I haven't read this much since... well ... I guess since never. This daily commute between New York and Westchester County has definitely improved my repertoire of literary conquests. So much so that I'm starting to write like the authors I read every day... I mean who's ever heard of someone saying or even thinking of the phrase "literary conquests ?" Well I guess it just goes to show what a boring turn my life has taken on its road to who knows where. Just months after graduating from college I am relegated to the daily grind about which so many middle aged, tired suburbanites- and now I - ritualistically complain. I am just now realizing that I'm 22 going on 43.
Each day riding the train into Grand Central a myriad of thoughts and people walk through my mind. On Monday morning its apprehension at the week to come. Monday evening I think about the workout I will force myself to complete upon arriving home at 8:00 or so. Tuesday morning I find myself engrossed in one book or another, wishing I could be or just meet one of those characters. Tuesday night I think about my workout some more but this time the guy in the seat directly facing me, across the aisle leading to doors, is also grabbing a bit of my attention. Of course every man worth looking at on this suburban express is hopelessly straight. And even if they weren't, they probably look at me and think that I am. Lets just say that by Thursday night my thoughts bring me to my college days.
"College days" --they seem like they took place ages ago yet I was still a student just this past May. I always allow my mind to linger a bit too long on what I would be doing at this very moment if I was back at Penn. I know exactly what I'd be doing. I would be walking down Locust Walk after one of my late classes. I would be following the walk down past the library and the Food Court to Walnut Street where I would begin my trek into Center City and back to my apartment. Perhaps I would run into a friend and chat idly for a bit or maybe I'd make a detour to the bookstore. Then I would start my half-mile walk into Center City and my apartment off Rittenhouse Square.
Throughout my reminiscing a soundtrack plays in my head. My own personal soundtrack. The one I've created for myself over the past 22 years. For example, any memory taking place in 1986 would feature The Outfield and their Play Deep album; 1989 and 1990 would conjure Madonna's "Like a Prayer" and "Vogue"; 1995 would feature Hum's "Counting Stars" and Sponge's "16 Candles Down the Drain"; and now, my moments walking down the Ivy League path would most certainly feature a rousing rendition of Gay Dad's "Oh Jim" or Splender's " Whatever". But I've digressed too much. My soundtrack can only be understood and truly appreciated by me.
You may think I'm one of those creepy band-obsessed geeks - maybe John Cussack's character from the film "High Fidelity". But I'm not at all. In fact I couldn't remember the title of most songs, and the names of many bands, to save my life. I wasn't in band in high school. In fact, I don't have any musical talent whatsoever. I was always too cool or too lazy to apply myself to learning any instrument. Yes, I'm very far from being a band freak or geek, I am happy to say. Its just that I think a little differently than everybody else. I think like I write. Digression after digression. Ask anyone who knows me. I will be talking about X one second and then have something trigger thoughts on Y which will in turn cause me to ask a random question on Z all so I can figure out what ever happened to A. That's how I think. I don't expect anyone to follow it - just don't knock it.
So I guess now is as good a time as ever to tell you that this isn't a story. Not in the orthodox sense of the word. Rather this is my train of thought. From time to time it may include a short story. But I can't promise that they will be in any temporal order or even relevant. I'll just promise they'll be interesting. I like the word interesting. I use it a lot in a variety of contexts - always when I can't find the right word. The word that may offend, the word that may give me away, the word that's honest. So I use interesting. Also, I can't spell very well. Four years of Ivy League education and I still couldn't even win an 8th grade spelling bee. Of course I can spell better than 90% of the population, but not up to the par of my alma mater. And finally, like I said -- I write what I'm thinking, and write it like I'm thinking. That's me. I could compose a fantastic essay with perfect grammar and astounding eloquence in a minute but that's not what this is about. I'm not writing a story. I'm sharing my thoughts. Consider yourself lucky because you are in my head. If you stay tuned you will know more about me than anyone else - more than my family, my friends and my boyfriend. They all think they know me -- and they do. But they only know a piece of me. I present a different face to each. Here these "faces" will all come together. I won't even change names for the most part. So hopefully you'll enjoy this.
I've just finished checking my email here at work for the twentieth time today and for the twentieth time I've read the message my closest friend still in Philadelphia has sent me. I don't know why I do it, but I keep reading it over an over hoping to find something that I may have missed before. What that something is I have a pretty good idea of, but alas I don't find it. I even contemplate the tone of the letter hoping for a glimmer of something I hope will be there. You see Jake (named changed to protect the innocent and myself) and I have had something less than a kosher relationship for the past two years, yet there has been no impropriety between the two of us at all. Even when my boyfriend and I broke up for that short time last year we didn't stray toward one another. Yet when we're together I feel electrically charged and sometimes I get the feeling he feels the same way. We've talked about our "situation" only once - and that wasn't even in person. We were chatting online when out of nowhere he asks me if I ever thought of "fooling around together". I was honest and told him that I had but quickly pointed out that I valued our friendship too much to ever risk ruining it with some stupid transgression we would both regret. I then proceeded to lie and tell him I no longer had those feelings anyway. He agreed with everything I transmitted back to him. But I think he was lying a little too.
I guess I will have to tell you a little about "Jake" and I. We met online in the summer of 1998 while I was still at home on my summer break. It was quite a random meeting indeed. We met on one of those general Gay chat rooms America Online offers. That in itself isn't random. What is random, is the fact that he attended my university, held many of the same views as me, and sounded just like I had a year before when I first began to come out. I wasn't looking for a boyfriend as I already had one whom I loved very much. In fact we are still together but that is beside the point. But needless to say, if I had been looking for someone Jake would have been a great contender.
Of course things didn't start out so well. Rather than ask me how I was or how I was doing, Jake just came out and propositioned me. I told him I was not interested and closed the window. But he persisted. He told me he was just testing me and that he wasn't a creep. I didn't know what to think, but I chatted with him anyway. It turned out he was a few years older than me and quite accomplished in his field. We chatted a few times a week for the next month or so until I got back to Philly. It was then that he asked me to meet him.
The whole time I had mentioned nothing about this correspondence to my boyfriend. "Why should I?" I thought to myself. I knew that if I said anything my boyfriend, who I will baptize "Mark", would have freaked out even though I really had no dubious intentions. I also was sick of Mark in a few ways. I was tired of living every second of my life with him ... or thinking of him ... or talking to him. I needed a break and I needed my own space. I thought that my cyber-friendship with Jake would help me break free a bit. I had no other gay friends and the only person who knew I was gay was my boyfriend. I needed a confidant and Jake just happened to be there.
Jake was a lot like I had been coming out. Just like me, he used the Internet as his medium to breach the world of gay men. Just like me, he hated the gay lifestyle and believed in many of the gay stereotypes. And just like me, he was mortally afraid of being exposed to his friends and family as a homosexual man. Chatting with him, I sympathized with his plight but I also tried to broaden his horizons. I spoke to him with confidence, and I must have sounded like I truly believed in everything I said because he really thought I had it together. What he didn't know was that I was a mere step or two ahead of him on my journey out of the closet. By trying to alleviate his fears I in turn began to alleviate my own. In time, my relationship with Jake would become the tonic I needed to begin accepting myself, my situation, and my future.
When I returned to Penn, Jake asked me to meet him. I was apprehensive at first because I didn't want to do that behind my boyfriend's back, yet I didn't feel I should have to ask Mark for his permission to meet Jake. If I just came out and told Mark what I was going to do it would just cause a fight, or at least that was my thinking. I was also apprehensive to meet Jake because, frankly, some things he later told me about himself made me think we may not get along after all. For though he reminded me of myself, he reminded me of myself in 1997 -- when I was hyper-sensitive to being around gay people. Jake asked me 101 questions before he was sure I was masculine enough to meet him in public. I don't know why, but I felt I would disappoint him. I may not be a flamboyant queen but I am also not a beer guzzling, football playing, butch guy either. And that's what Jake seemed to be looking for in a friend.
Jake was not out to his friends, his family, or even himself. His mother was constantly bugging him to get married. His brother was and is a fixture in the Republican Party. He considered being gay a threat to his career. Need I go on? He also dreamed of having a family. He really felt someday he could be the father he never had to his own children. Oh... and he was also dating a female someone from work.
We decided to meet in a small cafe by Rittenhouse Square in Center City Philadelphia on a Saturday morning in late September. I don't remember how I got there. I think I may have walked but I probably took a cab from my dorm. I do remember exactly what I wore though. How could I forget, seeing as I agonized over finding an outfit that wouldn't be too conspicuous - at least to him. You see at the time I was in one of my punk phases. On campus I would wear large skater pants, numerous silver rings, and any funky top I could get my hands on. So I decided to wear simple gray cords with a white t-shirt and my brown Berks. I even fashioned my hair a little less messy than usual. I didn't want to freak this guy out, yet I had to maintain my image. So I slung my black messenger bag over my soldier and was on my way. I didn't really need it, but I felt uncomfortable without it, like a woman without her purse.
When I walked in the shop I had no idea what to expect. We had never seen a picture of each other and we hadn't discussed our wardrobes. Somehow, looking over toward the counter I caught the eye of a guy in line buying a bagel. He nodded to me and I knew it was him. Looking back I want to laugh... It really felt like a gay James Bond flick. I was expecting him to hand me his bagel bag and run, leaving me to discover a ticking time bomb. He came over to me and shook my hand but never smiled. I didn't really know what to say, and he certainly wasn't Mr. Congeniality - at least not at that point. It took a good 20 minutes before he finally cracked a smile. I thought he hated me for sure. Slowly but surely we both began to loosen up and finally we decided to leave. I was headed back to West Philly and he to his apartment, which was sort of on the way. So we decided to walk together. I don't know exactly what we talked about, but before I knew it we were all the way to campus. We just kept walking and he took me over to his part of campus to show me around. I had never been there, so I was actually interested in what he was saying. It all seemed like a first date but of course it wasn't. Well it was. But a first date between two friends.
We talked and walked, and talked and walked until we really didn't have much more to say. So we stopped walking together on Locust Walk, and he walked his way and I walked my way with the promise that we would meet up again soon -- maybe even later that night. I was absolutely ecstatic with what had happened. He really seemed to like me and I really liked him. I liked him more than I thought I would, actually. By the time I got back to my room I was on air. This guy was really cool and cute and he liked me. I knew I had developed a crush but vowed that it would go no further than friendship, no matter how attractive I found him.
I can't tell you how he felt because I'm not him and he never told me. But judging from what happened next, I'd say he liked me a little more that he thought he would too. In fact, even though he knew I had a boyfriend, I think he may have thought about propositioning me. But this is all speculation. Leaving me that afternoon it seemed as if he really didn't want to go. It was like we were forcing ourselves to separate before anything "stupid" happened.
Later that night I went to dinner with my roommates - at Bertucci's I think. The whole time I was there, however, I thought of nothing and no one but Jake - hoping against hope I'd see him later that night. I finally called my friend back on campus and had her check my email for me. Low and behold, Jake had emailed me asking me to meet up with him that night for a drink. I was elated and all but pulled my roommates out of the restaurant so I could get home on time - even jumping out of our cab early, at the bookstore where I told Jake I'd meet him. Looking back I was acting like a school girl.
I found Jake and we went over to a campus bar. Luckily, I had a fake ID. He looked hotter than he did before. He had just finished working out and I could have jumped on him as soon as I saw him. We sat at a table for a while and had drink after drink, talking about everything and anything. It was like one of those nights when you are on a first date and it just seems like you can talk forever. It was well after 1:00 AM when we decided to call it a night. But again we ended up walking for a while and talking some more. He walked me back up to my dorm before going to grab his bike to ride back into the city. We stopped at the corner across from Wawa and the Quad and just stood there for a good ten seconds. I think we both felt something at that point. He shook my hand and looked at me - or should I say through me. I thought I could see lust in his eyes but maybe that was just wishful thinking. We both felt awkward while he clumsily thanked me for listening to him and I clumsily told him, "any time." We looked at each other one last time as he backed away, eyes locked on mine, before I turned and walked to my dorm.
As I strolled down 38th Street and up Locust Walk I knew I was playing with fire. I had never had my commitment to Mark and our relationship challenged before. I thought I would always be hopelessly in love with Mark and nothing would ever cloud that. I know now how naive I was. He was my first boyfriend and for that he will always be special, but I knew then that I would eventually have to branch out from Mark and our relationship and explore the world on my own. Jake and I have gone on to become great friends but we never took that one extra irretrievable step - no matter how close we ever came. It was Jake who made me question my relationship with Mark for the first time. It was also Jake who showed me and continues to show me that I can actually be friends with another gay man without sleeping with him. My experiences with meeting other gay men for purely platonic social interaction hadn't been and still aren't particularly fulfilling. I either find guys attractive and allow myself to coolly socialize, or I find them ugly and don't want anything to do with them. Who cares what they have to say. Of course, looking for platonic friends, physical features shouldn't even come into play. Yet time and again they do with me, because I'm not sure what I'm looking for it seems.
Meeting Jake, if nothing else, has allowed me to see past the initial animal attraction (or revulsion) I experience when meeting other men. Though I still find Jake attractive and sometimes find myself fantasizing over him, I know that my feelings aren't concrete. They are just a manifestation of erroneous misconceptions I have unconscientiously held for years. These misconceptions, which read something like this: gay men aren't friends with each other, or if they are, the friendship they have has arisen out of a prior sexual relationship; straight men are never friends with gay men, and if they are, they are gay themselves; and gay men can only be friends with girls, and only girls who fell in love with them at one point in high school or college - all hindered my ability to form relationships with most anyone. Of course if you asked me a year ago if I believed any of the before-mentioned mumbo jumbo, I would deny it. However, looking at my track record, I think I believed those things deep down. I had to have. Otherwise who could explain the fact that 90% of my friends are girls. That of these girls, 90% have had some sort of crush on me. That the 10% of my friends who are men are either gay and have at one point attempted to seduce me, or are straight, yet seem gay to everyone else. This stuff doesn't just happen. One develops a pattern of behavior and mine led me to these results. Where else would my behavior lead me?