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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13796
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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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Oh, Timmy, I am so sorry.
I'm no anniversary keeper either, for my family, but I do understand. I can tell you David's birthday is 20 Feb. - it's the unrequited ones we regret most. I don't think I can tell you anyone else's birthday except wife, daughters & husbands and grandchildren.
But my mother's ashes are under a table in the back room and she died in 2001 and I don't remember the date and I'm too idle to drive to where my father's ashes are and tip hers out there (well it would be over three hours drive each way!).
I think I really needed a relationship with another boy and I never had one that you call that: I never got to spend two consecutive nights with anyone, unlike one of my married friends on here, who lived with another guy for two years before he met his wife. I wish I'd had that. I wish you had.
But maybe it wouldn't have been possible with Paul or John. Maybe they wouldn't have responded to you, even if you had asked.
The only thing I can do is thank my lucky stars for what I've had and am going on getting. I wouldn't give that up even for a man. The truth is that it is too late.
As John Greenleaf Whittier wrote "Of all sad words of tongue or pen the saddest are these 'It might have been'."
There was a song in a New York musical which went:
When I was prettier, when I was prettier
In bed I did NOT read Whittier!
Mostly I don't recommend him.
Love,
Anthony
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13796
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acam wrote:
> But maybe it wouldn't have been possible with Paul or John. Maybe they wouldn't have responded to you, even if you had asked.
We were all too old. 12 and under you can do things with boys that have no significance for them, even if they do for you.
Ah the 2 night stand. I never had one night ones.
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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Dear Timmy,
Saying two nights was an insurance policy against a failure of memory.
I don't recall ever staying a whole night with anyone. Even if it was in my own bedroom we had to get into separate beds before we went to sleep because someone might come and wake us up in the morning. And the same problem arose in every other bed I ever stayed in as far as I can remember. Even Peter's. Especially Peter's.
Love,
Anthony
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timmy
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Has no life at all |
Location: UK, in Devon
Registered: February 2003
Messages: 13796
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Hugs tight.
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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