1995 part 2
As much as I thought I had gotten over my children leaving, I very clearly hadn't.
I found it increasingly hard to function day by day and again found solace in the bottle.
When I would walk to work and see girls of my childrens age I would crumble, even billboard ads for
childrens toys would send me further into depression.
At the time I didn't realise, but I desperatly needed some kind of help.
One of my new friends, Heather, could see I was on a path of self destruction.
I met Heather at work, we bonded instantly and she invited me over to her beach house often.
On one of these occasions she wanted to know my life story, and being the first person to hear everything
from my childhood to glenda, I found it easy, but talked in a detached unnaffected way.
She didnt judge and didnt pity, but wondered if I had ever considered professional help. I didnt take
the idea seriously as I was sure my problems were a lot more trivial compared to those who do need therapy.
Heather was a fine guitarist and at a time when I was letting everything out by writing and recording
my own songs, she taught me a great deal. And although I no longer know her, I still think of her with affection.
Work was opening many doors for me. From being a reclusive father, I was socialising and making many
new friends in the busy call centre.
I was also well aware of some much needed attention from a few of the guys.
One of them, David, was the most outrageously camp man I had met. He thought nothing of coming to
work dressed in tight lyrca cycle shorts and T shirts with slogans like 'I know what boys want'.
I could tell he was interested in me, but although he seemed full of confidence, he always fell short
of asking me out.
So I decided to take the matter into my own hands (so to speak!).
We had both finished a shift together and as we were leaving I asked him if he fancied a shag. I suprised
not just him, but myself too. I guess years of repressed frustration forced me to be direct.
He said yes and we laughed nervously as we made our way to his flat.
I was shaking with fear when we entered and thanked my lucky stars to find his flat mates still up.
Perhaps sex wasnt such a good idea, then again I had come this far - it would be a shame to miss such
an opportunity.
We all stayed up, drinking and talking until the early hours before me and david hit the
sack.
Perhaps it was the drink, but when he offered me his penis I burst out laughing. As nasty as it sounds, I
couldnt stop. I certainly didnt expect to see something so small.
Obviously he was hurt so a good seeing to was out of the question.
For some reason, he became fascinated with me and wouldnt leave me alone during the weeks to come.
We never did go all the way and even my scathing attack on the size of his member didnt repell him.
I was forced to tell him that I was only after a shag, a relationship was out of the question. I wasnt
ready for that yet.
The curious thing about him was that in social gatherings he would be this camp, high voiced flitting
whisp of a man, but in private, when it was just me and him, he would talk in his normal deep voice and was the complete opposite
to the image he portrayed.
I vowed that next time I offered another man such an invitation I would get it right. The problem
was I hardly ever went out. I felt crippled with shyness and prefered to stay in my cold flat writing songs.
On one rare night out, I met a girl in a pub called Julie, to this day she remains one of my closest
friends.
Julie was a punk at the time and a bit of a 'fag hag'. Alot of her friends were gay and she felt comfortable
in their company.
We hit it off straight away and she was soon showing me off to her gay friends.
The first time I met them I couldnt believe that they had been here in my home town all along
- suddenly I didnt feel so alone.
I idolised them like I idolised pop stars as a teenager. In their presence I felt unworthy.
They lived by their own rules, wore the best clothes and to me were the coolest people alive.
The 'head' of this group of friends was a guy called Steve. He was top dog and he knew it, and there
was something sexy about his arrogance.
I kept thoughts of anything happening between us hidden as I felt he was so out of my league. On the
rare occasions when he would notice me I would feel the sharp edge of his sarcasm, but this made me fall for him more.
I confessed to Julie that I quite liked him and she tried to get us together.
We were again visiting him and we decided to go out trolling. Looking for sex in public toilets.
There was four of us, I didnt think we would actually do anything, it was a laugh and something to
do while heavily pissed. The drink helped my confidence and I got as close to steve as I could while still achieving nothing
at all.
We got to the toilets and he suprised me by going inside. I nervously followed and we found ourselves
alone.
I couldnt believe it when he suggested we go into a cubicle together and I couldnt tell if he was
joking or not.
He seemed to sense my frustration and often played along with it. Suddenly nerves got the better of
me and I walked away.
Later that night I told Julie what a fool I was, she rather sensibly told me that perhaps a cubicle
of a public toilet wasn't the ideal place for me to lose my cherry!
One of Steve's friends, a tall barbara striesand obsessed man called Jason began to pursue me.
He would turn up at my flat and spend the night. Nothing sexual happened and I soon realised that
I was in a realtionship. It certainly wasnt loving. I didnt really like him, but it was nice having someone there. I found
out that he hadnt told anyone he was seeing me and I was a bit pissed at this as I was hoping that word would reach Steve
and green with envy he would rescue me.
In time the relationship included sex and as much as I would like to say it was fantastic - it wasnt.
Some of the things he wanted to do seemed disgusting and I felt like an experiment, something for him to work out his fantasys
with.
I still wasnt ready for sex and so didnt enjoy it. On the whole he was a nasty piece of work and just
as everyone else cottoned on to the fact that we were together, I ended the relationship.
I began to think that I would never find a decent man and felt like a victim of my own life. Heather's
idea of seeking help was a possible way out.
My first session was awful, I could hardly talk. It all seemed so pointless and I found it hard to
let the stranger sitting infront of me in to my world.
After a few weeks I opened up and soon bonded with my therapist Christine.
Even though our one on one sessions left me drained and emotional, I could sense a change within myself
and looked forward to seeing her.
After six months, she decided it was time to put me into group therapy, so against my own judgement
I found myself sitting in a circle of six people. Listening to them I stared at the floor. For the first three weeks I didnt
say anything.
Without the aid of a few drinks I found it hard to interact with other people.
As stupid as it seems, I never once touched on my drinking habits while in therapy. At the time I
didnt mention it because to me it wasnt a problem, it was a way of life.
One of the other people in the group took me under their wing. James was gay and to be honest a bit
of a predator and in me he saw a vulnerable shy boy. I took his attention as being friendly, but when he invited me back to
his flat I knew what he was after.
He supplied the drinks, he turned the heating up and coupled with the strong smell of incense burning,
my head was spinning, my clothes were off and we were in bed.
He wasnt the ideal lover, but I decided he would do and after awhile I began to realise he quite liked
playing a game of authority. He was in charge and I was the submissive one.
At a time when I was trying to gain control of my own life I decided he too had to go.
But I had discovered sex and became as hooked on that as I had with alcohol.
Most nights I would begin at his flat and when the sex was over and he was asleep I snuck out, preferring
the comfort of my own bed and my own company.
With my new bravado I became lazy at work. Missing shifts and making mistakes. Work was so out of
place in my new life. I preferred to go out at night and sleep through my hangovers the next morning.
So it wasnt really a suprise when I was sacked.
The reality hit me hard. I had no job, was in a destructive relationship and I still hadnt seen my
children.
So in the run up to christmas when glenda told me she was settled I arranged to visit.
I had a friend agree to look after my flat and I was off. I didnt know when I would be back.
It felt like running away.
The thought of spending time with my children put my other problems to the back of my mind.
Perhaps I wasnt ready for an exclusively gay lifestyle.
I even wondered if I really was gay, maybe it was a phase.
I remembered the first time I was on a coach heading for glenda and I wondered if history was about
to repeat itself.
