Among the GLBT
community, young guys especially have a reputation, justified or unjustified,
of being fickle, flitting from one trick to another, supposedly looking for
love but, in actuality, looking for sex.
What supposedly counts is all physical, that is, good looks, good body,
and being well endowed. Whatever each
person thinks he is looking for in the other person or, for that matter, in
himself, most likely will not be found through such pursuits. If, to some degree, this phenomenon is true,
then this can be one aspect of gay identity that might prove to be a hindrance
in finding what most human beings actually are looking for and need: love.
Real love, true
love, may not come along so often; and one must keep all his senses alert to
its possible existence. If not, then a
cherished opportunity may be lost forever.
Of course, to accept and benefit from true love means having developed a
certain degree of maturity and a valid set of values. One-night stands probably are not the right
priority for achieving love. If a
long-term, loving relationship is desirable, then one must try to see all the
attributes of people above and beyond the mere physical.
I am going to
tell you a story. It’s a story about
somebody else, but I never have told it before.
Also, I’ll not mention the person’s name in respect for his
privacy.
After I lost my
partner from lung cancer, I became profoundly sad and depressed. I always had been too isolated because of my
shy nature and also from my having worked alone in a home office. Reaching out to other people was hard for me.
I looked for a
quiet place where I could go to get out of the house. I discovered, what was then called,
“Garbo’s,” a little, downstairs restaurant off of Downing. Off the main dining room was a smaller room,
little used, and that is where I chose to sit for dinner all by myself. On return visits, and with encouragement from
the proprietor, I found courage eventually to migrate to the other room where,
upon occasion, I found people to talk to.
It was then that
I began to see from time to time an elegant looking gentleman who also usually
sat by himself but also, at times, had one particular friend, of perhaps about
forty, join him. I observed that this man
was the only patron who always was dressed impeccably in a suit. One evening when his friend joined him, I
overheard a dinner conversation that covered many topics that are of interest
to me, mostly in the realm of the arts.
I was invited to join the two and gladly accepted.
It turns out that
the younger man was polite and pleasant enough, and he also shared some of my
same interests, although he evidently had less experience and knowledge about
the topics than either his older friend or I.
More so, there seemed to be a certain spark lacking in his conversation
as though he might not have a real passion for any of the subjects being
discussed. Or perhaps, lacking spark
just was his nature. While still noting
that fact and almost to my embarrassment because I did not wish to offend the
younger man, the older man and I engaged in enthusiastic conversation,
realizing that we both had the same degree of enthusiasm and passion.
I saw the
gentleman there for dinner only a few more times, once or twice with his
friend, and occasionally alone, during which time I joined him. It was at our very last encounter that he
told me a most personal story, a story that has moved me deeply ever since.
That evening, as
we walked out the door, he stopped and said, “I want to tell you
something. I have to tell you that you
are the person I have hoped for many years to find, and I wish that I had met
you before I had met my current friend.
You finally are the person I have been seeking, the person who has all
the qualities of personality and mind that I cherish. I would prefer to choose you as my special
friend – – – but I can not. I can not
because that would betray the friend that I already have, and that is something
that I just can not do.”
At this point, he
literally burst into tears and, with great effort, standing there in the
evening light, he told me his story.
When he was very young and very beautiful, he was an up-and-coming
ballet dancer in New York City. He was
successful and very popular. Many people
flirted with him, but the person who wooed him successfully was a stabile,
mature, well-mannered man who demonstrated through his speech and actions that
he had the dancer’s best interests at heart, that his interest in him was not
selfish or self-centered. Everything
possible was done for him, helping with his career, introducing him to the
right people, providing him with a real home, and freely giving the gift of
genuine love and support. My storyteller
explained that he understood that his partner truly cared for him but that his
own immaturity and lack of full appreciation of that love eventually resulted
in emotional tragedy.
He continued to
tell me that, one day, he spotted another very young ballet dancer who was
quite beautiful and charming. He
immediately became smitten with him and began flirting. One thing led to another, and eventually they
decided to become a pair. He told his
loving partner what had transpired and, albeit with some pangs of guilt, bid
him farewell. His former partner did not protest, did not argue, did not
accuse, but instead quietly resigned himself to his fate, although the hurt
look in his eyes never was forgotten.
Of course, the
new flirtation did not last long, nor, as the years went by, did any of the subsequent
ones. So eventually, my storyteller
mostly was alone.
Some years later,
he received news of his late partner’s passing.
The reason that he was informed of the death was because the entire
estate had been bequeathed to him. His
late partner had named him as his sole heir, and he never changed his
will. For the rest of his life, he had
remained faithful to his true love despite his having been abandoned. It was upon hearing this news that the full
impact hit him as to the love that he once had and had lost, the depth of love
and loyalty he once enjoyed but thoughtlessly had tossed aside for endless
pursuits of far less value. And then,
still in tears, he said, “And that is why I’ll never betray anyone again.”
I did my best to
comfort him and to show him understanding and empathy. Once my words seemed to have had the needed
effect, he expressed his appreciation and finally bid me farewell. Head down, he slowly walked to his car and
departed. He never came back to the
restaurant. I never saw him again. His story, however, has stayed with me and
haunted me ever since.
© 3 Dec. 2012
About the Author
I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life
stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me
particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at
times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived
pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some
thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.
I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.
