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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13828
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It's not the obvious ones. I sailed through my mother's death anniversary, never cared at all about my father's death anniversary, I remember my wedding anniversary (hard to forget, it's Bastille Day), but there are two anniversaries that I have managed to let hurt me over the years.
The lesser of these is a kid named Paul and his birthday on 14th June. He of "Wotcha Bennett!" And I get stuck on that one because, obviously I could not love him because I never spoke more than 100 words to him ever, but I idolised him, and wanted to be his lover. He's 52 now.
The greater is 25 November. That is John's birthday. And, each year for the past few years the self inflicted hurt has got less and less. I just walked back from the post office and it rained on me, and, for some reason that made me think of him and how I wish, have always wished, that he would simply be a friend. He's 57 now. I still think of him daily, just no longer nightly. I no longer scream his name in my head when I hurt. I should scream my wife's name, but, somehow I never have.
The thing is, I don't have anyone to talk to about it, not really talk to. I've started to feel guilty posting this kind of thing here, I got so much criticism from our young students who just didn't understand the terrible self inflicted hurt of another era. Not their fault. How could they know?
Would I have anything in common with Paul or with John? I very much doubt it and that is not the point. Neither of them were the boys I imagined them to be anyway. I just wanted a normal interaction with them, just tobe another boy.
There is no point to this ramble. I just feel a bit low. It was the harder of the two anniversaries a couple of days ago.
Author of Queer Me! Halfway Between Flying and Crying - the true story of life for a gay boy in the Swinging Sixties in a British all male Public School
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