AfterMARK

Returning from Canada, I knew that things had to change.  I couldn’t go around feeling ashamed or  sorry for myself or feeling like I’d be alone for the rest of my life.  That said, I was returning to a more judgmental place and any adjustment would be gradual. 

Even two months after it was over, my life still seemed to revolve around Mark.  My every action, it seemed, was a reaction to his absences.  Following my trip, though, I returned aware that changes needed to be made. 

I was going to meet people.  I was going to date.  I was going to make friends going through the same situation (aside from me and Cole). 

Part 1: A Friend

Returning to work, Stacia noticed that I was in better spirits.  After the breakup, she could spot the disappointment on me like Oprah can spot a good book.  Upon my return, my account of the adventure at work focused mostly upon the scenery and the research. 

Pulling me aside, she pointed out the change in my disposition.  “You’re looking refreshed. Any Canadian lovin’ I need to know about?” She was delighted by my boldness in obtaining Marcelo, the flight attendant’s, phone number and my moment in Eric’s arms.  “You have the makings of a playa’!”

I was really amused by her comment.  The only gay boys I knew at school were entirely unappealing.  They fit every stereotype I was trying to escape.  They seemed to get upset over every little issue and whine about their lot in life to an unbearable degree.  They had no idea what I was going through.

Then it hit me.  I’m being a total hypocrite.  I want a world of acceptance and love yet I can’t bring myself to give one of these guys a chance.  I was going to give someone a chance.  Someone safe that I could confide in.  Someone who could save me from the consuming loneliness that I faced on a daily basis. 

One day Jack walked into my office.  He had a nerdy vibe, a high-pitched voice, and that sarcastic, witty way about him.  A slight ping in the gaydar went off.  I think he’s gay, but not too gay.  Sure enough, after a wee bit of facebook stalking, it was clear that he was safe to approach (“interested in men” is a pretty big clue). 

When an opportune time arose, I used my beat around the bush tactics to make a connection and get to the subject.  I started:

Jack, I noticed your status update yesterday (when I was making some changes to the department profile on Facebook) and it struck me-- Geez, that's exactly how I feel right now. You see, I'm going through a pretty bad break-up and it's killing me.

Despite his gruffly sarcastic exterior, he proved himself sensitive and gracious as he sent me a considerate reply:

It's always nice to feel like you have someone who will listen, someone that can at least agree and say "Yes, I get it", even if they can't fix the problem. I'm glad that you at least felt like you could message me. I'm sorry it ended badly. You will find someone better who actually deserves you. Chin up! If you ever need someone to talk to, don't hesitate to ask.

What better response could a guy in my position ask for?  Someone was ready to listen to me and take care of me.  Not long after that, we were texting and hanging out. 

It had become just what I’d wanted when things got complicated.

End, Part 1

Note: Whoever can explain the title of this series first can ask me any question they’d like.  I’ll answer as I deem appropriate (via email or an actual post).

The Experiment, Part 9

The Destination

The next day, I had a lot on my mind.

There was, of course, the kiss. What did it mean? Was it a good thing or a bad thing? A sign of moving on or weakness?

Then, there was the whole question of Eric. He’d asked if he could take me to my last dinner in Canada. It was clear that he wanted to be a friend, but what did that mean?

And finally, what did returning home mean? I’d had the trip of a lifetime and experimented with my very identity. This was a direction I intended to keep going in life. Despite the residual heartache of breaking up with Mark, I knew I was in a better place in life. As the trip came to an end, I knew I had to bring part of that satisfaction back to my everyday life in Utah.

It was a misty, gloomy day. A day that the morning fog rolled in and dropped anchor. I spent my time walking around the city alone. It provided me more time to explore while visiting the last museums on my itinerary. These were my last glimpses of history and culture before I made my way home. My mind weighed very little on the matters of my thesis and research, constantly jumping back to what life would be like in less than twenty-four hours. How could I take part of this life back with me? Being satisfied? Being open and happy?

I met up with Eric after the museums had closed and he’d finished his shift at work. We’d both had a good day, but a lot was on our minds. Making our way from the dorm towards the waterfront we stopped at the Economy Shoe Shop Restaurant.

“So what’s on your mind, GMB? What time are you leaving tomorrow?

“4 am,” I said in disgust.

“You’re probably better off staying up all night then. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I knew I was going to see my family and friends so soon.”

“That’s my plan, but for other reasons. I’m paranoid of missing the flight and sleeping through my alarm.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll keep you company. We can just chat all night.”

A few hours later, we were in my dorm room sitting on the floor next to each other. We pulled out my laptop and shared pictures of our exes. He opened up about his breakdown after Alan’s infidelity and I revealed that I was afraid I’d never feel the same again.

“You won’t,” Eric said. “Your first is always your first. You’ll meet somebody different, but feel just as good. Someday.”

It was one of those moments in which irony trailed behind the words as he spoke them and they reached our ears. It was time for both of us to move on.

We spent the next hours holding each other until the airport shuttle called. We ended the night with a single, tender kiss.

It was a goodbye. It was a thank you. It was joy.

It was an answer I pondered on the taxi and on the plane back into Salt Lake:

This is who you are and you have nothing to be ashamed of.

End of series.

The Experiment, Part 8

The Taste

Just as in my experience at the pub, the bar proved to be nothing intimidating. I was an alien to this culture and it seemed that being in this world of drinking and not being of it was more than possible. It was perhaps one of the most satisfying nights of my trip. Eric and Geri told me the stories about their breakups, their triumphs, their screw-ups, and their social lives.

It was the first time I felt like part of a group of gay friends. I had Cole, but branching out any further than that seemed too risky. What would people think if they knew?

“Time for your initiation,” Eric said as he and Geri pulled me towards the exit. “You’re going to your first gay club.”

“Reflections is pretty tame. It has a young crowd and we’ll keep you out of trouble.”

Eric paid my cover as he leaned over and whispered, “You’re fresh meat. All of the guys are going to be all over you if you don’t stick with me or Geri. It’s probably best we act like a couple tonight.”

Sure enough, as I walked in I was struck by two things: First, the atmosphere was breathtaking. It was just what I’d expected. Exciting, flashing lights. A packed dance floor. Loud, remixed music. And second, as I entered the room, I felt the piercing stares of thirty men interested in a new face.

Sensing my anxiety and my exhilaration, Eric and Geri flanked me on our way to the bar. “Two bottles of water,” Eric said. “One’s yours. Don’t be so nervous. We’re here for you.”

We all stood there for a bit, scanning the crowd. They took turns pointing out the deviants.

“That’s The Scotsman. He’s always after Geri even though he’s not interested.”

“Yeah. Definitely not interested. Oh, and that’s Alex, the Craigslist Cowboy.

“I’d advise you to steer clear of that one,” Eric chuckled.

Geri excused himself to go dance. “Are you sure you don’t want to join me?”

“I’ll save the actual dancing for next time,” I responded. “Thanks for sticking with me, Eric. It’s all so new.”

We made our way upstairs to watch the dance floor and get a little space for a nice conversation. Acting the faux couple, he put his arm around me and I sat on his lap. He explained parliamentary politics and Canadian history as I told him about my mission, my research, and life back home.

As 3 am approached, he offered to walk me back to the dorms I was staying at. Midway back, I realized we were still holding hands. We stopped at some stairs in front of a church as the conversation waxed more personal.

“You know, GMB, you fascinate me. If I grew up in Utah, I think I’d be screwed up, but you’re so level-headed. You deserve a medal or something. I say you apply for refugee status and find a nice boy here.”

I blushed.

“May I kiss you?”

I was deeply conflicted. This was a special moment. We had connected on a deep level, but was it too soon?

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said. “It’s so soon.”

“I understand.” He opened up a lot about Alan (his last boyfriend) now in Europe. I opened up more about Mark and what the trip had been like up to and including my breakdown.

“Are you sure a kiss wouldn’t help?” he asked.

It’s worth a try and he’s a good guy. It can’t hurt. I leaned in.

It was a rush of emotions. The warmth on my lips was relieving and wonderful in so many ways, but tinged somehow with the taste of betrayal. Had I made a mistake?

End, Part 8

The Experiment, Part 7

The Canucks

There I was in the big city. Not only would I have no one to please or appearances to keep. I would have a world of urban opportunities open to me. Museums, public transportation, night life, etc.

These last couple of days were going to be casual. None of my plans were pressing or quite as directly related to my research topic, so I had some time to go out and have fun. But what did fun mean without social expectations? Where was I going to find this fun?

To answer that question, I went to the desk at the place I was staying and started up a conversation with the guy at the desk. Eric was tall, pretty masculine looking, and really confident. I asked about the campus and if anything was going on since it was summer. A few events came up and then we started talking about me and home.

“Yeah. Utah’s a pretty boring place. There’s a lot of outdoor stuff, but it’s a kind of suffocating atmosphere.”

“What do you mean, GMB?”

“It’s bland. Very little diversity. It’s nice to be somewhere different.”

“Makes sense.”

Our conversation was interrupted. A cute young man with dark features, a prominent nose, and a winning smile appeared at the door.

“Hey, Geri. This is GMB. He’s here a couple of days from Utah.”

“Nice to meet you, GMB”

The second he opened his mouth, I thought He’s so gay…. Score!

“What are you up to tonight?” Eric asked.” We’ve got to do something. It’s Friday.

“I don’t know,” said Geri. “Maybe a movie?”

“Anything but Mamma Mia. My moms said it wasn’t very good. Plus, I don’t think I can stand a musical tonight.”

Moms? I thought. This definitely isn’t Utah.

“You just had a bad experience when you were dating Mark.”

“Mark?” I said, “That’s my ex’s name.” (It was the easiest coming out ever).

“When you came through that door for the first time,” Eric said, “I turned to the girl with me at the desk and said ‘He’s either gay or American.’ Little did I know you’d turn out to be both!” We all had a good laugh.

“Why don’t you join us?” Geri suggested.

I wasn’t about to pass up the invitation of two seasoned gay boys. I had so much I wanted to learn and experience. They, too, had questions about the gay life in Utah at dinner.

“You’re honestly telling me you’re a virgin? You don’t smoke, you’ve never drank, and you’ve never even been to a gay club? That’s it. We’re going to Reflections tonight after we hit the bar. We have to get this boy educated,” Eric said.

“I don’t know,” Geri said. “Is this really something you’d want to do, GMB? You’re new meat and the guys will be all over you.”

“Why not? Everyone needs a first time.”

“Okay,” he said, “we’ll flank you so nobody assaults you.”

“Tonight, we’re your decoy dates. Whenever somebody tries to hit on you, one of us will be there to help.”

A few minutes later, we made our way to The Lower Deck, a bar on the waterfront. I got inline and showed my ID for the first time ever. After a brief holdup (my ID's didn’t look like the pre-mission me at all), we made our way inside. It was just like the movies.

I found the cacophony of loud conversations scattered across the bar hall oddly mystifying. Friends of twenty years or more gathered for a conversation in the corner. Four forty-somethings on a double date. The performing band’s spouses sitting together scoping the crowds reactions.

Geri and Eric got in line to order drinks.

“Enjoying yourself?” Geri asked.

“It’s crazy. I love it.”

“I’d offer you a pint, but I know you don’t.”

Seeing a friend, he excused himself and went off to chat after I asked him where the bathrooms were. I came and returned.

“Hey, Eric. I’m ba—”

Just then, a random woman interrupted us. “Hey, handsome. What are you doing tonight?” she asked, grabbing my butt for a feel.

I was in shock. Was this what sexual harassment felt like?

Eric quickly came over, grabbed my hand and kissed me on the cheek. “Great, hun, we’re almost to the front of the line.”

The woman apologized profusely. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry!… You two are so cute together.” Eric and I kept a straight face until she was out of sight and we busted up.

Leaning over to me, he whispered, “I bet that never happens in Utah!”

End, Part 7.