A gay sex story: When Best Friends Bet on Sports
“Please don’t make me do this.” I begged my best friend. We met in our first year of college. I was a loud-mouthed Browns fan and he was a loud-mouthed Steelers fan. We supported rival teams in the great NFL AFC North. We were both pretty much ‘bros’ and people never let us forget we basically looked the same, just like brothers, even though there was no familial relation. The fact that we had the same personality, were physically the same, and best friends, but mortal football enemies made all the Sundays between September and January very high stakes.
We had been doing the same tradition for 4 years. Seniors in college now, we always worked out the morning of game day, ordered food, and watched the game at Nick’s apartment – just the two of us. No one else could stand to watch football with us. We were complete assholes. Any teams playing against our teams were subject to onslaughts of profanity, every referee was a dumb shit, and we never stood still. High fives, jumping up and down, slapping the floor, any other outburst was just the norm. We had lots of other friends but they all steered clear on football Sunday.
We both had black hair, olive skin, green eyes, and we stood an identical 6’0 with fairly-toned bodies. We did everything together, and while I didn’t have a very good relationship with my family, Nick did. His family was one of those that took their heritage very seriously. They only discussed the importance of being Italian. His last name was Garfazzo and his parents’ house was basically an homage to the Vatican. This made me think I was probably Italian too since we were basically identical, but my parents never made such claims and our surname was some mutt name that didn’t really track back to anything super clear.
My parents were mostly estranged from their families. They were hippies in the 60s and did a lot of drugs and from the few stories I learned from them or the few times I was around my dad’s sister – my parents just didn’t fit in with the family because of their views and drug usage. I liked my parents fine, I think they liked me fine, but like I said, we were never close. When I left for college, we knew then we would not be seeing each other much ever again. I think this was just another piece of what made Nick and I so close. I went home with him all the time. Every holiday I was at his house, I went home with him to do laundry our first year. I think the fact we looked just like each other made his parents think I was also Italian which put me in their good graces immediately.
Nick and I got into so many hijinks during our college years. We both cared about class, so we’d study together. We partied together. We always worked out together. Shared our thoughts, dreams, intimate details about our lives. Never shared girls though. Best friends did not really describe us – we were definitely closer – we were as close to each other as any two dudes can be. Because of one stupid bet, we were getting ready to cross a line we had never approached, never even thought of approaching, and of course it was going to change everything.
The Browns and Steelers are in the same division and therefore they are rivals and must play each other twice every year. The 3rd week was the first match between our two teams and we were ready for the game to begin. “I bet you anything the Steelers kick the shit out of the Browns today.” Nick started in immediately.
“Not a chance, my man. This is our best year ever and you’re in for a very bad year.” I believed it, but the fact is you never know what can happen in a division game.
“Tell you what, bestie, I don’t want to take anything from you personally. I want to take something from the Browns. You are their number one fan, right.” He asked.
“Of course. I bleed Brown.” I replied.
“I’ll even make it hard to win the bet – so, let’s see. How about, if the Steelers score a touchdown in every quarter AND the Browns only score field goals. Obviously, the Steelers win, I don’t see the Browns getting 10 field goals.”
“Hmm, that is specific and really good odds. So, you are saying that if the Browns score even one touchdown or the Steelers go even one quarter without a touchdown, then you’ll lose the bet even if you win the game?” Clarifying the bet.
“Yep. I think that is fair – definitely a much heavier burden on my Steelers than your Browns. But that is why I think if it does happen, you have to betray the Browns. Humiliate the Browns and their fans vicariously.” Nick said with such an evil grin.
“What humiliation?” I asked.
“Well, this is week 3, the second match up of the season is week 12. You won’t have to do anything until then. But, if I win the bet, you will have to pay up during that game. I am thinking I will wear my Steelers stuff, but more importantly you will wear all your Browns gear, face make-up too and you will spend the whole game serving me. You know, kneeling before me to ask me if you can get me another beer. Be my footrest when I need one. Because the Browns mascot is a dog, I imagine you’ll spend most of it on all fours. The main kicker is I will need some pics of this. I need to make the Browns number 1 fan, humiliate them on behalf of the Steelers.” He spelled out the worst possible situation. Something unthinkable.
“Never. I would never give any Steelers fan the satisfaction – not even you.” I considered this a closed matter.
“Well, you are kind of doing it by not taking the bet.” He replied with the sly grin. “I mean, you are basically saying that the Browns are so pathetic that they can’t score 1 touchdown against the Steelers and they will let the Steelers score a touchdown every quarter. Yeah, that makes it sound like you are already admitting you are embarrassed to be a Browns fan and believe the Steelers are extremely superior.”
He did have a point. It wasn’t like he was just saying the Steelers would win the game. He made some very specific requirements and it would be truly pathetic if the Browns couldn’t score at least once or stop the Steelers for at least one quarter. “You’re on. I’ll take the bet.”
Nick smiled ear-to-ear like he already knew he had won. I won’t recount the worst game of my life, but this story is only going one place. Play after play, quarter after quarter, the Browns failed to score a touchdown and the Steelers moved the ball to the end zone time and time again. When the clock ran out, I was devastated. “Don’t worry about it bestie, you got 9 weeks before you have to pay the piper.”
“I just can’t believe it.” I muttered that phrase over and over again for the rest of the day. I didn’t even make it back to my place that night. Nick had an apartment, but I lived on campus because it was cheaper with a scholarship I was lucky to have gotten. I passed out on Nick’s couch – which was pretty common anyway. The following day I awoke and it all rushed back to me. I made a dumb bet and in 9 weeks I’ll have to humiliate the Browns, my most beloved team.