June 1992

Sometimes I miss Maggie.

Nick and I went to the Music Box for the Animation Festival. It was very political. Afterward, we had a nice long conversation on his hardwood floor as we ate cheese and crackers and drank vodka-tonics. I found out that he's twenty-five. 'There's a lot about you I like, Nick. You listen and ask to know more.' "Yes, it's got its sexual aspect." Then we had great sex on his huge brass bed. He's so different in bed than he is in class. It was so exciting. I let myself be taken. I shivered. "Are you cold?" he asked. 'No.' He pulled out a bottle of poppers. I was comfortable with him. We took a shower together in candlelight. When we were back in bed we couldn't keep our hands off each other. He slipped inside me without a condom a couple times, but for a short while. We had sex in positions I could have never imagined. I rode him. Then we tried sixty-nine. It was exciting and passionate. I spent the night.

Woke up to clouds and rain. Drove home feeling sick and guilty. I wondered how it was that I could be affected so deeply. We were two beautiful human beings, I shouldn't have to fight society every move I make. I just want to live my life.

Brandon's dad Tom gave me a safer-sex pamphlet.

Tom told me about the gay farm in Tennessee where he vacations once or twice a year. He goes there to get away from Chicago and rides horses bareback, showers outside, walks around in the nude.

Reality has been difficult lately. Not so good at being who I am.

America, you're so funny.

Santi called early in the morning. I was sleepy and didn't stay on the line for long. It sounded like he wanted to discuss something. He just asked, "Do you feel o.k. with what happened with us?" I said I did. I've been blowing off friends. Suddenly I'm on the outside, the other side.

Marcelo and I went to a leather bar. It wasn't very crowded or shocking. We picked up a couple young fags and went to the Manhole. In the car I made out with one of the guys we picked up. He was trashed. At the Manhole I exchanged looks with a really hot man. He responded. When I noticed that I was out of cigarettes and pretended to be shocked he smiled and walked up to me, opened his own pack and pulled out a joint. We went for a walk. His name was Thomas, he was thirty-four. We sat on a patch of grass and talked. He was masculine. We laughed a lot. I went home with him. We took his dog for a walk and talked further. He said that he's French-Canadian by blood but that he was adopted and raised by Irish parents. As he spoke I knew that he was everything I wanted. I was uncomfortable about being so much younger than him, but he didn't seem to mind it much. He joked about it. We went to bed together. No sex, but lots of other stuff. He sucked on my toes, which felt startling and wonderful. He was so hot, his voice so deep and raspy. It felt so good to be touched and taken by another human being.

Woke up in the morning to more magical kisses. We watched TV and couldn't keep our hands off each other, moaned, sighed, grunted. I wondered all day if I'd ever see him again. We laughed, got high. I almost loved him. Never wanted to leave. Emil, be careful, I told myself. We showered. His body isn't perfect, but neither is mine. He drove me to my car and gave me a roach. Now I need to stop thinking about him.

I hope he calls. Is it true that people forget pain?

Who said being young is wonderful? Santi stopped by in the afternoon. I stood in my boxers. He wants me. Thomas had said, "The next time you see the apartment it'll be different." But I know that words are sometimes just said, not meant. He won't call. I know it.

Hugged dad, kissed him, and apologized. Marcelo invited me over for pizza- stuffed spinach and broccoli. He went to the Manhole last night and got laid. No anal sex. I'm finally realizing that there's so much more one can do in bed, safer things. Thomas was a one-night stand, wasn't he?

I'm dwelling, I know, but I want him to call. I can't wait to see him, to fall into his arms sick and needy. Thinking about him makes my heart a lost organ in space! Nick hasn't called either. Did he just want to screw me? I guess I don't mind it terribly. I went to Villa, the Persian restaurant on Clark to meet my brother and cousins but they'd already left. As I was walking by Clark's on Clark two men said something to me. So, jokingly I asked them to buy me a beer. And they did. We chatted. They were nice. Of course they made a few silly remarks about my age. I hate that! We went to a couple other bars. They were funny and made me laugh a lot. One man was Turkish. The other kissed me goodnight, on the cheek.

Went to The Theater On The Lake with Brandon and Tom. Tom and I shared a blanket and I wished he would touch me. He didn't. I'm young and naïve. I want to be touched! Afterward, I went to Touché to meet Marcelo. While waiting for him I sat at the bar and sipped a Rolling Rock. I was freaking out that I was sitting alone in a gay bar in Chicago. Marcelo finally came and we went to Vortex and danced.

I gave dad a card for Father's Day knowing he deserves so much more. I love you, dad, though you're drunk right now sitting there on the couch. My fear: That I'll grow into a man who never forgave himself for being his father's son. Nick called. If only Thomas would.

We sell fudge at the shop. A woman came in and rather guiltily tried to buy some. As she fished through her purse for money I could tell that she was struggling with dieting. 'Don't do it. Don't buy it,' I told her. She looked up at me, stopped digging for change, thanked me, and ran out. The poor woman was screaming for help!

It's foolish of me to expect anything from Thomas.

But why? Why is it foolish? We had a great time. Maybe I thought it meant something when to him I am just a boy for pleasure. If he doesn't call tomorrow I'm calling him. I just had a wonderful orgasm. Thought about Santi, Nick, and Thomas. You spend your whole childhood secretly fantasizing about men and waking only to deny it, then one day you find you're in the reality of it. I think homosexuality is more special than it is dirty or sinful. It's unfortunate that it's been put down all through time. That's the tragedy of it all, I guess. Nothing's painless. Bought "Tender Is The Night" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Read the introduction. I hope to be a literary genius someday.

Bought an Everything But The Girl CD. I called Thomas. He sounded preoccupied. It was short. The doorbell rang, or something, and he said, "Call me later." I never did. I never will. I was just a pickup. I mean nothing more. Dad and I had a screaming fight. I hit Bell because I couldn't hit dad. I go crazy. I apologized to Bell later. I should have never touched him. Dad said he loves me but he'll never have anything to do with my being gay. But I want more and told him that he can't love me if he doesn't want to know me for all that I am. It's too bad things have to be this way. I guess I'm not terribly upset. I've prepared for this a long time. I always knew my family would not accept me. In the middle of our fight I turned to Bell and asked, 'Do I make any sense?' He understood and nodded. But I won't give up. Things might change. Santi called late. I was tired. Upset. He talked dirty. I asked him to stop. He wouldn't stop, and carried on about his cock and my mouth. Then he laughed. I wasn't amused. He got more personal, asked if things have been hot, if I've been having sex. "Have you been with anyone after me?" 'Yes.' "Who?" 'Is that any of your business?' He didn't answer. Silence. Then, "I'm gonna go, Emil!" 'Well, is it?' I raised my voice. How dare he put me in such an uncomfortable position? We hung up. Fuck you, Robert!

Suicide? No! I need independence, education. Thank God I didn't have anal sex with him. What's his name?

The night before Pride. Marcelo and I went to Roscoe's where I had Long Island Ice Tea. Ran into so many people we knew. Just before the bar closed Marcelo and I tangoed and waltzed, he lifted me over his shoulders and I posed clumsily. It was wonderful. I love Marcelo dearly. We actually talked about summer of '89 when I first met him through Maggie. We had ended up having oral sex in a car. He now mentioned that he's always felt bad about that because he had wanted to be a positive role model. 'Marcelo, I never knew that. That's the sweetest thing ever.' We laughed amidst the gay world where the men can be so adorable.

My first Pride Parade. It was wonderful. Afterward we met others at Park West to see The Beautiful South. Bryan leaned in during the concert and whispered that I should be up there on stage. I was too tired to be flattered.

What if a doctor gets a hold of my journal? I can hear him now, "Yup, look here, and here. He definitely shows signs of being mad!"