My First GLBT Acquaintance, Ray S

In my Book of Standards, little boys were supposed to
have sports heroes, like baseball, football, Jack Armstrong, and the guys that
had their pictures on the Wheaties box.
No, not me. My heroes and role models were male movie
stars. At the time in my adolescent years I wasn’t aware that these crushes
were the signs of my beginning acquaintance with what became of my life’s
journey on the road to homosexuality. Little did I know, nor did I question,
why I found these men appealing and attractive, but these acquaintances lived
quietly in my pre-teen subconscious.
There was Franchot Tone, Clark Gable’s second mate on
Charles Laughton’s “Bounty.” Never did care for Tom Mix or Gene Autry, but give
me Randolph Scott anytime. Then there was a guy named Lou McAlister—“the boy
next door.” By this time I was beginning to wonder: did he like boys too?
All this time it was my imagination creating these
illusions that did not register as latent gayness. That developed shortly
thereafter, upon the arrival of slow but sure puberty.
“First Acquaintance.” Looking back so many years, it
is hard to remember which “first.” This is like so many other impertinent
questions posed to a newly “out” GLBT person—and you want to reply with “None
of your damned business” or proceed to bore the questioner with your life
story. TMI.
Let’s see, does First Acquaintance mean actual
physical contact or maybe talking about IT with a like-minded shy and timid boy?
All that fooling around with your cousin of the neighbor boy when you were 6 or
7 years old doesn’t count. It wasn’t’ a heart to heart talk with the priest or
some other spiritual counselor. In fact, the first instance may have been your
“first” but I avoided clergy at all costs, and the same can be said for Boy
Scout leaders.
There was a chance encounter at a movie house in
Richmond, VA. I was stationed there during the war, after I had finished basic
training. A teenaged U. S. Navy boy sat next to me in the darkened theatre and
I noticed somehow our knees began to become acquainted.
As I stated before the rest is none of your damned
business!
© 17 July 2017 
About the Author 

The Gayest Person I Ever Met by Ray S

Of all the personalities in the history of mankind and
womankind such as the arts, science, politics, athletics, and some
miscellaneous criminal miscreants that qualify for membership in our GLBTQ
community – the one I find “most gayest” is my intimate acquaintance with a
very classic “closet case”.
It is a story of a gay man and actually nothing out of the
ordinary. As he relates the story it all started at the age of three or four
when a little girl from next door got them naked and compared minute genitalia,
5 & 6 years old found the usual little boys discovering each others
equipment. It wasn’t until he and a close boyhood family friend discovered the
fun of mutual sexual gratification – the manual method.
As he remembers about the advent of puberty did he learn that
these little pleasures were socially unacceptable in the yes of the straight
and narrow. And so sin arrives on the scene to raise its ugly head – no pun
intended.
The reality of learning how to reconcile little pleasures and
fitting in with mainstream conventional middle class America, i.e. what boys do
with girls, getting married – boys and girls style, making the future
generation, educating the little buggers, paying for the weddings and maybe a
divorce or two. Countless birthday cards to all of the family and extended
families. Making a living which includes figuring out what he thought would
possibly be lucrative, socially acceptable – never mind not doing something he
really wanted to do – if he ever figured that one out.
Does all of this sound familiar and routine – “been there
done that”. I began to really get weary as this story droned on and on.
He discovered at some point in this drama that sometimes the closet
door slammed back and hit him square in the ass. Such were the perils of
tripping on the tight rope of life in the gay light way.
Eventually, various resolutions over which he tells me he had
no control blew the closet door off its hinges (again no pun intended).
I am happy to report to all of you who are still listening –
those who excused themselves I sympathize and understand – if I hadn’t had to
feel compelled to tell this story I’d be gone too.
Suffice it to say like so many other late bloomers, he’s
wrapped himself in a rainbow flag and is attempting to live a most gay life –
but of course in good taste, quietly, and only as wild as his advanced years
will tolerate.
Moral: like the salmon swimming upstream on its way to spawn
– life goes on and then you die with a smile on your face.

© 14 July 2014  

About the Author