Your Whore Hands

R.B. Winters
R.B. Winters
Bar, Ray Ray, Utah Leave a Comment

Previously I mentioned two bartenders, one of which is dying to take me home. Though I’m not sure why…it could be the flirting for free drinks giving off the wrong impression…or perhaps there really are so few gay people in Utah that I’m exotic. I think I’ll go with the exotic option. As exotic as another incredibly white, white-person can be in a sea of other white people: A.K.A Utah diversity.

Anyway, I was thinking about when I first met this particular bartender in my days of underage bar hopping. Back then Ray Ray was sneaking me into clubs to dance and generally misbehave. The first time the bartender and I met, he grabbed my hand across the bar, me an underage, under-weight twink, terrified I was about to be carded or perhaps even booted from the club. That’s not what happened, the bartender rubbed my hands in a rather perverse manner and commented on how smooth they are. This could really be a plug for a lotion company. I mean soft hands on a guy, the masturbation joke pretty much writes itself.

Me being uncomfortable with a stranger touching me as well as the compliment made a masturbation joke. The only funny part about this joke is that I make it every single time he grabs my hands and rubs them. (Note it’s been eight or nine years since we met, so I’ve made the joke at least thirty times.) My sad little hands are far more callused than they were at age twenty. I’ll attribute some of the wear and tear to the gym, but I’ve also had my fair share of “dates.” My hands are sort of whores…maybe I need to invest in more gloves.

Getting back to the point, the bartender has heavily pursued me, going so far as to share what was intended to be a sexy photo during my most recent visit. I’d love nothing more than to share it, but even I’m not that cruel. I think for me it’s more fun to play the game, which is really stringing him along, making me a dick. If the bartender were to lose interest it’s highly likely that I would have an intense interest. I know that’s worked for some of his coworkers and one boss. Actually, the boss wasn’t my decision as much as Ray Ray prostituting me out for a free annual club membership. Gotta love someone who takes advantage of the situation.

So cheers to all our bartender friends, this song is for them: