Valentine's Day isn't the Worst: Part 1 (Patreon)

Valentine's Day isn't the Worst

Part 1

Let me start by saying, Valentine’s Day is literally the worst. A holiday (is it even a holiday?) created by greedy corporations to hock overpriced chocolates, candy, greeting cards and flowers. Gross. Like, if you’re with somebody, shouldn’t you show each other how you feel all the rest of the year, and not just express it on some random day in February because you’re told to? Anyway, I think I’ve made my point. Disagree if you want, but you better have a good reason. Oh, right, my name’s Jim Sanders and this is a story about Valentine’s Day.

I suppose some background is in order. I live in California, no, not somewhere exciting, no I haven’t met any movie stars. I live in the middle of California where there’s farmland, and a few towns, smaller cities and… Actually that’s about it. I live in a one bedroom apartment, I drive a pretty rundown little car which I have to take into the shop pretty much monthly these days. I’m exceedingly single, which isn’t surprising as the nearest gay bar is about an hour and a half drive away. Now that might not sound like such a long way away but I’m also a workaholic, so taking three hours out of any given day to drive to a bar where I probably won’t meet anyone interesting is asking a lot. But honestly, even if I could justify the trip, I don’t want to. You see, I’m head-over-heels in love with a guy already and it’s an effort in futility to even try to think about another man.

Wait for it though, it gets better. The guy I’m referring to is also my boss. Hold the laughter, he’s my straight, married boss. Yup, I’m that cliche of a gay man. It’s probably becoming a lot more clear why I work so much now, eh? Before you judge me too harshly though, let me at least try to paint you the entire picture. The man’s name is Oscar Magnussen. He’s a second generation Swede living in California. He’s damn near six foot six and built like an ox. Mostly bald on top, in his early 50’s and sports a thick grey, nearly white beard. His eyes are the color of shimmering aquamarine perfection and his effortless smile turns me into a jiggly gelatin mess on the floor. I could actually just write about every charming, beautiful bit of his anatomy here in detail, probably until my fingers give out, but then again I promised you a story.

Three years ago there was an ad online for an executive assistant at a local nonprofit organization that helps provide clothes and hot meals to houseless, and other down-on-their-luck folks. As someone who was kicked out of their own home when I came out to my parents and forced to live how I could manage, this was an opportunity to help others in similar situations I didn’t want to pass up. I called the number, went in for an interview and met Oscar. Despite being in the presence of the most attractive man I’d ever shared a room with, I somehow managed to answer all of his questions to his satisfaction and landed the job. It turns out that ‘executive assistant’ really didn’t cover all of the roles I would end up taking on while I worked there, but if the ad had said ‘business partner’ I probably would have asked for a pay increase.

It is a ton of work, the majority of the time, but I don’t complain. If Oscar thinks we need another employee but can’t afford to hire one, I’ll re-evaluate our budget and find some way to make it happen, or I’ll work weekends until we catch back up. We do have a handful of other folks working with us, but Oscar and I are the heart and soul of the place. It might sound lame but, impressing the guy, making him clap me on the back and thank me for all of my hard work is what I live for. He knows he can’t run the organization without me, relies on me for practically everything, and that’s how I like it. I can’t be his wife but I can at least be his work wife, a term he’s called me in jest and I had to nervously laugh about. He also knows I’m gay, has zero problem with it and often laments the fact that I’m single when any man would be lucky to have me as their boyfriend. Yeah, the irony is not lost on me.

In January of this year we got a call from a very promising new investor who was eager to meet with us and, if everything went well, would make a sizable donation that we could use to really help some people. The only catch was the company’s location being in Oregon, and they couldn’t send a representative down, which meant we needed to drive up to meet with them personally. We took care of some stuff at the office so that we could leave the following morning. Oscar offered to drive us since his car was not falling to pieces, and would pick me up first thing the next day. The trip would be about a thirteen hour drive one way so we decided to rent a hotel room when we got to Northern California.

I packed a duffel bag with a couple changes of clothes, toiletries, my phone charger and my laptop. When I went to bed that night, I was smiling to myself about sharing the trip with Oscar. Not just the trip either, tomorrow night in a hotel room, just the two of us? My mind wandered and I let it. Nothing was going to happen of course, but still I couldn’t help but fantasize. I slid my hand under the blankets and jerked out a sizable load imagining scenarios that were never to be.

In the morning, promptly at nine, the buzzer to my apartment’s intercom made its horrible sound and I grabbed my stuff and bounded down the single flight of stairs and out the front door. There stood Mr. Magnussen in the chilly early February air, wearing khakis and a turquoise polo shirt, one of those ones with the little alligator on it. He gave me his usual sweet smile and I blushed.

“Good morning, Jim! All ready to go?” He asked.

“Yup, sure am. We can go through that coffee stop drive-thru on our way out of town too. Help wake us up for the drive.” I suggested.

“Sounds good!” He agreed.

We decided it would be best if we switch off drivers every time we filled up the gas tank and set out. We grabbed our coffees and really hit the road. Oscar connected his phone to his car and pulled up a playlist of oldies. It was nice, just kinda background music as we drove. We talked a little about work of course, and about the investor we were going to meet. I sipped my coffee as he drove.

“There’s a strongman competition down in Long Beach this summer.” He said, changing the subject. “I was thinking I might get back into better shape for it and compete again.”

“You absolutely should!” I said enthusiastically. “Oscar, you’re already in great shape, you have the biggest body of anyone I know.”

He laughed. “Used to be bigger, when I was younger, and I can’t compete the way I used to, or I might hurt myself.”

“Obviously don’t push yourself that hard, but, I know how you miss it, so yeah, totally start training.”

“I’d need someone to help me of course. Maybe even attend the competition with me in August?”

“If that’s directed at me, you know I’m more than happy to help any way I can! Even if it’s just providing moral support.”

He smiled and glanced at me out the corner of his eye. In the three years I’d known him he’d often told me about his younger days, building up his frame with heavy, thick muscles to enter these amatuer strongman events. He’d even shown me some pictures when I’d casually ask about them, of him in singlets from ten and twenty years ago. He could tell I was ogling them, but he was comfortable with himself, and seemed to appreciate the attention regardless. He hadn’t competed in nearly seven years though, and seeing him show off his powerful physique had become a dream of mine. I could just picture him out there, putting guys half his age to shame as he lifted hundreds of pounds over his head, beaming from ear to ear as sweat poured down his massive frame.

“I appreciate that, Jim. I know the job keeps us both very busy, but I’m hoping I can still get some training in throughout each week. You could just swing by the house sometimes, not every day obviously, but help put me through my paces. I can do all the physically-demanding stuff.”

He didn’t live too far away, and I was over the moon to work with him more, especially as he worked out, but something concerned me: I wondered how his wife would like that. He had expressed to me before that she didn’t like him training and competing. She didn’t like him being on display like that or some such nonsense. She had married a stud but always kept him cooped up in the stable. It was beyond me.

Hours went by like minutes, and soon I was driving on the next leg of our journey. Conversation was easy between us, it always was, but even so he surprised me with his next question.

“Are you still single?” He asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Same, like three people on my dating apps within a hundred miles and no interest in any of them. You don’t have a brother do you?” I added and smirked.

He chuckled. “A half brother but I doubt he would be your type.”

“I didn’t know you had a half brother, and also, what do you know about my type?”

He gave me a very knowing look, tilting his head down to look at me over his glasses. “Jim, we’ve worked together for three years, and your frequent glances tell an obvious tale.”

I cleared my throat. “Fair enough.” I mumbled, and readjusted my grip on the steering wheel.

He chuckled good-naturedly. “I’ve never been offended, but you could afford to work on your subtlety.”

Dammit, I felt my face burning red under his comment. “U-understood.” I said, prompting a bellow of laughter from him.

“It’s fine, really.” He said. “I’ve always been proud of my body and I’ve always gotten certain looks from women and men. It’s never bothered me.”

God, his confidence and relaxed attitude were qualities to aspire to.

A few hours more, we had filled up the tank again and were pulling into the parking lot of some motel off the highway in nowheresville. We parked the car near the lobby, got out and walked to the front desk. A very bored-looking young lady sat behind the counter, but seemed to perk up at the sight of people.

“Hello!” She greeted us with a chirp.

“Hello there, Miss.” Said Oscar. “I was hoping we might get a room, just for the night.”

“Of course we can do that! Um, let me just see what we have here.” She told us as she began tapping about her keyboard, her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her.

She frowned.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Well, normally we’d have plenty of rooms available at this time of year, but there’s actually an event happening in our convention center tomorrow so most of the rooms are already booked. We do have a couple left, but it looks like they’re suites only, with queen-sized beds.” She looked up at the pair of us, unsure what to do.

“Can you look again please?” I asked her.

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Oscar said. “You must have cots or something, yes?”

She nodded her head. “Yes of course, we can add a cot to any room.”

“There we go, that’ll be fine then, it’s only for one night after all.” He said, and pulled out his wallet to pay.

A couple of minutes later and she slid our room keys over the counter and smiled. “We have a continental breakfast downstairs from six until nine, and checkout needs to be before noon.”

“Great, thanks again.” I said as I picked up one of the keycards and the boss pocketed the other.

“I hope you and your father have a lovely stay!” She called out to us as we turned to leave.

I could see the comment made Oscar stiffen and then grimace.

“I don’t look that much older than you do I?” He asked quietly.

“She could’ve called you my grandpa, so I think you got off easy.” I said and grinned.

“Oh you brat!” He growled and then pulled me into a headlock.

“Ouch! Oh my god, let go! You can’t do this!” I said as he held me tightly under his bulky arm and walked us to the elevator. In spite of the humiliation, I was laughing. I felt the fur covering his forearm against my face as we waited for the elevator to arrive and suddenly I didn’t care about anything else. Once the door in front of us slid open he released me.

“Hope I wasn’t too rough on ya.”

“You’re good. I’ll figure out a way to get you back.” I said and narrowed my eyes at him.

“Mm-hm.” He teased.

“You’re lucky if I don’t take this to HR.” I said as he pressed the button for floor two.

“Oh dear, I hadn’t considered my actions!” He said with a mocking gasp.

“Well, since I am the company HR rep, among other things, I suppose I can let you off this time with just a warning.” I told him.

“Very understanding of you.”

We headed down the short hallway to our room and unlocked the door. I followed the big fellow inside and switched the light on. We had driven quite a long way, and I was ready to just kick my shoes off, take a shower and get some rest. It turned out that Oscar had other plans.