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A WORK IN PROGRESS

A WORK IN PROGRESS
Is “gay” a word that has any relevance anymore?

Prior to the 1960’s, it was light in the loafers; in the 1970’s, gay came to the forefront, but it was a mix of fag, queer and pervert. In the 1980’s it got a little better with gay being the common term. As each decade came upon us, tolerance was a term coined to show a softening of the stigma. Now in the decade of 2010, we can get married with all the benefits associated with the institution of marriage, we can adopt and are accepted by society more now than ever. But is this a facade?

Don’t be fooled. Discrimination still prevails in many states and hate crimes are on the rise once again. There are still archaic laws on the books.  There is a segment of the population that will never accept us; the same as racism. As a child, there is an innocence.  They do not see color, ethnicity, and sexual proclivities do not exist;  there is an innocence.   As children that become adults, they “learn the sins of the father”.  Anything that makes a person different from the norm becomes unacceptable.  Why does that happen?  Because as adults, we are taught that different means fear.  People are afraid of what they do not understand.

So does this make it right? No. But it is human nature that has been ingrained since the beginning of time.  Statistics show that 35% of the population does not “approve”. Many of these are beliefs rooted deep in religion and some people will never believe what they don’t understand.  I don’t believe it will ever be a non issue, any more than racism. These beliefs are perpetuated from generation to generation and there will always be a segment of the population that will have a hatred for us.  The purpose of this essay is to shed a light on lifelong experiences.

The following is a story of my lifelong experiences;  schooling, failed relationships, reckless behavior, family issues, and finally awareness.
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The Experimental Period

Back in the 1960’s and early 70’s, it wasn’t a subject many people talked about. The only things gay men really had as an outlet were the underground bars and the seedy bookstores. Both were neither places to build self confidence and self worth. Those days were hard. After I realized I was gay in my early 20’s, secrets were in large supply to cover up what was then thought of as evil, abnormal, sick and something to be hidden. The Catholic church especially was the most vocal, preaching fire and brimstone against anyone who fell into this deep well. 

After college, I lived with my parents for several years until I got on my feet.  I majored in Education at college but during the early ’70’s teaching jobs were in short supply.  Consider it the times we lived in.  Nothing was really different as before college.  My parents continually argued which led me to retreat in the upstairs bedroom, fantasizing about, what would become my fate.  I finally ended up moving toward jobs in restaurant management, looking at this as an easy way to make some money. At that point, I moved out of the house into an apartment with my friend, Bob, which I met at community college.  We were thick as thieves and had a close friendship, from attending the same classes to drinking at the local pub to riding motorcycles to going to adult bookstores.  After a stint at community college and eventually a semi-local college we got an apartment together.  He was straight and had no idea about my secret.  There was never any attraction; our friendship exceeded that. However, I became a master at hiding my proclivaties. 

Eventually, he started dating a girl.  I would listen to them in the night having sex.  I remember laying in my bed, aware and scared of things to come.  Once he moved out, this is when I went down the rabbit hole. I frequented bookstores on a regular basis, eventually resulting in my first experience. The thought of going home with someone was more than my brain could handle, with the excitement reaching a fever pitch.  I spent the night with him at his apartment.  From the beginning it was not a pleasant experience.  My head was cloudy and realized that I had no idea what I was doing, nervous from the time we crawled into bed.  I also realized that sexually I was not drawn to him.  It made for an uneventful experience and never resulted in anything fulfilling. In the morning, I left his apartment heading back to my empty apartment.  The first thing I did was take a shower.  It seemed endless.  I scrubbed my body until the skin came off.  I felt dirty.  I was disgusted with myself and the guilt was palpable.  I vowed never to partake in any type of experience going forward.  Two days later, I was at the bookstore.

Bookstores were my preference; no names or intimacy; just a way to satisfy my needs.  I learned that sex does not take a holiday.   The darkness, the anonimity, the excitement was intoxicating and somewhat hypnotic.  I was hooked, and made it a regular thing.  The men came in all shapes and sizes; I was not particular.  Sex usually took place in the video booth.  The thought of something forbidden was, at many times, more than I could anticipate. Many times I would go home with them, never even knowing their name.  

The Realization

With mom’s “bull in a china shop” hard driven personality, this would have had to be a major setback for the life she envisioned for me. She had two sons with a 9 year age difference, wanting so much to be a grandmother several times over. My brother, who left for college and never looked back married in 1967; his wife made it perfectly clear she wanted only one child, although I always suspected that she would be fine without any. My brother, years down the road wanted to adopt a boy, but his wife put a fork in it immediately. Mom was disappointed to say the least. She wanted me to pick up where my brother left off. She expected a couple, as did my grandparents, of grandchildren from me and made no bones about it.  But her maternal concerns didn’t start until I finished college in 1976.  At that point I was burning the candle at both ends; dating girls for show.  This was a lifestyle that I became used to for numerous years while still leading a hidden life.

Coming out was not easy. I hid it until 25 years old and even at that point I wasn’t ready to share; my parents asked me directly which in and of itself was a relief.  It was on Easter Sunday in 1984.  After meeting Dale years before, who was 14 years my senior, mom and dad sat me down in the living room.  I knew something was up and I had a inkling what it was – call it an awareness of self.  My mom had the unenviable task of taking the reins and asking me.  She stumbled for the words but then asked straight out if “I liked men.”  Fumbling around for words I asked her what she meant.  She repeated the question, with myself feeling like a cornered animal.  I took a deep breath and told her yes.  She took her hand to her forward and vowed that she would take this to her grave.  A little smirk came across my face, finding this somewhat overly dramatic.  My dad just sat there, which didn’t surprise me.  The look on his face spoke volumes.  Long story short, I went for a walk with them, each separately talking about and answering their questions, with them more confused that ever.

My dad, I believe was aware, but totally oblivious to the situation around him. He was a severe introvert, a social misfit who really didn’t fit in with anyone. He worried incessantly and didn’t do much talking, other that his ailments.  The news must have eaten him up inside and he suffered in silence. Mom was the disciplinarian. She towed a hard line and expected me to follow it. I know she loved me and showed it in so many ways, but at the same time, expected results out of me which sometimes for a child is difficult to comprehend. My dad on the other hand, was the total opposite.  He was weak and was “whipped”, but at the same time very loving, showing his affection by spoiling me rotten.  

Once it settled in, mom and dad thought conversion therapy to be a cure, from spending substantial time interacting with women to mind altering shock therapy within the confines of a well hidden “prison”. My parents entertained both, failing to convince me that they had any benefit.  Mom would send dad to the library getting a book from Masters and Johnson on the details of homosexuality.  They were confused and I really didn’t blame them for trying.

The Lifestyle
Ahhh yes, the lifestyle.  By this time I was a full fledged fag.  In July of 1984, I moved to Atlanta with my first official boyfriend.  He was 14 years my senior and looking back, provided me with a ticket out of Cleveland.  His job moved him to Atlanta and I followed.  There was never much attraction between us.  The sex was not memorable.  I basically bent over to provide an outlet.  But at that time in my 30’s, I was not emotionally mature enough to know better.  But looking back fate took over and as I believe, it happened for a reason which I now clearly see.