And That's Just Sad

It was tough for me growing up. Both of my parents were very strict. Yet they would send me out to play and tell me not to come home until it was time for dinner.

It was hard trying to make friends. The few I had never wanted to come over and play at my house. And I was never invited to play at their homes.

While my few friends were having sleepovers I was at home by myself playing with my train set and matchbox cars until I learned to read. Then I would read and listen to the local top 40 on AM radio. Thought this was fun until I would hear my friends laughing as they told of all the fun they had had sleeping over at Bobby's house or Sammy's house. Soon I knew I was missing out.

Baseball was my favorite sport so when I was sent out to play I would take my glove with me to the school yard. There were always enough for a pickup game and when the game was over or you just got tired of playing, the playground was close and always fun no matter how tired and worn out you felt.

As middle school began I noticed that when family and or friends were over at our house the adults did not shoo me away to play with the younger kids. I was old enough to sit with the adults.

Just listening I found out that my mother loved game shows, quilting, helping with the church socials and had serious issues with the neighbor across the street.

My Uncle Billy loved my favorite baseball team, the Chicago Cubs. Guess that is how I became such a big fan. I remember he gave me a baseball autographed by the whole Cubs team one year for Christmas. He also loved hunting, fishing, and drinking with friends at the Pub And Ale on Friday nights.

Dad always seemed to get on Uncle Billy for being single. He was afraid everyone would think Uncle Billy was gay and dad let it be known that he was one hundred percent anti gay. One day I heard them talking rather heatedly about the subject. I guess because there was going to be a gay pride parade downtown come the weekend. My dad actually told my uncle that if he ever found out that I was gay I would no longer be his son and no longer welcome in the house.That stuck in my head and I became kind of parnoid and afraid to become too friendly with any boys.

I found myself keeping my sistance from the boys compounding my issue of difficulty making friends. The girls seemed to be drawn tp the ppular boys of which I was not a member of that club. Found myself doing things I would never have though of doing just to try and impress the girls.

By ninth grade the 'leash' my parents had on me seemed to get shorter. Even though my grades were still above average no matter what I did there was never a "good job" or "I am proud of you".

These were the same years that my escape added writing along with reading and the local top 40 songs. The characters in my stories all had a better more exciting life than mine.

Another event in ninth grade, the only boy that seemed to want to be friends with me shocked me out of the blue one day. His exact words were "I think I might be gay but not for the sex." Needless to say this added to my paranoia. Why did this boy decide to tell me his secret.

From that moment on I tried my best to avoid him. I was terrified that if anyone found out he was gay and I was his friend, they would assume I was gay also. Then if my dad got wind of it he would kick me out of the house. Then what would I do.

There was nobody who I felt I could talk to about this. I noticed several of the girls I had been trying to impress were spending a lot of time with this boy. That really had me confused. If he was gay why hang around with he girls.

Getting pretty frustrated by all my confusion I decided I would try to talk to my uncl about all of thisw the next time he visited. That opportunity came two weeks later when he came over for a cookout. Mom had also invited some of the neighbors and felt she needed more ot dogs and buns. She sent Uncle Billy to the store and I went along.

It seemed to surprise him with the questions I asked. He stumbled over a couple trying to answer. Then I came right out and asked him.

"Uncle Billy. Are you gay?"

Why it mattered I do not know but I was glad he said no. He explained that it was not easy being single these days. Anytime you go somewhere or do anything with a male friend people seemed to treat you like you were gay. He added that life had been much easier when the gays had minded their own business instead of pushing themselves onto the doorsteps of the world.

Thus I was left to struggle through my high school days, still no real friends, no sports, no clubs. I was determined that after graduation I would go to college if for no other reason than to get away from home.

Needless to say I had chosen and been accepted to a college halfway across the country. Dad was not happy because the cost was more than any schools in out state. But I had saved my money from my job. It had been the only thing I had been allowed to do outside of our house.

They gave me s small party, mostly family. There were a few gifts but most just gave money.

Come September I was packed and ready to go. When the taxi arrived to take me to the bus station I finally got "the talk".

"Well, son. I suppose you know where babies come from by now. So if it's not love, wear a glove," and he shook my hand. Mom on the other hand gave me a bug hug.

Getting out from under the iron fist was quite a relief. I was determined to make friends, join in activities and play sports.

I arrived at the dorm before my roommate so I was settled in and reading when he arrived. As I watched him make his bed I realized this would be like my first sleepover.

Joe seemed to be the exact opposite of me. He was very outgoing and after hearing all about my bleak existance he told me he would help me make up for those years. And he did.

Classes soon began and seemed pretty easy. Ourfirst exam came on a Friday. That night Joe, who I now considered to be the best friend I had ever had, decided to take me out drinking to celebrate.

This was all new to me so after a few drinks I was pretty wasted. Joe helped me back to the dorm and out of my clothes. Then I watched through bleary eyes as he undressed. I was surprised when he undressed completely before crawling into bed.

In the morning Joe was still asleep when I awoke but he had kicked his covers off. I just lay there looking. A strange feeling that we might be more than just friends and roommates came over me. These thoughts brought back to my mind the harsh words my father had for anyone who was gay and how he felt if his son ever came out as gay.

If all these crazy thoughts about Joe meant I might even have one gay bone then I guess I could never go home anymore. And that's just sad.