LEARNING FROM GAY EXPERIENCES

Hello Project, I am a guy 22 years old and I want to tell you my story, then, if you like, I would like to exchange a few words with you (my contact msn is omissis). As a child I was the classic good child. My father and especially my mother made me do what they wanted using only praise and half-perplexed faces. When I did what they wanted: hugs and kisses and pampering to no end, I think in an excessive way; when instead I was doing something my own way came the reproaches: “but why didn’t you tell your mother?” “you always want to do everything on your own, dad and mom are here for this!” I was a puppet in their hands, and I didn’t realize it.

Maybe at that age it’s normal and something like that happens to everyone but for me that stadium lasted for too many years. The other boys at 11/12 years seek their autonomy, I was only looking for the approval of my parents. The same was for the parish. There was an old priest who was a bit like a guide for the guys, for me it was an oracle, I did anything to hear his “Good boy!” Same thing at school with the teachers (I did the middle School by priests). At school I was good but I didn’t understand practically anything of what I was studying, when I saw that someone thought differently from my teacher I thought that he was a total ignorant or just an idiot.

It went on like this up to 13 years. I didn’t understand anything, I didn’t have even a minimum of autonomy but I was happy so. Until I turned 13, I thought only that sex was a dirty thing that made by the depraved guys who didn’t want to study and who would have been very uncomfortable in life because they didn’t do what their parents said.

Shortly after I turned 13 I discovered masturbation by chance. It was something that I liked, at first I was worried because it was a new thing, but then it was a pleasant thing and I had had no negative consequences as a result of it. The idea that masturbation had something to do with sex didn’t even touch me, the models of sexuality that I had at that time were those a bit in gloomy tones that I received from my parents who never deepened the subject but branded everything related to sex saying: “It’s people who have the brain ruined!” In short, it had also occurred to me to tell my mother that I was masturbating, just because I thought that sex had nothing to do with what I was doing, and fortunately I didn’t. So I never told it the priest in confession or anyone else but not to avoid saying it but because it seemed to me like an obvious and trivial thing.

For all the rest I continued to be the classic good child who obeys parents, goes to church, etc. etc. In the church at that time I spontaneously recited the part of the mystic. I had so well assimilated the priest’s way of doing that I even thought I could became a priest. I was a perfect believer, the parish priest always praised me and I felt proud of myself, it wasn’t a recital, I wasn’t aware of playing a role that didn’t belong to me to which I had only perfectly adapted. In the end, so, everything was fine and I didn’t ask myself any questions.

It went on like this up to 14 years. I started middle School in a state school, shortly after I turned 14, and there I realized I was completely out of this world. I didn’t understand anything about the sexual discourses of my classmates, I just pretended to understand simply not to let my mates make fun of me. Then, slowly, over time, more interpreting the gestures they made than words they said I began to understand something, two things actually: that what I did every day was masturbation and that it was exactly that sexual activity that I had heard condemned by the parish priest, and then I realized for the first time that my comrades were masturbating thinking about the girls that for me were completely indifferent and moreover my companions used, for those who had fantasies like mine, forms of radical contempt, branding them with epithets of which I understood the meaning for the first time and above all I understood that such epithets were directed towards those like me.

What could I do? It wasn’t a problem related to my class or my school, I realized that in another class or in another school it would have been exactly the same. And then I couldn’t change school. I should have taken note of reality and should have told myself: I’m gay! And I should have been aware all the consequences, understanding that being gay, in my case, could be reconciled with family peace only at the cost of a total fiction destined to last a lifetime, the same speech more or less for religion.

But at that time I didn’t know anything about either my parents or the church and I thought that in the end a conciliation was possible. I was so used to receiving the encouragement of my parents and of the parish priest, that I couldn’t do without it even if I understood that as a gay I could get those things only pretending, but instead of getting the straight way, I took a cross street trying to reconcile the irreconcilable. Instead of accepting a game of explicit hypocrisy towards the outside, I preferred to be hypocritical with myself and pretend to maintain a true relationship with my parents and with the church.

I proposed to myself to tell my parents everything, then, when I really had to do so I made vague speeches, of malaise, of disgust of the world and similar things but I never managed to spit out the frog. Then something happened that changed my relationship with my parents, that is, it made me change the point of view I had on them. On the bottom of a drawer I found a pack of condoms, now I knew what they were. My parents seemed to me completely hypocritical. Why did they never speak to me honestly? But they didn’t and relationships with them became even more ambiguous.

With the priest, in confession, I managed to say how things were (at least there was the confessional secrecy) but he told me that if the thing went on without control I would have to tell my parents and they could help me. My attempts or fake attempts to solve the problem went on until I turned 18.

Through the internet I met a gay guy two years older than me (let’s call him Mark) and I talked a lot with him. Mark is a very good guy. A couple of times we met but we only talked, he wanted me to understand a lot of things but at the time I thought he was telling me such things only because he wanted to take me to bed with him. We had met on a very serious and non-gay site but then I was still afraid that gays could assault guys.

In short, Mark put me in a bit of a crisis, he was the first gay guy I knew and was in fact very different from what I thought gay people were. The first time we went out I thought he would try something with me, I tried to reject the idea a bit, but I wanted it very much. We had been talking for hours and I enjoyed answering him by rebutting his arguments with things that now seem to me incredibly stupid but at that time they seemed very intelligent. At the end of the evening I was a bit disoriented by the things he had told me and a little by the fact that he had not tried anything with me.

The following Sunday we went together to the sea, I put the swimsuit underneath because I thought we were going to have a bath and I also thought it would be the right time for my first sexual experience and instead nothing, he didn’t even think about taking a bath, he remained in jeans and we only talked. I was nervous, at the end of the evening I said to him: “But why didn’t you try anything with me today? But are you gay or not?” He looked at me with a questioning face as if to ask me if I was mad, then he shook his head and said:” Excuse me, I guess we don’t understand each other.” During the whole return journey I harassed him with questions that now I understand how stupid they were, and he didn’t answer. He left me at my house very coldly.

The next day I called him a thousand times until he answered me. He was newly talking to me but I felt that things were not like before. I hated him, I thought he would act the part of the proud gay who looks down on the naive friend, I thought he wanted to give a lot of weight to some stupid things that I had told him, among other things I was also a fool who tried to use with him an attitude that aimed to catching his sexual interest, the result was exactly the opposite. He told me that he didn’t feel like going ahead and that his way of being gay was completely different from mine and that trying to build something starting from too distant points of view would have been a useless effort. I called him a couple of times but then he told me he had nothing to say to me.

Now, after three and a half years, I understood what he meant. I cannot reproach him for anything. He left and I was alone. At least for a year I tried to destroy his memory and devalue it in every possible way telling me that he was a hypocrite, then I threw myself on the chats but always telling myself that I was not looking for sex but I just wanted to understand what it was. When I entered a chat, I would enter in theory as an explorer who enters unknown terrain, but at the base there was certainly the sex, I wanted to try, now I wanted to try at any cost, I also put in my profile some explicit photos in theory to see people’s reactions but basically to attract handsome guys.

In the early days I was cautious, I had read many things about AIDS and I didn’t want to take risks, but the temptation was so great. In the end I arranged an appointment with a 32 year old. At first he was well disposed and courted me, even too much, he wanted to take me to his house but I didn’t go there. We said goodbye after two hours of mutual discomfort, at the end he told me: “But why did you look for me?” I told him “To talk a little.” He looked at me with an ironic face and just said: “Ah!” And has gone.

The second I met was 26 years old, well dressed, but of a unique rudeness, three words out of four were bad words. With him I was afraid because I entered stupidly in his car and he started as a rocket and took me to a country site outside the city in a place where I had never been. I really thought it could end badly, maybe it’s just my absurd fantasies but I was afraid it could rape me.

And while we were going, I thought about how to escape this situation. When I got out of the car I did not follow him and I ran away and he chased me, screaming terrible words, when he saw people running he shouted that I was a thief and someone started to chase me, I escaped through the fields, they lost sight of me and gave up. It was also evening, it was dark and it was a terrible cold, but I started walking along the provincial road, I heard the dogs barking and I was scared, then I saw a train passing by and I understood more or less where I was I spent almost an hour to get to the station and waited two hours for the next train.

So I came home after midnight all dirty with mud and my parents asked me a thousand questions. My computer has the password and they couldn’t know anything about me. I said that I had gone for a ride outside the city and that I had slipped into the mud but they didn’t believe it and our relationships became very difficult.

I come to the conclusion. Three weeks ago I saw Mark, I begged him to listen to me, he told me that he now had a boyfriend but I told him that it was fine but that I was only in a desperate need to speak with a serious person who could listen to me and he stopped to talk to me, he listened to me very carefully and he even smiled, then he called his boyfriend and it was evident that Mark was happy (how much I wish I had been in the place of that guy!)

In the following days we met another time. Three days ago he introduced me to his boyfriend who is 25 years old and we went in three to have a pizza. Mark’s boyfriend is very sweet, even with me, he treats me well, it seems almost incredible. In other times I would not have endured being together with two gay guys who were in couple, now it seems to me a beautiful thing. I have two gay friends, two real friends, I felt never better than that. I am learning so many things from them and I realize that I didn’t understand anything at all. They are the ones who told me about Gay Project. If it’s a forum that they like it cannot be a stupid thing. In practice I have been reading a little the forum only a few days before Christmas. Now I understand the things I read but even only a month ago they would have seemed stupid to me, I have to thank Mark and his boyfriend who are slowly helping me to open my eyes. In short, I think it’s worth talking to you a little bit!

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If you like, you can join the discussion on this post on Gay Project Forum: http://gayprojectforum.altervista.org/T-learning-from-gay-experiences

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