Monday, 23 July 2012

Ramblings: Admiring the View


There are certain lines which men say which mean that you should not attend the first, second, third or, in fact, any date at all. You should actually just block them on-line, erase their numbers and move house to avoid them.

These lines are things like a) I’m still very close to my ex partner and we spend a lot of time together b) I still live with my ex-partner c) I still live with my mother and we’re incredibly close d) I have a collection of Beany Babies/Leaded Crystal/trophies from past victims.

The line I didn’t heed the warning of was: “I still live with my wife and children but she knows I’m gay.” It was the late 1990s. I was much more naive then.

Of course she does. She’s fine with you being gay, you live as friends. No, better than that. You live as brother and sister. She doesn’t mind you going on dates with men, has helped by giving you tips on advanced blow job technique and is even willing to help you choose your best cock ring before a night out. That’s why he was so keen to arrange a date in a small town thirty minutes drive away. It was because it was “picturesque”. Nothing to do with it being a long way from his wife and children and colleagues.

I knew he was lying but he seemed nice enough, so I took it all at face value. We met in a deserted street where I had to hide till he arrived and he picked me up in his car. We drove the required distance away from his real life and landed up in a small pub where we ate and chatted. He was well dressed, exquisitely scented and not bad looking if you squinted slightly. He didn’t drink as he was allergic to alcohol (easy explanation for alcoholism, perhaps?) so I made up for it and knocked back a few vodkas. It helped.

He was a bit pompous but there was something quite sweet and vulnerable about him too. I was later to realise that the vulnerability was the guilt of the married man indulging in homo-sex which was about to lead to a full on break down.

We strolled a little and then we got in the car to drive home. It had been a pleasant evening and on the way back I was pleased when he announced that he knew a lovely vantage point we could drive to where you got amazing views of the surrounding hills and valleys. He drove us down a narrow country track which I enjoyed. I remember a startled deer running in front of the car, turning to look at us face on in the dark. Of course, the pitch darkness was where his plan revealed its transparency. How could you view things in the dark? There was only one thing he wanted me to look at. We stopped and naturally I had a look.

After it was over he cried. This became a pattern on the three further occasions that I saw him. Maybe it’s a theme of the married man guilt thing. The penis rules the brain telling it to do bad things then once it’s sated its evil desires you’re left bereft and stricken. Who knows?

It’s sad that gay men still get married in this day and age but who can blame them for it? It’s not always easy to come to terms with being gay. It’s even worse though, that they tell their wives tall tales and their conquests even taller ones. Still, the view from the beauty spot was pretty good, even if we never even left the car. It’s just a shame he hadn’t actually asked for a few tips from his wife.

I bumped into him a few years later. He was now out, loud and proud, wearing his newly acquired open gayness like a huge shiny badge. He’d had a complete breakdown a few months after I’d met him and had had to reassemble his life (as had his poor wife and kids, I imagine). He seemed an OK bloke, in the end. People make mistakes.

2 comments:

bipolarbear said...

I'm glad he got out in the end. Sometimes situations like that don't end so well.

C said...

Yep, me too. He was a nice enough bloke.