feature

Straight Expectations

Pin it

 PERSONAL ESSAYS

Straight Expectations by J.T. LeRoy

She lies back and spreads her legs wide open to me. I take a step back. My boyfriend’s arm squeezes tight around my shoulder. “You wanted to find the truth. We’re just tryin’ to help.”

    

I swallow hard. “What’s that?”

    

My boyfriend leans in and squints over our friend. “That’s the clitoris.”

    

“Oh.” I move in closer. “Smells like peppermint.”

    

“Peppermint? I never heard it called that before.” My boyfriend puts his nose up to her and inhales deeply.

    

“Like Wrigley’s gum, yeah?” I suggest.

    

He nods, perplexed.

    

“I gargle,” she says with a sigh.

    

“You put Listerine in your cooch?” he asks, sniffing around again.

    

“Wouldn’t hurt you to soak them testicles of yours in that every now and then.” I reach back for the offensive testes and give a playful tug.

    

“No, I put Tom’s of Maine toothpaste in there. It’s all-natural.” She stretches her arms over her head and yawns. “I like to be minty fresh.”

    

“So,” I turn to look at my boyfriend. “What do I do now?”

    

She raises her head, looks at me expectantly and asks, “Well, how does my vagina make you feel?”

    

“I feel, uh, I feel . . . ” I scratch my head. “I feel like a Peppermint Patty!”

    

“That would make you a dyke and you’re definitely not that,” she says.

    

“Well,” I shake my head, “I’m not feeling grossed out.”

    

She grunts and lies back down.

    

“I admit, I’m a little scared to touch it.”

    

“I told ya, you’re a fag,” my boyfriend says triumphantly.

    

“We have yet to definitively prove that,” she says to the ceiling.

    

“He won’t even touch the thing, what more proof do you need!” My boyfriend’s voice elevates.

    

She hoists her head, “You’re just afraid of losing your late night knob-sucking sessions!”

    

“Well, he sure isn’t gonna be attending to his dental hygiene in your muff any time soon!” my boyfriend huffs.

    

“If he hadn’t said he was attracted to me in the first place I wouldn’t be here doing a dry run of my next gynecological exam.”

    

“Doesn’t look all that dry to me,” my boyfriend adds.

    

“I am attracted to you. To both of you,” I sigh.

    

My boyfriend points to her head. “No, you’re attracted to her.” He lowers his arm. “That mess scares the dickens outta you.”

    

“Excuse me, mess?!” She balls her hands, the bedspread caught in her fists.

    

“Okay, I’m not scared,” I protest. “I am merely — ”

    

“Nervous?” She sits up on her elbows.

    

“No, I am . . . baffled and bewildered. I am befuddled. I don’t know what’s going on in there. I mean, it looks all complicated. Like a labyrinth or a bunny warren.”

    

My boyfriend whispers into my ear, “Bugs Bunny lives in there.” I shiver.

    

“I am not gonna lay here and take this misogynist crap!” She snaps her knees together and reaches for her panties. “This was suppose to be a scientific experiment, but you two are
obviously too — ”

    

“Can I taste it?” I suddenly blurt out. My boyfriend gasps.

    

“Can you what?” She holds her panties at her ankles and smirks at my boyfriend. I kneel closer.

    

“I want to engage in an oral penetration of you.”

    

“Do you think you can handle it?” she asks.

    

“I want to try. ‘Cause I really do like you. I like kissing you and I want to know if I am really gay or queer or whatever.”

    

My boyfriend wags his finger. “Just cause you munch rug does not mean you don’t play for the pink team, honey. Queer is a state of mind.”

    

“I just want to know if I can go — ”

    

“Where many red-blooded hetero men have gone before,” he finishes.

    

“And a few hot babes, too,” she smiles, reaching out to stroke my hair. She gently applies a downward pressure.

    

I stick my tongue out.

    

“Oh, I can’t watch!” My boyfriend squeals and covers his eyes.

    

I slowly lower my head.

    

“It’s okay. You can do it, you can do it,” she chants and lies back onto the bed.

    

I squeeze my eyes shut and lower my head into the minty haze. Suddenly, my tongue makes contact with something slick.

    

“Yes,” she moans softly.

    

Encouraged, I inch forward, take a big breath and plunge my head in
deep.

    

“Ohhh,” she moans around me.

    

“Ow!” I say into her.

    

“What?”

    

“Ow!” I yank my head out. “Something bit me.”

    

“What?!” She sits up fast.

    

“Something bit my tongue!”

    

“You are such a . . . ” She grabs her panties. “Fag!”

    

My boyfriend shakes his head and unsuccessfully tries to suppress his laughter.

    

“No really, look, look!” I turn to both of them with my tongue extended. I’m sure it’s swollen. “Something bit me, I swear.”

    

She pulls her panties up. “Yeah, it was the big fat Fag Bug.” She jumps off the bed and storms to the bathroom.

    

“I swear!” I call after her.

    

My boyfriend puts his arm around me. “You coulda been a contender.”

    

“I was framed.” I say into his chest. “Something really did bite me.”

    

“Yeah, I know.” He rubs my back and pats my head. “Something bit you.”

    

“I really don’t want to have to be gay,” I sigh. “Maybe one day.”



For more J.T. Leroy, read:
Blue Christmas
The Bedroom Interview: Mike Pitt
Straight Expectations
Lattice
Driving Lesson
Tree House
Natoma Street



©2001 J.T. Leroy and Nerve.com, Inc.