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I am a cuspie: a bit too young to be a boomer and not quite young enough to be Gen X. I graduated high school in 1982; uni in 1986. AIDS hit the radar of North America in 1981, in a big way a few years later. I was living 18 miles from Manhattan. I did not go to Manhattan, to meet men. I was afraid to. Not of AIDS, of the men. The life. That life.
But the men I met in Nanuet did--some of them often. "Someday I'm gonna take you to the tubs" one sexy, pipe-smoking bearded fellow once said to me, après. It sounded intriguing. But what was ringin in my head was I'd probably run into Dad and he'd kill me. He didn't and neither did AIDS...how's that for irony?
I didn't socialize with these men. I was friendly, even affectionate sometimes, but I kept most of me back, hidden, safe. We connected, we shared pleasure, we hung out. Many talked about me "coming out" when I didn't even consider myself gay. Or bi. I just was getting lots of awesome sex and, hey, what 17 year old guy wouldn't? Call of nature, blah blah blah. These men were, with few exceptions, exceedingly kind, patient and accepting.
To a significant extent, I like to think, despite my hawtness rather than because of it.... ;)
I remember one guy who had "a lover", which didn't make any sense to me (boyfriend would've; husband would've made me smirk), and we'd go tohis their place. B was hawt: a butch blond, solidly masculine, thick 'stache, lovely blue eyes, and an interior designer at the mall. His lover was, based on the photo, a bodybuilder, equally handsome, but a brunette. His lover was a "bottom", and when I understood what that meant I explained to B that I wasn't. And wasn't interested.
We still had fun.
I sometimes look back in amazement at the bravery of B.and his lover. Living openly in suburban New York rather than exiling themselves to the City. Keeping photos of each other just like any married couple. Loving each other. Fucking other men, I know now, is the easy part. Loving other men--being loved by other men--without shame is the part that takes balls.
By the time I finished uni, B was gone--transferred perhaps, or fired for being queer, or perhaps AIDS. In the mid 80s lots of gay men were re-ordering their lives due to care and illness. Maybe he and his lover are OK? They'd be in their early 60s now. Maybe. But some no doubt are gone.
B and those men taught me a lot. Not then, not overtly. But somehow they managed to get into my closed, homophobic, fear-ridden mind that loving men was OK.
Thank you, wherever you are.
But the men I met in Nanuet did--some of them often. "Someday I'm gonna take you to the tubs" one sexy, pipe-smoking bearded fellow once said to me, après. It sounded intriguing. But what was ringin in my head was I'd probably run into Dad and he'd kill me. He didn't and neither did AIDS...how's that for irony?
I didn't socialize with these men. I was friendly, even affectionate sometimes, but I kept most of me back, hidden, safe. We connected, we shared pleasure, we hung out. Many talked about me "coming out" when I didn't even consider myself gay. Or bi. I just was getting lots of awesome sex and, hey, what 17 year old guy wouldn't? Call of nature, blah blah blah. These men were, with few exceptions, exceedingly kind, patient and accepting.
To a significant extent, I like to think, despite my hawtness rather than because of it.... ;)
I remember one guy who had "a lover", which didn't make any sense to me (boyfriend would've; husband would've made me smirk), and we'd go to
We still had fun.
I sometimes look back in amazement at the bravery of B.and his lover. Living openly in suburban New York rather than exiling themselves to the City. Keeping photos of each other just like any married couple. Loving each other. Fucking other men, I know now, is the easy part. Loving other men--being loved by other men--without shame is the part that takes balls.
By the time I finished uni, B was gone--transferred perhaps, or fired for being queer, or perhaps AIDS. In the mid 80s lots of gay men were re-ordering their lives due to care and illness. Maybe he and his lover are OK? They'd be in their early 60s now. Maybe. But some no doubt are gone.
B and those men taught me a lot. Not then, not overtly. But somehow they managed to get into my closed, homophobic, fear-ridden mind that loving men was OK.
Thank you, wherever you are.
