Tuesday, October 18, 2022

Dave Eggers / The Definition Of Reg

Short short stories

The Definition Of Reg by Dave Eggers

Saturday 12 June 2004

The man, named Reg, works in a small office. He is 27 years old. There are three people in Reg's office: Reg; an older woman named Bea; and a man named Stu, who is about 40. They all get along well, and talk often during and after work about a wide range of subjects. One Friday, when their boss has encouraged all of them to dress more casually if they so choose, Reg comes to work in a short-sleeved polo shirt and khaki pants. Stu, who is married and straight, comments on what Reg is wearing. "I didn't know you were so buff!" Stu says. Reg is standing about four feet from Stu, removing a new dry-erase board from its packaging, and Stu is looking him over. "I always thought you were kind of skinny," Stu says, "but you're well-built, man! Like a jock! Do you work out?" Reg shrugs and tells Stu that he doesn't work out, but sometimes plays lacrosse, a sport he played in college. Stu is still looking him over. "Well, you should wear stuff like that more often. That shirt's good on you. Chicks would dig that, I bet. You gotta show off those pipes," he says, now pointing to Reg's arms. Reg is hoping he is not blushing and Stu is not finished: "You've got nice shoulders, Reg. You swim?" Reg admits that he did a bit of swimming as a young man. "Looks like it," Stu says. "Man, you think you know a guy, then he comes to work like some kind of Adonis!" There is a long pause as Reg wonders if Stu is finished commenting on his body, and while Stu continues to examine Reg, deciding if there is any more commenting that needs to be done. Finally Stu's phone rings, and he turns to answer it and the moment is over. Reg returns to his desk and tries to work. How can he work? He feels touched, massaged. He feels as if he's been slathered with peanut butter and that Stu has licked it off. Reg is straight, and knows that Stu is straight, and that he doesn't mean anything sexual by his comments, but still Reg wonders, briefly, what it would be like to kiss Stu. He imagines the bristles of Stu's goatee against his own chin. He wonders if Stu's tongue, if men's tongues generally, are thicker than women's. He tries to work, but finds he cannot concentrate. Is he in love with Stu or in love with his own body, now that it has been immortalised by Stu's gorgeous words? He cannot sit still. He goes to the bathroom and flexes his arms. He pushes up his sleeves a bit to reveal more bicep. He masturbates into the toilet. He jogs in place. He returns to his desk and writes down Stu's exact words. He daydreams of spending more time with Stu, basking in his approval, in being appreciated this way. All Reg has ever wanted, he now realises, is this kind of thing, to be gazed at, to be admired. It electrifies every part of him; it's more pleasing to him than the affirmation of any work he's ever done or could do, and he wants more of it. He wants it always, and he finds himself wondering how far - into a different lifestyle, as a gay man, as a young man dating an older man, as a seducer, as a homewrecker - he would be willing to go to get it. He wonders how to tell Stu that if this is going to work, Stu will need to lose some weight, because right now he looks like a goddamned heifer.

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