The Best Babysitter In Town Vol. 2 Ch. 12

“Gordy, could you come to the kitchen, please,” I called out. I had a suspicion, and if I was right, I could maybe put a stop to Gordy’s mood swings for the weekend or at least a stop to the constant awkwardness. Maybe not, but worth a try cuz it was starting to go from mere annoyance to me not wanting to hang out with him. I’ve had charges that I didn’t want to sit for, but none of them were my friends, and even if Gordy was just another babysitting job, all this would still be way more emotional labor than I normally sign on for.

“Yeah,” Gordy said when he got to the kitchen

“I made a snack.”

“Thanks, but I’m not …”

“Sit and eat, buster. A little fruit is exactly what you need, and some water. Gotta get your tummy moving again.” He blushed, because that’s a thing Gordy does almost every time he hears my voice, and he sat down across from me and started eating mango, because doing as he’s told is also a

Gordy trait. Good thing, too, cuz I almost sliced my hand off figuring out how to cut that mango, and I’d be darned if my recently blocked up charge was not gonna nom some fiber.

The thing you hafta understand about Gordy is … Okay, the thing you hafta understand about me is I’m just about the nicest person you’ll ever meet. I hate hurting feelings, but I do it sometimes because (1) that’s life and (2) it’s unavoidable when you babysit cuz junior humans get their feelings hurt so easily. Part of being the best babysitter in town is being willing to hurt feelings anyway because tough love and all that. But Gordy is so sensitive, and it’s very different hurting a twenty-year-old’s feelings than a twenty-month-old’s. I wanted to tell it like I saw it, and I wanted to spare him embarrassment (which, I swear, I really wish was a feeling a person - Gordy, specifically - could run out of), and I very much doubted if all my babysitting superpowers put together could achieve both those at the same time.

“I want to talk to you about why you got upset while we were upstairs,” I started.

Predictably, Gordy replied, “I didn’t get upset.”

“You stopped helping hold up your knees and crossed your arms over your face and basically went non-verbal on me.”

“Cuz it’s embarrassing,” he replied defensively.

“It was embarrassing when we started too, but you were being my helper.” Dammit, stop saying stuff like that! Pay attention to your words!

Now, my theory of why he got upset is simple: his … erection. I have a hard time thinking of it that way. When you wipe one down during a diaper change, it’s all but impossible to not think of it as a peepee (or maybe a weewee, and at worst a penis). And yeah, having given him a couple HJs definitely helps corrects for that, but … It’s small. It’s not micro small, and I’m not a size queen, but Gordy is definitely on the low end of the average range, and well, it’s cute. The words cute and dick just don’t go together when you’re talking about cis boys. So my theory is Gordy was embarrassed, then Gordy was (ahem!) erect, and then Gordy was mortified and that’s when he needed a moment alone behind his arms.

A second hypothesis of mine is he was even more humiliated about why he got an erection - because I put stuff up his butt. My finger and the enema bottle. I know exactly zero college boys who would be comfortable admitting they like a woman putting something up their butt; I’m sure they exist, but they’re not the norm. I don’t know if Gordy likes that; I just know that might be why his body reacted the way it did. Maybe (probably, judging by how inexperienced Gordy seems to be with all things bodies) that was his own first inkling he might like that. As they say, the first time is an accident; the second time is an experiment; the third time is fun. So I guess Gordy had a couple kinds of accidents that day.

And as a third hypothesis, you take those two things, you take Gordy’s increasingly obvious crush on me, you wrap em up together, and you have a Gordy who’s probably going insane cuz every time he starts to make what he (I’m guessing) thinks is progress with me, something embarrassing happens to him. He wants so much to be like other boys our age; that much is obvious. But he’s just not; also obvious. And I know from us having talked about it before that he has this misperception that every college co-ed wants a frat boy. I think - and this could be just me being conceited - that he’s crushing on me so hard he thinks I’m some campus hottie who can have any boy I want, and that’s just not true. Even if it were true, that wouldn’t mean I’m the type of woman who likes that type of guy. He and I talked about that before, but I think maybe he didn’t hear me cuz his ears were full of insecurity and stereotypes.

“I think,” I started to say and reminded myself to not utter the words penis, peepee, butt, or finger, “you have a crush on me.” Time stretched out for both of us, but whereas for me the second lasted about two seconds, I think he had himself a good hour there just looking like a very red-faced deer caught in the headlights. They say puppies, kittens, and babies are cute because humans are wired to find big eyes cute. Well, Gordy had himself some saucers, that were just adorable, and they were surrounded by cheeks a shade of red I hadn’t seen on Gordy, and I’ve seen every shade on him from spanked butt crimson to back button ochre to so many varieties of pink.

“And,” I continued, “you’re getting upset because you think the things I help you with as your … “ There was a little tickle in my throat because reasons …

“friend will make it so I can never see you that way.”

Being super direct like that is much easier when I’m babysitting kiddos: You want a cookie even though it’s dinner time, and you think the best way to get what you want is to pout and tantrum. Well, missy, lemme tell you right now that isn’t how this works.

I didn’t expect Gordy to respond to that verbally. I expected him to respond non-verbally by looking down at the table, and o look, I was right.

“You’re cute, Gordy. I like you. I like spending time with you …” My turn to be embarrassed and all red “… and I don’t know exactly how I feel about you. You’re different from the guys I date, and not just because of, you know.”

“W-what does that mean?”

“Diapers and spankings and stuff.”

He’s cute when he rolls his eyes. “I meant what’s your … What do you mean you’re not sure how you feel?”

Ugh - he is such a doofus! “It means I’m not sure if I like you like a friend or if I like like you.” Cuz apparently I hafta put it at a sixth-grade relationship reading level to get my point across.

“O.”

“Or tell me I’m wrong and you don’t have a crush on me.” I won’t even try to phonetically spell out his stammers. “See, I even think it’s cute when you get flustered and trip over your tongue.”

“Um, but … I mean … I guess … But you’re … You’re … who you are, and I’m who I am. It’s not like … Girls like you don’t date guys like me.”

“Gordy, hun, I think you’re way overestimating just how in demand I am, and how would you even know who I date?”

“Cuz you’re … You know!”

“The best babysitter in town? I hardly date at all, for your information, cuz I’m busy most weekend nights, and anyway, we’re not talking about other people. I’m saying start getting over your insecurity about whether you measure up to whatever kind of boy you think I go out with. Alright? It’s a turnoff, and makes you way moodier, and it’s gonna spoil our date.”

“This isn’t a date.”

My turn to roll my eyes. “You’re taking me on a date tonight.”

“I am?”

“Yes.”

“But you just said you weren’t sure …”

“How do you think we get sure?”

“O…kay. Do you have something to wear?”

Ooo, there goes my eyebrow doing that accusatory arching thing. “I’m not talking somewhere fancy. Just pick a place to take me to dinner. Something simple. And stay out of your own head; don’t get all nervous and freaked out. We’re just two people going to dinner. Two hours?”

“Um, yeah … Question?”

Yes, sweetie, you may ask questions. “Yeah?”

“How is this different than all the times we’ve had dinner or lunch together before?”

“Cuz a date just is.“

And I swear I heard a burst of crinkling noises as soon as I was out of sight as though someone very excited and happy and wearing a diaper jumped out of his chair and thrust a victorious fist in the air.