The Internet is rife with “coming out experiences”. All kinds of kids are on YouTube going “public” with highly personal videos of their coming out to the world. I watch them. Fresh voices, nervous energy, trying to make their statement, they want to be heard as if exorcising a demon from deep within. The road ahead of them is long.
My reaction to these youngsters would be to to wrap my arms around them. All of them. The bitchy ones, the queens, the nasty ones, the quiet, the outspoken and the unheard and simply say — I understand your pain fore I have come to understand my own pain.
Prof. Tim sent me a paragraph from an unquoted book saying gays in their 20’s are trying to be the prettiest boys to f*ck, once in their 30’s, the goal is to be the best boy to marry and after 40. Well – basically we’re just chasing those in their 20’s and 30’s. If it were meant to cheer me up, it didn’t.
TC calling via Skype video, his long black hair and big brown eyes swell with tears as we talk. For the first time, I recognize that he may not be coming home to me again. The challenges to hold us together too significant. Like a kid who’s spent the day building a mighty sand castle only to watch in agony as the incoming tide quickly conquers their masterpiece. There is nothing I can do to stop the march of the sea. All of my efforts and actions over the past 2 years may simply vanish, the beach shore erased and I shall be left with a handful of memories and snapshots.
I am facing yet another “coming out” experience. I shall have to find that new companion. Confront the insecurities of this search. I will then have to rewind my life’s tape and play it back to someone, explaining how I got here, my story and at 49 the story is indeed much longer than say a 21 year old. You don’t just get me, you get the whole series.
The agony of TC’s pending departure, isn’t the loss of some cute 26 yo twinkie boy toy that served my pleasures, it’s that he understands me, my story, how I got here, my hopes, dreams and aspirations and as well my fears and insecurities. He feed my soul, forced new emotional puzzles on me and helped me see things often in a different light. I took as much from him as I gave.
So enough with that. I move further up the beach. I’ll build another sandcastle. But sandcastles are all one of a kind.