I wasn’t 100% sure that he was trying to pick me up at Bally’s. I was 17 and had started going because I was underweight. It definitely was not the heroin or constant puking (from the heroin). I just needed a trainer and a nutritionist. So I charged a membership to the family Chase card and started going sporadically, and always on one substance or another. I didn’t want to go period, let alone sober.
My trainer was a former body builder named Russ, but you wouldn’t have known it by looking at him. He had a hunch back and frizzy Jew-fro. After our second session, the Accountant approached me in the locker room. I’d already changed and was getting ready to leave. I never showered at the gym, as I was too afraid of contagious diseases like Mercia and athlete’s foot fungus.
“Dude, why are you working out with hunchback?”
Probably because I didn’t have any friends, but I don’t think I knew that at the time.
“I don’t know, because I paid him…”
“Well you can work out with me if you want”
I looked him up and down, he was hot but kind of awkward, like most accountants.
“Sure, give me your number”
Later, though texts, I find out that he’s 27 and that he lives right near North Park. I decide to stop going to the gym to concentrate on my drug use but ask the Accountant to hangout one night. I knew he’d have alcohol, and I was out of cash for heroin. Sleeping with him would just be an added bonus if that’s what he was after.
I show up at his townhouse, stucco and Spanish tiles, next to the park around 9pm. He has a group of friends over playing a bowling game on Nintendo Wii. I feel super fucking weird because even though I’m almost 18, I don’t look a day over 15, and some of these people are definitely over 30. So I start drinking Vodka and Red Bull, hard and fast. Soon I’m talking, talking, and jumping from person to person. The Accountants’ friends leave and we start making out. We end up in his king bed where we hook up, and I promptly pass out.
The Accountant wakes me up at 8am, rubbing against me, apparently ready for round two. I instinctively grab my phone to check if my parents called. I told them I was sleeping at Clint’s – I don’t even know where Clint lives.
“What the fuck man” I mumble, head pounding “let me sleep until at least noon”.
I wake up a couple of hours later to the Accountant yelling through the closed bedroom door – someone on the other side is screaming.
“I told you not in front of me!”
I’m confused and my head is still pounding , “What’s wrong with your roommate?”
“Well…he use to be my boyfriend, and he’s pissed that I have you here”.
“Lovely”, I whisper as I start pulling on my clothes. I want to get the hell out before things escalate.
The naked Accountant opens the door and starts pushing his equally naked roommate/ex-lover against the bathroom door. I slip past, and the last thing I see as I dash down the stairs is the bathroom door coming off its hinges.
I get a call a week later from the Accountant while I’m at work. He wants to apologize.
“No worries…it was actually pretty funny…what are you doing right now?”
He ends up getting me off in the restaurant bathroom, and then I ask him for $100 to pay my dealer back. I end up getting the cash, but he has all these weird questions like:
“What drugs are you doing?” – I lie and tell him Oxycontin.
“Are you addicted?” – “I don’t know…but probably not”.
“Does it make you not remember things?” – “You mean did you date rape me? Statutory maybe, but I’m not good with laws”.
Obviously I never pay him back, but we stay in touch even after I leave for college. I’ll come home and invite him out with people who still don’t know I sleep with dudes, and I’ll make-out with girls in front of him at the bar. Maybe I liked the sense of power, or concealing a secret in plain sight, or maybe I’m just mean. Probably a combination of all three.
Like most of the people in my life, we eventually lose touch. I hadn’t talked to him in three years when I hear his voice at my favorite casual sex spot at my current university. We are both there for anonymous sex, what are the chances? On a different floor, we try to hook up, but fail. This is supposed to be anonymous.
I ask him if he still works for EQT, and he gives me some bullshit answer. Now I’m hooked, but I have to go home to Denny, the dogs, and my shiny new life in the sky.
That weekend I tell Denny that I have to work on a group project at Pitt. I take the 61 into Oakland and end up at the student bar on Forbes. I order a fish bowl long island and call the Accountant. I want the real story of why he no longer works for EQT. I’ve already sucked down half my drink when he picks up the phone, and I prime him by telling him all the trouble I got into because of heroin, clean now, blah blah blah.
“So did you really quit EQT or did something happen?”
“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
“I would never!”...I’ll just write about it later.
I stare at the TV hanging behind the bar as the real story unfold, and for once I’m not disappointed.
Apparently, the Accountant had gotten addicted to anonymous sex at the university. Understandable, since I was spending an inordinate amount of my free time there lately trying to find a cure for my life. But the Accountant got tired of the gay dudes.
His biggest turn on was when he inadvertently saw a guy jerking off to straight porn in one of the bathrooms in the Cathedral of Learning. He was so tall he could see over the stalls if he stood on his tip toes. He kept searching for the same situation but couldn’t find it, so he decided he would recreate it on his own.
The Accountant goes to Barnes and Noble (why a book store? who knows) and puts a playboy in one of the stalls. He waits awhile, but no one takes the bait. So when young guys come in he starts to stand by the sink and pretend to talk on his phone about the ‘porno he just found in the bookstore bathroom’. You have to admit, the guy was committed.
A 16 year old boy walks in, and the Accountant does his spiel by the sink, but it fails again. The boy walks out and tells his mom who he is shopping with, and she tells store security. Two security guards confront the Accountant in the Men’s room and he tells them everything.
“What is wrong with you!? Why did you tell them what you did?”
“I just got really scared and thought telling the truth would be the best idea”
Apparently not, because the Accountant ends up getting charged with trying to corrupt a minor and has to register as a sex offender. At this point I’m trying not to laugh.
“And now I’m not allowed to use the internet for three years, and that’s why I quit my job”
Now I really can’t control myself and I’m laughing, trying not to fall off my stool at the bar.
“It’s not funny!” the Accountant screams, “Now I’m a sexual predator for the rest of my life”
“I mean you did technically rape me when I was 17”
That’s when he hangs up on me, and I leave the bar to head to my spot for more anonymous sex. Pedestrians stare because I still can’t stop laughing.
Here I’d been starting to feel a bit guilty about all of the casual sex but at least, according to the state, I wasn’t a sexual predator.