Journal Project #4: "A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief"

At the end of the last installment, I was still obsessed with F., whom I thought was the most beautiful person on the planet. I was also dating K., who was HIV+. I was getting ready to move back to Milwaukee after spending the summer back home in AZ.

**warning: this one starts out a little PG-13**

August 2, 1997
...Things with K. are getting worse by the day. I told him I didn't want to date him anymore... Because of my kind nature I told him I still wanted us to go out and do things--as friends... [He] behaved like we were still dating; I followed along because I am too weak to put my foot down... That's not even what the problem is. I mean, I can handle holding his hand, I can even handle kissing him. What bothers me is that every time I go to his house we always get carried away and end up having sex. The first time, I felt very unfulfilled; the second time it felt even worse. A couple days ago it happened again. [Afterwards] I just lay there, frozen. I literally was sick. I could not believe it had happened again. What made me even sicker is that I initiated. I led him on simply because I knew I could. I felt so dirty, so rotten. I wanted to die. I couldn't look at him. I gathered my clothes and told him I should get home... He was getting frustrated because he could tell everything was not okay, but I wouldn't tell him what was wrong. What could I say? Should I have said I was disgusted that I had just had sex with him and I felt like vomiting? When I got home I felt like spitting and spitting. I scrubbed my skin to get his scent off of me. Tasting him, smelling him, or even thinking about him made me sick. I wanted to cry. I was so depressed. That happened two days ago. I haven't called him yet. I don't know what to say to him. I guess part of me is afraid of breaking up with him and being alone again.

[There are several entries here that are being left out. I went back to Milwaukee, where I got an apartment with one of the principal dancers. Finances were very tight, as this was the first time I was in a real apartment with rent and utilities to pay. I was constantly complaining of being lonely.]

November 9, 1997
J. is flying in on Friday for the weekend to see the show [Romeo and Juliet]. [Refer to #2 to learn about J. if you missed it.] He'll be the first person to come here to visit. I'm kind of nervous because I'm afraid something is going to happen. He will be sleeping with me, for lack of a better place aside from the floor. He has "joked" about showing me how he kisses. I really don't think we'll go as far as having sex, but making out it a very real possibility. I wish I had the strength to say no (you know I'm not really attracted to him), but I feel so vulnerable right now... So basically I guess I'll be using him, or to be more precise, we'll be using each other....

November 22, 1997
The weekend with J. was excruciating. He was totally drunk when we picked him up at the airport. It took me about a half hour to find him... When he got off the plane he immediately went to the bar. He did not go get his suitcase at the baggage claim... I was so pissed! I tried to sleep in the bed with him but soon found that to be impossible. He wanted to cuddle so he was practically on top of me and breathing very loudly (with alcohol breath). I moved out to the couch where I slept all weekend...
     Now for my most recent dilemma. I don't know if I talked about P. very much or not. I've only known him since he came here as a trainee in September... First he was straight, then he was bi-curious. He would talk about men that he found attractive and that he could possibly "experiment" with... He sings in the chorus with me. (I got him to join.) The other night...he was getting strangely physical with me. I was lying on the couch. He told me to lift my head up, he moved over, and let my head rest on his leg. Even stranger than that, I found myself reveling in it. I was flirting with him... Then a couple nights later, me and P. and our friend Jessica went out for a very late dinner. When Jessica went to the bathroom, P. told me he had a sort of crush on me. He said he didn't know how to explain it, being "straight" and all. At first I blew it off. Then he looked at me and said, "You think I'm joking, don't you?" I still tried to joke about it. I didn't know what to do, or think, or say to him.

November 28, 1997
Yesterday was Thanksgiving. I made my first turkey. It actually turned out pretty good. No major holiday can come and go without some major drama or another, so here is my "Thanksgiving '97" drama: Last Sunday, V. called and said he would be in Chicago and wanted to come up and see me. [This was a guy whom I met while I was attending a ballet program in San Rafael, CA when I was 15 and 16, the summers after ninth and tenth grades. He was ten years older than me and was convinced that we were destined to be together.] I was really excited. I haven't seen him in four years. Unfortunately, "seeing an old friend" wasn't my only reason for being excited. In case you don't remember (or didn't know) V. was my first sexual experience with a man. [He] has always liked me a lot.
    We picked him up at the bus station Wed. night. After dinner we decided to watch a movie. [My roommate] went to bed. I turned my flirtations to overdrive. He returned them equally. Now, V. is another person I've never been remotely sexually attracted to, but my desire for affection was so starved that it feasted on V. like it was now or never. Just a few minutes after we went to bed he totally came onto me. Without a word he put his face to mine and kissed me. In an instant I knew this was not what I wanted, but I continued... It was delightfully intoxicating and grossly unfulfilling at the same time. My heart and soul were so sickened I all but felt them leave my body. All that remained was a sex-crazed mass of flesh and bone... We continued to grope....I clenched my teeth and forced myself to neither feel it nor enjoy it. Naturally [afterward] reality beat me without remorse. I tried with everything I could to not let my disgust show... He was talking but I tried not to hear him, see him, or feel the weight that was still on top of me...

December 7, 1997
...This is so hard for me. When I am with P. I feel confident and secure. Very few people make me feel that way. And even stranger, he makes me feel attractive. You know I never feel attractive. In some ways I wish I had never met him. So many things would be so much easier. I wouldn't have to worry about any of this. [P. had talked a lot at that point about physical/sexual intimacy and how it can be another expression of love for a person that you wouldn't normally be attracted to, i.e. a straight person to a gay person. I was having a lot trouble digesting that and accepting it as legitimate.] But P. is slowly bringing me out of my shell. He has made me see and feel things that no one else ever could. Sometimes he makes me completely happy. And sometimes I want to smash his face in. I love him for being who he is, and I hate him for being who he is. I'm thankful I met him, and I curse the day I met him...

January 2, 1998
Happy new year....I want to improve my self image. This is something I'm constantly working on. I'm finally starting to believe that maybe I'm not hideous--largely through the help of Jazz [one of my best friends]. I search for reasons why I'm alone, and being ugly seems to be a quick, easy answer. It's easy to feel attractive when I'm dating someone because that person likes me and validates who I am. I need to learn that I don't need validation from anyone except myself, which is kind of funny because I've said before that I know I have a lot to offer, that I am a good person, and that I am every bit as good as anyone else. And yet I feel like I need those things constantly reaffirmed to me from outside sources....I want the intense desire for companionship to subside. I sit night and day, day and night wishing I had someone sitting there with me. I think about P., then I think about J., and I always inevitably think about F. And I will always end up getting severely depressed....I need to realize that I am only 20. I need to not think and act like E. I remember how obsessed he was about not being alone, and how relentlessly he sought out a companion. I remember how psychotic I thought he was and now look at me...

January 8, 1998
About one-third through Jeb and Dash: A Diary of Gay Life 1918-1945. Wonderfully fascinating. I completely identify with him on so many things. There are a few passages I would like to preserve here in my journal.... "Agonizingly lonely tonight. I thought I would try to write something in here to get rid of the blackness that weighs me down. To go on thus in life, a wretched outcast, without a soul to companion mine along the ways of life; to love those who are incapable of returning my love; to long for companionship and yet realize that I should be awkward, a mere imitation of my real self; to be unable to express the noble, fantastic thoughts that are mine; to worship scores and not be worshipped by one; to have a flaming spirit that defies  the universe--sun, moon, and stars--and a stammering, timid body and a hypersensitive self that is agitated by the slightest trifle; to have ambition that overtops the skies and a will so weak that it cannot make me do the most trifling tasks; to be regarded with amusement and contempt that are magnified by morbid imaginings into a conspiracy against my happiness; to be tied down to one spot on the globe when I yearn to sweep across oceans, to sail rivers, to seek love and the passionate thrills of life--to be such as I am, a gnat feebly stretching its wings in the awful waste of eternity--is it any wonder that I am miserable?"... At this point in my reading, Jeb is 27 or 28 years old. He has just recently had some very beautiful experiences with Dash, the man with whom he is in love. So I just need to relax and wait for my time to come...Luckily for the person reading my journals, that time will appear to come much faster than for me. What takes years to achieve will take the reader mere minutes. However, do not be fooled--the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years are passing very slowly. [This is one example of how I tried in my journal to mimic the writing style of whatever book I was reading at the time. Kind of funny to read now.] Every day  new adventure, a new story, even though it won't appear to happen as such in my meager journal entries.
          Last night Lisa and Jazz came over to visit. We eventually came to the subject of my journal, which Jazz expressed a desire to objectively read. When I told them that my journal was largely an extended discourse on my ugliness they took me in the bathroom, closed the door, and made me look at myself in the mirror....After they left, I must admit, I was on a boosted-ego high. It felt really good to be so generously complimented...

February 2, 1998
...I woke up today with a strange desire to write about my family and the people that are closest to me...Since I'm nearing the end of this particular journal I feel I should honor some of those who have helped me, and inspired me, and in some way changed my life. My family is also of paramount importance to me. I love my parents and each of my siblings very much....
          My mother and I have been through a lot. After reading these journals I'm sure you'll know that there have been times I didn't care for my mom too much. She can have a terrible, violent temper. Sometimes she would scream at us kids so much she would get hoarse. When I was young I was a total mama's boy. She used to call me leach because I was always hanging on her and sitting as close to her as possible...My mom is also very strong. She has dealt with quite a bit and always managed to come out on top...She used to try to joke with me when she knew I was in a bad mood. I would get so angry when she would make me laugh because I just wanted to be miserable. She is always attentive to me feelings and sits and talks with me when I'm down, even if it is hard for her, like if it is about a guy....She has stayed surprisingly strong throughout my coming out process. She is always getting better and better with it and dealing with it as best as she can. Seeing her progress has been kind of neat for me. My mom is always there when people need a shoulder to cry on. She will literally sit on the phone for hours with a friend who is having problems. She does this so much, in fact, that she often feels like that she is always playing the therapist and never has anyone to listen to her problems...
          My dad is a great guy. He has always been very supportive of me. He supported my dancing 100% and always did all he could to help me. Twice he flew to Arizona to see me perform, and twice he drove to Marin to see me perform...My dad accepted my homosexuality right away. He always tells me I can talk to him about [whatever] I need to. I was never athletic like my brothers,  yet I never felt like he liked them more or paid more attention to them. When we were not at his house he would call us faithfully every Sunday. He always tried to keep up with what was happening in our lives even though he was far away....

February 13, 1998
...You would think that the knowledge that K. is coming [to visit in April] would deter me from my constant search for a boyfriend. Nope! Right now we are dancing Carmina Burana. It is incredibly staged with effective sets and the chorus onstage with the dancers. There are a couple guys in the chorus I have noticed looking at me and there are a couple I find very attractive. I tell everyone I hope to get a date by the end of this series...

February 15, 1998
Well, I missed out. Being so damn shy made me lose again. If I had just gone up to them and talked to them maybe I wouldn't still be alone...Maybe if I would do more than just look at people I would get further with them. There was a group of a few of the gay chorus members who hung out together. Tonight as they were leaving my eternal solitude was reaffirmed to me...I am absolutely sick of being shy and overly self-conscious. I vow to never let this happen again. I'm tired of being the quiet boy who misses out on major opportunities because he prefers to live in his stupid little fantasy world where everyone comes up to him and initiates conversation so that he never has to leave his comfort zone...Carpe diem! Not only am I going to seize the day, I am going to try to seize every moment. When something feels right, I'm going to go for it. I must admit that I've learned a great deal about people by sitting back and watching them, and that has its place. But it is now time for me to learn by being a part of the action, not a part of the background scenery. Carpe Diem!

February 21, 1998

          Hours discouraged, distracted - for the one I cannot
               content myself without, soon I saw him content
               himself without me;
           Hours when I am forgotten, (O weeks and months are
               passing, but I believe I am never to forget!)
                                                            -Walt Whitman

As part of all this carpe diem bullshit I've been trying to get a hold of F. this past week. I finally reached him last night. I was terrified and trembling...When I got off the phone, my head was spinning. But after I punched the wall, hit my head on the door a few times, and kicked some things, I felt a little better. I don't need this. Why do I like him so much? Maybe he was just being nice to me. And that night in the park, for him, was nothing more than having some fun at the park, followed by some simple making out in his car. The more I think about it, maybe he was unconsciously using me...Why should I play tag-along to someone who doesn't even want me around? "I will give of [my love], but only to them that love as I myself am capable of loving." I deserve better than chasing after an apparition of fantasy. I am sorry to close this journal on kind of a sour note. But maybe it's not so bad. I am changing and growing and learning. I'm discovering who I'm discovering the power that I've kept locked away my whole life. In the conclusion of one chapter of my life and the beginning of the next I will leave you with yet another passage of Walt's:

          Long enough have you dreamed contemptible dreams...
           Long have you timidly waded, holding a plank by the shore.
           Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,
           To jump off in the mist of the sea, and rise again and nod
                to me and shout, and laughingly dash with your hair.

* * * This marks the end of the second volume of my journals. * * *