RIPP. Naturally, we resist change. The fear of not knowing prevents us from stepping into situations with an outcome that we are incapable of predicting. Predictability has advantages, but taking risks opens doors into hallways of life that we would never travel down if we weren’t willing to accept changes. Becoming open-minded and enthusiastic to entertain something different doesn’t necessarily mean we are living out of our comfort zone, it merely means we’re prepared to explore a path of life that we’ve never traveled along.

Being an adult and having never danced isn’t necessarily an accomplishment, but it was something I had accomplished none the less. The best that I could recall, I had never danced, not even at the proms in high school. I had always thought I was much too cool to dance, and stood in the corner drinking alcohol that I had snuck into the facility while the other kids actually danced. Now, at thirty-one years old, I wanted to learn how to do so to impress a woman.

“It ain’t tough at all. Only weird part is holding your hand,” I said as we stopped.

“Just remember. It’s like a box, top and bottom,” Austin reminded me as he turned to walk away.

“Yep, got it. Shit there’s nothing to it,” I responded as I nodded my head.

As I stood staring at Austin, I became a little uneasy. Having danced with him slowly for the last hour and a half, it seemed strange being alone with him. I looked around the empty studio, and through the window out into the dark parking lot. It was him and I. Not another soul around. As he turned and walked to turn down the music, I watched him take graceful steps toward the stereo equipment. His walk was perfect, probably similar to a male model walking along a runway.

“Hey, I’ve got a question,” I asked, hesitating as he turned around.

“You ever sucked another dude’s cock?”

“Are you serious?” he screeched over his shoulder as he turned off the music.

“Yep,” I nodded.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Ripp? Fuck you,” he screamed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, you still haven’t answered,” I pressed my hands into my hips and stared as I waited for him to answer.

“No. I told you. I’m not gay. I haven’t sucked a dude’s cock. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he continued to stand with his arms crossed, giving me the stink eye.

“What if I slapped the shit out of you and told you that you had to suck my cock. Like pimp slapped you. You know, bitch suck my cock?” I asked as I raised my right hand from my hip and held it at shoulder height as if I were going to slap him.

“Fuck you Ripp. I’d beat the shit out of you if you tried to get me to do that. You’re one weird motherfucker,” he turned his palms up in wonder as he spoke.

“No, dude. I don’t want you to. I ain’t no fuckin’ queer. Damn. It’s just. Well, that fucking Kelsey said you were like Justin Timberlake. He said you were just one slap away from bein’ a queer. I was just wondering,” I rubbed my hands on my shorts and smiled.

“Hold on a fucking minute,” he demanded.

“So, Kelsey’s old ass tells you that J.T. and I are a couple of fags, and you believe him? Dude, that’s fucked up. You believe everything someone tells you? Hell, on any given day, someone can tell you anything,” he looked up at the ceiling and shook his head.

“You gonna question me every time someone tells you some fucked up shit? Or you gonna get to know me and know who I am and stick up for my character? You fucking asshole. If someone told you Dekk was sucking cocks down on dirty sixth for twenty-five bucks a pop, what would you say?” he raised his shoulders and waited for a response.

“I’d smack their ass, Dekk don’t suck cocks. What the fuck’s wrong with you?” I snapped back.

“Exactly. And I don’t suck ‘em either. Asshole,” he said as he sat down on the bench along the wall.

“Okay. I’m done with the queer talk,” I sighed.

“Well, it’s not just that. It’s that everyone is so fucking quick to listen to and spread a rumor anymore. You know, I’m not that old, but I can say when I was fifteen years old, Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram and Pinterest didn’t even exist. Today, everybody is on Facebook or whatever. Updating their status, posting a picture of a donut, a beer, a butterfly, or whatever the fuck they’re eating or doing. Taking a selfie at the bar bathroom and posting it. And it’s like a fucking competition. People use Facebook as a platform to start fucking rumors and in a matter of hours there’s a mountain of people that swear that this happened or that happened and not one of them know a damned thing,” he crossed his arms, clenched his jaw, and shook his head.

It was very obvious he was actually angry.

“Dude, I didn’t mean to piss you off. It was a joke more than anything,” I shrugged, doing my best to try and ease his temper.

“It’s a sore subject with me. The entire rumor mill,” he shook his head and  his lips pressed to a thin line.

“You know. I used Facebook for this studio a few years ago, before I really developed much of a customer base. One of my first customers was kind of like you. I was teaching him to dance. He wanted to impress his girl, and hadn’t told her a thing about taking lessons,” he got up, walked to the small refrigerator, and pulled out two bottles of water.

As he walked back to the bench he handed me a bottle of water and sat down. I unscrewed the lid from the bottle and sat down a few feet from him on the bench and took a drink. As I drank, he shook his head and began to talk.

“Well, one night, it was him and I in here alone. His private session was about over, and there was this lady that had a session after him. She waited while we finished. Eventually, he left, she had her session, and that was it. Well, for a few days anyway,” he took a drink of his water and shook his head from side-to-side.

“Fucking bitch took a photo with her cell phone of us dancing. Probably from here on the bench,” he stood and pointed at the bench.

“Anyway, the angle of the photo was strange. Like up and at an angle. It looked like I was kissing him. The truth was my head was probably eight inches from him. But, she posted it on Facebook. I never saw her original post that I can remember, but I saw the ones after it. People took the picture and cropped the bottom half out, just leaving our hands and faces in it,” he tipped up the bottle of water and turned to face me.

“So, here I am, holding his hand beside his face and kissing him. Thing is all over Facebook. People swearing this was proof that I was gay. You couldn’t even tell we were in the dance studio. I was dating a girl at the time, but as soon as that went viral, she left me. I ended up cancelling my Facebook account and haven’t had one since,” he stared out the window of the studio into the dark parking lot.

“People do dumb shit sometimes, dude,” I said as I stood from the bench.

He continued to stare out into the parking lot, “No, people are inconsiderate and selfish. They want to use others for their own benefit - to draw attention to themselves. It makes them feel important when people pay attention to them. You know the bad thing? Originally I was mad at the girl that took the pic and posted it. But she really didn’t do anything wrong. It was all of the others that followed that made it into a mess.”

“Sorry dude,” I said as I patted him on the shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about it. But you know,” he paused and turned around.

“If you don’t know me, don’t talk about me. If you get to know me and don’t like me, realize we’re different or maybe even incompatible. Go find someone you do like. But don’t bash my name to others just because you don’t like me, something I do, or something I have done,” he tossed his empty water bottle into the trash can beside the door.

“Yeah, kinda like kindergarten. If you don’t have anything nice to say about someone, don’t say anything at all,” I screwed my lid on the empty bottle of water and tossed it toward the trash can, missing by six inches.

“Not much of a basketball player, huh?” he laughed.

“Nope,” I shrugged as I turned to face him.

He smiled and rolled his eyes as he shook his head.

“So, getting you to suck my cock is out of the question?” I chuckled.

I blinked my eyes and looked up at the ceiling. Confused and dizzy, I tried unsuccessfully to focus my eyes. I was flat on my back on the floor of the studio. I turned my head to the left.

The windows.

I turned my head to the right.

The dance floor.

I blinked my eyes.

As I raised myself onto my elbows, I shook my head and tried to clear my mind. I looked toward the windows and saw Austin standing by the door smiling.

“Dude,” my mouth felt numb and my lips were slow to move.

“What the fuck happened?” I blinked again and rubbed my neck.

With his palm flat, he raised his right hand in the air and smiled.

“Knife hands, motherfucker. That shit works,” he laughed.

I blinked my eyes and stared.

Fucking A-Train.

“I tell you what. You quit talking shit about me sucking cocks, and tell Kelsey I’m not a fag, and I won’t put knife hands on you again,” he said as he reached down to help me up.

As I reached for his hand, he pulled it away.

“Deal?” he asked, his hand hovering at his waist.

“Deal,” I agreed as I reached up into the air.

As he helped me to my feet, I blinked my eyes and looked around the room, still somewhat uncertain of exactly what had happened. I felt like my brains had been scrambled. I knew one thing for certain; I’d been knocked unconscious by a fucking dance instructor.

One that resembled a homosexual male model.

Austin and I would need to discuss keeping this on the down low.

As soon as I’m able to think clearly.