Page 6 of Gross Misconduct

I feel my face go white. The guys all voice their enthusiasm to my dismay. I chug the rest of my beer. “Where the fuck is this coming from? Why don’t we start with you, Hank?”

“A big, fat zero. There’s an app that lets you display your dating profile in Times Square, so I may look into that.”

“Buddy, we’re just a little concerned.” Tanner massages my shoulder. His big, blue eyes have the same calming effect as staring into the ocean. “You came out two years ago, which was a really brave and exciting move. You finally decided to live your truth, as my eldest says. But since then, you’ve never mentioned a boyfriend or even a date.”

“Or a hookup,” adds Hank.

“Your hand must beexhausted,” Des says.

It’s not too tired to flip him the bird.

My lack of dating life is something I hadn’t thought about until I was put on the spot. Our power to compartmentalize and ignore things about ourselves is unlimited. I realize I look like a gay in name only.

Did Mr. Eyes hear any of this? And why do I care what Mr. Eyes thinks?

“We want to see you get laid,” says Des. “Well, not actually see it because that would haunt my dreams. But hear about it. You know that you won’t find a group of guys more accepting. You’re in good company. Derek’s dating a guy. Mitch is married to one. Tanner took an online quiz and discovered he’s demisexual. I’ll fuck anything that walks. Hank made out with a guy at my New Year’s party.”

“I’m feeling my post-divorce self. I kissed a boy and I liked it. Well, not a boy. A man. Well over eighteen. I think he was thirty-four. His tongue was like the Tasmanian Devil, in a good way.” Hank runs his fingers over his lips, smiling at the memory. “But I don’t want to have sex with you, Griff, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Shame,” I deadpan. I’m glad times have changed where we could all discuss this freely. Feeling oddly emboldened, I glance up to see if Mr. Eyes is looking at me again. He’s chatting with the bartender.

Tanner rubs my shoulder for support. “I think one of the great things about getting older is discovering hidden parts of yourself. Once I turned forty, I got a lot more honest with myself. I loved my wife dearly, but then I could also see myself falling in love with a guy.”

I wonder how many people came out to themselves thanks to online quizzes. Wasting time on the internet had never been so beneficial.

“I’m happy for you guys. But I’m doing fine. I’m focusing on my job and my girls. I’m not looking for anything.”

“I said that, too, and then I met Cary. There’s a right person out there for you,” Derek says of his over-caffeinated boyfriend, and stupidly, I think of Mr. Eyes. My heart stops when I catch him glancing at me. Is he flirting? Am I flirting back? Is it pathetic that this is the closest I’ve gotten to dating since I came out?

“We haven’t brought it up in a while because we assumed you’d tell us if you had something to share. We love sharing,” Bill says.

“Yeah, I forgot to mention that Bill is balling his assistant.” Des shoots Bill a wink and gets punched in the shoulder.

“Tate isn’t my assistant anymore. And we didn’t start anything until after he quit.”

“Technically, that’s not true.” Hank raises his eyebrows as he takes a drink.

Bill turns to me, ignoring Hank-bait for once. “It’s been about a month that Tate and I have been together.”

“Their first date was on Valentine’s Day. Awwww.” Des makes a heart with his hands.

“Like you, it took me a while to be honest with myself about my interest in guys. Even then, I thought my chance for something real with anyone had passed me by. Love stories don’t star guys in their forties. Every time I saw Tate in the office and felt that fire, a tiny part of me would hope that we could have a happy ending. And then one night…one incredible night changed everything.”

Bill Crandell gets goopy with an emoji-like smile, a sight I never thought I’d see. Well, this explains why he’s not the grumpy asshole that I used to play hockey with. Love has made him happy, almost…cheerful. It’s hard to watch.

“I’m still feeling myself post-divorce.” I nudge Hank’s arm, hoping he’ll back me up.

“The point is to get other people to feel you,” he says back.

“Coming out’s supposed to be the hard part. And then knocking boots with hot guys is the reward,” says Des. “Why aren’t you giving yourself the reward?”

“It’s because he doesn’t like fun,” Hank says.

“I do like fun.”

This is the first time in my life when I could be free and live openly. I could actually date someone. And yet something inside has been holding me back, a little voice of doubt that comes out muffled but still audible. It’s scary diving into something new in your forties, even scarier when that new thing is sex.

“Can we change the fucking subject?” I ask. “Hank, tell me more about the guy with the Tasmanian Devil tongue.”

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