The Nonconformist
by Ken Cohen
Chapter 18
Alan
They met with Marvin Kingman on August 8. Nothing had come of the lawyer's discussions with the insurance company. They needed to authorize the lawyers to sue for $600,000 plus interest and costs. Though there was no real alternative, it would be the most significant and unsettling financial decision of their lives.
Barbara was clearly uncomfortable and had asked about the possibility of settling on the terms the insurer was willing to offer: $300,000. She was discouraged by the prospect of a protracted, expensive lawsuit without a guaranteed result. Mr. Kingman explained why he believed they could do a lot better. She remained unconvinced.
Danny sensed that her uncertainty was mixed with anger. He spoke to her softly. "Mommy, I know this isn't easy. Think of it as business. If you bought a new appliance at Eatons and a week later it broke, you'd return it and get your money back. You wouldn't be willing to settle for half what you paid when you clearly did nothing wrong, and Eatons wouldn't even suggest such a thing. So look at this the same way. You're as angry about it as I am, deep inside. Daddy worked hard to pay their premiums for almost two years. They were happy to take his money. Let's show them we're not afraid of their lies, which is what they are. You kind of understand?"
"Alright, I see what you mean. If you're thinking that way, I'll go along. I'm mostly concerned with you and Mary here. The money isn't a big deal for me, but you and she are just starting out so I understand your thinking. And you're right, they're trying to screw us, no question about it."
Danny raised his eyebrows. He'd never known her to use language like that. There was definitely resentment bottled up inside her.
They signed the papers. The lawsuit would be issued at the court office and served on the insurance company within a month. Then they would wait to see what the defence would be about.
Diary, August 22, 1968. A year ago today my dad died. I miss him so much, yet I hardly knew him. I guess mom knew him, but even that I'm not sure of.
Mom still goes through the motions some days. She doesn't talk about him much, but I know she longs for him. The nights can't be easy for her. Sometimes she's still up at midnight watching Johnny Carson.
When I came home from work today, Mary was comforting mom. I took mom in my arms. She looked at me as though seeing me for the first time. Mom made dinner. We talked about dad. She likes to remember him when he was young back in the air force days.
She leaves me alone nowadays. Hasn't criticized me since the accident. No sarcasm, none of those nasty little comments.
She finally will start teaching in September at a primary school just a couple miles from here. Grade 3. She's nervous, anxious, and excited. Hope it works out for her.
I'm nearly 19. University starts in a couple weeks. Time only goes forward. We can't take back what happened, time never stops. Our days really are numbered, and who knows when his number will be up? I guess that's an interesting part of the challenge.
At least I'm not in Vietnam. What those poor kids on both sides go through, can't imagine it. Angry old men sending their children to kill each other.
It was Labour Day weekend. Danny would start university in a few days. It was a year since he had in short order lost both his father and what seemed to remain of his relationship with Kenny.
An hour before sunset on Sunday evening, he drove downtown to a park called Allan Gardens adjacent to several neighbourhoods, mostly small old homes east of the city's core.
He needed someone to hold him, maybe remind him he was a good human being worth knowing and loving. Console him, perhaps, for he sometimes thought he must still be in mourning for the two losses.
And he couldn't remain celibate forever. The endless loneliness was coupled with a yearning for human touch. His coming to this odd place to seek solace was driven by deep-seated despair and a lack of any apparent alternative.
Where could he find such a person in this city? There were no mating rituals for men, few acceptable gathering places. Finding illicit love in a city park seemed like a futile resort for sad, lonely men with desperate needs.
He walked into the park humming an old tune he couldn't place. Where is love? Does it fall from skies above?
He wore a purple nylon shell windbreaker because he thought of purple as a homo colour and secret code. A few months before his dad died, he asked his parents to let him repaint his bedroom in light mauve. Barbara said, "What's the matter with you? Purple is a girl's colour." You might have thought he had personally insulted her, the way she sneered the words. He didn't know why he picked that colour, he just liked it, or believed he did. That was the extent of his home decorating education.
So he picked a purple jacket to wear as a secret sign to other guys he might encounter.
He only knew about Allan Gardens from a one sentence blurb he'd found months earlier in the back pages of the Toronto Star, where a selection of minor crimes were each summarized every day in a few lines. This one was about some unfortunate man named Gordon Smith, aged 46 of Hanford St., Toronto, arrested in Allan Gardens and charged with "gross indecency."
He wondered what became of Gordon Smith.
That must be where to find someone like himself, someone grossly indecent. He was nearly 19. He could read between the lines now. And finally understood that in the human world, despite the way his own mind worked, some things are not always spelled out clearly. Where to find male company might sometimes be apparent from those back page bits.
He also knew what he didn't want, namely, contact with the fuzz. For the unwary man, contact with the officers of the Toronto police force was a hazard if you sought sexual contact with other males. Not only did he read about Gordon Smith. There had been reports of other men arrested at places such as "International Steambath" and "St. Charles Tavern," downtown.
And he'd read what happened to Everett Klippert, an "incurable" homosexual man sentenced to indefinite preventive detention (in effect, life in prison) as a dangerous sex offender. Convicted of "gross indecency," he spent a couple years in prison, and then a few years later told police in western Canada that he regularly had sexual relations with other men and didn't see anything wrong with it. That unsolicited acknowledgment earned him a life sentence which was upheld by the Supreme Court of Canada. Canada is a democracy, this is what the people demand.
So, be careful, Danny reminded himself. Those officers of the law were taught that crime enforcement includes maintaining moral standards. The morals squad were the judges of those standards. They kept busy enforcing the laws against prostitution, sex between men, and "gross indecency." Enforcement included regularly setting traps for unwary lonely guys looking for male companionship in bars, parks and other tawdry spots.
The rank and file of the Toronto police were mostly young and middle-aged white men who grew up in the dusty dull provincial Toronto of the Depression, war and early post-war years. Their actions reflected the views of the force's senior officers, city officials and the majority of voters. Toronto the Good, the city had once been called. As his dad once described it, "on any Sunday morning you could safely fire a cannon down Yonge Street (the city's central north-south artery) without hitting anything except maybe an unfortunate stray drunk sleeping one off from the night before."
That evening, Danny worked up his courage and sat on a park bench in Allan Gardens, wearing his purple windbreaker, hoping to get picked up. He was lonely, scared and passive. He dared not take any initiative, since he feared propositioning an undercover cop. He imagined the scenario: University student, 19, arrested in Allan Gardens for indecently propositioning police officer. Expelled from school for immoral behaviour. Law-abiding citizens demand his removal as a threat to their children.
He looked at no one. After a while, a heavy young guy approached.
"Hi there, do you have a light?"
The man had no cigarette Danny could see. What did he need "a light" for? Was this the police in disguise? Police aren't fat, are they? There might be a code in the question. He didn't want to say no.
So he replied, "I smoke but I don't have a light."
The guy said, "Are you sexy?"
"Yeah."
"Do you want to come to my place?"
Smile at him. "Sure."
"What's your name?"
"Danny."
"Hi, I'm Tim. Just follow me." He started walking and Danny followed.
It had seemed like a positive coded reply: "I smoke but don't have a light." He thought he'd figured out what the guy was implying when he asked his question. Danny's literal mind was learning. Hmm. That was easy, he thought, as he followed submissively behind big Tim. But… he's not at all attractive. Don't want to offend him, but why am I going with him?
He stopped. "Um, excuse me. I'm sorry. I changed my mind, I don't want to go."
Tim didn't make a big deal about it, he seemed to understand. But before he said goodbye, he told Danny about a place, a "bathhouse" some blocks away in an old neighbourhood on the other side of town, with lots of guys he might find interesting, and it was safer than Allan Gardens. Then he walked away.
Danny walked around in the park. What's a grossly indecent act, anyway, he wondered? Sounds so vague. A judge could decide someone scratching his balls was grossly indecent, and maybe he'd be right, depends on the context. Yeah, right. He could ask the lawyer his mom hired to sue the insurance company, but no, better not. Asking Mr. Kingman a question about gross indecency would surely get back to her and Uncle Lewis.
The contact with Tim that evening was enough adventure for Danny. He felt a little discouraged after his fear-inhibited fruitless "hunt," but also felt relieved after his first ever brush with actual danger. He walked back to his car and drove home. No known perverts lurking in suburbia, it's where decent people live, the land of plain vanilla sex. Feeling lonely, he arrived home, locked the front door behind him, and went straight to his bedroom.
It was early March, 1969.
University had felt dull since it began last fall. First year seemed no more difficult than grade 13 had been. Political science, economics, anthropology, English and Latin. Just another year with a heavy workload. The subject matter was different but seemed straightforward.
Spring came early. With the snows of February melting fast, Toronto was now a sodden, barren city awaiting the return of the natural world. The detritus of winter coated the ground with speckles of dirt and scattered bits of discarded litter sticking to every damp surface.
He was back in Allan Gardens, seated again on a park bench.
He had bought a pack of Du Maurier cigarettes and matches. Like the radio jingle said,
Smoke Du Maurier, for real smoking pleasure, Du Maurier, the cigarette of good taste.
So went that sucky little song they'd been running on the radio for years advertising those cancer sticks, one of which he now actually stuck in his mouth, lit, sucked on and inhaled. The amazing thing was, after a couple of inhales and a few coughs, his inhibitions seemed to evaporate. He felt kind of emboldened. Hmm, maybe he finally understood the momentary appeal of nicotine.
He took a few more puffs. I'm cool now, he thought. Finally, Danny's Mr. Cool! He threw the half smoked object on the ground and stamped it out. Just like cool guys do, another litterbug messing up the city, poison on the ground for innocent animals to swallow. Ha ha. How did I get like this smoking just one cigarette?
Yuck, I'll actually never get hooked on these things, "the cigarette of good taste" tastes worse than the contents of my stomach. Wish I'd brought some breath mints.
A slim young man approached him. "Hello," he said.
Danny relaxed. He looked up at the young man, smiled and said, "Hi, I'm Danny."
"I'm Alan." He smiled back.
Feeling bold, Danny said, "I hate to ask you this, Alan, but are you a cop?" Boy, he thought to himself, you really are a bit too relaxed.
Alan sat on the bench next to him. "No, of course not. You're really paranoid, aren't you? Why don't you tell me something about yourself?"
"Well, my name's Danny. I'm in first year university. I live in the suburbs with my mother, who I don't get along with. And I guess to be honest I should tell you I'm a lonely guy."
"You don't have a girlfriend?" Alan asked.
"No, I don't. What about you?"
"Me neither, no girlfriend, no boyfriend. Live by myself. I have a job, a few friends from university days, also some in the neighbourhood where I live, and at work. Hey, would you like to grab a coffee somewhere?"
Danny thought, what do I have to lose? He seems like a nice guy, and he's good looking. I'll be safe in a restaurant.
"Yeah, that would really be nice. Where can we go around here?"
"I know where to go, come with me."
They walked west side-by-side out of the park in the direction of a midtown neighbourhood. Danny took a closer look at Alan as they walked. Really attractive, clean-cut, maybe an inch or two taller, thin, with a round, interesting face, cute smile, soft brown eyes. And a well shaped ass in those tight jeans. Hair at a pretty average length, not a hippy, that's for sure, and it's a good thing too, he thought, because the guys I've met with long hair, a couple at school, others at my summer job, all seem to believe they're God's gift to the human race, loudmouths who are right about everything.
After a long walk they arrived at Fran's restaurant. Alan sometimes hung out at Fran's. He said some unusual guys including gay couples could regularly be found there on weekends and late at night.
Unusual guys? A nonconformist hangout, Danny thought.
They went inside and found a table. Alan ordered coffee and a doughnut, Danny coffee and a bran muffin. They talked for a while. Alan had just turned 22. Danny was 19.
Alan asked, "So, what does a good looking guy like you like do when he's not in school?"
"He gets to know a good looking guy like you, I guess."
"Would you like to come to my place after this and get to know me a little better?"
"Sure, I think I'd like that. I have my car, it's parked on a street over near the park."
"I only live a block from the park, so if you want you can just leave it where it is and get it later."
They finished the coffees and started walking back toward the park and Alan's place. Danny was thinking, do I really want to have sex with this guy who I've never met before? Nervous about it, don't know anything about him, I might not even like him. And I don't know much about having sex with boys beyond what I did with Kenny. It's two years since Ken left, I guess that's why I feel nervous. This won't be much fun, I can just see it, 20 minutes and it will be over.
"Um, Alan, sorry, I feel a little uncomfortable because I don't know you. I guess this is supposed to be about sex. The thing is, I've only had sex with one other guy, we were pretty close, but he moved across the country. I knew him pretty well before we ever did anything together, I was kind of in love with him. That's over now. I just don't know if I feel right having sex with someone I don't know. I mean, I think you're a really attractive guy, but I have no feelings for you because I don't know you. I'm sorry to be like this, but do you kind of understand what I'm saying?"
Alan was quiet, but after a while said, "Okay, I think I see what you mean. It's understandable, how you feel. I'm getting to like you already. I'd like to get to know you better too. It will be unusual for me, to be honest. The few guys I've met this way have just been interested in having sex, their attitudes were all something like, let's do it and then goodbye.
"Closest thing I ever had to a boyfriend was back in Alberta, a boy in my school. Well built for 15, but a plain face. It began with wrestling on the school's wrestling team. Weekends we'd get together sometimes and practise wrestling. Soon it became sexual. For both of us. But I wanted it more. He was afraid, hadn't reached the stage of acceptance I had. So after I think it was three times we just didn't do it any more. It never went beyond grinding on each other.
"There's also one guy I actually tried living with, he moved in with me for a short time. It only lasted two weeks. I guess it was nothing but sex for him.
"So how about if we do this like you said. We go back to my place and talk for a while. Then if we like each other, we can get together again and see where that goes?"
Alan rented a flat, the first floor of an old Victorian era house a block from the park. Midtown Toronto has thousands of homes like that in its old neighbourhoods, some dating back almost a hundred years.
Danny had never been inside a house like it. Hot water radiators, living room fireplace, a stained glass window. Ornate plaster medallions at the centre of the ceilings in two of the rooms. 19th century gingerbread wood trimmings hanging from the eaves outside. Modern appliances, electrical and plumbing fixtures. The floors were the original oak boards that had been refinished. The place smelled a bit like old wood. The walls were white and held interesting art. Alan had furnished it beautifully.
Danny loved the place and felt a little envious. My turn will come, he thought.
"Alan, what is this thing here?" He pointed to a decorative ventilation register in the ceiling.
"Ah. I asked the owner the same question. They were part of the ventilation system of the house in the 19th century when it was built. Before electricity became available, they built homes to take advantage of natural air flows produced when warm air rises. These registers could be found in the ceilings of almost every room."
He wondered where Alan got the money to rent an expensive place like that, so he asked about his job.
"I work for one of the big banks downtown," he said. "I'm the team leader for a group of computer programmers, we keep the bank's computer system running. The bank's head office in Toronto has its own mainframe computer in a building downtown."
"Wow, you're only 22 and you're already in a job like that?"
"Well I have the education. I'm from Calgary. Finished high school when I was 17, did a four-year computer science degree here. In fourth year we had co-op jobs with two different companies where I got good work experience. One was the bank.
"I got to know some of the people who work there. I graduated cum laude a year ago last June. I must have impressed the computer people because they offered me a job. I was well qualified, it was something I really wanted to do.
"Started that entry level job right after my last exam. It's gone better than I expected. Hard work, but I actually love what I'm doing. We emphasize teamwork. Two-hour training sessions every week to keep our skills up to date with the newest technology and believe me, it's changing quickly. It seems like a new language pops up every month or two.
"I got a promotion a few months ago, a year after I began working. I'm really proud of that. And computer science is in its infancy. Wait until 10 or 20 years from now, there is so much still to come."
"I have to tell you, I love this place you live in. I've never seen anything like this. I live with my mom in a small bungalow in the suburbs, they're all alike, boring as can be."
"I didn't know anything about places like this either, but after I was offered the job, I went looking for a place to live not too far from the bank, and I found this. It's renovated, I liked it, nice appliances, cable TV. It's expensive, I had to borrow money to furnish it, but I'm earning a lot and can afford it. It's a 30 minute walk to work, or in bad weather I take a streetcar, they run every ten minutes."
"Living alone like this, away from your home town, do you talk to your parents very often?"
Alan's face and body language sagged. He stared at the floor tapping his fingers. Danny knew he'd asked the wrong question.
"Um, sorry I asked about that. Don't say anything, I have the answer just from looking at you, sorry I brought this up."
He looked up. "You're right, it's a problem for me. Well, it used to be a problem, it isn't any longer. I think the more I talk about it, the better… it always feels a little better after I talk about it." He took a deep breath.
"Like I said, I grew up in Calgary, my parents live there. They came to Toronto for my graduation. Afterward they took me out for dinner. My dad's asking me about girlfriends and I'm evading his questions.
"But I'd thought about this for years. I decided it was time. As we were finishing dinner, I told them I'm gay. I felt like I had to. I don't like secrets, I'm sick of lying. I'd been hiding it from them for what felt like most of my life. I'd always planned to tell them after I finished school, so the time had come.
"I didn't exactly use that word, gay, I told them I'm a homosexual and I explained to them it wasn't some passing phase. It wasn't a voluntary thing I did just to be different. I think you understand what I'm talking about. I told them it's how I am. Born that way, felt that way since I was about 10, was always attracted to other boys.
"They got upset. Said I should have told them long ago so they could get me treated. I have a mental illness. I need to understand that, acknowledge it, see a psychiatrist, commit myself to an institution to get help. Shit like that. A doctor said something similar when I told him back in Calgary after high school.
"They actually, seriously want me to quit my job and come home so they can send me for treatment to make me normal. I have a new career here, a new life just starting, and they want me to leave it behind and go somewhere to cleanse my brain, put me on drugs or something, so I'll conform to their expectations.
"Then they said they were ashamed to be my parents. Everything had been calm until that point. I blew my top. Right there in the restaurant I started yelling at them. I knew it could happen before I told them. I knew how they'd react because I know them so well. I knew it would hurt. I just couldn't lie when my father asked me about a girlfriend.
"One minute I'm their pride and joy for graduating top of the class. The next, I'm an embarrassment, they're ashamed of me. I yelled at them. My dad said, if I don't get treatment, don't bother coming home because they want nothing to do with me. I'm revolting the way I am, what I do is against the law, it's shameful. All that sort of shit.
"I went from hero to villain in an instant. So I got up and left the restaurant. The last look I had at them, they were sitting with their mouths open. I was shaking. I walked home, it was a couple miles, and every few minutes I would start crying. Strangers on the street were looking at me all the way home.
"I haven't seen or heard from them since. I doubt I'll see them again. Their loss as well as mine. They'll tell my sisters I'm a pervert. I don't talk to my sisters very often anyway. I guess we never had much in common when we lived at home. One is married, the other's engaged, I probably won't even be invited to the wedding."
"Sorry, Alan, I'm sorry that happened to you. It's even worse than what I've been through with my parents. I feel bad for you, really bad."
"Do your parents know anything about you, Danny?"
"My dad died, but before he died, they basically knew. I told my dad after… It's kind of a complicated story." Danny related a short version of the stabbing, the background to it, and how the police found out from that about Danny's sexuality. The fact Danny had never acknowledged his sexuality to the police or the bullies didn't matter, the bullies' version became the truth as far as the cops were concerned. That was the version they told Barbara and Alex Stavros.
"You were stabbed? In the cafeteria at school? Oh man. You were in the hospital I guess?"
"Yeah, for five days. One of the bullies from Greece hired another kid to do it. It happened three years ago, grade 11. It screwed up the football season for me, but I did eventually get to play.
"And that led to my friend Kenny finding out about me. He's like us of course, he told me about himself back on the first day of grade 10. We'd been good friends for a year by then. When he heard I was stabbed, he came to the hospital. That's when I told him I'm a homo. After I left the hospital, it didn't take him long to seduce me. That was one of the best days of my life. Of our lives, it was the first time for both of us. We quickly understood we had feelings for each other. We trusted each other. And once I had someone who accepted me, I felt so much better, being who I am didn't seem such a terrible thing.
"We were good friends, and lovers for the last year until he moved to Vancouver half way through grade 12. Kenny saved me, I owe him everything. I love him so deeply I can't describe it, and I don't think I'll ever lose that, even though I've lost him."
"So he was your first?"
"Yeah, my first and only."
It was getting late and Danny had to get home, he had school the next day.
"Well, okay, if I have to let you go, I will. But we've been talking for a long time and I'm glad we did, I feel like I've gotten to know you tonight, Danny, I'm glad we met this way."
They stood and walked toward the door. Danny turned to say good night. Alan looked him in the eye and said, "Danny, I think you're a beautiful guy. I feel I'm kind of taken with you. Would it be okay if I kiss you good night?"
"I'd like that."
Alan reached out, gently drew Danny to him. They gazed at each other, their lips came together for a short kiss. They embraced and kissed again, with gentle passion. The kiss went on and on, their lips parted, tongues touched. After about 30 seconds, Danny breathlessly drew back and said, "Wow, Alan, you make me feel like... sorry, I have to get home, if I don't leave now... I'll come over again if that's okay."
"Can you make it another evening this week or maybe on the weekend? I'd love to take you out for dinner."
"You mean like a date, you're talking about? Sure. I hope you understand, I feel I need to take this a step at a time, I don't have much experience with this, I'm sorry I sound like an idiot but I don't know how else to say it. But, I'd really like to go out with you. Is Friday night or Saturday night okay?"
"Here, write your phone number down on this, and here's mine."
The exchanged phone numbers. Alan said, "Let's say Saturday at 6:30 you meet me here? And we can go together?"
"Okay, and I'll speak to you I hope before then."
"For sure. See you Saturday, I just can't wait. Oh, and by the way, Danny, you're not an idiot. Don't be calling yourself names. You're too good for that." He winked at Danny as he left, and closed the door gently behind him.
Danny felt elated. He was driving home, fantasizing about Alan, about his first date with another guy, wondering what it would be like. He also started to feel uncomfortable about something but couldn't put his finger on it.
He thought, I better think about this. I promised Dr. Margol I would think about my feelings and not just try to forget them. Why am I so afraid? I'm a big boy, not a little kid any more. If I'm afraid of this, I'll be afraid of everything that's ahead of me.
Maybe if I think about these fears, about bad feelings that I hate thinking about, maybe I'll stop being so afraid.
So what am I so afraid of?
I could just call Alan and find an excuse to cancel. Am I doing the right thing? He's beautiful, not just his face and his body, but he's smart and successful. So I'd like to get to know him, and I really like talking to him, and kissing him, wow!
Gay. I like that word, keep hearing it, a lot easier to say one little syllable than, what is it, five syllables in homosexual, which sounds so medical. And 'homosexual' has a negative connotation that the average person on the street must feel when they hear the word. Gay is more, I don't know, upbeat?
He kept worrying. I'm not up to his standard. He'll get tired of me. He's much older than I am. Way smarter, finished university, I'm just starting. He's out there making money, has a really good job, knows all these people at the job he has.
And he's more experienced than I am. And better looking. The more I think about him, the more beautiful I realize he is.
I'm not good enough for him.
I have to call and cancel. But then I have to lie, make up an excuse, I hate doing that. I'm not good at it.
An amazing evening. What a surprise. Didn't expect this. Think I'm glad I met him, but I'm nervous, unsure of myself.
Kissing him was exciting. Feel horny, nothing new about that. Glad we left it for the next time. Can't wait to see him again.
There was no next appointment, he hadn't booked one. But he called and there was one available mid-week due to a cancellation.
"Hi Danny," said Patricia, the receptionist. "You can go right in."
"Thanks."
"Hi Dr. Margol."
"Hi Danny, come in, have a seat."
They sat quietly for a minute.
"Dr. Margol, I want to ask about something that happened a few days ago." He described how he met Alan and the time they spent together.
"The thing is, when I drove home I was thinking about how I felt kind of apprehensive. I'm kind of afraid of doing this, going out with him.
"It's like a date. I've never done that, not with anybody, ever. So right away, I thought of calling Alan to cancel. I just wanted to get rid of this nervous feeling. But I would lose Alan, and I was getting to like him.
"Then I realized I was doing what you said I should not do. I had a bad feeling and wanted to get rid of it by cancelling the date. To do that I would have to lie to him.
"The whole thing, the prospect of going on a date, felt painful. So I started to think about the feeling, the apprehension. And I realized, I'm afraid of him.
"It's like, I feel he's too good for me. Three years older, finished university, working, making money, supporting himself, living alone. Why would he be interested in me? That's what I'm afraid of, I won't be good enough for him.
"Also, he lives far from me. And I can't afford to take him out, it would be all one-sided. And with sex, he's a little more experienced. I don't know much of anything except what I did with Kenny."
"Danny, what do you think might happen if you have sex with him? Is it something bad? Are you worried he might hurt you? Has he said or done something that might make you feel physically afraid of him?"
"No, nothing like that. All we did was talk and then kiss good night. I left feeling all wonderful and he seemed really happy to have met me, he couldn't stop smiling, said he liked me and wanted to see me again."
"Did you believe him? Did you have reason to believe he might be leading you on?"
"No, not really. But I don't have much experience so I have to trust him. I just don't know what to expect. But he didn't give me any reason to think he might be leading me on or pretending. I guess I don't know why he would pretend, why would he need to pretend?"
"Well, here's the thing about meeting new people. You have to try to judge how much you trust him so far, based on what you know of him. You've done well in thinking it through. Now ask yourself: is your fear is based on what actually happened when you met? or on what you imagine might happen? Do you understand the difference?"
"Yes, you're saying part of what I feel might be based on something real, and part on something I'm just imagining."
"That's right. How much was based on things he actually said or did?"
"Well, he said he's 22 so he's three years older than me."
"And from that you assumed you might not get along with him because of the age difference? Does he know how old you are?"
"Yes, I told him I'm 19. It didn't seem to bother him but we didn't talk about it much. He also told me about his work. But nothing he said about that could be a problem for me. I just assumed there might be problems because of the age difference and his experience. He's older, more experienced in his life so far, I feel like I have nothing to offer him, I'm not up to his standards."
"So first, there's what he actually told you. And second, what you imagine based on what he told you. You know that what you imagine has no actual basis in fact. It's more a defensive thing, you trying to protect yourself against what might go wrong that might end up hurting you? Is that about right?"
"Yes, I think so."
"You said you're not up to his standards. What are his standards?"
"I don't know."
"If you don't know what his standards are, or even if he has any of these things you call standards, why do you think you're not up to his standards? Are you the one creating standards? Creating them for yourself?"
"Yeah, I see what you mean. I'm worried I'm not good enough for him. I guess it's my old inferiority complex making an appearance."
"And what do you think you could do about your fears? You've already said you can phone him and cancel the date. Is there anything you could do instead?"
"Well, yes, go on the date with him."
"And?"
Silence. He felt tired. He couldn't think.
"Suppose you go on the date with him. You're going on a date, you'll have fears, which you think are probably imaginary, but you're unsure. Is that how you want to leave it?"
More silence. He didn't know what to say.
"Could your fears get in the way of the enjoyment of the date by both of you?"
"Oh I think I see what you mean. I could talk to him about it."
"That's right. Instead of pretending it doesn't exist, maybe before or during dinner you tell him about this worry and why you have it. And see what he says."
"I see what you mean."
"What's the worst that's might happen if you ask him that? Let's assume he's not an insane man who might attack you if you're honest with him. What's the worst that could happen?"
"I guess the worst is, he tells me he doesn't like me. If that happens, I guess I would just say good night and walk away, go back to my car and go home."
"And what do you think is the chance of him thinking that way, of that happening?"
"Well, based on how we both seemed to feel when I left him, it's unlikely."
"Okay. So the date goes ahead. You talk with him about the apprehensive feelings. What might happen on the date, after you finish dinner?"
"Well, I assume we'll go back to his place again."
"And then what?"
"Well, we might have sex."
"And how do you feel about that?"
"Well, part of me wants that, a lot. But I still have this worry I won't be good enough for him. And when I think about it, I'm still wondering if I want to have sex with a guy if I don't have feelings for him."
"Why is that a worry? Is there something specific he said to you? Did he say something like, I'll do you a big favour and have sex with you and I intend to enjoy myself but don't expect to see me again, it's just going to be a one time thing?"
"No. We never talked about it. I just told him I didn't want to have sex after we had just met the first time, because I didn't have feelings for him. But after what we talked about last time, and after we kissed before I left, I think he's kind of expecting that if he takes me on a date and pays for dinner, he's going to get something in return."
"Okay. Now we're getting somewhere. And I understand this, you may be correct about this, Danny, or you could be completely wrong. Again, that sounds pretty logical but is it based on anything he told you?"
"No, nothing specific. I guess, again, maybe we could talk about it? Instead of leaving it up in the air."
"That's a great idea. When you don't know someone very well, is it better to leave important unanswered questions up in the air, so neither of you knows how the other guy feels? Or is it better to talk about it first, to have an understanding ahead of time?"
"It's better to talk about it. Just like it's better to talk and think about my feelings. Like I'm doing now."
"You also don't know anything about his feelings regarding this. He may have high hopes but he may be nervous as well. He may not be sure he's good enough for you. He may be feeling the same way you do, apprehensive."
"I guess he might. I just don't know, I never thought about that."
"Danny, when you knew Kenny, did you ever think about the possibility that you might get hurt? I mean emotionally, not physically. Did you ever think about that?"
"No, not really. It was easy for me to trust him, because he had trusted me with his secret. We got to know each other for a year without even kissing. A year later we got together to study one afternoon, and he asked if he could kiss me. It turned out to be an unforgettable afternoon, I think I told you about that a long time ago. After that, we used to tell each other how we were feeling, it was usually about really good feelings, you know, I think we both felt a lot of joy and happiness from the things we did together."
"What happened to break you up? You've told me before but let's talk about it. How did you feel when he told you?"
"He came to my house to talk. He started crying. He said his father had a new job in Vancouver and the family had to move. We'd made plans. We even had plans to go to university together. And then, we were being split up. It seemed so wrong, so unfair, and it still does."
"It must have been a very hard time for both of you."
"Yes it was and it hasn't been easy since. I was really depressed for the first month, you probably remember that, I talked to you about it. I was glad I had you to talk to. I talked about it with my friend Mike, he's become my best friend. He's not a homo, but he knows about me. He doesn't care. I don't see him much now, he's at university in Buffalo."
"And you're still in touch with Kenny?"
"Well, we had that blow-up about my dad's funeral so we don't write much any more. It's over, I doubt I'll see him again."
"Danny, are you worried, maybe in the back of your mind, about developing feelings for Alan and then getting hurt? Like you were when Kenny moved away?"
"I haven't thought about that. I don't want to feel the pain I felt when Kenny left. It hurt very very badly, but it wasn't his fault. It hurt a lot more later on when he sent me that letter that he'd be staying in Vancouver because he got a scholarship. He was lying, leaving unsaid things out. I think he wanted us to be over. He probably found someone new. I doubt he even thinks about me much, I'm just a fling he had in high school. I've given up on us, I know it's over. That's why I was in Allan Gardens that day.
"The thing is, I barely know Alan. Kenny and I were good friends before we even kissed, so everything we did just felt natural, it all kind of fell into place one step at a time. With Alan, we don't have that friendship yet. I guess we're trying to establish one by going out.
"I just, I've never been through this thing with anyone except Kenny, so I'm nervous. The feelings I can develop for another guy, well, based on the ones I have for Kenny, they are incredibly strong. It's unbelievable what a hold these feelings can have on you. I understand the meaning of love now. I don't mean the kind of love I feel for my mom or I once did for my dad. Or for my sister. Those are love too, but different."
He stopped. He felt so tired.
Dr. Margol looked at the clock. "I think our time is up for today. So make another appointment and we'll see you again."
Meetings with Dr. Margol were hard, he realized, not what you might call a walk in the park. What a terrible pun. I always feel tired afterward, like I've been doing exercise I'm not used to.
What about Kenny? I'm about to be unfaithful to Kenny. I don't have to tell him about Alan. No, I can't do that, no lies, I have to tell Kenny. Have to speak to him. No, I won't. I haven't heard from him in so long… He can't expect me to stay celibate forever. Anyway, we're through, I think he hates me now. I need someone new."
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