twenty-something

Backlash continues. I get more "fan mail." Prank calls come nightly at my home. "Faggot" is breathed into the receiver before they hang up. All of it is anonymous and creepy. At school, though overwhelmingly supported, I start to see the underbelly of homophobia within the student body. I start to notice who doesn't talk to me, who stares at me in class, who might kick my ass if given the chance. I write an editorial for the school paper called "Reactions" about hate and about some of the backlash. I call out some of those who stare and it helps -- for a bit.

I'm still happy. I'm still proud. But the reality is setting in. I am a hated man.

I grew up in Rutland. Moved away when I was ten to New Hampshire, but still -- this place always was my home. It's hard to see such hate existing there -- and directed towards one of the city's own sons.

The biggest betrayal is that of "Jake," my best friend growing up in Vermont. I idolized Jake for most of my life and thought the world of him. We kept in inconsistent touch when I moved and became uneasily reacquainted when I returned to Rutland in '96. He was a star on the football team, a Tom Cruise-looking stud, Jake the Jock. And after I came out? He hated me. I heard some of the things he would say about me. I could see him clench his fist whenever we were in each others' presence. But still -- he wouldn't even look me in the eye. Was I beneath him? Or was he afraid of what he would see?

It all hurts me deeply, but I internalize it. It doesn't fit in with the activist I want to be, with the life I want to lead, with the world I want to help create. So down it goes, deep into my sensitive, breaking heart. I get knocked down.

But I get up again.

* * *
Well, on the bright side, there's always Ally McBeal. That skinny bitch and her cast of colorful supporting characters can cheer me up every week.

I am an early adopter of the show, tuning in after seeing a preview in which Ally was sculpting a naked man. Soon, I am drawn into the love triangle of Ally, almost-cute Billy, and Georgia (Courtney Thorne Smith, ex-Allison, Melrose Place) -- as well as by that singing fool, Vonda Shepard. Peter MacNicol, of course, simply makes the show as "The Biscuit."

Ally, I watched you all five years and I miss you. Even those "dark days" when Dame Edna was in the cast. Damn good stuff!

(PS -- I didn't mention the fucking Dancing Baby, did I?)

* * *
By this time, I have confessed to Adam that I do still think about him. I admit to the deep feelings I "once" held for him. We email constantly and chat on AOL every night. We even talk on the phone when his roommate is gone. It feels so good to be reconnected with him, and things are building up towards something...

I have not yet told him about my relationship with Parker. Nor have I told Parker that Adam is back in my life. What am I doing?

Things with Parker aren't working, and it's not because of Adam. Parker's distant, even when we're in the same bed. It's becoming clear that I want more from him than he wants from me, and yet he hasn't dumped me and I can't quite give up. There are glimpses of good times -- good visits, good phone calls, hot make-out sessions. But overall? Distance, activism, and "fame" are getting in the way. And maybe there's not that much there to begin with...

But everybody knows about Parker. Friends in classes ask about him. My boyfriend. It feels great to be so open about my relationship. It's out and it's wonderful.

And nobody knows about Adam. He's my secret. I email him from the library during school. I come home and chat with him until the small hours. It's hidden and it's connected to past hurt and shame -- but still, it's wonderful.

Finally, one night Adam tells me on the phone that he still loves me. That he wants to be with me. His roommate is going away for an upcoming weekend and he wants me to come stay with him at school.

We can finally be together.

"Yes! Of course!" I tell him. "I love you too!" It feels so amazing to finally say it -- to anybody, to mean it -- but especially to Adam, my true love. It's the easiest and simplest thing I've ever said or done.

Real life is never simple, though.

I am struck by horrible guilt over doing such a thing to Parker. Yet I can't seem to find it in me to end things with him. I don't know what to do, but I do know I can't have my cake and eat it too.

I finally break down and tell Kristen what's going on. She's shocked to find out about Adam, and even more so by my duplicity for over a month. She understands, though, and she tries to help me figure out what to do.

She says something like, "You have to follow your heart, but you can't keep doing this to both guys. You know I love Parker, but if it's not working, it's not working. And Adam -- I know how much me means to you. But he's in the closet and even farther away.

"You need to tell them both what's up. And you need to make a choice."

That day, everybody seems to ask about Parker. "How's your boy?" "When do you get to see him again?" "When do we get to meet him?" I just want them to shut up.

I lock myself into deep thought and finally make up my mind.

"Hello?" Adam asks on the other end, in Boston.

"I love you," I blurt out. He laughs a happy laugh. "Can you talk?"

"You too," he mumbles. "Let me go out in the hall."

A few moments later, he's in a quiet spot. We small talk about our day. And then I just say it.

"Adam, I have a boyfriend."

Silence on the other end.

"I don't know why I didn't say anything earlier. I'm stupid."

"What do you mean?"

"We've been going out for a month or so. His name is Parker and –"

"Don't say his name to me," he snapped, uncharacteristically.

"OK."

Silence.

"Adam, I should have told you. But things are so good with you and me..."

"So what does that mean?"

"I don't know. I want to come see you. But I don't want to cheat on him, and that's what this feels like."

"Are you going to break up with him?"

"Adam..."

I had chosen Parker. And I suddenly feel like the biggest jerk in the world.

"I can't. He's here in Vermont. And he's out. And he's... he's not you, but he's someone I like. And it just seems like the right choice. I want to be with you, but he... it's just simpler with him. It's –"

"Pat," he interrupts quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I never want to talk to you again," he says simply, calmly. And he hangs up on me, just like I deserve.

* * *
The Lilith Fair movement is in full effect. Sarah McLachlan and her pussy-posse have taken over the post-Alanis airwaves. You can't turn on the radio without Paula Cole, Jewel, Shawn Colvin, Sheryl Crow, or one of those broads moaning at you -- and I love it. The music feeds my soul during such an odd time in my young life.

Songs like Colvin's "You & The Mona Lisa" ("Nothing in particular / and everything in between / this is what you mean to me") and Cole's "I Don't Want to Wait" speak to me, providing an estro-friendly soundtrack to my life even before Dawson's Creek or Felicity taught me how.

Where did Lilith go? Bring it back!

* * *
It's also noteworthy that around this point in my life I discovered queer punk band Pansy Division. I must've read about them in XY Mag. And I pick up their album, Wish I'd Taken Pictures, at the mall (of all places!).

It's possibly the oddest CD I've ever owned. The vocals are odd but also appealing, and they draw me in. The lyrics are what really gets me. This is geniune, uncensored, unashamed gay music. Thought I won't get what all of it means until years later (I haven't even been to a gay bar yet, or experienced a "Dick of Death"), the album hits something within me that those Lilith bitches never could. The two-minute-long songs get it -- gay sex, gay love, longing, aching, all with an earnestness and humor that's irresistable. Coupled with the sounds of Sarah and Sheryl and Paula, Pansy Division gets me through this Adam and Parker love triangle, and the aftermath of it all.

Check out "Don't Be So Sure," "I Really Wanted You," and "The Summer You Let Your Hair Grow Out" for some heart-breaking punk ditties about unrequited love.

* * *
Ending things with Adam has pushed me closer to Parker. I want things to work with him so badly and, luckily, things are going well between us. Much better.

I'm gearing up for the Vermont Coalition for Lesbian & Gay Rights conference that's to happen at my school, which I've helped to plan along with Kristen. We're both excited that Rutland High School's halls will be filled with tons of gay people, allies, maybe even some drag queens. I'm thrilled because Parker will be in town for the weekend. And thought he's non-committal, I'm hoping he might stay the night at my house.

The conference is a success. Kristen and I are both awed by the sense of community that comes to town, and it's a vision that we'd carry with us past that day, remembering that one fine gay day at RHS. We meet tons of awesome gay peeps -- people who know us by reputation already, people our age, people who we admire and want to work with to change our Green Mountain state.

It's after lunch and Parker is preparing for the workshop he's facilitating that afternoon. I keep him company in the classroom, one that I think I used to have French class in. It's just the two of us and he's distant as ever.

"What's wrong?" I beg.

"Nothing."

"Parker, I can go if you want me to."

He says something like, "Listen, I wanted to wait til after all this." It's swift and kind and... just over. He finally breaks up with me.

I storm out of my school. I want to cry, but I don't. I can't. Instead I just gaze out onto the half-full parking lot and I wonder what could have been.

I am such a fool.

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Posted by Patrick on 06/ 1/05 at 11:44 AM
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