My involvement in a project recently has reminded me that my sexuality could still be, well, perhaps somewhat questionable? I don’t talk a lot about it, but when I was 15 years old I was abducted. At the time I was very involved in the church trying to pray away the gay. I’d been grappling with having an attraction and feelings for other boys, so when that gold Trans Am pulled up and sped away with me in it, well, in some warped twisted way I surmised this was God’s way of punishing me. If I hadn’t been thinking about kissing a boy I wouldn’t have locked in an older man’s car. Years later in therapy I figured out that blaming myself for being a victim of sexual assault was messed up. My 1993 stint in therapy rocked, but a leftover by product of it has been the realization that my psychosocial sexual development was rather severely interrupted.
Now just to be clear I have no doubt in my mind that I totally dig other men, but maybe I would have been into women if I’d been given the chance to progress like a normal human being. I do think about women sometimes. The idea does excite me – even if only as a mission of self discovery, but the only girl I’ve ever had sex with was a long time ago. In fact, I was drunk out of my mind after winning a Quarters championship at a party house. I let her crash in my bed that night since A) she needed a place to sleep, and B) someone in the living room was hitting on her in a totally fucked up way, and C) some super drunk attendee thought my bed was actually the toilet and threw up on it and she was the one who cleaned it up and laundered my bedding for me. I don’t remember a lot about having sex with her, other than the fact that it happened three times between the wee small hours Sunday morning and crawling out of bed together sometime Sunday evening. It’s enough to make a fag wonder, no?
And then there’s the fact that my gaydar sucks lately. There’s this guy from psychic school I’ve always thought was pretty cute, but I was absolutely certain he wasn’t even batting for the team, y’know? Well, we were hanging out a bit yesterday and he tells me he’s in love and his new boyfriend are moving into together this weekend. I almost fell of my chair. Had I known, I would have thrown major passes a year ago. Looking back I can see where that pat on the back he gave me was a bit more than friendly, but that ship has clearly sailed and I never even made it to the waterfront.
Now lest you think I’m averse to getting completely serious with another guy, I did “pop the question” once. His name was Scott and we were involved in a long distance relationship throughout 1997. I even flew out once to meet his parents for Easter in Peoria, Illinois, no less. You know it was something serious to do that! Long story short though, on my last trip to see him in Chicago we were at that jumping off place, where our relationship had to move to the next level or die an untimely cold bitter death full of resentment and self pity. We went to a diner for breakfast one morning and I told him I loved him more than anyone I’ve ever known, that I didn’t want 2000 miles to continue to separate us, that I was willing to quit my job, give up my killer cheap flat in San Francisco. All I wanted in the world was to shack up and live in sin as happy as clams for the rest of our lives. I even got down on one knee in the cafe and said the words: Will – You – Marry – Me. He said no. He couldn’t handle the idea of me giving up my whole life to share his. It was too much pressure and if it didn’t work out he’d never forgive himself and I was, well, deeply heart broken.
So where does all this leave me now? The question reminds me of an old story about a tranny hooker here in San Francisco. She’d gotten very drunk one night, ended up blacking out, and the next morning she came to in bed at a strange man’s house, naked and horrified. Running to the telephone she called the police. Her first words to the officer were: “Where am I?” which inevitably became one of those lines that everyone in the city would say and start giggling. How did we all find out about it? When she threatened the cops with a lawsuit for not helping her they turned a transcript of the call over to the press. When it hit the news others stepped forward from a local bar chiming in that she loudly agreed to give the guy a blowjob for $20 and then they walked around the corner to his place. So where am I? I’m glad and grateful not to be in her shoes.