FBoy Island

Adam felt as disoriented as a Neapolitan ice cream shake. He enjoyed his date, Ben, sitting arm in arm with him, but Ben had also been hawking a mix of puke and spittle straight on the comedy club floor for the last few minutes. He had feelings for Ben, but felt somehow wrong for that on a moral level, despite considerable time away from organized religion.

"I have three kids and they all suck," said the sweaty comedian, trying his best to re-engage a bored audience. 

Ben hiccupped, looked at Adam and asked, "Are we good?" He'd asked this question eleven times at this point.

"Yeah, we're good. Are we good?" 

Ben just hiccupped again, taking a sip of vodka-water.

Adam sipped ice water from his own clear plastic cup, remembering a time his pastor had given the gay people are disordered speech. He imagined what receiving the Blood of Christ from a red solo cup would've been like. 

Ben rubbed Adam's back, and Adam liked that. Minus the frightening possibility that Ben might go for a kiss. Puke lips? No thanks. 

But he was saved when Ben started nodding off. Ben spit up some more too. Adam had had enough and walked outside, careful to avoid eye contact with the row behind them, shooting daggers at him for leaving Ben unattended. 

He opened his recents and called Jay, "Hey, what do I do with my tinderella? He's vomiting at the club."

"Get him an uber. I can split the difference if you—"

"No, no," Adam interrupted. "It's fine, I'll figure this out. Thanks. I knew you'd know what to do."

"Okay, boo."

Adam met Ben halfway up the stairs to the comedy club section of the bar. 

"Where's the bathroom?" asked Ben, stumbling slightly.

"Here, follow me," said Adam. He directed him to the bathroom across from the liquor wall. A dim light revealed the "Gents" sign on the door. 

"Ok cool," said Ben. He was gone a while, and Adam pretended to find the Astros game interesting.

Ben emerged looking much better. 

"Ready?" asked Adam. 

Ben shrugged. 

As they walked outside, Adam looked back at Ben and asked, "Are you good to drive?" He wanted to make it clear he was not taking Ben home with him. Before Ben had gotten completely fucked up, he'd told Adam that he'd never been on a second date before. Adam knew what that meant.

"I didn't drive here."

"Oh, ok cool. You got an Uber then?"

Ben didn't respond, just looked at him like he'd asked the stupidest question in the universe.

"Ok, you'll get your Uber back home then right? Can you text me when you get home?" 

Ben kept up the silent treatment. And his look changed from quizzical to annoyed. A look that said stop treating me like you're my dad. 

"Okay bye then," said Adam. He watched as Ben went to sit at a wooden table outside the bar. 

Adam hadn't been on a date in a while and had sworn off online dating many times before. So this time he didn't swear he'd never try it again. He simply had enough data to know it didn't work.

Ben never texted him when he got home. And that was just fine with Adam, who passed out on his couch watching FBoy Island, his dogs in his lap.