Charlie loves Bobby

I’ve spoken to many friends and acquaintances about what they remember most when they fell in love for the first time. Many sat with me and recounted particular moments in the greatest of detail. Often bringing one or both of us to tears. I was delighted to find a few spontaneously admitted to feeling something that has made me feel so foolish, for so long. 

The one person who’s spontaneous utterance struck me the deepest came from a gay man in his 60’s who has been committed to his partner Dennis for the past 28 years. I have been a good friend with them both for more 10 those 28 years. They are a fucking institution to myself and everyone else we know. They do not even have singular identities. It’s always Tommy & Dennis. “Hey! Have you spoken to Tommy & Dennis lately?” or “I wonder what Tommy & Dennis would do in this situation?”

I suppose that’s why I was so taken aback as I sat on the beach with Tommy & Dennis as Tommy recounted his first love for me. It happened to him at age 14 and ended painfully. It would take 16 years and a man by the name of Dennis to make it “bearable, not better but bearable.” Those where Tommy’s words and I asked him what he meant.

HE SAID:
“Don’t misunderstand me, I love Dennis dearly. But I will never love anyone or anything as much as I loved my schoolmate Matthew so many years ago. So kiddo! If you’re looking to find someone that will make you feel exactly the way this Bobby of yours did, stop looking.”

I have always felt comfort in Tommy & Dennis. I was 29-years old when I met them and it seemed a fitting term of endearment that the call me Kiddo. I’m almost 38-years old now and they still do it. I love them so immensely.

I have vowed to them both, that I will find the partner who will make whatever feeling’s that I have for Bobby bearable, not better, but bearable. The first step is to share the story of my youthful love affair that I have kept secret for so long. I felt foolish for not being able to let go of feelings for someone who made me feel such incredible love and so alive. 

Of the forty something stories that I was fortunate enough to hear, many could recall the year, the month, and even the day of the week. I’m not sure why I can recall the exact time, but I do. It was 3:17 p.m. on June 28, 1979. The school year had just ended and summer vacation was just getting started. I was 14-years old and I spotted a boy washing a car in the alley behind our house. I knew, or felt as if I knew him. I just could not remember his name or where we could’ve possibly have met before today. 

I was new to the neighborhood and had only lived on that street for a few weeks. I was looking for some new friends, even a new best friend. I would be starting at a new high school and I’d know not a single person. So time was of the essence.

I walked over and introduced myself. I studied him carefully and tried as hard as I could to get his name to come to my mind. He was shirtless and covered with freckles from front to back. I watched the muscles in his back flex and relax as he moved that sponge around in circles across the surface of the car. 

He seemed to be less then interested with our conversation until I mentioned that I was new to the area and was looking to meet new friends. He stopped what he was doing and flashed a smile that was so familiar. I would just die if he remembered my name before I could remember his.

We hit it off right from the start. No, not like that. I mean as friends and dare I say, best friends. I was so blind to what was happening to me. I had always thought that love struck me like lightning, so suddenly and unexpected. But just like in a thunderstorm you’ll see a flash of lighting. You know that the crash of thunder is coming and as much as you prepare, it still surprises you when it finally arrives. 

Our friendship was different from any other that I have ever had with a boy. We acted towards each other in a way that we didn’t with others. We also knew that this was not to be done where others could see, but we never spoke of it in that context. One of the first memories of this was how we’d sit at a lunch table with a few guys. Some days would be next to each other and others would be across from each other. But one day I felt a tap and I tapped back. On the days we’d sit side-by-side, we move one leg in the direction of the other until contact. I can’t even describe the feeling that would wash over my body when he’d do this.

Soon we could hardly wait to get to one or the other’s house after school as quickly as possible. Usually based on whose parents would be home latest. This was our time to be alone and as close as we wanted to be. We’d lie on the floor listening to music and one of us would rest his head on the other chest. God! We had to be the most pathetic, closet cases in the world. To this day, I am not sure why we still couldn’t get past this awkward point with as open we where to each other. I did not know of two boys who had access to each other locker combinations. Not to mention the notes that where often left behind.

In those semesters where we shared very few classes, I’d often find as well as leave notes for my buddy. I still have all of the notes that he left for me and with each one they became more bold and unambiguous. They would often contain a j/k (just kidding) after any overt affection and always, always remained unsigned or signed by Y.K.W (you know who) just incase they where discovered. I remember the one note from him that touched me so deeply that I almost started to cry as I read it in my next class. I remember how my heart would pound as I unfolded them. This one was special.

“Got Mrs. Hughes for English Lit. You? I hope you have a nice day. Stop smiling sissy; people might be looking at you. Save the smiles for me. I’ll wait for you by the tennis courts. See you at 3:15 xoxoxo j/k but maybe not? Bye. Y.K.W” 

I guess what made this note special was how it was almost like he was there saying all of those wonderful things to me. I smiled so wide the instant that I read “I hope you have a nice day” Then he wrote, “Stop smiling sissy, people might be looking.” I stopped and looked around. It scared me because he was right and I could often be careless. I hoped he wasn’t mad and I got my answer “Save the smiles for me.” I wanted to run to his class. I wanted to know about the X’s & O’s. I saw the j/k after it but I also say the “maybe not?” 

We walked home that day from school and I somehow new that we where going to stop making a joke out of all of the things that made us feel good. Today it would be my house where we’d cuddle which meant I would lay my head on his chest. But I didn’t want to do it like usual. I remember mumbling something about it being a long day. I just rolled over and for the first time I set the left side of my face right on the center of his chest. On pure instinct, my right hand just reached up and hooked onto the top of his right shoulder. God! I was so frightened for those first few seconds. I didn’t know what I’d do if he asked what I was doing. 

But then I felt his right hand rubbing slowly up and down the length of my back. He was always so brave like that. I just moved my thumb a little as it was on his shoulder. I did that to let him know that I liked it. I like it a lot. I was saying in my mind all of the things that I still couldn’t say out loud. I became so fucking sad by this. I hated myself for not having the courage like he did. I would convince myself that all of it was just my imagination thinking that it would protect me, it didn’t.

Even then as I listened to his heart pound and his hand caress me. I was screaming at the top of my lungs, inside of the safety of my head where I would be heard by nobody but myself. “I love you Bobby. Do you know that? Can you hear me? You’re right here and I am so afraid that you’ll think I’m a queer for saying that I love. But I do love you. I love you more then anything in the world but I’m too afraid to say it. Can’t you see that? I can’t take that chance Bobby! Just tell me that you love me too and I swear I’ll say it back.

But you won’t say it, will you? I hoped you would have said it by now. Why must I be so foolish? You’re not like me. I’m just a stupid little faggot who loves you like a girl is supposed to. Can you believe that for a moment I actually thought that someone as beautiful as you could actually love a little queer like me? Foolish boy!

I jumped up so fast. “I have to go home,” I said. I didn’t want to give him time to speak but I had to put my shoes back on.

“Wait! What’s wrong? Are you crying?

“I’m okay! Let’s go to the movies tomorrow okay.”

“Okay! Yes sure but why are you crying? Is it because…”? 

“It’s because I’m a big fat chicken and I get sad when I can’t put words together to say things”

“I know! but sometimes you just know things. I hope you know what I’m talking about because I think that I know what is making you cry. Please don’t cry Charlie. Don’t be mad at me.”

“What! No! No! I’m not mad at you. Oh God! Never think that I’m mad at you. I’m crying because you make me happy. I’m mad at me because I’m too chicken to say that I...I could never be mad you! Don’t you see that Bobby, I…I’m…”

“I know you are, I am too, but I thought you knew that Charlie? I’m not afraid to say it! Watch! Charlie I”

“WAIT! WAIT! Me first. I LOVE YOU BOBBY! I swear on my life that I love you.”

“Come here! I love you too Charlie. I thought you’d know that? Please don’t cry anymore. It’s killing me.”

I’ll skip the details of this part of the story until Bobby and I are a little older. Just know that we did what we though was making love. We hugged and kissed and other things that where then beautiful and innocent. Today it would simply be considered mutual masturbation. But on that day, in the minds of these two loving humans, that was love at it’s finest. Not once, but twice!