Tell Me That You Love Me - 1. Story

Tell Me That You Love Me

By Young Sage

The date was fast approaching, and I was getting more nervous as it neared. I had already been to one of these things before and it was a disaster (to me at least). Who knew that a high school reunion would be so stressful? Well, it’s probably not as stressful to the people whose lives aren’t a chaotic wreck. I knew that he’d be there, which is partly the reason why I was so stressed out. He was there last time and, according to the leaflet they gave us, he lives somewhere in the city now.

I said that his being there was partly the reason why I was so nervous. The other reason was that I never told him. I’ve had over twenty years to do so, I suppose, but I never did. Fear would be the underlying cause. Fear in that, by doing so, my life would be wrecked. Fear that, by me not doing so, wrecked my life.

It was a typical scenario. He was a jock, loved by all. I was a loner, my name only being spoken during roll call. I, of course, was one of the many who fell head over heels for him. I suspect that I may not have been the only boy to have crushed on him. He was not, however, the type of guy to shove someone in their locker for being a “loser” or a nerd. He never laid a finger on me. He was popular simply by being very attractive, good at sports, and very outgoing.

Throughout my years of schooling, we’ve had a few shared classes together. Within those few classes, it’d be a rare but cherished occasion where we’d be paired up for a project. This would be the only time he’d ever speak to me. This would also be the only time he’d show that he wasn’t just a living model. It would often be the case that he’d have to help me through the project, understanding most of it by the time I’d barely just get past the first phase. He didn’t seem to mind helping me along the way. Maybe his idea was that, if he’d do most of the project himself, he’d be guaranteed an ‘A.’ It would be less effort to do that instead of making me do my share. I felt so inferior to him, yet at the same time mesmerized by his brilliance and benevolence. He wouldn’t mock me for my stupidity. He would just “accept” it.

~~~

22 years ago…

I was NOT sitting on the bleachers. I knew I would be caught if I did so. Instead, I either watched from behind the bleachers, or I watched from one of the classrooms I had a class in that had a perfect view of the football field. The teacher would often be absent and no one else would come in. I would need binoculars though, if I chose to stay in the room rather than the bleachers. It gets to be very hard to find the number “9” when I’m several yards away from the field.

I would memorize his moves, know his weaknesses, his tells, when he was about to fake a right, even when his teammates couldn’t. I would learn his pattern of aggression, his compatriot attitude during breaks, his laughter, no more unique than anyone else’s but unique to my ears regardless. I would feel a blush start to set in whenever I saw him slap one of his teammates’ butts, as I immediately brought to the surface of my mind the image of him doing the same to me, but under completely different circumstances.

In one instance, I was observing from behind the bleachers. Eventually, the coach called it quits and the players all went to the gym where the locker room was located. However, at the last minute, the coach called for him to come up to him for some reason. Probably to talk about the upcoming game or something. By the time they were through talking, everybody else had left. The coach went to the parking lot, since he had no reason to shower, and my crush was left to walk to the gym.

In an instant, I suddenly felt the urge to run over to him and talk to him, to bask in his presence, to tell him. It would be the perfect opportunity. We would be alone. There would be nobody else to hear me, or to distract us, or anything of the sort. I would talk to him, turn the conversation towards a friendly tone, tell him, and then he’d tell me.

I panicked, suddenly doubting myself and the outcome, and soon I found myself the only person left on the field.

~~~

20 years ago…

We were graduating. My entire class had piled into one, incredibly small building for the occasion. We had to sit in alphabetical order and, as luck would have it, he was sitting right in front of me the entire time. I tried to lean forward to get a whiff of his hair, but it was impossible to do without being noticed. By then, all my midnight fantasies would be about him. When his name was called and he walked up to receive his diploma, practically everybody in the room cheered. When my name was called, silence.

After we were let out, we all gathered around outside to have a group pictured taken. He and his friends were right next to me. I briefly considered just kissing him right as the picture was being taken and everybody threw their hats in the air, but then realized how stupid that sounded and just lamely tossed my hat in the air, not even bothering to smile, when the photographer told us to.

As I was trying to find my father, I saw him talking to his friends and then leaving, presumably to find his own parents. He was walking right for me. My heart started racing, my palms got sweaty, my face turned red. I realized then that, even if there were hundreds of people surrounding us, I could still tell him. I had to. I knew, from the presentation given, that he would be going to a different college than me. This would be my last chance to talk to him for another ten years.

As he walked toward me, I started walking towards him. I planned out what to say, how to get the conversation started, how to carefully approach the subject that I wanted to inform him about, everything. Suddenly, his eyes darted to the right. I looked where he was looking at, only to find his father waving at him. He smiled and started to jog to where he was at, leaving me alone in a sea of people.

~~~

16 years ago…

“Uh…ah…harder…” moaned Cody, as I slammed my penis into him once again.

I was in college now, located only an hour away from home. I didn’t want to leave the area, I suppose. I would be graduating with a business degree later on this year. I didn’t really know what else to go to college for. I had no real interests, nothing that I wanted to be when I grew up, other than his partner. Not Cody’s. Wasn’t Cody, like, the fifth or sixth boyfriend I’ve had now, in the past four years?

Looking back, I could see that all my ex-boyfriends had something in common. They were all like pieces of him. My first, Zachary, I had met soon after I came to college. He was the first man I knew that was like me. He also had his looks. We had sex before we even knew each other’s last names. He was my first. I recall him being rather big “down there,” and he didn’t really care when I started bleeding. Not that I said anything about it to him. He dumped me for someone else (or was it for several others?).

My second, I don’t recall his name. It was during sophomore year, I know that much. He had his sense of humor. He made me laugh and I got the feeling that he genuinely liked me. This was probably because he was so ugly, no one would give him the time of day, much less have sex with him. We had nothing in common. I just liked how he reminded me of him, nothing more. I lasted as long as I could before cutting ties with him. I heard he committed suicide a month later. There was no vigil.

My third was “Rex.” I never knew his real name. He had his popularity. Rex was quite well-known among the gay men on campus, mostly for his looks and penis. He was an expert in the bed, mainly due to having slept with almost every gay man on campus who was willing (and, according to rumors, those who weren’t). He had sex with me and nothing else. There was no intimacy. Eventually, he just got tired of me and stopped all contact, ignoring my existence. I got the hint, eventually.

My fourth was George. He had his kindness. ALL of it, to the point that he was a walking doormat. He had no opinions of his own. He agreed to everything. At first, I thought that was nice. Then I came to realize how too much of a good thing can be a bad thing. He was merely a parrot. It was like he had no soul, no individuality to him. I tested this by being very kinky when we had sex, each time getting more and more risqué, knowing that he didn’t like the sort of things we did. He did them anyways, always without hesitation. Always with a smile on his face. It was hard to break up with him because he was so nice. I tried for weeks. Eventually, I just broke up with him via texting him and started ignoring him. He got the hint, eventually.

All four of them were athletic to some extent. I believe the second boyfriend was a golfer. I wonder if that counts? The other three were jocks in high school, no doubt about that, and Zachary was on the football team in college. Each time I had sex with any of them, whether I was on top or bottom, I couldn’t get into it unless I imagined that they were him. That it was he who was drilling me, or me who was making love to him. I don’t think my second or George knew, and I don’t think Zachary or Rex cared, if they even knew.

In my senior year, I thought I had a brilliant idea. I would date someone who DIDN’T remind me of him. Clearly that would be the answer. That would help me forget him. And so I started dating Cody. Cody was very effeminate, not athletic at all, was more into musical theatre and choreography than football and cars, and was very whiny on top of that. He once told me that on days where I could not have sex with him, he’d just use this sex toy that made Zachary look small. It was no wonder that I rarely pleased him sexually.

After I was done having sex with Cody (and he had to jack himself off because he couldn’t get off on anal sex alone), we both lay in bed together, still sweaty. I had, of course, imagined that I was making love to him. He rolled over so that he was facing me.

“So who were you thinking about?” he inquired.

“What?”

“I see the look on your face when you fuck me. You’re totally zoned out. Like, you’re in another world. You don’t see me when we’re fucking. You see someone else. So who is it?” he explained, his voice in an accusatory tone.

Though we had had sex at 11:30pm, by the start of the new day, I was single again.

~~~

10 years ago…

It was our first high school reunion. It took place inside the school’s gymnasium. I didn’t go with anyone. I didn’t have anyone to ask to accompany me even if I wanted a date. When I drove up the parkway and saw the lit building, I didn’t have any sense of nostalgia well up within me. I didn’t exactly have fond memories of the place. I just snuck by for four years unnoticed. If there was no real reason why I should be here, then why did I come? Well, because there WAS a reason for me to be here. HE was going to be here. I knew he was going to be there because he announced it on Facebook. I’m still not quite sure why he friended me.

There was only about a hundred or so people there, which was only a fraction of how many graduated my year. I could easily attend since I still lived in the same city. He didn’t. He lived far away, on the other side of the country. As I later noticed, he also didn’t bring anyone with him.

I chatted noncommittally to people I hadn’t seen in a decade, nor was I interested in talking to them now, as they no doubt were not interested in talking to me. It was merely common courtesy. There was only one person I wanted to talk to. However, seeing as he was still very popular amongst the masses, he was never alone to talk to. I thought about intercepting him once he would go to the bathroom (which was located at the far end of the hall that connected to the gym), but he never left the gym. I was beginning to doubt that I would be granted the opportunity to talk to him privately.

A couple hours into the event, he went unaccompanied to the punch bowl. As I looked at him, his unflinchingly powerful swagger he presented for all to see, and his apparent destination, I saw that the punch bowl was vacant. THERE was my opportunity! NOW I can get the chance to talk to him! I strode on over.

I made it to the punch bowl before he did. To make it not look like I was specifically waiting there to talk to him, I poured myself a cup of the juice. When he finally made it to the punch bowl, I suddenly realized something. I had no idea what to say to him.

‘Hey, how’s it going? How have you been? How’s life treating you? What are you doing nowadays? Remember back when the seniors egged Mr. Kicadus’s house?’

Any one of those could’ve been acceptable ways to start a conversation with him, but my mouth refused to operate functionally. I couldn’t even swallow the fluid that was in it. I was reduced to just standing there awkwardly, staring at him, hoping that he would notice my presence and speak first.

He looked at me and smiled.

“Hey…” he began.

“Attention,” came the loudspeakers. “We will now give a minute’s silence to honor those we have graduated with and have fallen in the line of duty.”

A hush came throughout the room and he turned back to me, nodded, and walked away. I didn’t know what to do, and I was paralyzed on the spot. I didn’t give chase. He disappeared into the crowd. I swallowed.

I left early when I realized that I had messed up my golden opportunity.

~~~

Present Day…

Due to a surprising amount of people willing to go to this decade’s high school reunion, the event had to be relocated to a grand hall towards the inner city. The place was known for housing many different gatherings, from masquerade balls to galas to, well, high school reunions. I was surprised that so many people wanted to come this time around when they hadn’t bothered to come during the first reunion. For me, however, my reason for being there was for yet another chance to talk to him.

I had just broken up with yet another boyfriend. I suspect he knew it was doomed to begin with and went into the relationship for reasons unknown to myself. He didn’t seem devastated when I broke up with him. Almost like he was expecting it. The fling only lasted a couple of months. He was nothing like him. I had stopped trying to find my exact replica a long time ago. No one could substitute him. Needless to say, I was going to another reunion alone again.

I wore the exact same clothes as last time. I didn’t outgrow them, so why buy a new pair? Besides, I couldn’t afford to buy a complete set of fancy clothes at the moment anyway. I drove my beat up old car to the hall. It, too, was on its last legs. It would probably end up as scrapheap by the end of the year. I made sure to be early so that I can easily identify people as they come through the door, therefore I won’t be able to miss when he arrives.

It wasn’t long before he showed up. Rather oddly, but much to my delight, he was accompanied by no one again. How can a man of his good looks still be single at age thirty-eight? It wasn’t much of a long shot for me to be single by this age. I was, and still am, not much of a looker. I never got rid of acne; Cody constantly told me to lose weight. For him to be single, however, is a mystery. One I hoped I knew the answer to.

He had changed in the ten years. His face showed signs of aging. There was the emergence of wrinkles. He had less hair on his head with a definite receding effect going on. He seemed bulkier, though I couldn’t tell if the added mass was muscle or fat. Probably the latter. He hadn’t bothered to shave as closely this time around, a clear five o’clock shadow was visible even from where I was at. Still, he looked handsome to my eyes and reminded me of times when he looked more youthful.

The plan was the same as last time. Wait until he leaves for the bathroom, which, again, was located outside of the main room the reunion was held in, and go after him then. Speak then while we’re alone and uninterrupted. I was willing to wait all night for that opportunity.

The gathering was in full swing when I spotted him making his way towards the double doors that led to the bathrooms. I quickly ended my conversation with the person I was talking to and headed down there. Due to our present locations, I was able to get to the doors slightly after he did, making it look as natural as possible. Before the doors even fully closed, I yanked them open and made my way down the hall.

“Clint!” I said, loud enough to get his attention.

He turned around and when he saw it was me, he smiled.

“Hey, Jamie. How’s it going? You look like you put on some pounds.”

Was it really that noticeable? How much did I weigh ten years ago? I knew I let myself go these past few years, but to this extent?

“I did.”

“You seemed to have disappeared on Facebook. You haven’t been replying to anybody lately,” he continued.

It was true. I stopped checking my account when I grew uninterested in it. I only ever go on nowadays to check changes in Clint’s account.

“Sorry. I’ve been busy,” I supplied instead.

Why was I giving such short answers? This was the golden opportunity that I’ve been waiting for for over twenty years! I couldn’t let it pass me by again! I didn’t know if I could wait another ten years for another chance.

“Well, it’s been nice seeing you again. I’m going to head into the restroom and then head back out,” Clint said, turning around to make his way to the restroom.

I couldn’t…

“Wait!” I called out.

He stopped and turned around.

“What is it?”

I suddenly found myself at a loss of words again, just like so many times before. I couldn’t let that happen again. Not this time. I pulled myself together and spoke.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” I finally said.

No turning back now. I’ve already gotten his attention. I couldn’t really lie my way out of this one. I was never a very good liar. Rex told me so.

“And?” he asked, signaling me to continue.

How to word it?

“I’ve been having feelings that I don’t think anybody else in our class has for awhile now. Ever since high school, really. These feelings…they’re for other guys,” I said looking down, unable to look him in the eye. “And the one I have the most feelings for is you. Ever since high school.”

I finally managed the courage to look up, wondering what I would see. Would it be anger and disgust? Or delighted and overjoyed? Would I face my worst nightmare? Or finally get my happy ending that I’ve wanted for so long now?

His face was beet red. I could see sweat dripping down his forehead. He looked aghast, frightened, trapped, enraged.

“You’re trying to say that you’re a faggot?” he said, his voice booming.

I stood there paralyzed.

“Fuck, you are, aren’t you! And you think I’m a faggot, too! You probably want my cock up your ass, don’t you!”

My face remained unchanged. I wasn’t quite sure I was registering what he was saying. I spoke nothing.

“Answer me, faggot!” he yelled.

And then, as my hopes and dreams came crashing down around me…clarity.

I turned around and walked back to the double doors, everything seeming brighter and less dense. I could still hear him yelling slurs at me, verbally attacking me. As I made my way through the doors, I felt him shove me, hard, out into the crowd.

“You’re nothing but a filthy faggot! You sick, disgusting fuck! You probably wanted to give me AIDS, didn’t you! Wanted to blow me in the bathroom stalls! Oh God, you’ve wanted to do that since high school, didn’t you! You sick freak!” he continued to yell into the now silent room. “I don’t want to EVER see your face again! You got that, faggot?! You don’t belong here! You’re not welcomed to anymore reunions! This is for normal people, not filthy sinners like you!”

I continued to walk to the exit, no longer distinguishing the words that were being said to me. Out of my peripheral vision, I could see old classmates looking at me, staring at me, like I was an exhibit at a zoo. They whispered to each other, pointed at me, sneered. Someone threw their cup of red wine at me, splattering against my face and chest, ruining my only nice white shirt.

He didn’t love me. His face told me so. There was no us. No future of us living together. No nights cozying up together in bed, listening to the other slowly drift off to sleep. No wedding, or civil union, or just mere living together legally.

I was free.

His smiles were misguided. His friendship was blind. His pattings on the back were trickery. His help was forced. His looks were a mirage.

I was free.

My outdated phone buzzed in my pocket. I would later learn that it would be my eviction notice from the apartment where I lived. But right then, I didn’t answer it.

I smiled. It most likely disturbed the people who saw me walk out of the building. My future looked as bright as the fully lit moon that I met upon exiting the grand hall. It was then covered by storm clouds, signaling a storm that would come within the hour. I didn’t have to worry about my feelings for him anymore. I had gotten closure. I was no longer haunted by decisions made (or not made) long ago. No longer was my life chained to him. Perhaps now I can live my life my own way…free.

© 2010 Young Sage

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