Originally published in PlayGuy magazine — January, 2002

I went to the Mardi Gras celebration with a few of my frat brothers and it was so incredible! I came from a pretty small town and I'd never seen so many people crushed together having a wonderful time together. Everybody was drinking and laughing and being so friendly that I felt like I was in a whole different universe. It was my first time and I tried to take in all the sights and sounds, it was crazy but beautiful at the same time. At some point, I realized that I'd become separated from the other guy, probably when I stopped and gawked at a bunch of people exposing their private parts so they'd get tossed more beaded necklaces. I assumed that would I run into them any minute having no experience with street festivals and still thinking of the world as a very small place. So I drifted around and drank more beers and smiled at all the antics and craziness for a while. Then I bumped into this muscley guy who was presenting his prick to a balcony of bead-tossing party folk.

He laughed and introduced himself. Aaron. He smiled and asked about my circumstances. I told him about losing my friends and he offered to keep me company until I found them again. I was delighted to be hanging around with a local who knew all the best areas and shortcuts. And he was really sweet and funny and had a shitload of stories about the French Quarter. He was the most excellent guide I could've possibly met and we just got along like we'd known each other forever. We went to a bunch of bars supposedly looking for my frat chums but really just to drink more because by then I wasn't even thinking about those guys anymore. I couldn't stop looking at Aaron. He was fucking beautiful. The way he laughed, the faces he made when we saw something really strange, the way he held my waist or shoulder or beltloop when the crowd threatened to separate us, the sweet smell from his sweaty body. It all made me grin like an idiot. Even on uncrowded streets I wanted him to be as close to me as possible. We fit together like we'd been carved from the same piece of wood. We went to his place to rest and cool off around four in the morning. I couldn't stop looking at him or grinning, maybe it was the beer. We didn't stop touching each other for more than a few seconds at a time. I wanted...no, needed to be closer to him, and no matter how much contact I got it wasn't enough. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world when we began kissing. My heart was pounding in my chest and my dick throbbed like it never had before as more of our clothes fell away and we pressed into each other. Then I felt the hot fleshiness of his cock touch my stomach. I panicked. I'm straight, I told myself. Guys don't do this. I DON'T DO THIS! All my senses were exploding as Aaron cradled me in his arms, my dick was jittering in my underwear. I pushed him away.

"I can't do this." I said, grabbing up my pants. "Sorry. I can't do this. I've got to go."     

I stumbled out of his apartment and ran through the streets until I found a taxi to take me back to the hotel. I said nothing to my frat brothers and we went back home the next afternoon.  

Feeling insecure about my manhood I fucked this waitress I'd taken out a few times. I fucked her for weeks, trying to erase the feelings I had with Aaron. Of course she got pregnant, and we got married. I had to quit school and get a $7.00 an hour job at the mall after the baby was born. Crystal thought I'd lost interest in her because she couldn't lose weight, which made her eat more from anxiety. I felt nothing for the baby except desperation. And then March rolled around again and some guys were talking about Mardi Gras at work. I cringed thinking of how I'd fucked up my life and Crystal's. All because I was too scared. Too stupid. Too surprised that anything so wonderful could really exist. I thought about Aaron every waking minute of every day. I thought about his smile and his voice and his finger in my beltloop. I thought of his breath on my neck and the way our beads tangled when we hugged. I had given up real happiness so I could secure my masculinity. It was a good trade.           The End

Note:  The story above is how it was originally written by Michael Kirwan. He thought it was a very poignant issue showing the guy as miserable, poor, and defeated, but at least not queer.

The magazine Editor screamed at Michael because it was a "gay" magazine so the hero needed/wanted to be gay. The published version was very edited. The magazine removed the wife and baby from the art, and also changed the final lines to show regret instead of acceptance:

"I had given up real happiness so I could secure my masculinity.  It wasn't a good trade.  Not even worth a string of cheap beads."