Borrowing Just

Chapter 2: Just Marr

Chapter 2: Just Marr

Just Marr was perfect in his own little way. He was a handsome young man at age twenty-five with blond curls, a thin beard, and a burly chest covered in muscle. He stood at five-eleven, had a few farm boy qualities that I liked, was country grown and grain fed. Honestly, he was sort of tarnished around the edges, but in a good way, and delightful at the same time. I never saw him out of his jeans, denim shirts, and baseball hats even though I had wanted to on numerous occasions. The queer country boy from the hills of West Virginia found Pittsburgh when he turned nineteen, and never went back to his homeland. He claimed he fell in love with the city’s three rivers, commotion, and gays (Armin among them, who happened to take Just under his wing, welcomed him to the city, fell in lust or in love with the bear, and made him his own).

When a stranger looked at Just they could never guess that he liked the company of men opposed to women. Everything about him reeked of masculinity and high levels of testosterone. He was beefy and big, sported faint wrinkles around his blasé blue eyes, and sauntered when he walked like a man from the west. He worked for a state-funded company called PennRoads and filled potholes in the summer. In the winter he removed snow from the city roads. College didn’t interest the man much.

Just drove a Colorado truck, which was a 2001 4x4, navy blue in color, detailed with gold lightning bolts on its doors, and sported four auxiliary lights over the cab. Inside the cab smelled like roses. He kept a can of air freshener under the driver’s seat, which he had used often, and proclaimed, “No man’s truck needs to smell like a chicken coop.”

Some women or men would look at his obnoxious truck and think that he had a small d**k. Truth was, according to Armin, his boyfriend’s c**k worked and looked like a gigolo's, even though he wasn't. “Think Chippendale material, Benry. Think rugged Hollywood looks. I’m talking sweet to look at stuff.”

I shook my head, smiled in the most polite manner, and said, “Enough. I'll judge for myself.”

Armin looked at me with raised eyebrows and said, “Trust me, I will not let you mess around with my man. No one will. I keep him close to my heart and dick.”

Although Just preferred jeans and cowboy boots, he looked city boy astute, debonair, and like an FBI agent or hired spy in a tuxedo. Dress him up and he resembled a prince out of a Walt Disney animated movie. Rarely was the man in a tux, though, let alone a suit. Once I had seen him in a tux. Cherry Bedover, our mutual friend, performed Fever at The Mellon Club, and Just happened to wear a tux that night, which he looked edible in.

Just was a take-home-and-cuddle-with-him kind of man. One of those big dudes you could just squeeze the sweetness out of, feel protected by, and call your own little god or icon. He had no brothers or sisters, no family that I personally knew of, and cherished Armin and I, calling us his family, friends, and people who had taken special care of his heart.

“I’m calling him right now,” Armin said and dialed Just's cell phone. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.” His voice wavered with a sense of anger and interest at the same time. Unfortunately, Armin had a short fuse. The littlest things could set his big temper off without notice. Learning of Just’s response to my ad was a good way of setting the queer firework off. Warning: everybody hold your ears and run.

“Put it on speaker phone, I want to hear this,” I instructed him, choosing to be polite opposed to pissy. “I’m sure your boyfriend has a very good reason why he’s answering my ad.”

Armin listened and held the phone out.

Just picked up on the third ring and said, “Hey, Tiger. What’s up?” He sounded rather butch and sexy, but I wasn’t about to share that with Armin, since he already seemed to be on a high-caliber rampage of his own about Just answering my ad, unstoppable.

“What’s up is simple,” Armin said with a curt flare. “Did you respond to Benry’s ad for a wedding date?”

“I did.” Another good thing about Just was that he never lied. The guy was about as honest as Abe Lincoln, which I found noble, sweet, and heart-melting.

“Why did you that?” Armin was pissed. His tone had meow to the seventh power all over it. The queen’s claws were out and he was ready for a street fight. Such activities were common venues in the Just/Armin relationship that I personally witnessed, and abhorred. They were the true ups and downs in their frazzled bond that could maybe tear them apart.

“There ain’t nothing wrong with helping a pal out, Armin,” Just rattled off. “If he doesn’t find a wedding date, I could go with him.”

“Where does that leave me?” Armin snapped back in a Housewives of Orange County / The Boyfriend Season attitude. If he were a cat, the hair would be straight up on his back.

“You’ll be in Greece visiting your family, right?”

I wanted to clap the brawny bear on his back for his bravery and honesty. Kudos to him. And amen to West Virginia bears!

“On the couch, Just!” Armin screamed into the phone, pushed its OFF button, turned to me, and sprung like a viper, “I can’t believe he would do that!”

On the couch meant that Armin was not about to sleep with his bear-lover for the next two nights, and that he was mad as hell at Just for his actions. That scene was yet another dizzying ride in their fragile relationship. Armin was a bomb and Just was the matter that exploded because of it. Poor things. The two would probably break up again, like the seven times before. Such a tragedy was always within reach and accomplished, but they always seemed to get together again, without fail.

I rolled my eyes. If their boyfriendhood was ever going to work out, a few things had to occur. Armin needed to be a little more understanding. Just needed to be a little smarter. And the two of them needed to communicate a little better. I wasn't Dr. Phil, but then again, no one would put it past me.

“Ride it out,” I said. “Just was only trying to be kind by helping me. He’s harmless and trustworthy.”

“Kind with his d**k!” Armin said. “I know he wants to f**k you!”

It was fresh news to me, and absurd. Just liked Armin, not me. Then again, everything that Armin said to me was new news, and bullshit. What an asshole he could be at times, yet I still loved him as my best friend.