My usual Friday routine goes something like, text at lunch ‘you fancy going out tonight?’ my reply ‘OK you choose’ the reply usually says ‘’Mine for 7.30’

Today was no different, Alex and I had known each other since being kids, and had recently renewed a friendship that had not really been a strong one before, we would take the school bus from the same stop and were in the same year so had conversations about school work not done etc but we did not play football together. It was nice to get to know him now though, maybe he had changed, more likely I had though.

I knocked on the door a bit early, no one came so I just let myself in.
‘Hi, only me.’
‘Sorry, fell asleep in the bath.’
Oh I thought to myself, last time Alex had a bath he got really dressed up, I wish he had told me I had only come in my jeans.
‘Make yourself a drink, take a chair, I will not be long.’
An understatement Alex is never ready on time.

I took a seat and looked at his photos on the sideboard, his mum, an old one of his dad, a picture of him at dance school. I know he likes this one, he is only about 11 but his long hair, the leotard and stage makeup he does not look very manly, my dad used to say he was pretty, well he used to say other things about him as well, like boys who do dance were puffs, I told him there were ten girls to one boy, my dad said it does not matter he will not be interested in them and I should keep well clear.

I did wonder at times how tough he must have been to keep up with the dancing when he got so much abuse for it, no one ever beat him up, he was too quick for that but the name calling was enough to make me uncomfortable, but then I too was beginning to feel different when other lads described fancying girls and how they got stiff thinking about them, it never happened to me, but boys well that was what made me different, I could feel my body react at the sight of a good looking man. I tried to crush it and conform but at the same time I understood a little of how Alex felt.

‘Won’t be long, just got to dry my hair.’ Alex shouted downstairs. His hair had always been long for a lad and now he was 23 he had been through several styles, some outrageous even for him, others quite dull, at the moment he was dark blonde with a bit of a wave and a long fringe he constantly is tucking behind his ear. I mused to myself ‘Drying his hair, possibly getting dressed up for certain.’ You see we either go out on a Friday to the pub and play pool or darts if he came down scruffy, jeans and a hoodie. But if he fancied going into town and clubbing it, (even though he had given up on a career in dance he still enjoyed moving to the music) he would wear something that showed off his smashing legs. Last week he had worn a short red skirt and matching see through top, but my favourite is pale blue dress with halter neck and wide skirt, bit like the famous Marilyn Munroe dress but shorter. When he is dressed up it is not like he is a different person but I do at times have trouble recognizing that he is not a man and only has one hole for me to pleasure him with later. He is so good that I still remember the first time I meet him after we left school. I was in town at a gay bar I like with some friends when this girl comes up and says ‘hello Mike.’ I must have looked dumb because he followed this up with ‘its Alex, from school, remember?’ then went on to mention a few things to help my memory. Eventually I managed ‘Oh that Alex, how are you doing, the dancing?’ And within minutes were chatting away like long lost friends, we discussed school teachers, what had happened since, and why we were both in a gay bar. I told him I came out at uni much to my father’s disgust, Alex had done performing arts and kind of drifted into who he now was, a weekend girl, a weekday call centre advisor. I still remember what he was wearing, denim, but not like my jeans, no, his were tight and tucked inside his high heel boots and the denim jacket was not a biker style, his was short and the buttons would never meet across his un-manly chest which was covered with a pink fluffy jumper. Well we exchanged numbers promised to keep in touch and we did.

The hairdryer turned off and I heard the sound of wardrobe doors shutting, I looked towards the door not sure what to expect but after all the preparation I was thinking we would be going out as a couple not as mates.

At last he was stood at the door in denim, ‘Sorry I took so long, got awful sweaty coming home and well I needed a bath and I have such a week, well I fell asleep, didn’t mean to , honest, but my hair got wet and one thing leads to another. Anyway what do you fancy?’
‘Oh the Swan would be good, beat you at pool again.’ He was as male as he could ever be in jeans and a striped shirt. ‘Thought you were getting dressed up?’
‘What! After the day I have had I just want easy and some fun with my friend. Now come on I think I owe you one from last time.’ He winked at me as he took my hand to pull me out of the chair. ‘Got your favourite knickers on just for you, now let’s play with some balls and see if we can aim the cue at the right hole.’