Andy is Trying - Chapter 01

Andy did not start his adult life off as he would have wanted to. A pandemic ruined his college experience, a toxic boyfriend took more than a year of his life, and he never surrounded himself with a solid group of friends.

But Andy is tired of feeling like a failure.

He has decided to give himself a chance and to turn his life around. A boyfriend, a job in politics, some real friends, he wants it all! Sure, it will not be easy, but you can trust Andy, he will definitely be trying.

This story is a fiction.

It contains mature themes and should be read by adults only, and in any case, by people over the age of 18 years-old.

*
ANDY IS TRYING

Chapter 1: Andy needs a wake-up call

At 24, I was not nearly where I wanted to be in life.

I was unemployed, about to get kicked out of my (shitty) apartment, I was single, I had no real close friends surrounding me, and my only relationship had been with a narcissist bastard.

Victor had used me and thrown me away like an old piece of tissue when he decided that he did not need me anymore.

I swear, I was not a fuck-up or a total loser.

I just happened to have been unlucky and, admittedly, I may have made a couple of bad decisions along the way.

Things did not start so easy growing up in the middle of nowhere in Arkansas.

Have you ever heard of Fort Pleasance?

Of course not, I am not even sure my hometown is on the map.

When I realized that I was gay in a Christian town where people were still struggling with the idea that divorces could be legal, I knew I was on for a tough ride.

And tough, my high-school years definitely were.

I was a nerdy ginger boy with braces and glasses, I was not feeling good in my own skin, and I was very much locked in the closet.

I mean, I was barricaded deep in that damn closet!

I suppose it was not that bad if I compare it to some horror stories I hear about sometimes.

There was no bully physically threatening me or anything, but I did not have any friend and I was spending most of my time by myself.

I was the weirdo, only somewhat protected thanks to my big brother’s reputation.

Not that he did anything to help me.

From as far as I can remember, Archie and I never got along.

You see, my brother was two years older than I was and in our small high-school, he was a super-star.

Archie was a quarterback and the captain of the football team, dating the hottest cheerleader, he was always surrounding by his crew, and overall, he was the most popular kid around the school.

We were complete opposites, to such extent that many people had trouble believing we were actually related.

Down to our physical appearances, we could not have been more different.

Archie was the jock type, looking beefy and much older than he truly was with his messy black hair and a cheeky smile.

Honestly, he was so good-looking in his senior year of high school it was ridiculous.

He had inherited of the hair and sharp jaw from our father while I was left with the orange-colored hair and the poor eye-sight from my mother.

My brother never directly teased or mocked me, but he did not really do anything to stop others from laughing at me behind my back.

On the contrary, he was most often trying to distance himself from me, as if I could have tarnished his impeccable status.

Archie did not protect me but I guess he was too much of a big deal, and always too ready to start a fight at the slightest opportunity, that people did not even take the chance to go after his little bro…

Or maybe, and it is more likely, the others simply did not care about me.

As the years went by, I learned to fade in the background, to get away from any potential drama, to not take any risk.

You might think that my life improved when I got to college, and you would be right.

For the most part.

Freshman year was an adjustment but I felt much more like I belonged. I was still in Arkansas but I lived in a larger city (Little Rock) and I enjoyed the life on campus.

Years of trying to disappear from everyone’s eyes had gotten me awkward around people, and certainly not the best at creating relationships, but by the end of the first year, I had built enough confidence that I was finally considering coming out.

Huge step, I know.

The few openly gay guys holding hands on campus had inspired me and, well, my hormones were definitely raging.

Besides, at this point, my homosexuality was an open secret for anyone who sort of knew me.

I got rid of my braces (freaking finally) and I even started going swimming more regularly to get myself into a better shape.

I was getting ready to find myself a man and live my life.

I came out during my sophomore year on New Year’s Eve 2020, - trust me, it was a whole thing with tears and emotional breakdowns all over the place -, but it ended in a warm hug with my parents.

It was just in time for the world to completely shut down a few weeks later.

You know how people say, “just come out, and life will get so much easier, everything will feel so much lighter afterwards”.

Well, for me, it was like I had triggered the end of the freaking world.

Who could have predicted a worldwide pandemic?!

Given the circumstances, I spent most of my sophomore and junior years of college studying remotely from my childhood bedroom instead of hooking-up with the hottest guys on campus.

Talk about what should have been my sexual awakening!

And it is not like I had the house to myself and could somehow peacefully reflect on my own life (or jerk off all day long).

My mom was a middle school teacher and was not adjusting well to working from home teaching the kids from a computer, while my dad had lost his job before the pandemic even began and sort of invested our couch as his new nest.

For the first few weeks we played chess together, but then, I got way too good at it and the games got boring.

My dad was not the problem, he was a good sport about it and he wanted to challenge me over and over again, but there was no point for me and after a few weeks, I was simply entertaining him by playing and pretending to make bad moves.

The worst part was probably that Archie also moved back in with his girlfriend.

They ran away from their small apartment in Conway to quote-on-quote “enjoy the countryside” during this difficult time.

I think our rivalry reached its peak during the lock-down.

Do not get me wrong, he was supportive of my coming-out journey and although my family was somewhat Christian and conservative, they were not part of the nutjobs who would reject me or try to “convert” my “sick brain”.

It had been an adjustment for sure and we would not talk about it much, but in comparison to what some have to go through, I cannot complain.

The issue was lying somewhere else.

Since he was a college drop-out, Archie had gotten increasingly jealous of me.

The dynamic had completely shifted as I became the one who sort of was successful in the family, - at the very least, on a pure academic level -, while he was struggling to make ends meet.

I was getting more confident, I started working out now that I had some prospect of a sexual life, - I mean, why else do people exercise really?! -, and I was not so intimidated by my older, bulkier brother anymore.

Hence, for the ten months we all lived together in the same house as adults, Archie could not help himself from belittling my achievements or mocking the college degree I was getting.

I knew this was coming from a place of insecurity and frustration, but fuck it, instead of having a mature conversation with him, I would call him  a redneck and push all of his buttons.

Since we were way past the age where we could just wrestle it out in the lawn behind the house and call it even, things just got worse and worse.

We were soaking in our mutual bitterness.

In addition, his girlfriend Stephanie was simply the worst person I had ever met in my life.

Okay, maybe I am being over-dramatic here, but she really was a bitch.

The girl had not respect for personal space, for my parents who welcomed her in their home, and even for my brother who she often treated like a piece of shit.

I could make fun of Archie, that is what relatives are supposed to do, but she was definitely not allowed to do the same!

Their relationship was toxic and it made the whole lock-down situation pretty much unbearable between their fights and the (hardcore) make-up sex in the room next door to mine.

See, Stephanie was very hot, meaning that she could get away with pretty much anything in Archie’s eyes.

They had met about a year prior in the gym they were both working at (before it got shut down during Covid) and they were obsessed with their respective bodies and how fit they could get.

Obsessed to the point that everything had to revolve around their working-out routine and their diets, including the birthday cake my mom had baked for my 21st birthday.

Bless her, my mother completely snapped when Stephanie refused to eat a slice.

She told her that if she could not handle a slice of chocolate cake to celebrate her son, she was no longer welcomed in our home.

I had never seen my mother like that, but I guess a year of pandemic could drive anyone to the edge.

Either way, I was glad that she took my defense, or rather, the defense of my birthday cake, and afterwards, Stephanie was a little less a pain in the ass.

Archie and her moved back a couple of weeks after this incident. She was very pissed at my brother for having remained silent during their argument.

The countryside was not so peaceful anymore.

Anyway, I suppose you get the picture now.

2020 and 2021 were rather disappointing years and I kept on postponing the moment I would start enjoying my life as a free gay man in the post-pandemic world.

I did get the chance to live on campus for my senior year in late 2021 / 2022.

It could have been amazing, but then, I met Victor at the college’s swimming pool.

I was a regular there, and so he was.

It did not take long for me to notice the massive package in the red speedos he was wearing, – he clearly wanted to be seen, and this should have been, no pun intended, the first red flag -, and he had the sexiest biceps I had ever laid my eyes upon.

Victor was a stud, and when wet, he looked even sexier.

We were sharing many classes since we were getting the same degree but we were mainly checking each other out every Friday night at the pool, until one evening, he joined me in the communal showers.  

I had stayed late on purpose.

Believe me, this was the most erotic moment of my young life when he grabbed my ass and licked my neck from behind.

“Want to go somewhere more private?” He had whispered in my ear.

He was like this, upfront and confident.

That evening, we sucked each other off in the parking lot and I fell for the guy almost instantly.

It was probably the biggest (and sexiest) mistake I could have made.

That being said, he also had the juiciest and tastiest dick ever.

We were still early in October and the guy pretty much toyed with me for the entire year until he did not have any reason to keep me in his life in the following June.

He was my first “boyfriend” (at the very least, as far as I was concerned), and I was in, deep.

Although, that might be an improper choice of wording here because I was exclusively a bottom with him.

Sure, Victor was attractive as fuck, - like to the point where it was virtually impossible to resist him -, and yes, he took my anal virginity in the best possible way, but otherwise, he was seemingly unable to offer me anything real.

He was not even that interesting when we were hanging out together, always talking about politics like he knew more than anyone else.

Victor was the typical toxic dude, into me when I was starting to get tired of his lying and cheating, and distant as soon as I was getting invested in the relationship.

And as a fool, I kept on going back to him.

I was pathetically part of his harem of faithful college boys he could disrespect all he wanted without suffering any of the consequences.

We were there, always ready to please him.

Again, do not judge me too hard, he was smoking hot and he was also responsible for my first anal orgasm! That does leave a mark.

I guess I was not so different from my brother after all…

Funny how I did not even realize that I was following the same pattern as Archie with Stephanie back then.

Accepting anything for the sake of great sex.

Victor’s cock was simply too good to resist, and I guess that I was a sucker (quite literally) for big veiny dicks.

Guys, it was very, very big.

He would pull the nastiest shit on me, lying, cancelling on plans last minute, cheating, and then, he would look at me with his puppy eyes, flex his massive biceps (or cock), and I would come back running… and sucking.

Deep.

When he fucked my ass for the very first time, I felt like I was finally discovering the meaning of life and I thought that no one else would ever be able to make me feel that good.

Victor was a loser in many departments, but when it came to sex, he knew exactly what he was doing.

The way he was eating my asshole while stroking my dick at the same time, the way he was stimulating my prostate effortlessly, the way he was making me lick his biceps and abs like a good submissive… before fucking me so hard.

I was finding out about so many sensitive areas in my own body.

I guess this is why it had been so tough when he let me go, or rather, tossed me away.

I foolishly thought that I had reached my peak with Victor and that I was simply not worthy of such a stunning man.

I had lost him because I did not deserve him.

Let’s be real, those memories remained some of my best jerk-off materials, even years after we were done.

The saddest part is that despite all the shit he pulled on me, he was the one ending our relationship for real, if we can even call it that.

At graduation, he told me that he needed to explore new horizons and he left me behind, crying all the tears in my body when it should have been one of the most beautiful days of my life.

I truly felt like a piece of garbage.

Looking back, I assume that I can thank Victor for opening up a world of sexual possibilities for the future.

Although, I was not seeing things like this back then.

By this point, I was 22, majoring in social analysis and politics, and I needed to leave campus and find a real-ass grown-up job.

Maybe I should talk about what I wanted to do for a living.

Basically, my main activity would consist in analyzing data for clients who, for the most part, would be politicians in campaign.

It did not mean that I cared much about politics myself, just that the people I would work for, would.

I was supposed to conceive polls and surveys, draft the most appropriate questions, define the panels and analyze the results in a way where we could extract the most accurate and useful data from them.

Then, it was the politician’s job to decide whatever they would do with the data, if anything.

It might seem dull but there are actually a lot of factors that come into play and it does take years to comprehend, or at least, try to comprehend them as best as possible.

Frankly, I had mostly chosen this path because the market of analyzing opinions was seemingly booming and I was interested enough in societal questions to find it somewhat entertaining.

Unfortunately, I had underestimated how tedious and in fact rigorously scientifical this whole thing would be when I had chosen my major.

I just hoped that for my first internship, confronted to real issues, I would find the research more riveting.

Also, I had not counted on the fact that the sector would become much more competitive when it would be time for me to graduate.

I struggled for a few months finding an internship (how are you supposed to get experience when no one wants to give you your first opportunity?!) and I had to settle for several couple of months mission in various cities in Arkansas.

I did not meet anyone during that time.

I did not know really know how to date and I was scared of being hurt again anyway.

To be honest, I was still very much heart-broken from Victor while he had probably already completely forgotten about me.

I was spying on his Insta (very mature, I know…) and he seemed to have fun in Chicago where he was working in the same field that I was and apparently banging every twink in town.

He seemed to be going from cities to cities while I was stuck in Arkansas.

As for the job itself, I liked it, but it was very time consuming and the missions were too short to really get invested.

At some point, I found myself with nothing and had to go back to my parents’ house.

That was another huge blow for my ego.

More than a year after my graduation, I finally got my first job in Fort Smith for a marketing firm specialized in running political campaigns in the State.

I also got my first apartment by myself but, once again, not everything went according to plans.

I broke my ankle and seriously injured my knee falling off from the stairs literally my first week there.

No, this is not a joke, I wish it was.

I tripped because the floor was wet while I was in a hurry and I went down a dozen flights of stairs on my butt.

That hurt!

Fucking hell, I could have died.

Instead, I spent a week in a hospital room and I had to wear a cast and walk with crutches for nearly three months.

Pretty discouraging to get out of the house and meet people outside of work.

My life in Fort Smith started off on the wrong foot, (okay, the pun is definitely intended here), but it only got worse from there.

The company I worked for happened to go bankrupt within the year following my hiring and it felt like my life was just a succession of failures and bad lucks.

Believe me, I had nothing to do with this particular mess!

The C.E.O. was caught embezzling money, using the data he was gathering to blackmail local politicians, and there was also something about a cover-up of a drug deal.

It was a whole scandal and honestly, the cherry on the cake of a train-wreck since I had moved in Fort Smith.

In all fairness, I could have gotten out more once I was freed from my crutches, and even before that, the injury was mainly a good excuse as any to stay in my comfort zone.

Sadly, I had chosen to isolate myself.

The only place outside of work I went to was the swimming pool but, after Victor, I definitely did not want to meet anyone there.

I even went purposely at times when I knew there would be practically no one there, except for the old ladies doing their underwater spin class.

Needless to say, my sexual life was far from being thrilling and my hand was glued to my cock every single night.

Thank God for porn, right?

I think I got a bit addicted to the hardcore scenes and the free porn sites during that time. It was so much easier to get off this way than trying to put myself out there.

The truth was, I had returned to the old patterns I had gotten used to earlier in life.

Stay home, avoid people, avoid the drama, fade in the background... And in the end, avoid any feeling, at the risk of never living anything at all.

As sad as this might sound and as pathetic as this might make me look, I spent more than ten months in this city and I did not go on a single date nor meet a single friend outside of work.

Slowly but surely, I closed myself off.

I may have turned virgin again…

And clearly, my colleagues were not friends at all because when we all got fired, it seemed like they were all throwing each other under the bus to snatch one of the few positions available in the city.

I was not too surprised by this, people doing both marketing and politics, I knew I was walking into a nest of vipers.

Still, it was quite eye-opening.

Ultimately though, getting fired was the best thing that could have happened to me.

I was trapping myself in a lonely and dull existence while I was only celebrating my 24th birthday.

When I realized that I had literally no one to talk to when I found myself jobless, and probably soon homeless, nor anyone to celebrate my birthday or Halloween with, it was the fucking wake-up call I needed.

I had to move on, to start over, and to get my life back.

Or rather, to get my life started, since I had never really had one to begin with…

Come on, I was not the awkward nerdy teenager anymore!

I was out, I was in shape, I was eating healthy, I was good at my job, I mean, I was a fucking catch for anyone!

Why was I so scared of going out and meeting people?

I was not too sure of what I wanted but I was certain that I needed a change, and more importantly, that I had to get myself out there.

The night of Halloween 2024, alone in my shitty apartment, I made a promise to myself more important than any New Year Eve’s resolution, more important even than coming out.

I would allow myself to fail, to struggle, not to level up to the expectations, but I would not allow myself not to try.

I had to try.

I had to take chances.

I had to build a damn life for myself.

And as it turned out, when you give yourself a kick in the butt and actually do the work, you can get results pretty quickly.

The very next day, I had an interview for a job in Philadelphia working for David Crown, a (handsome) 46 years-old Republican coming from the private sector hoping to become the next governor of Pennsylvania.

I was interviewed on a video-call by his wife, Rebecca Crown, who was also the head of his campaign team.

The woman looked intimidating as hell but I did not let that startle me.

Given her position, she was supposed to be scary.

The job offering was up for as soon as I would be ready to start, (they had someone bailing on them last minute), and this was exactly the opportunity I needed.

I felt like I had to leave Fort Smith as soon as possible or I would be stuck there forever.

Besides, I needed the money.

Student’s debt is no joke and I could not afford not working for more than a couple of weeks.

Could you imagine if I had to go back to my parents? AGAIN?!

No, that was simply out of the question.

Rebecca Crown did not show any sign of satisfaction, she looked rather bored for the entire interview, but her assistant did call me back only a few hours later.

I had the job.

Just like that.

Unlike my usual-self, I did not overthink it.

I confirmed to Laurie Perez that I was all in and I looked for a place to rent online right after I had hung up the phone.

I settled on the cheapest one-bedroom I could find, - I was virtually broke -, and I figured that I could still move out and find something better once I would have settled in and gotten a feel of the city.

In literally three days, everything was set up and I was ready to go.

Even Archie could not believe it when I told him the news.

“Bro, you have never even taken a plane! What is up with you?”

“I guess I’m just tired of feeling stuck. I want to try something new.”

“But Philly… You know people are so different from us up there?”

“Archie, I’m different from people here!”

“Fair point.”

I could not tell if my brother was happy for me, genuinely concerned or just jealous, but he seemed to think it was the right call.

My mind was made up anyway.

I was more than ready for a shake-up and, boy, does the shake-up was about to come, big time!

In the plane, I swore to myself that no matter what, I would give this a real shot, that I would not remain locked in my apartment all day and that I would not give up at the slightest bump in the road.

*

The first bump in the road did arrive a little bit sooner than what I was expecting.

Thinking back, maybe I should have better prepared myself for the move.

I got the keys from the apartment I was renting from a mail-box, - that was a bit sketchy to start with.

Only then, I started to wonder if this was not a scam.

The good news was that I did that find the keys, the apartment was real, and it looked exactly like in the pictures.

The bad news was…

Well…

“Hey! What the fuck you think you’re doing, asshole?!”

I walked in and a naked man was standing in front of me, a knife in his right hand, and a large slab of meat in his left hand.

[Chapter 2 is coming up next week!]