I’m 27, many years, in theory too many if I had to start thinking about happiness now. What have I done up to now? I tried to lay the foundations … now I can finally think about putting the roof over it. I got out of high school at age 19, I took the first degree at 22, there I lost one year, I told my parents that I had lost the year because an exam had gone wrong but in reality the reason was very different and you will understand soon how things went. Now I’m an Engineer in a big waste disposal plant. I started working last year just before Christmas.

I try to ask myself the questions you would ask me. How does the emotional life go? I reply that, all in all, during all these years, even if sex was a very rare reality, I had my gratifications. At the beginning of the university I had in mind that my goal was only to graduate as soon as possible. I never haunted locals, I don’t like spending the night out. My fixed idea was to shorten the times. I didn’t have the problem of coming out, I simply didn’t do it with my family or with my friends, with one exception, but you’ll understand in a bit. It was not an ideological choice, only a postponement of my emotional life after graduation and after finding a job. In fact at the beginning I was living strictly monastic, university and study and that was all.

Nevertheless my emotional life has found a sense and a turning point right at the university, when I least expected it, because I was going to university just to study, the idea of chasing guys seemed nothing more than a way of wasting time and delaying even further the solution of my problems. There were so many guys I liked but I deliberately put the topic aside. I liked in another way only one guy, his name is Camillo, a name that seemed strange but that now seems to me the most beautiful in the world. I looked at Camillo but nothing more. We greeted each other when we were in class, in the morning I took the place for him and he took it for me, but these things also happened with other guys.

One day the professor didn’t come and we chatted a bit. I kept myself at a distance and I was just talking about the university, at one point he asked me when I would give analysis, I told him in June and he told me: “Would you like to try to study together?” I immediately said yes, then I regretted it because I thought he would have made me waste time, I wanted to say that I had changed my mind but a little I didn’t have the face to do it and a little Camillo was just my type of a handsome guy. So we started studying together. Sometimes I wanted to take a break and have a chat and maybe he wanted it too but then we did without it and we continued to study. Studying with Camillo was productive and at the same time pleasant.

Practically for months we have only studied together, at the time of the exams we went together to get them and we took the same vote but there was no celebration, after the exam we immediately returned to study for the next one. However, even if we never talked, we were all right with each other. In practice there was only talk about how to schedule the deadlines for the examinations of how to condense the maximum study effort, but it was fine, it was damn fine. We used to see each other once in his house and once in my house.

His parents were a little nosy and wanted to know a lot about me, especially if I had a girlfriend. I played my part pretending to have a girl as if I was straight inventing everything in front of his parents and I acted so well that they believed me. When he took me back to my house, I asked him: “Do you have a girlfriend?” He shocked me saying while he laughed: ”Oh yes! Just like you! Today you have done well to say what you said to my parents because if they get too involved it is a problem.” I replied: “I think you’re right!” This was our mutual coming out, it didn’t last more than 20 seconds.

I wanted to talk a bit but he stopped me: “Now we know why we’re fine together, but together we have so many things to do and we don’t have to take missteps. The engineers first make the foundations and then build on them. We continued to work together like crazy. Then at the third year, at the time of the first level graduation he got sick. No one understood what it was, he always had a little fever, they admitted him for a while to the hospital.

He didn’t seem in bad condition, I used to go to see him to the hospital and I went out of the ward with him to walk in the garden. I went there every day, then he told me he didn’t want me to go so often, he said that if I wanted to make him happy I had to study and then I started going to the hospital no more than once a week. He has had a pneumonia in light form that took a long time, it has not had major consequences but he has been in hospital almost two months. The result of all this was that he failed to do the thesis and to deliver it on time and so he lost a year, I instead took the first degree.

If I have to tell the truth the day I graduated I felt terribly uncomfortable because even if Camillo came to see me, he couldn’t graduate and then I did something that he still scolds me, I stopped studying for a year to wait for him and to start studying together again. And it took a whole year because when he was ill he had practically not studied at all. I would have liked to help him with the exams of the last year but he didn’t want to. This fact put me in trouble but Camillo used to spend the evening with me practically every day and we used to go out for a walk together.

We resumed working together after he graduated. We took the second degree the same day and then I felt realized. Now he works in engineering department of the region and deals with large air-conditioning systems and I take care of the recycling of waste. We decided to take the big step, that is to go to live together but in separate houses … or almost. I try to explain …

Next Monday we have a meeting with the builder to buy an apartment, or rather two apartments, they are two apartments of two rooms each one neighboring one another. The builder will leave them communicating. Two houses and not a big one because now we are fine together but in case of necessity everyone would have his own. Honestly it’s only a theoretical possibility. It will seem absurd, but we have placed two shelves on the open partition so that you cannot see that the two apartments are actually connected. A carpenter will give us two false bottomless cabinets, one different from the other, two and ten meters high so nobody will see that the two apartments are actually a single apartment. It’s not really necessary, let’s say it’s a bit of a strangeness, but we don’t want to let anybody know about us. Yesterday morning his parents and mine came at the same time to see the apartments, they noticed that they were one next to the other but the thing stopped there.

Thanks for reading everything! Good luck!


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Dear Project,
I don’t know if you remember me, a few years have passed, but I still remember the strange effect that made me talk to you, because I realized that I didn’t know gay reality at all and that I had an infinite series of fears, practically almost all nonsense, and I didn’t realize what could be the real problems of being with a guy, then I was 25 (good times!), now I’m 31 and I must say that things have changed a lot. I don’t know if you remember, Project, but a few months after our first conversations, I sent you a picture with a dedication on msn, a picture that represented me and the one whom I was hoping, even with a thousand uncertainties, was my boyfriend. Well … we’ve been together for 5 years now, and we live together. Now I’m not a boy anymore but I see my dream come true, Project, I feel loved. Do you remember the night you were talking to me on the chat? When bad thoughts passed through my mind? You told me that my life could have made another guy’s happiness and it seemed impossible to me, but that’s exactly what happened.

I met Luke in a chat, not in an erotic chat, but in a chat where they talked about architecture. There was talk not only of architecture but also about how a young architect can look for and even find work. At that time I was not working yet, neither was he. In his answers I saw the tendency to leave space, to make me talk, he was never impositive or aggressive, but was conversational without falling in the banal. We continued to talk in that chat for several days, then we discovered that we lived in the same city and we decided to meet up to try to plan together the search for a job. When I saw him I was electrocuted, he was a beautiful guy. We spent the whole day together and it was just fine! We only talked about job opportunities and we decided to give ourselves to do as much as possible to look for work together because economic independence was our first desire. I didn’t know anything about him then.

He has come to my house many times, he met my parents and I met his, obviously we were just two friends looking for a job together but the atmosphere was very positive. At his house, in his room there were many photos of a girl and it was like a stab to me: Luke was beautiful but obviously he was straight! My mood collapsed from one minute to the next. He noticed it and immediately told me: “It’s my brother’s girlfriend!” And in saying so he smiled at me. I thought that his smile was his way to come out with me and I also answered him with a smile and a breath of relief. When we said goodbye, beyond the usual handshake there was also a hug that I didn’t expect and it was not a formality. Since then our relationship took a different way.

You know, Project, you always say that the real problem is knowing if the other is gay, but if he is, the problem remains to understand how he thinks, what he thinks, how he sees the situation, and it takes time to understand it. Note, Project, that we never declared ourselves explicitly and that starting a speech beyond work was really difficult. Then one evening, after going to get a pizza, we stopped to talk in the car. He asked me: “Do you think it would work?” I had no doubts about the interpretation of that phrase and I replied: “We have to do everything to make it work …” He told me: “All right! Then I start.” He told me about himself without reserve and told me that he felt happy next to me and that he thought of me a thousand times a day. I took his hand and kissed it. It started like this. I skip the details you can imagine. I was really good, sexual transport was very strong. His way of experiencing sex was practically identical to mine: enthusiasm, but also prudence: doing the test, absolute mutual loyalty and lots of cuddles. I always wanted to be with him, when the time came to part from him I felt really halved. When I saw him smile, in his eyes I saw heaven. He had beautiful, warm hands and when he was holding mine he inspired me so much trust. And then he was not neurotic like me, he was quiet and close to him I began to overcome all my neuroses.

But there was a huge problem: we could go and make love in my parents’ country cottage, especially in winter, because no one ever went there, it was cold, but we knew how to warm up: a double duvet and we didn’t need anything else, it was fine but we often wondered what our parents would say if they understood how things really were. In practice we did everything in secret. For all the rest, we met each other, either, at his house or at mime, but we had to be careful to talk only about work. Another underlying fear was related to the fact that one of us could find work in another city, because such a thing would have been shocking. We were looking for work hoping not to find it. And we even arrived to present ourselves together for job interviews, saying that we were very close and used to working together, even if it is not easy for two architects to be hired to work together.

After about six months of “cohabitation” we got a job offer for a six-month contract in Kazakhstan, which seemed very strange, but the proposal came from an important multinational for which we had already held job interviews, we thought about it a little and then we accepted. Our families were very worried, but the fact of going there together led us to accept. After two days we were on the plane. The work was in Astana, a very special city, without western-style buildings, but with huge neighborhoods made of small houses with small gardens, very well kept, even if the city is almost in the middle of the desert. We have been housed in a villa, with three bedrooms and a bathroom, with a delightful little garden. People were also a pleasant discovery for us, but our dialogue with the locals could only take place in English, and on the other hand any contact with our superiors (Canadians) was only in English. In Astana we were really good and our relationship become deeper. We have worked together and a lot but we got also great satisfaction.

After the six months in Astana, they told us that we would spend another six months in Vancouver to oversee the construction of a port building, of course we accepted. The city is incredibly multiethnic and between the mountains and the ocean it is spectacular, we have happened there in summer, a very mild summer, similar to the springs of southern Europe. We had an apartment with a wonderful view. In Vancouver, however, we experienced that our English was very rudimentary and we tried to improve it with a group of local friends, including a gay couple, but of gays over 60, something that is rare to see in Europe. In Canada, the work didn’t have the relaxed rhythms it had in Astana, and several times we had to work even at night to keep up with the demands of the construction sites. We have worked, we have gained well but the nostalgia of Italy was very strong. By the way, work had distracted us from our basic problem: “what to say to our parents and how to say it”. For our parents we were in effect only two work colleagues.

A month before departure from Vancouver our superiors let us know that they would send us back to Italy to Milan, which is far from our home, but it is still in Italy. The second of September we arrived in Milan, also this time they placed us in the same apartment, which however was not even the shadow of the one in Vancouver and had not the eastern grace of that of Astana. Once settled, we decided it was time to speak clearly with our families. We didn’t know what to expect or even if it was the case to speak first with my parents and then with his, or to create an opportunity to make a single speech that would be good for everyone, but we were determined.

We set a lunch at my house for September 6th. The day arrives, we do the usual compliments, then Luke immediately enters the topic: “Listen to me a little … so we got to know each other better by working together for a year and we understood that we want to spend our life together, because we love each other and it seemed right to let you know.” In our opinion, the most was done, but the reaction to the words of Luke was disconcerting. My father pretended not to have understood, just like that, Project, while he had understood very well, he made a perplexed face, followed by a strange smile. Luke preferred to immediately eliminate any possibility of misunderstanding: “We are gay … and we love each other.” His father and mother did not say anything, they were almost paralyzed and did not know what to say. It was evident that a completely unexpected atomic bomb had fallen on them. My mother tried to lighten the situation but in the wrong way: “Now it can be a difficult moment but then things can get settled …” Luke immediately stopped her: “There’s nothing to settle …”. The most radical silence fell, interrupted only by banalities, like “Now let’s think about eating … we’ll think about other problems later, a solution will be found …” Luke also tried to avoid misunderstandings: “Solution?” My father started the wrong way again: “These are things that can happen, maybe these are moments of fatigue …” Luke looked at me in a very questioning way and said to me: “What do we do?” I answered with one word: “Let’s go!” We got up from the table and left without saying goodbye, and on the other hand our parents didn’t even try to hold us back.

The feeling of bitterness was very unpleasant, we both realized that the relationship with our families was over. Fortunately we were economically independent and we were working permanently in Milan, so the relations with our parents were in fact already very reduced. We immediately returned to Milan, our parents did not even make a phone call for a whole week, then my mother called me to ask: “How are you?” I noticed immediately that that “you” was referred just to me, she had only asked how I was and had not asked anything about Luke like she was used to do before, because by now Luke was like the devil who had taken his son away from her. I answered her. “We’re fine! (underlining the “we”) And how are you?” The embarrassment was evident, after a few minutes of banality the call was over. In the evening Luke’s mother called him and the script was virtually identical. We were not shocked by this thing, after all “maybe” we expected it. Up to this point our story may seem like the story of a double family failure. Two gay guys who would have all the credentials to feel fulfilled, are on the contrary frozen by relationships with their homophobic families that end up radically disappointing their expectations, but in reality things have gone differently. My father sent me the e-mail that I transcribe here below:

“Hello, your mother and I realized that we behaved very badly with you (Leo and Luke) and this makes us deeply uncomfortable. Luke’s parents share this unease with us, we talked about it together several times and we realized that we had everything wrong. We cannot be without our guys, we are living days of bitterness, but I can swear that we understand that we have to change our attitude altogether. We were not in the least prepared to face a similar situation. If you and Luke agree, we could maybe come to Milan for a weekend, so we can stay a little together. And then, what can we do to get a little clearer ideas? Because we tried to search for news on the internet, but orienting ourselves is very difficult. We await your response by mail and we hope so much that it is positive.”

I read the email to Luke and we agreed the answer.

“Hello, I spoke with Luke and if you agree we can meet not the next Sunday, because we have work commitments, but the following Saturday and Sunday. To get a little clearer ideas you can read the Gay Project Forum, it is very easy to find it on Google and you could also talk with Project, with whom I had spoken several times, he is a very good person and knows the gay world from the inside. As for our relationships, well, we are very happy with your email. Now we must try to rebuild everything without hiding anything and without pretending anything. Problems, sometimes, exist only in our imagination. Common sense is needed, it is true, but we are not naive and our choices have been made with good reasoning.
We embrace you strongly.
Leo and Luke”

The recovery of relationships with our parents on the basis of clarity, was not so easy, but on both sides there was a willingness to understand each other and, after about a year, things really became normal. By now our parents consider us as a couple and have overcome all or almost all their resistance and their complexes.

Project, I told you my story and I would like to see it on the forum because I would like to tell all the guys who see their future gray, that for a gay guy life can be beautiful and that finding a serious partner is not at all an impossible thing, even if the difficulties are certainly not lacking. I’m attaching in my skype contact, I would like to talk with you again, maybe to meet you at the beginning of the summer.
We embrace you!
Leo and Luke


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Everyone goes through school. I open this very classic discussion with an apparently banal reflection: for a gay guy, the high school is hell and heaven mixed together, you enter at age 14 and you get out at 19, now young adult. In practice almost all the sexual and above all emotional apprenticeship is linked to the school environment. If for a straight guy behaviors can be relatively free, a gay guy experiences at school the same sense of constraint and limitation he will experience for the rest of his life. It is literally, unfortunately, a school of life. Despite all the limitations that a gay guy feels on his skin, sexual curiosity is always vigilant and generally prevails over the sense of discomfort, among the older guys sometimes develop very strong affective relationships, friendships, amorous friendships and also true stories of love. You can see many stories of heterosexual love, you can never see gay love stories and in fact you never even see gay guys. Everything at school is rigidly straight, no one, neither a teacher nor a student is allowed to open up his speech to gays, the game is dangerous and sometimes, under the appearance of pedagogical and psychological care, some children can suffer latent homophobia in the institution. Here are a few pages from the 1976 school diary of Dario, a 16-year-old guy.


I would have preferred to be born ugly! … Mom…. why did you make me so beautiful? If I was ugly I was better … I cannot stand these (-omissis-) … They cling to me, they make me an endless series of unwanted cuddles. Cynthia always sits on my legs and pretends nothing … Paola even kisses me … But do you realize that I also have to endure you when you make the owl? … but go away to Christian because for such a thing he melts like an ice cream in the sun, so you can make him happy and leave me quiet …… but luckily for him he’s ugly … well … but that’s enough … but for how long has she to preach this (-omissis-) [the philosophy teacher]? And then she always slips towards politics and she says that she teaches philosophy … But what do you look at? … I’m writing … but what do you care about what I’m writing? … I’m taking notes of my cabbages … see … I do “yes yes” with my head as if I was listening to you … are you satisfied? … but I think she really looks a lot like mad Madam Mim!


What a anger!! I really have to eat that one!! You’re old, that’s ok! you have a protruding belly, that’s ok! you don’t even have hair on your head, it’s not your fault. But you’re anyway an asshole! … I wait for your two hours of physical education for the whole week because I have to see Emilio undressing … and you? You stay at home because you’re sick … and they send us the witch to do another two hours of philosophy … but fuck! .. I have to wait another week …


Today Madam Mim calls me … “What are you writing? … bring me the diary!”… I … to you … the diary … but I don’t bring you anything at all! I had to beg, I could not give it to her. Anyway she is a (-omissis-) … and then Paula, the gossipy by definition, she even told me that in her opinion Fabrizio is gay … Fabrizio! But he’s as ugly as hunger … if she had said Emilio it would have been very different … well …


Today we talked and he was the one who searched for me! … Oh well … there were only us because there was the assembly and there were just four cats … but he says to me: “Do you want a coffee?” I certainly did not wait for him to repeat the proposal … We have been talking from nine to noon. Emilio is fascinating … he is a poet, he says beautiful things, a bit melancholy, however, he says they have never loved him …. but how is it possible? For almost all the time we talked about the school, but this is the first time we speak. He’s athletic, he’s almost 17 and it looks like he’s got twenty! He shaves every day and has a beautiful facial skin. He’s really nice and then he doesn’t believe to be the charming prince … he has no boast … when he was there I would have (-omissis-) … I say it just to say, but not so much! … then Madam Mim went by and made me nervous: “What are you two doing there? … go to the assembly! … come on!” She put herself in front of the door of the classroom and waited for us to come out … and when we left she looked at us with a little grin that I didn’t really like. I told Emilio: “The witch thought who knows what…” and he told me something beautiful: “And let her think!” Very good, Emilio, good answer! At the assembly a deadly bore. There was a guy who was attending the fifth year who preached as if he understood everything … we of the fifth class here and we of the fifth class there …” … Oh! My beautiful! If the witch makes you a shriek, you piss on yourself! Emilio and I got on one side and we were chatting and at one point I leaned on Emilio’s shoulder … a dreamy feeling … then a guy passed and he made me eyes, I turned around and the witch was just behind me … she said only: “Eh! …” and I looked at her and said to her: ” Teacher, but here everyone is making out … but tell it also to the others! … ” And there the world has burst: “You are two rude guys!”… “If anything I’m rude guy … he has nothing to do with it!” … “Oh no! He has to do with it a lot … but where do you think you are?” Emilio turned to me: “Let’s go!” I was red with rage, under the eyes of the witch Emilio takes my hand and we move hand in hand. It was one of the best moments of my life! Then I got the fear because she usually takes revenge, but Emilio said: “We cannot let us be influenced by Madam Mim! …” I love him, first it was only a matter of sex but now I love him, I love him a lot! Emilio!!!


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At the end of December 2007, I published on the blogs of Gay Project three separate posts containing an interview, divided into three parts, recorded by me in September 2007. The original interview is in Italian or better, in a very lively colloquial language, spontaneous and colorful, typical of young Italians of the time. It is a very interesting love story. It was certainly not easy to translate the story into English trying to save the broken prose and the typical tones of the way of speaking of young people. I think it is worthwhile to read the story, even if it is not very short.


Frederick, I call him Chicco, damn how he gave me a pretty hard time … but I love him to death … As for me, well … anyway, I was a little too rush before, I can say precipitous, that is I didn’t even know what the embarrassment was, I had had more or less serious stories with four or five guys in three years, maybe too many stories … let’s say I was rather uninhibited … yes … that is, I have always liked guys very much, they’re so sweet, I don’t know, being close to them gives me a lot of … well … it’s not just a philosophical thing … In short, a nice guy is beautiful and he also gives you a real sensation, that is, you really want him, And let me be blunt about this, I’m not ashamed, I like a guy because he stimulates me sexually … otherwise …  he can also have the brain of Einstein but he tells me nothing … I’m not one of those who are fascinated at the mental level, for me the physical reaction must take place … you certainly understand … well … the trouble is that this thing happens to me very often, that is, I don’t say just with all the guys I know … but it happens a lot … and then … Oh well, what is it? Oh … it’s like that … when it happens to me, it’s not like I’m having too much problems … I just try … I’m a little afraid of being detected by other people but it never happened and then I have the gay radar and up until now I have hit the mark … I’ve done so, let’s say from 16/17 years until 22, the first real sexual contact … always something relative, but sex in explicit terms with another guy I had it at age 19 … he was not bad but he was not even all this overwhelming beauty … and then one usually gets depressed or must calm a bit … but can you see me depressed or calm? … I said: “This guy is so … but I can find a guy even better!” … and then, one after another … well! What are you laughing for? … Don’t be stupid … oh … it happens … well two years ago I met Frederick at the university … he was 21 years old, and was in my course, a year after me. I have always passed the exams … but I never got the star of the first of the class, that is, I go to class … but if by chance I find a cute guy I go around with him and in class I’m not going at all … oh! I don’t get overwhelmed by scruples … I can lose an hour of lessons and even two, but I don’t want to lose a cute guy … Oh well … I see him, but he does not make me all this effect, cute he is cute, but there is even better, at least, so, physically, I say … I then I was dry with the guys … and I said to myself: “I try!” … I approach him, I greet him … I don’t know what to think, my radar is disoriented … I said … “I hope I’m not going to start a story with a straight guy!” … I needed some more element. Chicco talked only about exams, not about girls … you know … it’s already a lot … but you can always take the beating … then I said: Forget him! … he didn’t go along … in short if a guy likes it, even just to chat, you understand it … but he was formal and made me get some nerves! He spoke like a printed book and I said: “Go fuck yourself! … you and your haughtiness! I’ll find another better than you!”… So I said … but, you know, one thing is to say and one thing is what happens to you inside … I went to class and I kept thinking about Chicco, I then didn’t even his name … then I had two hours of break, usually I go to the library because it is the ideal place to look at the most cute guys, you put yourself there with a book in front and pretend to read. “Oh well, this time I didn’t go to the library to do the gaywatching and I started looking for Chicco around the university, I could not enter the classrooms where there was a lesson but I was looking for him and I said to myself: “Dear Sandro, but you are becoming totally stupid! … You are running after a guy who barely looked at you! “… oh … it was so! In short, I find him in the small library on the second floor … I go to sit next to him … because sometimes I’m just a bad guy … but he doesn’t change his attitude … nothing at all! Not even a small sign, he greets me, he beckons me to shut up because you cannot talk there … so I write him on a sheet: “What time do you go home? So let’s have a chat.” He answers me “Now I have to study because I have an exam in 20 days, but thanks for the proposal.” An ambiguous and provocative answer at the same time … I pretended to read and then every now and then I looked at him but he never looked at me, he thought only of the book … I look at him once, two and three times and then I break my balls. Well no! I cannot waste time with this guy! I feel like a fool, I get up to leave, I do bye with my hand, he responds the same way, looks at me and winks … But go to hell! He winks at me … he doesn’t greet me as he greets his colleagues, he winks at me … I had already said goodbye. I’m leaving. Oh! I could not get him out of my head … The following days I always saw him in the library to study … I went in, I said goodbye, he winked at me, then one day he waved me -10, as if to tell me that the exams would have been in 10 days, then we counted down day by day. I went to hear him at the exams and he was a monstrous thing, I didn’t know even a half of the things he knew. I had arrived when he was already in front of the professor and I thought he had someone accompany him but it was not like that. He took his 30 and praise (I dream of such things!) as if nothing had happened, then he approached me … and he told me: “Here I am …” We went out, he invited me to have breakfast with him. He spoke little, he was formal, I didn’t know what to do, I felt a little uncomfortable, he didn’t show any emotion. I didn’t know what to do. I told him he was nice and I was happy that the exam was fine … the dialogue was very slow, at the limit of the impossible. After two hours we took the subway but he was going much farther than me. I was upset a lot. So the next day I see him and we spend two hours together, two strange hours but not two hours wasted, he didn’t leave, neither I, even if there was talk just about nothing … in short, we went on like this for some days, now the fact of seeing each other and talking a little bit became an obvious thing. I said to myself: “If I don’t break ice myself we get bogged down here.” So one day, after a few generic conversation, I told him that I had to tell him something important and that I wanted some privacy, we left the university and I told him: “Listen … I have to tell you that I’m gay”. He doesn’t upset at all, he tells me that he had already understood it and that the thing is not a problem for him, but the answer that I wanted from him was not that … and then I ask him the direct question: “Are you gay?” … He only tells me “Yes” and doesn’t add a word, he is absolutely peaceful in saying it … then I insist: “And … if I had fallen in love with you?” … and he begins a very strange speech, he tells me that he is not in love with me, then he asks me what does it mean to fall in love … and I don’t know what to say … we keep on talking … then he tells me that it’s evident that I love him but he thinks he doesn’t love me, he tells me that he doesn’t believe in love. I take courage and I tell him that I really want him on a sexual level, in saying it I fear his reaction … he replies that he wants me too but this has nothing to do with love and that what he feels is not love but only selfishness, because really of me as a person he doesn’t care at all … he tells me that he will never make love with me because he doesn’t want to play with feelings … he is upset, very upset … I propose to him to take a ride in the car, he accepts … We go out of town, I don’t know what to do, he doesn’t speak. I make a risky gesture, I take his hand, the first physical contact with Chicco. I, who was never afraid of anything, with him felt embarrassed, upset … he waits a few seconds, obviously doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t withdraw his hand, doesn’t retract it but doesn’t even tighten mine … tens of seconds pass like a nightmare, then finally he shakes my hand and hugs it very close to almost hurting me … then starts crying and says that he will never succeed to love me really. I take a handkerchief, wipe away his tears and he shows me  slightly a smile or better a half smile … I feel him very close but I don’t have the courage to kiss him. We remain silent in the car for a very long time without looking at each other, hand in hand. Sometimes he hugs me tightly. Then he says to me: “Take me back home, I’m fine now, but I don’t want to deceive you”. I raise his hand and kiss it, he lets it go, now the magic moment seems over, I start the engine and bring him home. He greets me giving me a very light caress on the hand, he had never done such a thing … then he tells me. “With me you have to be very patient … please don’t abandon me …” He got out of the car, I did the same, he didn’t expect it, I hugged him very tightly and lifted him off the ground, I made him just do a round of 360° without letting him touch the ground, then I kissed him. He was crying! Our story begun like this! 

Well, I resume from where I left before … One who hears this story up  to that moment what does he think? He thinks that the following day they go to bed together! … But no! Do you know what he does? … – and come on, I’m telling you soon … – he goes into crisis, but just in a crazy way, and doesn’t even tell me anything … just abruptly disappears! I call him on his cell phone and he doesn’t answer me, I send him a lot of text messages and he doesn’t answer me. I send him 20 e-mails a day and he doesn’t answer me … he made me feel really bad this (omissis), it’s better for me to forget it! In short, he was seized by a crisis of conscience … exactly! It’s not that he didn’t feel attracted, maybe if he had not felt attracted, perhaps repressing himself could have been something thinkable … No! He felt attracted to me … but he just couldn’t bear this fact – “I gay? It’s impossible! … yes, a fantasy happens … but only that … ” – … Let’s say that maybe he had also got used to the idea that he liked the guys … but in his own way! … – Yes … and come on! – … He looked at guys and thought about them … thought a lot about them! Did you understand!?… that is,… but who is the gay guy who if he sees a guy whom he likes, in the end, does not masturbate fantasizing above him? … But he does not! He never did it! … or almost never … when he did it, it seemed to him that he had killed someone … he went to confession, told the priest only that he had masturbated … but that he was thinking of a guy he didn’t tell him anything at all … So, when it happened to him, the thing died there … because they were all fancy stuff … but I was there … well, for all the time we counted down to the exams, in the library, he was looking at me, but not so much, he had put in his mind that the love he felt for me he did not have to dirty it with sex! … That’s it! … in short, he for the entire period we had spent together, if I can say so, before the story of the hug out of the car, they would have been twenty days at least, he had never masturbated thinking of me! Yes, it is! … I instead … obviously … I was always there … but he thought that doing the same he could offend me, he thought that masturbating thinking of me meant that he didn’t love me … and other stupidities like that! Oh well I didn’t even know it … and how could such a thing have crossed my mind … Now I tell you what happened … because he would never tell you himself … the evening of the hug he came back home and masturbated thinking of me! … And he liked it as well! … and then … – he told me about it, and he was serious … – he felt like a dishonest … he didn’t feel worthy of me … damn it, if he knew what I did! … Anyway … I went under his house … day and night! … I thought of everything … that he had had an accident … maybe that his parents had seen us from the window … but I would never have thought things like they really were … He makes me wait under his house two days and two whole nights … – then he told me he saw me from behind a window and he knew I was there – … well, on the third day he felt sorry for me … he said: “If I don’t do something … I find him embalmed here below “… in short, he went down the street … I was in the car in the cold, half-frozen … he knocks on the glass and makes me sign that he wants to get in the car … it didn’t seem true to me … I thought: “He has taken his decision!” … I was upset a bit from sleep, a bit from the cold but also from happiness … He sits, serious, I would have beaten him … and tells me all the things I told you before. I thought, “Is he really out of mind or is he pretending? But this guy must be sent by some serious psychologist!” He went on to tell me what he had to tell, with the face of one who would be buried by shame and never looked at my face, I don’t say a smile, for heaven’s sake. I said to myself: “What am I doing here with this guy? … and I was under his house two days and two nights! … But I send him instantly to get fucked …! “. And I said to him: “Listen to me, I don’t really care about all these stupid things, come get out and go away!” But he didn’t want to go out and I was getting angry badly! At that moment I would have beaten him … but he started crying and completely turned the omelette, he told me that he would do anything for me, that he felt stupid, and so on … then tells me that if I wanted to, he could make love with me as well immediately. And do you know what I told him? “My dear, but you are crazy! … so, later, if you throw yourself under the train, the fault is also mine!”… He felt uncomfortable, he was crying desperately … then I started the engine and we went for a ride. I swear to you, I didn’t know what to do, I would never have wanted one like him, but he had glued to me and I liked such a situation … you know, you say: “I’ll wean this guy … he has never been with anyone”… in short, it’s not a small thing … Oh, well, we go out of town, I didn’t know what to do … No! … seriously! I thought: “This one I violate him!” … but not for me, just for him! Look, I really thought so … but, well, given the type, the reaction a little scared me … But I wanted him to melt a little … In short, we were all day around … He was happy! … and well! … and then he tells me: “I’m happy because you didn’t try other things!” … then he looked at me and told me: “Don’t be angry … today I was fine …” and he even fleshed me a smile, that when he smiles … well … in short , it was worth it … So I asked him: “Do you feel attracted to me?” He began to answer philosophical things and I told him. “No! Wait up! … I want to know if you feel attracted to me sexually … ” He became red like a pepper and said: ” … even sexually … yes “… then I told him: “So then today you have to masturbate thinking of me … ” He reacted very badly to my final comment, not for the thing itself but because he thought I was making fun of him, his eyes were red and he told me: “You cannot understand these things … you don’t have to tease me I’m making a terrible effort to adapt to you and you don’t even understand it!” I apologized in the most sincere way and I felt as if I had betrayed him. He told me: “The excuses are not necessary … I know that you love me.” At that moment I thought: “I really love this guy! I’ll dedicate all my life to him!” I wanted to ask him something about his life, I wanted to understand something more than those things “that I could not understand” but it was not the moment … He had understood that I loved him but I didn’t know if he would give me another date, I did not know whether to ask him, I was afraid to go too fast … by now I would have adapted to its rhythms anyway … In short … all the way up to his house I wondered how I should have said bye, that is at what level … in short, if I could take his hand or I could caress him. When we arrived under his house I felt frozen … he made a gesture that I never expected, he took my right hand in his and kissed it … then he said: “See you tomorrow at university … ” and told me not to get out of the car.

The other time we had finished with the afternoon spent in the car when he had given me the appointment at the university … In short, you  have understood who Chicco is … The next day I go at the university … well, I expected him to melt completely, that is, I don’t say too much, but I waited at least a bit of complicity, I honestly wanted a lot more … I thought: “Chicco is melting and then I can enjoy him properly!” Oh! Nothing absurd eh! I love Chicco … but a tender thing, oh well, I knew it was impossible, but you know, fantasy sometimes came back and then I wondered if he would have masturbate thinking of me, I said to myself: “Certainly not!” But then the brain was always there again and again! He was so ashamed, yes … but in the end it’s not that it takes a lot, and I imagined that while I was doing it he did it too and then we did it together … for me being in love with Frederick was like that … that is,  how can you fall in love with a guy without  thinking of him in terms of sex? … No! It’s impossible! … Well now these were only my fantasies … from him, given the type, I didn’t know what to expect – Chicco, it is useless for you to make me sign to shut up and become red! … if we have to tell him everything we must tell things how they really are – Okay … I wait for him at the end of the lesson and he dodges me, I follow him wagging my tail and he pretends not to see me … I insist and put a hand on his shoulder and he looks at me as if he wanted to electrocute me, I withdraw my hand … but I don’t give up and he goes to the parking lot, he has the car there, makes me sign to get in the car and starts one of his rants, says that it was all a mistake, that he thought about it, that he doesn’t want to make me suffer because in any case he can never fall in love with anyone, he apologizes a hundred times and tells me that our story has no future. Apparently it seems determined, I’m embarrassed. I tell him: “Give me a serious reason, just one!” He doesn’t know what to say, he repeats that he doesn’t feel it but in the speech he sometimes lets himself go to flashes about his life that doesn’t seem casual and escaped by distraction, they are things desired and often told with a visible embarrassment, that is the speech that he tries to do is serious and he commits himself very strongly. While I’m talking, I look at him and he stares at the empty space in front of him. He tells me that he’s very religious and that for him to feel at peace with his own conscience is fundamental, then he adds a whole story about the fact that he knows very well the positions of the church on gays “and he accepts them!” … Yes, you understood correctly: he accepts them! … so he said! … I said to myself: “What does this guy say? But I choke him!” But he had prepared his little speech accurately and he was acting everything to me … just like a well packaged script … Oh … I liked Chicco and a lot … but when one plays such a scene, you give him up! You certainly cannot become crazy with him … What had I to do? Two plus two is four and I say that I’m sorry for everything that happened and I open the door to go down. He turns to me and says: “No! Please! Please! Don’t go!” I closed the door and told him: ” Listen Frederick … but you’re telling me that I have to go!” He tells me it’s not true, he doesn’t want me to leave but he doesn’t even want a good friendship like ours to be ruined by “other things” … Other things?! … At that moment he made me angry but he made me feel sorry too, I saw that he was holding back in a frightening way, almost raped himself to self-control, we were at the university parking lot, and in the morning and there were people, but I had the precise feeling that if we were alone and I had kissed him he would abandon himself completely … but it could not be done. I didn’t know what to do … I made him talk … but he said a lot of stupid things that in the end I couldn’t bear anymore and I told him. “Frederick, you didn’t understand anything about life!” And he looked at me, red eyes, little tear, and told me: “I think you’re right … I would like to live like you … but I can’t do it, I just can’t.” We sent to hell all the morning and afternoon lessons and we left the city, two sandwiches and something to drink and then always talking and we talked about sex, he told me that the day before he had masturbated again thinking of me and then he hadn’t felt guilty. Because for him, after masturbation, you “must” feel guilty! I told him that I had masturbated too, imagining that we did it at the same time and I told him that I had fantasized about the fact that we could do it together and he replied that it was a beautiful thought and that the same evening he would masturbate thinking of me and dreaming of doing it with me. I would not have dreamed of something like this from Frederick neither after twenty years of gay marriage! I was upset … in the morning he tells me that he has the scruples of conscience and in the afternoon he gives me speeches like that. I say to myself: “What am I doing? Have I to try?” In the end I take his hand, first he lets me do it but does not participate, then shakes my hand, caressing it. My hand is dry and warm, his is cold and wet, almost insensibly I try to feel the pulse: it is very frequent, he’s anxious. I think I’m doing well and I say to him: “Frederick, come on, now I’ll take you home”, he looks at me upset: “But why? What did I do? … I’m letting myself go now but it costs me a lot … we’re here, please … don’t bring me home … I want to be with you … Please Sandro, don’t freeze me like that! If it’s necessary, insist on me, I’m not used to these things but I want them, I swear I want them and I don’t want to ruin everything … I don’t want to ruin everything … hug me, please, hug me! Why don’t you do that? Why don’t you understand that I need it?” We sat in the back seat of the car and I hugged him tightly, I didn’t even think about kissing him. I held him to me and my Chicco trembled, trembled and chattered his teeth, he didn’t say a word. I was shocked, I had my adventures but I had never seen a guy who had a physical need to be embraced by me as violent as that of Frederick. He was stressed out. I caressed his hair but I didn’t kiss him. After a few minutes I looked him in the eyes and I said: “Chicco … I love you!” He told me: “Now, if you want, we can go.” We passed on the front seats and I drove to his house, he told me that he had feared that I would refuse him and that he loved me because I had understood that he needed time. I told him: “Only for this?” And he replied: “For this even more!” Every so often while I was driving I passed my hand through his hair and he said to me: “Come on, come on … don’t do that.” but he said it with a very sweet voice … Along the way I asked him a thousand times how he was and he said:” Good! Sandro, good!” Then I ventured a more difficult speech, I told him: “I have to tell you something … I’m embarrassed a lot but I have to tell you … when we hugged, I wanted you … I went really hard, I thought I couldn’t hold it back.” He told me: “Yes, I noticed … “. I ask him the explicit question: “Does it bother you?”. He replies: “No … it happened to me too …” … Chicco, but you don’t say anything? – “And what have I to say? You have already said everything … but I’ve got a fear … that if this story ends up on the internet I can be considered just like a total imbecile … anyway I’d like to know how the readers of our story will take it, they should be all gays … Wow! That is bad! … well, but I think that nobody will read it!
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Hi Project,

I don’t know if you are a real person or a group of people, I will do as if you were a person. Meanwhile, thank you for creating the blog, but I must tell you now that gay things for me have a strange taste, I’m quite full of complexes about these things and even now, as an old man, I’m upset by a lot of strange and absurd thoughts. I don’t know if I’m really gay, I don’t even know if I want to be gay, I’m sure that in the things of sex I lived the life of a pathological case, a neurotic man who never managed to find his balance. That said, you certainly didn’t understand anything, so it’s worth it to tell you what happened. I would like you to put my story on the blog, but if you don’t want it I can understand you. In any case I would like to receive your answer.

I was born in Northern Italy, in Veneto, and then there was really hunger in those places. My parents were farmers and I was the only surviving child. My older brother had died in the war and after the elementary school in the country, my parents had to decide whether to send me to the middle school (with Latin and aimed at the continuation of studies) or to the job placement school (allowing immediate access to work without continuing education). My parents had little money but they made a huge effort to send me to the middle school, to make me study and give me more possibilities. I thank them for this because my economic tranquility of today is the result of their choice.

I did the first and second class of the middle school in a town near my country. I had to get up very early in the morning to get the bus, my mother washed and stretched my shirt every day, because I only had two shirts and at school I had to go well dressed, she also polished my shoes, dad lined my books and made me find good things to eat, which were chestnuts or figs, according to the season. There was the Latin in the middle school and for me it was a big obstacle, but there was the parish priest, Don Antony, who gave me lessons in the afternoon and had me do all my homework. The other guys in my classroom were all from rich or at least middle-class families, but then I didn’t realize it. When there were meetings with the professors Don Antony went there instead of my parents, and I didn’t understand why, but my parents didn’t show up for fear of making me look bad, because they didn’t speak Italian well and their hands were ruined by the work in the country side. My dad had only finished elementary school and my mother hadn’t even finished it.

Despite everything, at school I did not have serious problems of adaptation, the professors were very demanding but I had a certain desire to study and with the help of Don Antony, who had half a mind to send me, later, in the seminar, I managed to I pass quite well.

In the summer of 57 I lost both my parents because of a typhoid fever that the doctor couldn’t cure and I found myself, at 13, practically alone in the world. I was entrusted to a brother of my mother, Uncle Battista, who lived in a small village in the mountains and had the animals in a mountain pasture. If I went to stay with Uncle Battista, who was also old, widower, and had no children, I could not continue to study. The uncle told me that I could either go to the seminary in Vicenza or go to boarding school in Rome, in a school that Don Antony knew. I didn’t want to go to the seminary absolutely and chose to go to Rome, where I had never been. They signed me to school and Uncle Battista took charge of paying the fee, which should not have been so low, because I would have eaten and slept in that boarding school.

Don Antony accompanied me to Rome and introduced me to the Rector of the school, to tell the truth a little shabby, but clean, it was a convent of friars, there was the church, but there were few friars, no more than seven or eight, all old. The boarding school was run by the prefect friar, who was hardly ever seen, all the internal organization was entrusted to young people, university students, whom we called little prefects, they were guys who were in college without paying because in practice they were working with us, paying attention to us, they were the ones who followed us during the hours of study and they made us do our homework, they watched us in the afternoon, during meals, and at night they slept in their small rooms, one next to each dormitory, to control the discipline. In general, they didn’t care so much about us because they had a lot to study for their university exams.

I was new in the boarding school, my comrades had known each other for two years. The school was not bad, all professors were laymen, basically retired teachers of state schools, they were all old but good and they spent their souls to make us learn things. I still remember some professors. The professor of mathematics to which I owe my interest in this subject, in which I was very good, the professor of Italian and Latin who told us the stories of Iliad and Odyssey reciting as in the theater and also the gym teacher who practically made us do premilitary gymnastics, as at the time of fascism. The first days I was fine and I wrote it to Don Antony, who sent me a letter every week, but as early as mid-October I began to see strange things.

There were some boys who disappeared from the study hall and no one knew where they ended up and then they came back half an hour later, I was totally naïve at that time, I didn’t know anything about sex, I had not yet discovered masturbation and they could tell me anything that I would have believed it. The other boys, who didn’t know me, tended to put me aside and keep me out of their secrets, but it did not take me long to realize that in the boarding school there was an invisible, underground life.

For an internal rule, the dorms were distinguished by years of school, so as to keep the children of different ages separate. We saw the students of the sixth and seventh grade only at breakfast, at lunch, at dinner and on special occasions, for example in church, but the recreation was done for separate groups, so in practice I could only get familiar with the boys of the eighth grade.

At the time I was a nice guy for my age, but I was very delicate and very polite. After the first weeks of school one of the boys, one of the most respected little bosses, began to call me “man-woman” and to make jokes that at first I didn’t even understand, like; “You are a man, not your sister!” Then the idea that I was the man-woman began to spread among all my comrades.

One day, during the hours of study, one of the boys approached the little prefect for an explanation of mathematics, the little prefect told him that he was studying letters and that if he wanted to, he could go to another little prefect who was studying engineering in his room. The boy came back to the study room after about half an hour all blushed and disheveled, it was there that I had the first suspicion that the half hours of absence of some boys were not dedicated to receive school explanations. But it was only an impression, I said nothing and everything went on as before.

One evening, before going to sleep, when the little prefect was not there, the little bully boss, who was called Silvan, approached me and gave me a caress and then put his hands in the middle of my legs and said: “it’s just to see if you’re a man or a woman!” I felt my face burn, I wanted to go to the little prefect to report it but Silvan told me: “Go go! So he also will give you a good check!” And laughed.

Over time they told me that one of the little prefects, the one of engineering, in practice the one of our dorm, had sex with the boys of the eighth grade. With me he never tried such things because I didn’t give him confidence, but according to the stories of others, with those who gave him rope he let himself go right. He was a nice guy, I wanted, maybe, that it happened with me, but at the same time I was afraid and nothing happened.

The first really bad things happened to me just before Christmas holidays. The boys were abandoned to themselves, the little prefects were almost all gone for Christmas holidays, except our little prefect, the one of engineering. I make it short because, even if so many years have passed, such things cause me a little repulsion. In short, four guys block me on the bed, they lower my trousers and pants, and Silvan tries to penetrate me, let’s say he makes the move, I scream, but they put a handkerchief in my mouth and then they are four guys and I don’t have the strength to oppose. There was no penetration but the humiliation was terrible. Silvan told me: “Now you understand what will happen to you if you don’t do everything we want!” At that moment, if I could I would have killed him.

After that I keep them at a distance, I show myself as little as possible, but things cannot go on like this. If I had not done anything I would have become the laughing stock of Sivan and his gang and the violence would have been repeated.

I think about it a lot, but in the end I have no other solutions, I take the courage in my hands and I go to talk with our little prefect (the one of engineering), who listens to me, he’s frightened above all by the idea that I go to speak with the Rector, and it’s evident, he tries to reassure me and then we come to a compromise that I never expected from him but that, at the same time, put me safe and exposed me to the worst insults from my classmates. In practice, the prefect would have slept in my dormitory bed and I in his, in his locked room. This whole thing happened, obviously without the true prefect of the college knowing anything about it and the boys had to tolerate everything, if they had not done so, what they had done to me would come out. Then, to keep quiet my comrades, who would kill me, I ended up accepting that the little prefect would come to sleep in his little room too. Of course, afterwards, my comrades considered me just as a whore.

About the engineering little prefect I heard the worst things: that he undressed the boys, was competing with them to see who had the biggest dick and used to beat them to get sexual performances and similar things and some guys swore it was true and that it had happened to them, but the little prefect, with me had never tried such things.

One day, while I was in his room I start to rummage and between the mattress and the bed base I find a package with some letters, I read them, they are directed to a guy but they are love letters and also hot. I think then that all my comrades say about him is true and I start to be afraid.

And here I did something I’m still ashamed of today, I told one of my comrades about the little prefect’s letters, and he tried to push me to steal the letters to have him in hand and maybe to take them secretly to the Rector. I didn’t do this thing, it seemed infamous and then I liked the little prefect and I didn’t want him to be fired or maybe I wanted to have him in my hand. But now another boy knew about the letters and soon everyone would know and the letters would have been stolen by others, then I entered the little prefect’s room, I took them, and I hid them somewhere else (in church).

When the little prefect came back I said I had to talk to him and I told him that the boys knew about his letters, I saw him paling at that thought, but I also told him that I had made the letters disappear and that they were hidden in a safe place, where no one would find them. He wanted them back but I didn’t give them to him and I told him I had read them. He looked at me petrified but I told him that he had nothing to fear because he had behaved well with me, then I told him about all the things I had heard about him and asked him if they were true. He admitted having done some sex games with the boys but only consensual things and he swore it to me. I told him about what Silvan and his gang had done to me and he told me that they didn’t do it for sex but only to inflict a terrible humiliation on another boy, and then he asked me if I liked guys, I thought about it and I honestly replied that I didn’t know it and he told me: What a pity! Then he realized that he had said something stupid and apologized and after many hesitations asked me where the letters were and I told him but I asked him to leave them there because they were safe, maybe he could go and see that there they really were, but I wanted him to leave them there and he did so.

The story of the little prefect however ended badly and perhaps it was my fault. The boy to whom I had talked about the letters, went to report the matter to the Rector. The little prefect denied everything, I was called as a witness, I swore the false and said that my comrade had invented everything. The facts were not proven, but the Rector didn’t want to know reasons and the little prefect was kicked out, or rather removed for reasons of opportunity, a few months before his graduation exams. Before he left, he secretly took up the letters and warned me that he had taken them.

The new prefect was an emeritus imbecile. In the last months before the exams I suffered from the gang of Silvan harassment and violence of all kinds, and this time, since they had to avenge on me that I had been the “favorite of the fag” I really suffered sexual violence by Silvan and another boy. [- omissis -] The feeling of repulsion was total, I will not tell you how I felt after, I still carry inside myself the memory of that scene because that was not sex but only violence like the beasts and even worse. My classmates were 14 years old and in the end I cannot hate them or wish them death, because they didn’t even understand what they were doing.

In short, afterwards I was obsessed with those memories for decades and my sex life was ruined. The memory of the little prefect instead was positive, then I understood: he was really a gay guy, and I liked him well, he had not behaved like an asshole, but the idea that I could be gay just because of the violent initiation I suffered, ruined my life. I’m not married and I don’t have a partner, I’m alone, and absurd as it seems, gay sex seems repugnant to me, but I don’t know, don’t really know, if this happens because of the violence suffered, but I think so.

Anyone who uses sexual violence on another person kills that person inside, kills the dignity, the certainties of that person, dirties his/her sexuality forever. The boys should receive a serious education and learn the true respect of others, but unfortunately, even if fifty years have passed, we are still very far from all this.

Thanks Project, at least I vented a bit.


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Hi Project,

I am a normal gay guy 25 years old (recently) but, I say immediately I have never had sexual intercourses with anyone, neither with a girl nor with a guy. Nevertheless I feel a very strong sexual attraction, there are guys to whom I tried to make it clear that I was interested in them, but obviously or they were not gay, or, if they were, they were not interested in me. So I’ve not even had a real emotional relationship with a guy.

All my sex life, since I was 14, is dominated by pornography. When I was very young I spent hours and hours watching porn videos online, sometimes I stayed up all night for this, I had a collection of sites that I visited often, practically every day. Masturbation had become at the same time my only pleasure and my obsession, I masturbated two or three times every day, then I thought I was a pathological case because I did not have a girlfriend and masturbated so much on gay videos.

Time has passed, a lot of psychological complexes don’t even exist anymore, that is, I don’t have problems for my desires, I try to realize them and that’s it. Pornography always dominates the picture but now I use it a lot more selectively, there are some actors that I like a lot and also some content that doesn’t attract me at all, like anal penetration. I have nothing against those who practice it and consider it pleasant, but frankly such things never went through my head, it seems strange to me that I find it everywhere, in practice in all gay videos. Perhaps this is another anomaly of mine.

Six months ago a new adventure began. I, who had never crossed the entrance of a swimming pool or a of gym because I was afraid of getting excited and having to run away literally with my tail between my legs, I began to go to the pool three times a week just to stay in a sporting environment all masculine in which nudity was a common sight.

In fact, when I go to the swimming pool, in the changing rooms and in the showers I always see so many guys completely naked, even if the environment has something erotic just for me. I see clearly that for others the thing is totally indifferent. So many guys stay naked in the locker room for a very long time, they chat with others and even with me completely naked, they come closer, because for them all this doesn’t create any problem. They do not even feel embarrassed for a half erection or an almost complete one. Everything is covered by an atmosphere of male solidarity that for them has nothing erotic.

I don’t know if it makes sense to go to the pool for the reasons why I go there, but I really like to go there, it is in practice the only opportunity to get sexually excited without using pornography, watching real guys, and some are really very nice. I chose the times of my attendance so I can meet the guys I like the most.

But there is a situation that affects me a lot, sometimes I hear the guys talking to each other, they talk about work, study and even about their girls, well, they don’t seem at all conditioned by sex like me, for them their girlfriends are a bit the other half of their lives, not an eminently sexual interest, for them sex is not an obsession, or so it seems. I would very much like to talk to these guys but I never do, because sooner or later they would ask me about my girlfriend and I should answer by telling a lie.

Then there is another half obsession that I carry with me every time a new guy arrives and is to imagine how he has it (you understand what), I try to imagine it and at the same time I try in every way to see that guy naked to verify if I had guessed. I’ll look like a maniac, Project, but the association of a beautiful body with a nice (you understand what) seems to me the best. However, often, beautiful guys, those with a superlative physique, from that particular point of view are not really so beautiful. Obviously all these images and these situations stored in my brain, when I come back home, become material to fantasize about during my endless masturbations.

Project, I want to stress that I’m not bad about all these things, maybe it happened years ago, but today it doesn’t happen anymore, I know that my life is this, maybe there will be sooner or later a guy in my life, I hope so but I’m not sure, but for many years still the pool will certainly be there. I fantasize often about those guys, about what we could do together, even if I know very well that nothing like that will ever happen.

In particular I like one called Alex, or for friends Al, I build on him a lot of mental novels, or rather of novels full of sex. I imagine that we are lovers, that we are accomplices and that he has fallen in love with me, I dream of having him with me in my bedroom, I dream of undressing him off while he wants to get undressed and encourages me, I get excited even now just thinking about it, because he’s beautiful, I dream that we embrace each other naked and touch each other everywhere and each of us holds the (you understand what) of the other in his hand and then you can imagine the rest. It is now three weeks that these scenes accompany all or almost all my masturbations.

If I could have Al I would not look for anyone else. And the crucial point is that I don’t have a generic physical idea of him, I know everything about him, but really everything: I know how he has it (you understand what), but also how he gets a hard on and in what situations, I know where he has a small mole, right in a very intimate place, in short I know everything about how he’s made physically, only he’s not in love with me but with his girlfriend … and for me there are only the fantasies and the beautiful images that I bring with me printed indelibly in my brain.

Once he and another guy made a sexual joke to another guy, one of their friends, they were all naked and the scene was beautiful, they laughed and played just like children, with the utmost naturalness. I guess I’ll never forget that scene!

Is all this normal, Project? Is it normal for a guy 25 y. o. to do what I do? Will I ever meet a guy like Al who can truly fall in love with me? I’m not a beautiful guy, but I’m not bad either, the trouble is that only girls fall in love with me and some of them try to involve me in a very provocative way. Maybe I take refuge in the pool to escape from the siege of the girls, who take for granted that I should fall in love with them.

Now I leave you. If you send me your skype contact, we can talk a bit.



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Hi Project,
I arrived at the forum through a link in one of your blogs. I congratulate you, because it is a very well done forum and there are many answers that cannot be found elsewhere. It is a pity that search engines don’t index it properly. I saw that the blog in Italian, however, is very indexed, but for someone who doesn’t speak Italian, having a blog in English would be very important. Insist and try to move on, sooner or later you will succeed, at least I hope so.
Now I come to the reason for this mail. First of all you will ask me why an email (and a timed email address) and not a post on the forum. The answer to me seems almost obvious. I want to preserve my privacy as much as possible and I need to understand how things really work before trusting you.
I am almost twenty-three years old, I am a student of scientific disciplines in a large university in a city in Northern Europe, where I live. In my university there are also gay associations, the climate for gays openly out is rather favorable, but my problem is that I’m not out and I don’t want to come out because this would create some problems in my family (and not only) or maybe more than some problem would cause me some embarrassment. I know many gays who came out; here, in fact, coming out is not a problem, with several of those guys I get along very well but I would look for my way of being gay and soon you will understand why.
The university gay associations are quite serious and I have nothing against these things, but, there, sexuality becomes a social fact, a topic of conversation, something that must be shared and there are inevitably standards that I don’t fully recognize. I try to explain myself better, I don’t fall in love with my peers but with adult men, my classmates consider me hetero because with them I have classic friendships like those between straight guys, because my university colleagues don’t attract me sexually, while some of my professors are also a sexual interest for me and obviously a similar speech, in a gay university association, would sound rather strange. I did a little investigation among the gay guys I know and there is not even one who has interests similar to mine, so I preferred to leave aside gay university associations.
Needless to say, I feel very lonely, partly because I cannot talk to anyone about my true life. And then I stand aside and avoid getting involved directly. I study a lot, I have good results, but unfortunately I don’t have an affective-sexual life, I live only with fantasies and projections.
Last year I was included in a group of six students, coordinated by a forty-year-old professor who is not only very good but also beautiful. Sometimes we were in the laboratory for four hours at a time. Once we put on an experiment that was supposed to last for six days in a row and had to be monitored without interruption, day and night. My five colleagues only came in the morning, I offered to stay there and monitor the experiment and, in practice, I stayed in the Institute a week in a row, day and night. The professor often came in the afternoon and sometimes even stayed until after midnight. For me, seeing him was a real happiness, we talked almost exclusively about the experiment, I proposed a change and tried to explain the reasons for it, and he listened to me with the greatest attention and then decided to put into practice that change and this made me immensely pleased. The last two nights, he came to the laboratory and brought dinner for him and me and we had dinner together. At the end of the experiment he asked me to do a small publication with him to describe the experiment and its results. He told me that we would work together for three days and that it would not be a big deal.
The publication of the article with my name after that of the professor created a terrible situation of embarrassment with my colleagues who considered me an opportunist and a social climber, but in fact they too could participate in a much more concrete way to the management of the experiment.
My relationship with the professor was excellent, but obviously, as far as I was concerned, it was not just a collaboration of study and research, I had fallen in love with the professor, even though I did not know anything about him. He is not married, I certainly know that. He is often around both in Europe and in the USA. I saw him always go around alone, but I don’t know much more. With me he was perfectly at ease, but also very professional. In the many hours spent together we only talked about the experiment, there was never even a nod to the private life. Now the period of the research group is over, sometimes I see the professor going up and down the stairs of the Institute, sometimes I go to greet him in his office and a couple of times he also invited me to lunch at the cafeteria of the Institute, but there was never anything that went only one inch outside the perimeter of the professional relationship. On social networks he doesn’t have a profile, I have his email, but it’s the official one of the university. I don’t know what to do, Project, I’m in love with him but I’m afraid of making trouble. 
Very sincerely I think that he completely removed the emotional life and now has devoted himself totally to the science, but I have the vague feeling that science is just a way to avoid thinking. I have a vague feeling that he is gay and, despite all his ostentatious professionalism, I think that I’m also a great temptation for him. I had this feeling several times, I could not even tell you a specific reason that drives me to think so, but some small smiles, some sentences started one way and ended in another, too long pauses and certain ways of looking away, made me think a lot. Do I have to take the first step or I have to wait to be out of the university, if I ever get out of it, to do a peer-to-peer talk with him? I believe that something similar to what happens to me happens to him, but roles are reversed. I am too young for him according to the “standard model” and he is too old for me, but the standard model does not always have to be valid. There are many things that that model does not explain. 
Of course, at university a professor cannot be compromised with a student, because it would actually be too risky, and a student cannot declare his love to a professor.
Sometimes I’m tempted to risk everything and I think I could win my bet in the end, but I don’t want to put him in embarrassing situations. That’s why I keep going on like this. On the threshold of a relationship that could be beautiful, and in my opinion it is not only an abstract hypothesis, but we both lack the courage to take the first step without return, both for opportunity and above all for the fear of being answered with a refusal. It’s my first love and I’m afraid of burning everything in a hurry. Now you can understand how I feel and what I can experience. I dream of my teacher every night, but I don’t dream of him in the chair but in my bed, this has now become a kind of obsession … What should I do, Project? Has it ever happened to you to see situations similar to mine? If you think it is appropriate, please publish the email, because it is quite neutral. 
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