twenty-something

The last months of my junior year of high school didn't have much potential. But when you hit bottom, there's really nowhere else to go but up. The spring begins with Cake's cover of "I Will Survive" and it becomes something of a theme song for me. It took all the strength I had just to fall apart... An alt-rock cover of a gay disco classic seems to sum up my life -- and myself -- quite nicely.

Now that I've realized I'm a gay boy, and I've committed to figure out what that means, the divide between that identity and my mild-mannered high school persona widens deeply. I am living a full-on double life, and the closet is making less and less sense... but coming out? That still seems like years away.

At first I was afraid, I was petrified...

Besides Cake, I really discover alternative radio that spring. Tori. Ani. Lots of bands who were super-cool at the time but have since fallen into obscurity. Damn good music, though.

But, hell, I still love Savage Garden's "I Want You."

Sweet like a drink of (chica?) cherry cola...

So I survived my first "relationship." I've begun dealing with a trauma. What's my follow-up?

A sketchy online hook-up! Yay!

I begin chatting with a guy named Scott from AOL's "Vermont M4M" chat room. He's mid-to-late twenties, and lives in Burlington, about two hours north of my home. He's supposedly a jock type, masculine, bisexual. His pictures are decent. So we decide to meet.

I get a ride to the mall from my dad, and awkwardly set out to meet Scott. Of course, my dad -- along with my brother and sister -- insist on following me into the mall. I see a distorted version of the guy from the pictures in the food court, but I can't seem to shake my family. So... yes... Scott meets them all. At this point, I don't know what my mother has told my father about my sexuality (and, in truth, to this day, my father and I have never truly had a conversation about it) -- but it is weird nonetheless.

After escaping the fam, as we're browsing through the Disney Store, it's clear Scott and I don't have much in common. We don't really get along and I don't like him. But when he suggests we get a room at the Howard Johnson's next door, I say, "Why not?" I figure, he drove all this way... and I might as well bite the bullet...

Next thing I know, we're awkwardly undressing in the hotel. Naked, he doesn't quite look like what I expected. But then he's kissing me, and his fat tounge is just resting in my mouth. It's that moment that I realize -- this is my first real gay kiss. This is the first time I've been fully naked with another man. In a bed. And it doesn't really seem like a big deal. It's not magic. It's not even that hot. But it's over before long. We leave the hotel room and Scott drops me off at home.

I block him from my Buddy List the instant I sign on.

Watch out world! I get my driver's license and take to the streets of Rutland in my mom's boxy "little old lady car" (I can't remember the make or model). I don't have many places to go besides my job at the grocery store and school. One day, I sideswipe a car in the school parking lot and quickly drive away. Shhh...

In my "straight" life, I ask a girl in my English class, Jessica, to go to the prom with me. On my end, obviously, it's just as friends -- and I thought I made that clear. But before long, we're having all these pre-prom dates -- just the two of us, or "doubling" with her friend Brandy and her date, Ben (and old friend of mine from grade school). Hanging out after-school. Tux shopping. We go to see Liar Liar. I like -- I need -- the friendship, but I hate the overtones.

Luckily, before long, and behind my back, Jessica starts dating Ben. They don't really tell me, but everybody else knows. I should be fine with it, but honestly I feel a bit betrayed.

The big night comes and goes with little fanfare. I honestly don't remember much of it. There wasn't a limo, but there was a fancy dinner and flowers and prom photos. There are no secret gay kisses in locker rooms. I start to see what my life might be like if I were into girls... and I realize I'm just not interested.

The prom is fun, I guess, but after the night is over, so is our friendship. I'm back to being a lonely gay kid... but at least I won't have to buy a girl dinner for a while. Amen to that.

Pop culture in '97 finally starts to improve. Before her blog, Rosie O'Donnell has her show, of course. My mother starts to collect Beanie Babies (thought it doesn't quite become an obsession until '98). Austin Powers rocks my world. And Hanson... oh, Hanson... You are so beautiful.

With Brandon behind me, I decide it's time to find me a boyfriend. And so I do.

His name is Kevin. Kevin is my age and grade. He is cute, all tall and dark-haired. He likes No Doubt. And he is generally perfect.

Except he lives in Connecticut.

Thanks to the magic of AOL, I find love. Long distance love.

Kevin is just what I need at the time: a fantasy. We talk on IM and on the phone constantly. He sends me gifts and packages. He calls me "his Eeyore." And within two weeks, he says he loves me. On the phone. I, in turn, feel the need to say it back within a few days. I did not truly feel it, but I say it -- but it feels so damn good. He tells me the things I need to hear, does the things that I have only dreamt of. For a month or two, I believe that Kevin is "my prince," finally come. After all, at sixteen, only open to the fact that I am gay for nine months or so, I have waited so long.

We meet once, at Dartmouth College. We both convince our parents that we're looking at the school -- but really, we're staying with Matt, a friend of mine, and planning to have lots of gay sex.

Kevin isn't quite what I expected. He's very cute and sexy, and we're both attracted to each other -- but he's not as butch as I imagined. Or as nice. He drives a big Blazer which he loves dearly, and he really has a sense of entitlement and privilege that don't come across when he was miles away. He's truly a rich bitch and I don't like that -- but I like him.

Despite all that, we have a nice weekend. It's very romantic. We go out to make out, go out to dinner, go to the movies, and do all the things I so desperately want to do with another boy. While shopping, he pulls me behind a soda machine and kisses me passionately. In his beloved Blazer, in some field near Claremont, my old town in New Hampshire, I passionately fuck him to Duncan Sheik for what seems like hours --- sweetly making love face to face, fucking him savagely from behind bend over the back seat –- all while he screams "I love you" and calls me "his football jock." We are two sixteen year olds in heat. It's hot. When it's done, the car is all steamed up and we head back to Matt's dorm.

It's my first time and I have no regrets.

Reality sets in once we leave Dartmouth. Kevin and I are "star-crossed lovers," or so it seems, or so we call ourselves. Both of us closeted to our friends, and he to his parents, our relationship is a secret from everyone but each other. This romance, this forbidden love, sweeps us away, but soon reality bursts in and ruined the little fantasy. We are from two different worlds; I was the civic minded, serious young man and he was the spoiled, self-centered rich boy. When he starts talking about going to college together, I realize I can't do this for another year.

Kevin and I break up in June. I don't remember why or how. I don't regret the two months I spent "with" him, and I even thank him for making me feel something after my horrible past experiences. It was a fun two months, but I knew the whole time it wasn't real.

I used to think I had a political fire within me, an activist's spirit, but that had all but burned out since moving to Rutland. No longer did I follow the news, have opinions, leave in issues, protest anything, or even care.

After coming to terms with my sexuality, I felt that I could not pursue an interest or career in politics -- my "destiny," according to my former Civics teacher and mentor in New Hampshire -- because I am gay. Because of this, I became dormant during my junior year in many regards. I did not follow politics at all and I steered clear of related assignments for the school paper. My passion died out.

Towards the end of the school year, however, we begin studying the civil rights movement in my history class. This sparks a new fire within me. I also write an expansive research report on gay men and AIDS which opens my eyes to things I had never been aware of. In my research, I become fascinated by the rich history of the gay rights movement.

It's at this very important moment in my life that Ellen come out. Fuck, this is huge for me. I buy that issue of TIME. I watch "The Puppy Episode," in silence, with my family. I'm inspired.

My next tiny step out of the closet comes because of a magazine. I heard of XY Magazine, a sexy, glossy mag for gay teens, on the web and I'm dying to get my hands on a copy. I didn't know of any place in Rutland that carried it, but that didn't really matter: I figure I'd be too chicken-shit to buy it if I ever tracked it down.

But then one day I'm browsing through the local newsstand and I find it. XY Magazine. In Rutland, Vermont.

And it's the "Pride" issue.

I eye the mag and nervously consider buying it. I look around the store. I pace. I linger. After ten minutes of false starts, I finally just pick up the issue and march over to the counter, head held high, and buy the magazine. I have just purchased my first gay magazine.

One small step...

And it hits me. Even after everything, after hitting rock bottom just two months before, I realize –

Everything is going to be OK. Really.

I am OK.

One giant leap...