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Showing results for tags 'friendship'.
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Summer 1985 “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Lynne said and wrapped her arms around me in a hug. We were sat together in my parents’ kitchen, while my parents were in the living room, watching television. Lynne and I were members of the Young People’s Fellowship (YPF), which was the young people’s group at our Evangelical Anglian church. We were also friends. I really admired her singing voice, which was one of those voice’s that could claim the attention of a whole room with its purity and clarity. She admired my writing, which was strange and humbling. She was one of the handful of people then who encouraged me to write, which was so eye-opening to me. Lynne was and is beautiful but her beauty is more than skin deep and stays in the memory long after meeting her. She radiates a confident sexuality which is so attractive to others, and yet she is so oblivious to it herself. In the YPF, there were so many young men who were attracted to her, some even claimed to be in love with her, and yet Lynne barely saw this. I, though, was fascinated. These young men projected so much onto her, one even claiming that God had sent her to be his wife, but none of them seemed interested in Lynne as a person, none of them looked further than Lynne’s attractiveness. To me, she was a wonderful friend with an amazing intellect and a warm personality. That summer Lynne was eighteen, preparing to go to university that autumn, I was nineteen and struggling to deal with my sexuality, and failing, believing that the only choice I had was celibacy because I was an Evangelical Christian. I had also started my first job and had fallen into a hopeless, unrequited and very secret love for a male colleague. I can’t remember why she called on me but that’s the least important part of the evening. For some reason Lynne asked to see one of the poems I’d written, one about loneliness. So I showed it to her, in the notepad I used to write my poems in. My poems were very teenage poems. They were high on emotional content and low on style and format. I simply copied the styles of poets I liked, not understanding the form or style and struggling with rhyming couplets. My poems were much more of a way to explore and vent my emotional life, to try and make sense of my emotions and the things I was living through. Lynne read that poem, nodding to herself, and, to my horror, turned over the page and started reading the next poem. After she finished that one, she read the next and the next one. She must have read a dozen of those poems. To my horror, she read poems were I expressed my struggles with my sexuality and my unrequited love (crush?), poems that talked about my love for him. I didn’t use the gender neutral “you” because I never intended anyone to read them. But Lynne was reading them (!!). I couldn’t just snatch the note pad out of her hand, so I just sat there and watched her read them. Though the expression that graced her face wasn’t disgust, it was realisation. After she’d finished reading, she put the notepad down on the kitchen table, said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” and gave me a big hug. Then we talked. I tried to explain to her my therapy that it was the “act” of homosexuality, not the desire, that was the sin, and if I could remain “pure” then God would be “happy” with me. I was still in the thrall of the True Freedom Trust. I must have sounded crazy but Lynne didn’t act negatively, but she did ask me an important question. She asked me what I really wanted. Quietly I answered, I wanted a boyfriend. I didn’t know what form that relationship could take, especially with my believes then, but I wanted a relationship, someone to love. She was the first person I admitted to that I wanted to love someone, to love another man, and she didn’t condemn me for it, she simply accepted it. Her acceptance meant so much to me and was so eye opening. There were people who didn’t hate and condemn me just for being gay, and maybe wanting to love another man wasn’t so wrong. Her acceptance wasn’t a light bulb moment, I didn’t suddenly realise it was okay to be gay, but it stayed in the back of my mind, it held out the hope that I could be accepted. All these years later, I am still in contact with Lynne, though we live at almost opposite ends of the country. She is one of the few people I remained in contact from that time. So many people, back then, who called me their friend, quickly dropped me when they found out that I’m gay, not Lynne. Many, many years later, Lynne sang at my wedding. She sang a marvellous version of O Tell Me the Truth About Love by WH Auden. Her beautiful and clear voice filled the registry office, being the perfect ending to our marriage ceremony. She was one of the four people I dedicated my first book to, she was one of the people who encouragement kept me writing. There are some people, through their simple acts of kindness and love, that leave a deep impact upon our lives, Lynne was one of those people for me. Drew Postscript: In the previous essays in this series I’ve used pseudonyms for the people mentioned. This essay is different because I’ve used Lynne’s real name, with her permission. I want this essay to stand as a tribute to this wonderful person. Find the next story in this series here
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Dating, we all think it’s going to be easy. When growing up we are told we would meet “the one” that would sweep us off our feet. Once you’ve met that person you would just know and everything would work out. TV and movies lead us to believe that no matter the obstacle we all would get that happy ending. As if all you really need is love? No one ever stops to consider who it may be you fall for. Every person has a different story, some stories that may remain a secret. In some cases you meet that person when you are young so when it comes to that story you’re the main character. Then most of us meet someone when we are much older this giving us more of a past. But what does a person’s story have to do with you? When it came to dating for me it was always a different type of story. So believe me when I say nothing comes easy. I always seemed to attract the bi-curious or down-low men, in other terms. When it comes to these types of men we often wonder what it is that makes them hide. Is it what their family might say? Or could it just be the fear of how their friends or others might treat them? It takes a strong man to admit his sexuality and live life the way he wants. Yet that doesn’t seem to hold any of them back from fulfilling that gay fantasy. I knew this married couple, let’s just call them Husband and Wife. We had been friends for many years. It was a type of friendship that knew no boundaries. Wife and I had always been very close and as the years went on Husband and I developed a certain connection. For the most part I never questioned it nor did I seek anything more, until one night at a club Husband made a pass at me. Yes, he made the first move and let me say I was more than shocked. That night Husband and I took our friendship to a new level, we had sex. Now I wouldn’t say he cheated on Wife since she was there. Let me say it was a threesome neither of us expected. For the first few weeks things seemed weird with them. We didn’t hang out as often, plus we didn’t speak like we usually would. Finally Husband reached out to me and we all hung out. I learned that nothing had changed between us. In fact we seemed to have grown closer. One day Wife told me of an article she had read about a married couple that had taken in a boyfriend. In that instance he dated them both, since both men were bisexual. For Wife she was looking for something different. She wanted a best friend she could hang out with while he dated her Husband. Apparently she did love her Husband, but loved watching two guys more. Makes you think right? So what did I do? I decided to try this out and see where it could lead. Husband was a good guy, one that always seemed to make me happy. From what I knew he felt the same way about way me. So begins the time I dated a bi-curious man, well also a married man. Of course this was meant to be our little secret. Most people wouldn’t understand that there was real love between he and I. When it comes to love and marriage religion leads us to believe it must be between a man and a woman. Most people would freak out, not take the time to understand that love knows no sex, nor does it judge. So why are we taught that? Why as children must we be told what is right or wrong when it comes to who you love? I was never one to stay within the mold society put me in. Husband and I began a relationship. Most nights it would be me just hanging out with them at their house. A few times he and I would go out you know a bar here, a drive there. Every night would end with just he and I. Although no one knew of what we had. He wanted to keep us a secret. He came from a close family with catholic values. For months I felt as though I was on top of the world. I had found a man that loved me and now had a friend that understood me. The three of us felt we had overcome what the world expected from us. We had a relationship and two people to count on. I know some gay men would kill for this to be their story, while some women longed to have their gay best friend at their side. Only things aren’t always so happy and worth the hiding. So when I say hiding that meant I was never really a part of that couple. For Wife, I was the one having sex with Husband keeping her from having to, plus we did all the friend things together. Husband had that person he could rely on and not to mention get sex whenever he wanted. To me it felt I had been more, but in a threesome it may not always be what you expect. When it came to dating Husband the relationship had its limitations. It began to seem as if I were just a play thing for them, someone to live out a need. When you become that guest star in a relationship that’s what you are, a guest. Although Husband was curious about being with me and he had been willing to date me, at his level. There was still the fact that I held no true place at their side. Dating someone you feel they would be the one person you knew would always be there, but when dating a bi-curious man you would find you are something different. Yes you were one of the best friends and yes you knew more about them than anyone else. Only did that really matter? For me I had nothing but love for him and he would be the one I’d be faithful to. Only at times you wondered where you really fit into the equation. Sometimes if you date a bi-curious man you may not consistently be at his side, as his girlfriend would be, you may just be that “friend” they hung out with. That was another thing you may not get is the boyfriend title. As the months went on the going out with Husband turned into us all just hanging out at their house. The nights of passion turned into a quickie in the garage or a fast blow job in the backyard. The fantasy of dating a bi-curious married man was now being his sexual release. Not to mention the fact Wife preferred to watch us as she masturbated. Ironically now that I was in the picture she no longer wanted to have sex with Husband. It wasn’t what I wanted more what kept them both comfortable and satisfied, which made sense the marriage suffered once the boyfriend was gone. When it came to this certain relationship, I dated a bi-curious married man for a few months. Now I’m not saying that your story would end this way, but mine did. Every person has a story and every story has a different outcome. For Husband, he saw me as just someone that came to help fulfill his curiosity of being with a man, plus to give him consistent sexual relief. In the next story we will see what it’s like when emotions are more involved. Will you be able to call this love? Or would dating a bi-curious man always just be a fantasy???
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Got an email this evening from a mutual friend of C and his sister. His sis isn't doing that well dealing with the loss; neither am I to be honest. C was a very private person, with everyone it seems, so I spent the last hour trying to decide how much to say and what I shouldn't. I did say that he was a man I loved dearly, that we had been dating off and on the the last several years, and that he was someone I saw a future with. I included the last selfie he sent me (G-rated) and the pic of the flowers I took after I put them on his grave, along with the pic he sent me when we first started dating - a time that seems like it was yesterday, even though it was so many years ago.
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Spoke with someone at work I'm close with, who had known about my relationship with C, and told her what had happened. She offered to get in touch with his sister ("M") on Facebook -- as I don't have a Facebook account (or Instagram, or twitter, or....). She got a response. M did see the flowers I had left for C when I visited his grave, which makes me... well, not "happy" but pleased? They're waiting on a response from the VA on the headstone, and hope to hear back soon, though with the gov. shutdown I think that's optimistic. Work friend just introduced me as someone who cared about him deeply, not as the man he'd been dating; she did pass on my private email address (with my permission), so I hope M does contact me at some point. She hasn't been doing well -- they were extremely close. It sounded from t he conversation that I was correct in thinking that she didn't know who I was. He was a very private person, and I don't think he talked to his family that much about his private life. He was out, but I know there was some baggage there from when he was younger that -- for him at least -- made things more complicated. So it doesn't surprise me that he would be short on details of his dating life. This is the financial side of me, but I've also wondered in the last few days if she realized how much his Alberto Vargas print collection was worth. A winter storm moved in on Thursday, which started Wed. night. Had the automatic though, "I should send C a txt telling him to drive home safe" -- then the moment of sharp pain when I realized I couldn't do that. I know I mourn not just the loss of a friend, and a man I cared for very much; but the loss of my dreams for our future, my hopes of how things would work out, my longing for our first "private time" that was supposed to be next month.... Some of those hopes/dreams may never have materialized, but the loss is still there. The potential that is no longer. 💔
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There are about a million ways to say those three words “I Love You.” Have you eaten? Sleep well. Drive safely. Grab a coat. These are some of the ways it’s said in my house. There are others, not as obvious, but we all know them when we hear them. And it’s not just that way with lovers and spouses, we do it with friends and family too. How are you? Really? Let me know when you get home. Let me buy you lunch. Because you’re family i’m glad you are in my village. i’m sorry. It’s been rocky for my family the last 3 weeks. i’ve heard, or said, everything i just listed. i can’t begin to tell you how important it is to say those things. They are life changing, life affirming phrases. They can restore faith, hope, and bolster love. i know that there are other ways to show love. We see those around us too. A simple hug, fixing a favorite meal, offering a ride to where you need to be, talking with someone in a PM, or by email. i’ve been on the receiving end of many of those during this rough patch as well. The simple act of reaching out was a show of caring, and it mattered. How do you show love; how do you say “I love you” without saying it? No matter how you do it, don’t forget to show and tell people you love them. no one read or edited this, any mistakes are mine many thanks to @MacGreg Sir, @MichaelS36 Sir, and @Mikiesboy for everything
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An Irish story of magic for St Patrick's Day - Shamrock Lite
albertnothlit posted a blog entry in Albert Nothlit's Blog
Hello everyone! My newest story, Shamrock Lite, is out today published by MLR Press. It's a lighthearted and slightly nostalgic homage of mine to the wonderful country of Ireland and its rich lore. You can find the link and blurb below! Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Shamrock-Lite-Albert-Nothlit-ebook/dp/B00UQF1R4W/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1426636816&sr=8-1&keywords=shamrock+lite MLR Press http://www.mlrbooks.com/ShowBook.php?book=ANSHAMRK Shamrock Lite One lifetime of experience, and suddenly magic. Richard has come to Ireland to reflect on years gone by, not to become mixed up in the affairs of the fairy folk. The handsome stranger he meets will not be denied, however. He makes Richard young again- for a price.- 3 comments
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My best friend sent me a txt at 6am this morning. She's in a hospital in OKC with a massive infection in her lower back. She's had multiple back surgeries in the last 10+ years. Two weeks ago her pain level was so high she was nearly suicidal. Not helping that her "pain management" Dr. cut back her pain Rx to a point where they're useless. She finally convenced them to take an MRI and they found a "raging infection of osteomyelitis in her spine where her hardware is. She kept trying to tell them something was wrong but they weren't listening. She has a PICC line [a line direct to the heart to deliver meds]. She had FOUR bone marrow biopsy's on Tuesday. The meds they started to use caused reactions that let to seizures and had the hospital call her husband and daughter (my god-child) to get to the hospital ASAP; her blood pressure rapidly went from 90/60 to 160/90. She's "better now" but can't use her legs -- she wasn't clear, but that sounds permanent And because of the COVID situation I really can't go down to see her. 😢
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SP and I have had several conversations: about our pasts, our fears, our insecurities, our hopes for what this could be. Had a few small dates so far, and planning on something larger for New Years. I'm cautiously optimistic and I think he is too. We seem to be on the same page with things - where we are now, what we want going forward. To possibilities, hope, and the future. 🍾
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***Warning: This is a bit of mess. It's rather like the head it came out of. Just be glad you don't live here full time. So, i've been away for a while. i'd pop in here and there but i found i just couldn't be here for any length of time. There's a lot of sadness here for me. Things have happened. People deciding things about me, without discussion. Deciding things about me for reasons i'll never understand. And as is normal online, they can just stomp out of the room rather than talk. i'm not saying i'm right and i'm not afraid to apologize if i'm wrong. But these people have decided, and i know they sit enveloped within their blanket of smugness. i wish them well, if pushing me away has helped them in some way. Anyway. Whatever. For my own sake, i need to move on. Problem with that is, i'm not terribly good at leaving the past back there behind me. i am very good at keep my messes raked up fresh and in front of me. The other thing is my mental health. I was again moving toward suicide. The thoughts of death and dying, were there, so was the desire to just stop everything. A good friend said, it's your meds. He was right, of course. But i was not pleasant company for a few days/months. You think about suicide because you want these thoughts, the pain and hurt to go away. i suppose it could be painless for me, but would it painless for those left behind? Would some of them spend time in the past wondering if they could have done more. Could they have done something or said something that would have kept me from that most ultimate of choices? i don't think it would be painless for them. My Husband would be wounded most of all. My doctor said, "Do you want to actually be gone, or do you want the pain you feel to stop?" It was the pain we decided. i really don't want to die. He changed my meds and gave me some rules to follow. Daily exercise, some of it outside. Proper sleep. These things seem to be helping as does our usual therapy sessions. i've been doing a bit better. A friend was coming over and i said i felt excited about that. i hadn't felt anything like that for a few months. i am looking forward more rather than behind me all the time. Writing a little but that's still something i'm deciding about. Suicide isn't painless and there is help. Telling someone is so hard mostly because you don't want to talk about it or hear about it. You're already suffering and saying it makes it real and no longer a secret. There is no happiness without some pain. If you're feeling you're on the edge, don't be afraid to tell someone. Don't be afraid to lean on someone. The people who love you are more than willing to catch you. let them
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