Part II
A few minutes later, I left the Fitness Center and started walking across campus. On the Main Quadrangle, I saw a couple of guys sitting under a tree. They were obviously dating each other. From the way they were holding each other, they were well past merely holding hands. I felt a bit depressed. Dating and sex would not be part of my college experience. Not in the era of COVID-19 and all the mutations. A few months before, they’d released the COVID-19 Risk Factor Score System. Between my own health issues, and regular contact with vulnerable family, my Risk Factor Score was so high that my doctor urged me to follow strict social distance guidelines. Which basically meant: no dating, and definitely no sex. Then, my college career needed to be kept on track for financial reasons, and a long recovery from COVID-19 could pose a problem. Intellectually, I knew all this was a case of “it is what it is!” But it was still hard knowing I couldn't do stuff that college guys in other eras could take for granted. Like getting laid.
I reached my dorm a few minutes later, such as it was. I’d rather have been elsewhere. All the dorms had a theme, and I’d rather have been in the LGBT “Rainbow Wing” of the “Diversity Dorm.” Or in the unofficial party dorm. Instead, I was stuck in an old, falling apart wreck reserved for students with high Risk Factor Scores. Although at least I was able to live on campus. Grandma was paranoid about COVID-19—understandable since her sister died of it—and she wanted me to live with her and commute. Fortunately, first year students were required to live on campus.
I tapped my card key on the lock, and entered the lounge. (I always mentally added Mr. Green with the Candlestick when I thought of the Lounge.) It was empty like usual—maybe because everyone had a high Risk Factor Score, and tended to hide out their rooms. Or else people avoided the lounge because it was a worn wreck of a room with a style that screamed “1977!” I headed to my room, pausing only long enough to wash my hands.
Once I was in my room, I fired up my laptop, which I’d gotten for “school” and “educational” use. Or so I told Grandma when she screamed about how much I’d spent.
Now, I was using it for education: watching a video of athletes in a gym shower, which gave me an understanding of the diversity of penis sizes, shapes, and forms.
I watched as a guy began giving another guy a blow job in the gym showers. That would be fun... But I had a feeling that nothing fun like that ever happened in the Fitness Center showers.
Not that I could even think of having sex...
I heard a key in the lock. This dorm was past ancient, and the room locks still used keys. Bryce, my roommate, came in. One that sucked about my situation: my need to avoid COVID-19 was great enough to kill off any chance of sex. But it wasn’t great enough to get me one of the single occupancy rooms. Not that Bryce was a bad roommate. We got along OK—we hadn’t had more than minor disagreements. But I’d rather have a room to myself. If nothing else, it was a pain having another guy sharing the room at a moment when I’d like to jack off. Which summed that particular moment up.
Oh, well. I shut my laptop as Bryce shut the door.
“Hope I’m not interrupting a good porno!” Bryce laughed.
As a matter of fact, yes. “No. I’m just doing some research.” Did this excuse sound old, and worn out? I’d used it for years, starting when I was hiding the fact that I was playing a computer game, instead of writing my science lab, from Mom.
I suddenly idly wondered something. Bryce and I got along OK. And yet, there was no honesty about some things. Like watching porn. Or jerking off. I assumed he did both, but I had no conclusive proof. And I was pretty sure he had no conclusive proof, either, about my habits. Was this normal? Did all guys joke a bit with roommates about porn and maybe even jerking off, but only keep it on a joking level? Would any guy in the dorm say: “I honestly have no idea if my roommate ever watches porn or jerks off!”
Bryce stripped his sweatshirt, T-shirt, and jeans off.
He had a good looking body. Sleek, but good muscle tone in his shoulders and legs. He stopped stripping, like usual, at his boxer briefs. I’d never seen him nude—he apparently changed underwear in the bathroom after his shower—and just once I’d like to see what was causing that nice looking bulge.
He now put on a button down shirt, nice pants, and even a tie.
“You don’t have a date?”
“God, no. I can’t date either, thanks to that fucking virus. No, I’ve got an event tonight. It’ll be a pain, but at least they’ll feed us. So I’m spared cafeteria shit one night this week.”
A couple of moments later, he left, taking his laptop. I sat, staring at the closed door. Fantasizing a moment about him... Sex was a no-no—but we were already in somewhat close contact since we shared a room...
Unfortunately, as far as I knew, he was straight.
Oh, well. What was not to be was not to be.
To be continued...
I also have a soft spot for redheads! 
Or should I say a HARD spot for redheads! 
