No Vacancy at the Coral Reef Motel

He just got here a few minutes ago, and he’s already asleep. Ten minutes and you go from hot and heavy to snoring. It’s cute. I don’t like to think of guys who come by as cute, but he’s cute. Tells me he works at a nursing home in town. One of the ones they put in an old church after they didn’t need the church anymore. One of the ones that still has the stained glass. Look through it careful and you’ll see some woman in a wheelchair trying to remember what day it is. That’ll never be me. I’ll throw myself in the ocean first. And it’s so close now. It’s right in my backyard.

He came over and I told him and I was visiting, because local boys like hearing that. They like hearing that you’re not sticking around. It helps them let their hair down. No idea what I’m going to tell this one when he still sees me on the apps two days from now. A week from now. A month. Damn, I’m going to be here until June. I may as well change my mailing address. He showed up at a motel and he thinks I’m a Labor Day guy. Or just some trucker coming through on my way to somewhere in the Midwest. I know how I come across. Nicotine breath, bad tattoos, and not much left as far as a hairline goes. Any further back and it’ll be kissing the back of my neck. Guys as cute as him don’t show interest in me, but pickings are slim in town, especially when the summer months are over. He didn’t let on that he was lowering his standards. Not when I first opened the door and not in the five minutes after. He kissed me like I was straight out of Esquire. Straight out of GQ. I don’t even know what the magazines are anymore. I can’t tell you the last time I read anything.

On his way over here, he asked me all the right questions. The ones you need before you kick your shoes off. What’s your name, where you from, what are you into. I was hoping he wouldn’t ask how long I was going to be around, but just as he parked his car in the back by the water, he sent it over.

“Hey, how long are you in town?”

I told him a few days. And I will be here for a few days. But that doesn’t even resemble the truth of it. The truth of it is I made the genius decision a long time ago to build boats for a living. You’d be surprised how busy that keeps you. It just doesn’t keep you in one place. Longest I’ve ever been anywhere was a couple of months, but that was when the company I work for put me up in these apartments that looked like something out of a 70’s sitcom. Everything was formica and off-yellow wallpaper and a little pool in the courtyard you couldn’t swim in, because it hadn’t been filled for years. That was in Costa Mesa. The boys there were all closeted. Some had girlfriends; some had wives. One told me he was in love with me over bacon omelets and aspirin. We’d been out the night before dancing at the one gay bar we could get an Uber to. He told me he wanted to follow me around the country--go with me from job to job--be something like a husband. I laughed in his face. Not because I’m cruel, but because it was that or slapping him.

A little passion will blind you quicker than staring at the sun.

This guy in bed won’t be proposing marriage. His profile says he can host, which means he’s got his own place. You can tell he makes good money. He’s got nice clothes. They’re spread out all over the room, but I can tell they’re nice. He keeps his fingernails clean. Everything about him is clean. And I can tell he doesn’t smoke. Nice fresh breath with nothing behind it. And he doesn’t know that this is my home now just as much as it’s his.

The company bought the whole motel. The Coral Reef is now the property of MacLean Builders. No renovation on the way. There’s a kitchenette down where the check-in desk used to be, but everything else stays the same. I’ll be living out of this room like a damn junkie from now until next summer. I don’t have any addictions to speak of aside from liking the way a boy looks in my bed. Boredom will have you telling yourself a hundred stories about a one night stand.

I need to wake him up and tell him the truth. Or let him drive away and then tell him right before I hit the block button. Then what do I do? Try to find someone else? Be a little more honest the next time? Go out and stare at the water until my eyes cross? All the rooms still have those plastic coffee makers and the little cups so you can give yourself a cheap jolt everyday. I never went out of my way for coffee. I’d hit the gas station every morning and buy one of those energy drinks instead. The ones that leave you vibrating right off your front seat.

While I’m here, I might take up coffee. Learn all the different names for all the different beans and finally give up the smokes. It’s always good to quit something when you’re in a new town. Gives you something to work at when you’re not at work. In Costa Mesa, I quit aspirin. After that guy asked to follow me out of town, I never took another pill. If my head aches, it aches. I live with it. This time around, I’ll quit smoking. Save myself a fortune and learn to taste food again. Learn the joys of coffee just like every other lost cause who can’t wake themselves up.

And when someone asks me how long I plan on sticking around, I won’t have to lie. I just won’t say anything at all.

I’ll pretend I never even saw the question.