Sunday, April 01, 2012
MOST IMPORTANT DAY EVAH'!
When I first came out in 1973 or 74, it was difficult to meet people.
There were the standard meeting places of course. The bars, the bushes and the baths.
I was afraid of all three.
So what to do?
I began to go to gay rights meetings. Planning parades and shit. Discussion groups. And the best, an institution which had a hot line, medical services for gays, counselling and, as it turns out, its own AA Meeting. But that is another story although less than five years later, I would be an attendee at that daily noon Meeting.
I also ended up on the Board in later years.
None of these approaches were very profitable. Politics and sex don't mix no matter what you read. At least not for a timid, just out of the closet man who has family and business obligations.
Time. I needed time.
As it turned out, the most abundant source for meeting people, then as well as now, were the personal ads.
We didn't have the support of the internet then. Personal ads appeared in the "free" papers which were everywhere in those days. Personal ads were a huge part of the revenue for these papers. The revolution was on and everyone wanted the dish on the latest whatever. So distribution was good.
I began to answer other people's ads and actually met a boyfriend. Another late bloomer like me, Mort (he originally said his name was Mark). We saw each other for a year or more and had a good time. He was a nice man with the longest abdomen I ever saw. Or felt. A record holder. But I digress.
Eventually, the relationship with Mark, as convenient as it was, had limitations.
He lived with a woman so it was always my place or a hotel.
He was terrified of being outed. He was an Art History professor at a local university. He did not want a gay life. I have often said that I never met a successful bi-sexual. By that I mean one who can work both sides of the street. Mark's choice was to live with his female mate and work the ads, the street, the bars. A half gay life. Not for me. The whole thing about going to his place was impossible. It freaked me out. Their bed and all. I only went once.
I decided this was not going to work out. It wasn't working out. Doomed.
So I decided to write my own personal ad.
It worked like this. You would place an ad in a paper and then wait until replies showed up in your mailbox at the paper office. You would open your mail and read it (please enclose a photo) and make a choice about the next step. I didn't get many photos. Blind dates. Usually the photo was a killer. I decided to never send a photo.
Often, no next step. Frogs no princes, weirdos, impossible setups. But in every batch there would be a temporary prince, a quick sexual exploration or, sometimes, even two or three dates.
On the third or fourth drop of the hook into the pond, I got a call. Well after the time the ad expired. A last minute letter in the mailbox. I almost missed it as the rental term was due to run out.
A smart ass kind of letter from a guy who worked in City Hall. A sort of off hand answer to my RSVP. I liked the handwriting.
I remember a sort of "try me if you will" kind of line which sounded a bit brazen and challenging.
John. No last names please.
I called him.
It was a weird call. Quick and, aha, dirty. I found out later that he was on his way to lunch and was trying to take my call and get out of work at the same time.
We did talk.
And agreed to meet for a drink at a bar in the steaming kettle building, second floor, after his work. Peter's Plum.
Meet at the lollypop sign at the T at five.
I can tell you now that the afternoon was very long. There was something different about this one and I was quite nervous.
I went to the appointed lamp post awhile before five. Always early. Scanning the City Hall Plaza for the man. There was a signal but I forget what it was.
But I didn't need a sign. I could see him. Just the kind of man who would write such a letter, be flip and quick on the phone and also quick on the uptake.
There he was. Gasp. Halfway across the Plaza. My god! I could pick him out in this swarming mass of city employees escaping their jobs.
We went upstairs for a drink. More or less empty. We sat at an antiqued table. And gaped at one another. I remember the gaping.
I don't know how long it took to invite him to my apartment to see my etchings but, as I recall, I didn't finish my drink. Not likely in those days. I would probably have had two drinks under different circumstances.
He said yes, with this, now patented, leer. I could see without closer examination that he was OK, safe. He was fun to be with. He had one of the best bodies I had been on so far although Mort was pretty good. What else was there to wait for?
We went in the back door of the apartment building. Past the trash masher. Never forgiven for that, I might add.
We got in the elevator and I am pretty sure we were on each other as soon as the door closed. Up to the third floor studio and in the door and now we will show a montage of crashing waves, roaring horses and a summer storm.
It was about this time actually. Too early for a summer storm.
I would like to say that the rest was history. Well, it was, but not that way.
We had a very rocky beginning but it never, ever got worse, always better. And better than that.
A lot had to happen for us to get to the point where we were together and that was that. Five years?
What fun. As painful as parts of that early time could be, it was always fun.
Two near middle aged gay men just out of the closet is not pretty. Teen age emotions wrapped around what had appeared to both of us as achieved positions in work and the rest of our lives before we met. Chaos.
But the loving return that healed all the wounds. Always. The loving return. A higher plane.
So. That is how we started what is now 37 years of married life.
It came upon us so quickly and with such force that we lost the date of when we met. We even got the year wrong at first. It took at least two years to date often and long enough to make anything stick.
So, when asked when our anniversary was/is we made up a date. April Fool's Day. 1975.
Happy anniversary John.
