08-18-2012, 07:48 PM
The first man I loved and who made love to me and who I was in a relationship are all one and the same.
Its kind of difficult to spend a tad over 2 years in the same studio apartment with a fella and not remember them. :biggrin:
As far as I recall I didn't have any crushes or puppy love for anyone when I was a kid. None of that mixed emotional mess of attraction that so many report having in their teens. I had little to no interest in sex in general - too wrapped up in other things like intellectual pursuits to look at another human being that way.
I was so far in the closet that I thought that my lack of interest in women (back then few people considered that one could have an interest in another man) was natural celibacy, thus I considered myself a key candidate for the Vows of Poverty, Obedience and Celibacy.
So convinced that I was a natural celibate I went through seminary and a bit of missionary type work and got lined up to become a St Francis of Assisi Friar. Until I met Robert my whole life was planned out, a life dedicated to the glory of the Church (and God) - but most importantly The Church.
When I met Robert my world view took a sudden turn, near endless possibilities suddenly opened up beneath my feet. While I had been part of the gay community via the 'missionary' work I did through the San Francisco Friary (out reach to disadvantaged teens, more often than not the boys on Polk Street - teens who turned to prostitution) thus had been exposed to the whole idea of homosexuality, I never actually considered that I might be one of them.
Not until Robert.
I think I was his first 'true love'. While he had a tad bit more experience in the area of sex than I - OK a lot more experience - I don't think he actually loved someone before.
We were working poor, both working for one of those fancy hotels with no stars and that rented rooms out by the hour. I was the Night Manager, a fancy term for the guy who sits behind the front desk and checks in all the Mr. and Mrs. Smiths that come in dozens, hundreds of smiths) while keeping a straight face.
He was Night Maintenance. His job was to carry a big stick and answer the call when one of the Girls screamed. He would go in to the room and 'unplug' the john....
It was he who introduced himself, and he would come to be a near permanent fixture in the lobby, standing at the front desk chatting and keeping me 'company'. It was his idea that I come up and visit him in his room. It took a few hours for me to understand what that really meant. And it would take about 6 months of me having a crises of faith and a few other crises as I struggled with the whole Idea that perhaps my natural celibacy with women meant that I was a raging homosexual.
Eventually I came to understand that my faith in the Church was really misplaced. That 6 months I spent feverishly writing my sponsor, a Brother of the Friars, a lot of 'garbage' was revealed and my strong faith in the ideologies and believes of the sainthood of the men was crushed. I also discovered that I had little faith in God, my faith was misplaced.
So Robert waited for 6 months while I tilted at my windmills. I finally went up to his room, and that was something I never regretted. A couple weeks later he moved in with me and we settled down to about 2 years of 'wedded bliss'.
About 18 months later Robert started bringing home extra cash. I naively believed he was winning at the casinos, and accepted his 'good luck'.
We were working poor. Renting a studio apartment. Night Manager at a zero star hotel doesn't pay much. Forget health care plan and all of that. Robert felt that I was being neglected. He had high hopes for wealth. Me, not so much. I was content.
Unbeknownst to me at the time he and a buddy of his took to robbery, burglary and other forms of criminal behavior to raise more money. I guess this went on for about 3 months until one night at a bar the gun went off and the bartender was shot, then died.
I never got a full complete story about what really happened. They refused to say who held the gun and who fired it. I suspect it was the other guy since the gun was his. He had shown it off to me a month or so earlier.
Needless to say they both received a very long sentence.
Robert sent me a lengthy letter and basically told me he didn't want me to be a prison wife, wasting away decades of my life waiting for him. He cut off visiting rights and stopped writing back. I sent a few money orders, the first two were 'accepted' by the Prison, the others were sent back. When I called I discovered that they automatically post money to the account of the inmates and that inmates have to file to not accept posted money from letters.
I often wonder what would have happened hadn't it been for this other guy. I seriously doubt that Robert would have ventured off into a life of crime on his own. I bet there was a bit of coercion.
His buddy knew our situation, and also knew that Robert had big dreams. I suspect he used that to get what he wanted.
While few people knew we were a couple, this was back in the early 1990's, gays still were getting a lot of flack, our life at home was nearly idealistic. We were one of those couples that could finish each others sentences, We had very few arguments - and these were mostly discussions, not 'fighting'.
He never raised a hand to me. I wouldn't understand how important that really was until the other relationships I tried.
Well yes he raised a hand to me - actually a lot - at home he was very hands on :tongue: In a good way, a very good way.
Other than being 'poor' and his desire to pave the road before me in gold, we were a happy and contended couple.
I never saw us as 'poor'. I was content with a studio apartment and the few things we had. We were well fed, had shelter, had good clothes on our back and were happy together. In my mind we were wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice.
I have often wondered if this other person hadn't come into our lives how things would have played out. I suspect that Robert and I would have been one of those couples who stayed together for life. Perhaps I see things too brightly, too rosy due to our forced ending.
Its kind of difficult to spend a tad over 2 years in the same studio apartment with a fella and not remember them. :biggrin:
As far as I recall I didn't have any crushes or puppy love for anyone when I was a kid. None of that mixed emotional mess of attraction that so many report having in their teens. I had little to no interest in sex in general - too wrapped up in other things like intellectual pursuits to look at another human being that way.
I was so far in the closet that I thought that my lack of interest in women (back then few people considered that one could have an interest in another man) was natural celibacy, thus I considered myself a key candidate for the Vows of Poverty, Obedience and Celibacy.
So convinced that I was a natural celibate I went through seminary and a bit of missionary type work and got lined up to become a St Francis of Assisi Friar. Until I met Robert my whole life was planned out, a life dedicated to the glory of the Church (and God) - but most importantly The Church.
When I met Robert my world view took a sudden turn, near endless possibilities suddenly opened up beneath my feet. While I had been part of the gay community via the 'missionary' work I did through the San Francisco Friary (out reach to disadvantaged teens, more often than not the boys on Polk Street - teens who turned to prostitution) thus had been exposed to the whole idea of homosexuality, I never actually considered that I might be one of them.
Not until Robert.
I think I was his first 'true love'. While he had a tad bit more experience in the area of sex than I - OK a lot more experience - I don't think he actually loved someone before.
We were working poor, both working for one of those fancy hotels with no stars and that rented rooms out by the hour. I was the Night Manager, a fancy term for the guy who sits behind the front desk and checks in all the Mr. and Mrs. Smiths that come in dozens, hundreds of smiths) while keeping a straight face.
He was Night Maintenance. His job was to carry a big stick and answer the call when one of the Girls screamed. He would go in to the room and 'unplug' the john....
It was he who introduced himself, and he would come to be a near permanent fixture in the lobby, standing at the front desk chatting and keeping me 'company'. It was his idea that I come up and visit him in his room. It took a few hours for me to understand what that really meant. And it would take about 6 months of me having a crises of faith and a few other crises as I struggled with the whole Idea that perhaps my natural celibacy with women meant that I was a raging homosexual.
Eventually I came to understand that my faith in the Church was really misplaced. That 6 months I spent feverishly writing my sponsor, a Brother of the Friars, a lot of 'garbage' was revealed and my strong faith in the ideologies and believes of the sainthood of the men was crushed. I also discovered that I had little faith in God, my faith was misplaced.
So Robert waited for 6 months while I tilted at my windmills. I finally went up to his room, and that was something I never regretted. A couple weeks later he moved in with me and we settled down to about 2 years of 'wedded bliss'.
About 18 months later Robert started bringing home extra cash. I naively believed he was winning at the casinos, and accepted his 'good luck'.
We were working poor. Renting a studio apartment. Night Manager at a zero star hotel doesn't pay much. Forget health care plan and all of that. Robert felt that I was being neglected. He had high hopes for wealth. Me, not so much. I was content.
Unbeknownst to me at the time he and a buddy of his took to robbery, burglary and other forms of criminal behavior to raise more money. I guess this went on for about 3 months until one night at a bar the gun went off and the bartender was shot, then died.
I never got a full complete story about what really happened. They refused to say who held the gun and who fired it. I suspect it was the other guy since the gun was his. He had shown it off to me a month or so earlier.
Needless to say they both received a very long sentence.
Robert sent me a lengthy letter and basically told me he didn't want me to be a prison wife, wasting away decades of my life waiting for him. He cut off visiting rights and stopped writing back. I sent a few money orders, the first two were 'accepted' by the Prison, the others were sent back. When I called I discovered that they automatically post money to the account of the inmates and that inmates have to file to not accept posted money from letters.
I often wonder what would have happened hadn't it been for this other guy. I seriously doubt that Robert would have ventured off into a life of crime on his own. I bet there was a bit of coercion.
His buddy knew our situation, and also knew that Robert had big dreams. I suspect he used that to get what he wanted.
While few people knew we were a couple, this was back in the early 1990's, gays still were getting a lot of flack, our life at home was nearly idealistic. We were one of those couples that could finish each others sentences, We had very few arguments - and these were mostly discussions, not 'fighting'.
He never raised a hand to me. I wouldn't understand how important that really was until the other relationships I tried.
Well yes he raised a hand to me - actually a lot - at home he was very hands on
:tongue: In a good way, a very good way.Other than being 'poor' and his desire to pave the road before me in gold, we were a happy and contended couple.
I never saw us as 'poor'. I was content with a studio apartment and the few things we had. We were well fed, had shelter, had good clothes on our back and were happy together. In my mind we were wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice.
I have often wondered if this other person hadn't come into our lives how things would have played out. I suspect that Robert and I would have been one of those couples who stayed together for life. Perhaps I see things too brightly, too rosy due to our forced ending.
![[-]](https://gayspeak.com/images/duende_v3_local/collapse.png)
