All that 20 year reunion angst plus a meet & greet with a classmate yesterday who didn't make it to the reunion has me thinking about something else, I guess I should say, someone else from that time. I use the L-word in quotation marks because I'm not sure that's what it was & if I used a more accurate word (starts w F), I think I'd get banned from this site.
3 days before I graduated HS, during that week off after Senior Final Exams & Graduation Day, one of my bullies came to my parents' house while everyone else was at work or school & deflowered me. Well, I guess technically I deflowered him, but you get the idea. He had been giving me obscene phone calls for about a year at that point, which alternately thrilled & terrified me. Once I realized who it was on the other end of the line (and that took several months) I didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. Suffice it to say he was a bossy bottom on the phone (ooh lawd, & even more so in person) & I thought it was some kind of trap. He kept telling me he wanted me to come over to his house & do stuff to him & I kept thinking that if I showed up there would be a bunch of ppl from skool there to traumatize me so it never happened until that fateful day, when neither of us had to face high school again.That 1st time was awkward & over with pretty quick (I think it took less time than it did for him to walk, yes WALK, the 5 miles to my parents' house) but after that, I had no more doubt in my mind that I was 100% gay.
As you can prolly imagine, this guy presented (& I guess, still does present) as typically masculine & straight, with all the "right" manly interests, like sports & hunting & fishing. Meanwhile, I was/am fem & flamboyant, with "sissy" interests, like knitting & reading & writing. The opposites continue: he was thin & blond & his body mostly smooth while my curvy form was covered in dark, thick hair. We "saw" each other intermittently after this for years. I cannot even begin to tell you the things we got up to, the adventurous places we went for our torrid little unions, the way you do when you both live with your parents & need a place to go. There were empty lots, late at night, a motel by the hour located behind a XXX video store (we were 18, we hardly needed the whole hour), a sugar cane field behind which we later found out a serial killer had dumped a bunch of prostitutes' bodies, the cooler in one of the convenience stores where I worked, & of course, like just about everyone else in St Charles Parish--behind the levee.
There were no dates. I didn't get the flowers or the Valentine's Day gifts or the kisses on the mouth or whatever else it was he gave his girlfriends (of course, I always knew these girls but couldn't tell them for fear that he'd stop calling me), but I got---besides the obvious---validation? Confusion? It was like I was looking for something I'd lost combined with his morbid curiosity. It was all I had & I loved it.
Every single second.
Sure, I was angry that I always had to be mocked & ostracized for being a fairy while he flew under the radar, but all the humiliation just melted away once we were behind closed doors (or out in the cane fields, or wherever) & it became something else. Like gratitude & resentment all mixed up together and that energy directed thru the magnifying glass that is teen-age libido.
These days, I'd just say the boy was trade & be done with it. We never said the word love. Not until the last time. We were in my parents' garage (I think they were prolly asleep inside or some such scandalous thing), in some heretofore unattempted position (face to face for once) & he spontaneously said It: "I love you."
I said it back to him & our bodies exploded together & it felt like sunshine.
I didn't know then it would be the last time. Maybe I'd have done things differently if I had. Maybe I'd have said It first. Or not at all. Maybe I'd have told him not to talk (he was always telling me that) but I didn't.
I won't name his name, although I could, but I don't see any real reason to out him. I'm sure that his wife of umpteen years is more than aware of what a big bottom he is & it's not like he's some anti-gay Congressman or something. I wasn't always this enlightened, though. I did tell a few people when we were younger & most of them didn't believe me. I'm so serious. I remember telling a mutual friend of his & mine about it & she just kinda blew me off until I described the inside of his mom's house in detail & a few of his tattoos & then it was like I'd blown her mind.
But I didn't write this to wreck his reputation or augment my own. I'm not even sure why I wrote this, I just knew I had to. My writer friends will know what it is like: sometimes you have a story that needs to be told so badly that your fingers won't do anything else until you do, until the words get brave enough & channel themselves thru the keyboard, you can't eat/sleep/watch TV/do much else.
I wish I had some deep analysis of this, some "nugget of truth for you to wrap up & put on the mantelpiece," to (mis)-quote Virginia Woolf, but I'm not sure I'm capable of such a thing at this juncture.
Maybe in 20 more years.....
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Sunday, August 5, 2012
20th Reunion Recap
I have to start this blog with a truly heartfelt thank you for the amazing outpouring of support I received after the last post, not only on the interwebs but in person last night. I was truly afraid to share, and I'm so glad that I did.
I got to the party right as it was starting at 8 at the Mystère Manor on 4800 Canal St. Oddly enough, the 1st person that I talked to for any length of time was actually not someone from high school, but this guy I met at Nicholls State University during my 1st aborted attempt at higher education, straight out of high skool. We caught up for a bit & then I headed over to the open bar & had the first of oh-so-many Vodka/Cranberries. I was overwhelmed by how many people came up to me & told me that they'd read my previous post & truly understood, that they had felt like outsiders too. It would take me entirely too long to list everyone who came to me & treated me with kindness. Of course, there were one or two people who were stand-offish & that is absolutely fine. It didn't feel fake, it didn't feel forced, everything was just so easy after 20 years. Some of us got fat, some got skinny, some look older, some look the same, some look better (We know who we are) but we all looked happy to be there. The open bar may have had something to do with it, of course.
When the clock struck 11, the Haunted Mausoleum threw us out & I rode out with the Sassy Sherry Green-Vinturella & her lovely husband to Masquerade at Harrah's Casino, where some of Party Crew '92 were dancing & drinking. After a bit, we headed to the Famous Door on Bourbon for a live band & more dancing & drinking. Then, it was off to the Goldmine Saloon for, you guessed it, more dancing & drinking!! Before I knew it, though, it was past 3AM (like way, way past) & Sherry & her hubby were kind enough to give me a ride home with the requisite stop for Gas Station Fried Chicken Strips & an empanada onna way. I ate the empanada, 1 chicken strip & a few of the fries & set my alarm for 8 so I could wake up today & head over to Tulane Med Skool & ooh lawd the hangover wasn't as bad as you might think, but I was surely feeling it as I tried to scrub that damn Goldmine stamp off my hand in the shower this morning.
Fortunately, today was a really easy day at work, with plenty of breaks where I was able to lay back on the exam table & nap a lil and really take in how glad I am that I went to the reunion. I remember talking to more than one person there who apologized to me for not standing up for me or not being a good friend & I'm not 100% sure I expressed it clearly enough over the music & the booze, but All is Forgiven. We were all just kids, trying to survive. Things had to be like that in order for us to learn and grow & move forward.
I saw that boy that I was looking for, that me that just wanted to lay down and die over it all. I saw him in your faces & going to the reunion gave me exactly what I needed. A chance to put that anger & resentment to rest for once & for all & I sincerely thank you for that.
I got to the party right as it was starting at 8 at the Mystère Manor on 4800 Canal St. Oddly enough, the 1st person that I talked to for any length of time was actually not someone from high school, but this guy I met at Nicholls State University during my 1st aborted attempt at higher education, straight out of high skool. We caught up for a bit & then I headed over to the open bar & had the first of oh-so-many Vodka/Cranberries. I was overwhelmed by how many people came up to me & told me that they'd read my previous post & truly understood, that they had felt like outsiders too. It would take me entirely too long to list everyone who came to me & treated me with kindness. Of course, there were one or two people who were stand-offish & that is absolutely fine. It didn't feel fake, it didn't feel forced, everything was just so easy after 20 years. Some of us got fat, some got skinny, some look older, some look the same, some look better (We know who we are) but we all looked happy to be there. The open bar may have had something to do with it, of course.
When the clock struck 11, the Haunted Mausoleum threw us out & I rode out with the Sassy Sherry Green-Vinturella & her lovely husband to Masquerade at Harrah's Casino, where some of Party Crew '92 were dancing & drinking. After a bit, we headed to the Famous Door on Bourbon for a live band & more dancing & drinking. Then, it was off to the Goldmine Saloon for, you guessed it, more dancing & drinking!! Before I knew it, though, it was past 3AM (like way, way past) & Sherry & her hubby were kind enough to give me a ride home with the requisite stop for Gas Station Fried Chicken Strips & an empanada onna way. I ate the empanada, 1 chicken strip & a few of the fries & set my alarm for 8 so I could wake up today & head over to Tulane Med Skool & ooh lawd the hangover wasn't as bad as you might think, but I was surely feeling it as I tried to scrub that damn Goldmine stamp off my hand in the shower this morning.
Fortunately, today was a really easy day at work, with plenty of breaks where I was able to lay back on the exam table & nap a lil and really take in how glad I am that I went to the reunion. I remember talking to more than one person there who apologized to me for not standing up for me or not being a good friend & I'm not 100% sure I expressed it clearly enough over the music & the booze, but All is Forgiven. We were all just kids, trying to survive. Things had to be like that in order for us to learn and grow & move forward.
I saw that boy that I was looking for, that me that just wanted to lay down and die over it all. I saw him in your faces & going to the reunion gave me exactly what I needed. A chance to put that anger & resentment to rest for once & for all & I sincerely thank you for that.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Terror of the 20 year reunion....
...in which I try to figure out the root of this anxiety & overcome it.
Tonight is the night. My 20 year HS reunion will take place in about 7 hours and I find myself increasingly anxious (if not outright terrorized.) Most of you did not know me in high school, but it wasn't exactly what you would call a pleasant experience for me. I do not have sequential memories of this period in my life, it is more like I remember particular scenes, like being called a faggot every day or this kid spitting on my face on the bus or finding notes in my locker telling me that I was gonna die from AIDS & not being able to tell anyone about any of it because I thought they all knew & approved & nobody thought I deserved any better or else somebody would have said something.
Intellectually, I know there were bright spots, I know that I had a few friends. I only got beaten up for being gay once, and that didn't happen at school, although the person who set it up was a classmate of mine. The police flat out told me that they wouldn't prosecute the guys who did it to me because they were part of a drug sting that would put the dudes in jail for longer than a simple battery charge. "Hate Crimes" weren't recognized then & honestly if they had been, I'm really not sure that anything would have happened anyway.
Oh but I was so angry and so scared & so unable to admit that I was angry even to myself & so I masked it, I hid it behind sassy comments & then once I was out of high school I was still so very angry & couldn't remember why & I did my damnedest to forget it all, to snort it or smoke it or mainline it all away & somehow, some way I lived thru it, & despite my own best efforts, I survived.
Just typing these few paragraphs is giving me butterflies in my stomach & got my hands shaking like the very last crackhead in America & I'll probably go thru a pack of cigs before I finish this but finish this I must. It's important.
My clearest memory from high school is actually from 3 days after I graduated. My parents took my sisters & me to...Biloxi? Mobile? IDK, someplace on the Gulf Coast for some biker event (my dad drove a Harley at the time) & when we got back, someone had spraypainted the words SUCK DICK FAG in big white letters on the blacktop street in front of my house & FAG on our mailbox. My parents & my grandfather told me it was my fault. If I hadn't acted like such a sissy, no one would say those things about me, I would have gotten a date to the prom, I would have had friends to go on Senior Trip with, and I certainly wouldn't have had to clean off the graffitti with a scrub brush in the scorching South Louisiana heat a few days from my 18th birthday. I am not sure if you have ever tried to remove paint without any solvents, but I'm here to tell you, it's difficult, especially when you have to move out of the way of oncoming cars when all you want to do is lay down in front of them & just not have to fucking be hurt any more over the fact that you're not who other people tell you that you should be.
Oof. That was hard. Hard to live thru & hard to think about & hard to write about, but I know that if I don't get it all out I'm probably going to end up chain-smoking all day long & talk myself out of going to this party tonight.
I didn't go to my 10 year reunion. I was still really angry & to be honest, I didn't feel like I had anything to show for those 10 years besides track marks & a profoundly diminished sense of smell. I was scared & ashamed & felt incredibly inadequate at the idea of having to face people who gave me recurrent nightmares. I didn't give them a chance to reject me again. Instead, I rejected the idea of being in their company & cut myself off from a chance to understand and forgive and heal.
In the second decade since my 1st graduation, I've been the winner on a game show, gotten 2 BA degrees & an MA, become highly fluent in two foreign languages, travelled to Europe, won more scholarships than I can name offhand & so much more besides, but somehow that sense of inadequacy is still there, in the back of my mind & deep inside my heart, in a place that defies intellect and reason. But this time, I will not let the anxieties and fear hold me back. This time, I will use that nervous energy, channel it into some positive force that will permit me to overcome that Terrible Awful Anger and see that the other kids at school were just that-Kids.
They felt angry, they felt lost & had to take it out on someone & saw me as a fitting target because that's what they were taught. They didn't know better.
I know no one is going to do anything bad to me tonight. I know that we have all grown up & changed and (hopefully) become better people. I'm trying not to go into this with any expectations (more than 1 person has given me this advice) other than an open bar & some snacks for 3 hours.
My friend Sandi asked me the other day who I was hoping to see at this reunion. I really didn't have an immediate answer. A while later, I came up with a few names, but now that I've had a few days to kind of live with the question, the real answer is---Me. I'm hoping to see that Me that I used to be and be able to forgive him for being different, for daring not to conform, and love him because without him, I'd never be the Me that I am today.
Tonight is the night. My 20 year HS reunion will take place in about 7 hours and I find myself increasingly anxious (if not outright terrorized.) Most of you did not know me in high school, but it wasn't exactly what you would call a pleasant experience for me. I do not have sequential memories of this period in my life, it is more like I remember particular scenes, like being called a faggot every day or this kid spitting on my face on the bus or finding notes in my locker telling me that I was gonna die from AIDS & not being able to tell anyone about any of it because I thought they all knew & approved & nobody thought I deserved any better or else somebody would have said something.
Intellectually, I know there were bright spots, I know that I had a few friends. I only got beaten up for being gay once, and that didn't happen at school, although the person who set it up was a classmate of mine. The police flat out told me that they wouldn't prosecute the guys who did it to me because they were part of a drug sting that would put the dudes in jail for longer than a simple battery charge. "Hate Crimes" weren't recognized then & honestly if they had been, I'm really not sure that anything would have happened anyway.
Oh but I was so angry and so scared & so unable to admit that I was angry even to myself & so I masked it, I hid it behind sassy comments & then once I was out of high school I was still so very angry & couldn't remember why & I did my damnedest to forget it all, to snort it or smoke it or mainline it all away & somehow, some way I lived thru it, & despite my own best efforts, I survived.
Just typing these few paragraphs is giving me butterflies in my stomach & got my hands shaking like the very last crackhead in America & I'll probably go thru a pack of cigs before I finish this but finish this I must. It's important.
My clearest memory from high school is actually from 3 days after I graduated. My parents took my sisters & me to...Biloxi? Mobile? IDK, someplace on the Gulf Coast for some biker event (my dad drove a Harley at the time) & when we got back, someone had spraypainted the words SUCK DICK FAG in big white letters on the blacktop street in front of my house & FAG on our mailbox. My parents & my grandfather told me it was my fault. If I hadn't acted like such a sissy, no one would say those things about me, I would have gotten a date to the prom, I would have had friends to go on Senior Trip with, and I certainly wouldn't have had to clean off the graffitti with a scrub brush in the scorching South Louisiana heat a few days from my 18th birthday. I am not sure if you have ever tried to remove paint without any solvents, but I'm here to tell you, it's difficult, especially when you have to move out of the way of oncoming cars when all you want to do is lay down in front of them & just not have to fucking be hurt any more over the fact that you're not who other people tell you that you should be.
Oof. That was hard. Hard to live thru & hard to think about & hard to write about, but I know that if I don't get it all out I'm probably going to end up chain-smoking all day long & talk myself out of going to this party tonight.
I didn't go to my 10 year reunion. I was still really angry & to be honest, I didn't feel like I had anything to show for those 10 years besides track marks & a profoundly diminished sense of smell. I was scared & ashamed & felt incredibly inadequate at the idea of having to face people who gave me recurrent nightmares. I didn't give them a chance to reject me again. Instead, I rejected the idea of being in their company & cut myself off from a chance to understand and forgive and heal.
In the second decade since my 1st graduation, I've been the winner on a game show, gotten 2 BA degrees & an MA, become highly fluent in two foreign languages, travelled to Europe, won more scholarships than I can name offhand & so much more besides, but somehow that sense of inadequacy is still there, in the back of my mind & deep inside my heart, in a place that defies intellect and reason. But this time, I will not let the anxieties and fear hold me back. This time, I will use that nervous energy, channel it into some positive force that will permit me to overcome that Terrible Awful Anger and see that the other kids at school were just that-Kids.
They felt angry, they felt lost & had to take it out on someone & saw me as a fitting target because that's what they were taught. They didn't know better.
I know no one is going to do anything bad to me tonight. I know that we have all grown up & changed and (hopefully) become better people. I'm trying not to go into this with any expectations (more than 1 person has given me this advice) other than an open bar & some snacks for 3 hours.
My friend Sandi asked me the other day who I was hoping to see at this reunion. I really didn't have an immediate answer. A while later, I came up with a few names, but now that I've had a few days to kind of live with the question, the real answer is---Me. I'm hoping to see that Me that I used to be and be able to forgive him for being different, for daring not to conform, and love him because without him, I'd never be the Me that I am today.
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