I went to see him five times in Cabaret. He knows of two. He is luminous when he’s on the stage. Then there are the million times I have imagined him sliding down my throat. The countless dreams of tasting his come and how I want to beg him to fuck me. You would think that after almost 20 years I could get over him. I guess I can’t.


I’ve been with plenty of women and secretly more than a few men. With the women, I didn’t really have to think about them much. I could phone it in. Stick it in, get off, that was easy. Women are soft. I like that, so I would make it work for them, too. With the men, I always thought of him. Always. I thought of him on his knees, me with my tongue in his ass while he moaned my name over and over until he screamed out his orgasm while I worked his cock. Oh, yes. I still wanted him, yearned for him. Wished I could stop. I know that I can’t. He must remain my friend. Keeping this to myself is the only way.


I wanted him from the afternoon we met when we said hello and had to act out our sex scenes only wearing cock socks. Randy was so innocently young, I was mesmerized by his easy laugh, his small stature, and his acting knowledge. That day and so many after, I wanted nothing more than to rip off that cock sock and suck him dry. As the weeks and years flew by, I wanted him to want me forever. He didn’t. Turns out, I was too big of a risk.


Sure, we rehearsed together, ate together, watched movies together, and got stoned repeatedly, together. We became friends. Just not the friends with benefits I still hope for.


He noticed my lust the very first week we worked together. One day he looked up at me from under those sexy lashes and said, “You really want to fuck me, don’t you.” I just shrugged, blushed, and mumbled something nonsensical.


“The big boner is a giveaway,” he said while laughing at me. I won’t lie. It hurt. It still does.


Randy never let me get carried away. He kept me in check. He always had very good explanations for my reactions to him. He teased me about it and let me tease myself, too. He never gave in completely. The first few years we flirted like teenagers. People talked. I didn’t care. Randy did. He couldn’t get past my ‘straight’ persona. This is funny, since it was me who wanted something more than he could or would give me.

Sadly, I hung on to my straight persona. I hate labels. Why couldn’t we just be us? I had to settle for thousands of goodbye kisses.


So, here I sit with a huge hard on and a heart full of want, waiting for the opening curtain for Angels in America. I shouldn’t have thought about unrequited ‘us’ all day. That ‘us’ is only in my head. As I look up though, I see him peeking out of the wings and looking out at the house. He spots me and I swear his face lights up and his eyes darken a little. Maybe, just maybe the time is right. I can hope. I squirm in my seat and smile back.

The theater was packed. All the actors gave such outstanding performances and Randy was so amazing. Watching his performances can sometimes make me cry. He is a much better actor than I could ever be. This role was perfect for him and watching him effortlessly become this character in body and mind, made me realize again just how much I truly admire and respect Randy as a person.


It is going to be so good to see him, thinking for fiftieth time today. Five months is far too long to go without seeing each other. Of course, that is better than the years we used to go without seeing each other at all. Thinking back, it has been about two years since we ran into each other that blistering hot day in Atlanta. Since then we have made it a point to see each other a couple of times a year or so.


Randy is usually starving after a performance and the plan is to feed the beast. Ply him with food, alcohol, weed, and with luck, me.


When the cast take their final bow, and that smile of his lights the stage, it is time to head backstage. Standing, I groan, stiff from sitting in those hard chairs, and stiff from muscle tension, too. I have to stand and stretch, it’s then I notice my hand tremble a little. I am scared shitless but exhilarated having finally making the decision to have some balls and fight for what I want. God, I hope I don’t fuck this up, again.

A few people take notice of me and nod their head in acknowledgement as I am heading back stage. Queer as Folk still has fans that support many of the actor’s endeavors. It's not surprising so many people are packed in here lingering before heading out back to the stage door. The scent of flowers and congratulatory conversation flits in the air.


Dodging all these people left and right, and trying to make it to his door is causing the butterflies in my gut to get the best of me. I gulp in a few breaths of air and feel better. Finally, I have made it to his stage door.
That's when I notice the door cracked open a little and hear Randy’s laughter in the air. I’m sure my heart skips a beat. The next moment I hear that familiar deep baritone voice and my skipping heart stops beating altogether. God Damn it, I recognize that voice.


Listening outside the door, I hear him say, “Randy, you were magnificent, as always. I’m only here for a couple of days and then head to Minneapolis until the 26th for the show. You should catch a flight and come to the Cowles Center, while I’m there.” Do you have time for dinner, later?” My resolve is sinking while Hadleigh Adams keeps on talking. He does not skip a beat as he breathlessly continues, “I’ve missed you.”


Where is Randy? Why hasn’t he said anything? He isn’t laughing anymore. It is quiet except for Hadleigh droning on and on and on.


Outside the door, I’m trying not to gag. Who does this guy think he is? Wait, I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that.


A few months ago, Randy had introduced me to Hadleigh at Scott’s house. They were coming and I was leaving. Randy gave no preamble other than this is my friend, Hadleigh. After that, I saw the pictures all over the internet.


Snapping back to reality, I wonder why Randy hasn’t said anything. I am about to turn and leave when I hear Randy say, “Leigh, I didn’t know you were coming.” I have plans for the next three days. I’m leaving in just a few minutes.”


I don’t hear ‘LEIGH’ answer. My feet are too busy racing down the hall. I must get out of here. My heart is pounding when I burst through the doors and take a deep breath, realizing what a fucking idiot I am. I should have had a clue about that before. Yet, here I stand, dumbly realizing that dinner is with me and I am the one here over the weekend. Randy has plans with ME. Pinching the bridge of my nose to stave off a headache, I take a few more deep breaths and turn to go back inside. I hope that I’m smart enough to find my way back. Right now, I have my doubts.


Right then the stage door flies open and I jump back, almost falling over. Running out of the door with lightning speed, is none other than Mr. Opera singer himself. He doesn’t notice me and as I turn to watch, he climbs in the back of a black town car and drives away. ‘Buh, bye,” I say as I give a tiny wave and think “That’s it buddy. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass.”


The pheromones must be pumping out of Randy like a homing device because I’m pulled back to his door in record time. I knock hesitantly on the door. It opens immediately and my arms are filled with my favorite dirty blonde. “Gale, I was wondering where you were.” He grabs my beard and pulls me into a brief kiss. “I’m starving.” he laughs. Me, too, I think to myself. Me, too.


“You still eat like a horse” I say, while Randy finishes chewing, and sort of giggles, which always makes me laugh and makes my dick twitch.


“You like horses; you want to ride me again?” Randy says, flicking a fry my way. Randy has always been the funny one.


“Not for a week. My ass is sore. Come over here and rub some fry grease on my hurty spots,” I say, cracking myself up.


“Gale, you are so weird.” Randy is smiling while he says that, but he also pats the bed for me to lie down. It’s just recently that I’ve fallen in love with greasy fries, realizing the many health benefits.


I’m laying here dozing and thinking back to a few months ago. We are so lucky. If I hadn’t had the balls to tell Randy how I felt and he hadn’t finally grabbed me by them until I admitted I loved him. We would not be here today. He can be a force of nature when he is tired of waiting and I’m tired of wanting.


Ok, maybe some of the credit needs to go to Hadleigh Adams. If he hadn't stormed into our dinner ranting and raving about being deceived, things would be different. Randy was pretty upset at the whole scene until Hadleigh had called me a hairy cunt. That comment caused Randy to burst out laughing. Hadleigh just stared at him until I had to pound Randy on the back when he started choking on his crème Brule, still laughing. Randy is kind and tried to explain, but ‘Leigh’ wouldn’t hear it. He left when Randy said, “What can I say? He’s my hairy cunt.” Then started choking and laughing all over again.


I startle back to reality when I hear, “Gale, rub some fry grease on my hurty spots, too. “


Ain’t love grand?