Let’s Call Him “Freak”

Time for another Gay Neighbor Story...

Okay - Here goes...  I was living in Tampa Florida, in a part of town called Ybor City.  It's like Tampa's version of Bourbon Street - a hangout for drunks, hooligans, gangs and people like me.

Momo and I lived in an apartment complex that I used to refer to as "the compound."  The place was locked up like Fort Knox, and it had everything you'd need to survive within its walls.  There was a rec room with a pool table and a massive big screen with theater style seats.  There was a gym, on site dry cleaning, and a convenience store with beer and freshly made hoagies.  And of course... there was a pool.

I was working overnights at the time, so I was home alone during the day.  I got into the habit of buying a sixer and a hoagie at the shop, and taking it down to the pool area.  I'd hang out down there, trying to get a little sun while getting a good buzz going.  That's when I first ran into... damn... I can't remember his name... let's call him "freak."

Freak walked up to me at the pool and introduced himself.  He was wearing a full three piece suit.. at noon.. in Florida.. by the pool.. in the middle of summer.  I chatted with him for a few minutes, because I find freaks interesting. Dude had dark skin and curly hair.  His face was kind of jacked up - all pockmarked and splotchy.  He told me he was Greek.  He bragged about his Armani suit, his world travels, and his uber-expensive furniture he was having flown in from Paris.

We didn't talk long, but I ran into him again... and again... and again.  I think he knew my schedule and was stalking me a little.  I mean, he always met me at the pool, and he was always wearing a suit.  I know what you're thinking.  Yes I told him I was married and I mentioned Momo several times.  I naively assumed he just thought I was cool and maybe he didn't have any friends.

At one point, he invited me to see his apartment.  I assumed he just wanted to show off his collection of expensive suits and his Parisian furniture.  My curiosity got the better of me.  I honestly wanted to see how this freak lived.  What kind of creepy shit was this guy into?

But when he opened the door to his place, I could see it was totally empty.  No couch.  No TV.  No bed.  Nothing.  He muttered something about "those fucking French furniture jerks."  Then he explained that he never sleeps at home because he's always out partying all night.

I made up some excuse, telling him I had plans that afternoon and had to head back to my place.  As I walked away, he called my name.  I stopped and he approached me awkwardly.  Then he asked me out on a date.  I think he said he wanted to take me to dinner.  I pointed at my wedding ring and said, "Dude, I told you I'm married."

In all honesty, I wasn't upset.   I figure I sort of led him on by hanging out with him.  But I swear it was simply out of curiosity.  Freaks interest me.