise your relationship failures on the first date and telling him my former English student I used to teach and I fell in love, than he cheated on his former boyfriend with me, with whom he established six years of relationship, than we broke up, than he broke up with his partner to be with me, than we got back together and it all ended in tears and lots of sleepless nights? No, I don’t think so. So I just said:

“I think the problem is I haven’t found the right person yet. It is not easy to maintain relationships these days, especially when one is gay, you know. I know it sounds pathetic but that’s the way it is. Plus I am not that flawless. I am a mess. But I guess I would have the same question, you seem to me like the Mr. Big from the TV show” I answered, covering the story of my failures.

“Well, I have had other things to focus on. You know, starting my own business, raising a child. Not much free time left for dating.”

Wait a minute. What? Did he just say “raising a child?” What child? Where is it? I am not ready to be dating someone with a child. I don’t even know if I want to become someone else’s child step-dad. Calm down, Martin. He just said he is starting his own business. He is probably opening a kindergarten or a day-care center. Don’t screw this up.

With the intention to sound more curious then confused, I said:

“Oh, so you adopted? That is great. I mean, I have always wanted to do this. Where does she live? Zimbabwe?”

“No, Martin. I have not adopted, though I would like to adopt you so you would eat properly. You are too skinny. I have a kid, daughter. She is 9 and her name is Barbara. I hope this does not scare you, she is a sweetheart. She wanted me to find someone so we wouldn’t be so lonely all the time. She even tried to get me a date with her school’s janitor.” said Milan like it was completely natural that he had a child.

Oh my god. What am I supposed to do? I mean, I love kids. Kids love me. But is this something I would go for? Is this something I would be good at? I have always wanted to have kids it is just I so did not see this coming.

“Oh, that sounds lovely. I love kids and kids love me. Where is she?” I said like I was expecting to see nine year old in a bar at 11PM. But, if there is a kid, there has got to be a mother somewhere in this story which means Milan was probably married. What if he is still married? I have met married men with wives and kids trying to get into my pants. But there was something so honest and truthful in his eyes I couldn’t see the picture of him cheating. He is probably divorced and one of those gays who had got married before they realized they were gay. This is something I never understood. I have known I was gay since I was like nine. I asked for p

“My sister agreed to babysit. I promised her I wouldn’t come home late because she is working tomorrow morning. Would you like me to give you a ride?” said Milan.

He was so sweet. I was waiting for the right moment to ask him for a ride because I knew he parked his car around the corner and I had lots of equipment to get home.

“That would be great, thank you very much.”