The Gay Child

The Gay Child

The general consensus is that being gay is all about sex. Nothing more, just pure nasty sex. Seen by many fundamentalists as an evil, demonic spirit that takes over an individual at puberty to screw up their lives and piss off their family and friends. Foremost they do it to anger the church. The devils beam with glee, build their fires hotter and dance in hell, every time they manage to turn a person gay. Angels lose their wings, Jesus weeps and, oh the humanity.

Little do people know, those demons plant that seed when the parents had pure nasty sex. Yep, that's when it all starts. The only reason gays don't outnumber the straights is that gay sperm take longer to get ready. Their not taking that journey until they are looking pretty. Beings only liberals have gay children also keeps the numbers down.    

That's me with my mom. I'm already possessed by demons and I'm sure, shortly after this photo was taken, tale tale signs began to reveal who or what I really was. A gay child. Anything sparkly went directly into my mouth, I couldn't keep my hands off my private parts and, If I remember right, I cried like a little girl. That should have been their first clue.

 

 More clues revealed themselves as I got older. Yes, I was raised pretty much on wheels and I'm not talking about roller skates. The homes in the background were where the affluent lived. We were on the poor side of the park. That really didn't matter to me. I didn't know the difference and considered we were pretty much like everyone else on the planet. I was young.

At this age, I was unaware of sex. I didn't know what it was, except it was nasty, and I really didn't care. All I knew was that I sure liked playing with the girls. Yes, I had lots of girlfriends. A virtual playboy. I enjoyed playing house the most. The girls really loved that because they didn't like playing daddy when there were no boys around to participate. This daddy served tea, helped the girls pick out their outfits and meticulously decorated the playhouse and tea table. Even helped them tease their hair so they could look more like mommy. 

   Now that doesn't mean that I couldn't be butch. I was raised with four brothers. There's me on the far right, my eldest brother Wayne in the middle and my older brother Jerry on the left. Dean was home in his crib and Robbie wasn't even thought of yet. We just went fishing. Yes, I baited hooks with wiggly living worms, caught a few fish, banged their heads against a rock to put them out of their misery, took this picture then went home and ate them. How butch is that? Oh, yes, that is my Uncle Ed in the rear. He took us fishing that day.

Well, now comes the nasty part. I stopped playing house and started playing doctor. You know, we've all had our little experiments playing doctor. Any little girls that wanted to play that pretend game with me were pretty much out of luck. Not interested. On the other hand, playing doctor with the boys....wow. My interests changed dramatically. No hair to tease, no tea to serve no decorating, just having some realness with other boys, who apparently enjoyed my company as much as the girls did but for a different reason. Too young for that operation to be successful, as a very young doctor, it was still a thrill.

 

That innocence above was lost when I got older. Those acts as a child, that were normal for most children, suddenly became exactly what the demons wanted.....hell. Not necessarily hell for those around me but hell within. Burning in that hell was my self esteem, my desire for a bright future and the lost acceptance of the society around me. 

Keep your eyes out for the gay child. Watch them grow and be there for them when they find out for themselves what and who they are. Love them and, for Gods sake, accept them for who they are. 

Just an old gay man.

Smart Daily

This is my first blog and, therefore, a learning experience. I have my own philosophies, talents and interests and I hope that others may find them entertaining. I want to create a blog that is smart and fun. This is definitely new territory for me but I plan to make the best of it. A diary, of sorts, of a 62 year old gay male who is looking at the world through the layers of his own experiences and history. Through those years, my philosophies have changed numerous times, along with my looks. If I'm still around at 92, I'm sure both will change even more.

So, gay marriage is finally here in some states. Didn't think I'd see that happen in my lifetime. The memories of living with a huge lump in my throat, from puberty until I was in my third year in the military, are in those layers of the past just glaring at me. I was so worried then. Worried that I might give up and end it all or be a bloodied, beaten corpse in the morgue of a large city, unclaimed. Mom said 90% of worry was for no reason and the other 10% you couldn't do anything about. Her comment really rings true now. All that worry and pain and here I am happy as a lark to just be an old gay man, content and smiling.

Did I run into any roadblocks because I am gay? Of course I did. Living gay in an era when homosexuality was compared to child rape or even murder can cause some pretty dramatic kickbacks. Going to my captain in the military and saying, "I'm gay and I want out of this heterosexual, testosterone laden organization", did not go well in 1973. Not being an obvious gay male, having been raised with two older and two younger brothers, made it impossible to convince them that I was telling the truth. They figured I had just gone over the deep end because I had smoked too much marijuana. Spent the next nine weeks in a military metal hospital on some reality distorting and body changing drug called Thorazine. 

Some common side effects of Thorazine was dizziness, as if I wasn't dizzy enough, insomnia, blurred vision, constipation, trouble having an orgasm, oh, great, just what I needed, and breast swelling. Here I was, just fresh out of the closet and now I was convinced that they were turning me into a girl. I finally got out by just telling them that I lied. I told them that I was straight and just wanted out of the military. Three weeks of pure hell coming down from that creepy drug and back with the troops and into the closet. I finished my three years in the Army and started my new life......OUT.

Like I said, this blog will be looking through layers. Like "A Christmas Carol" there will be ghosts, with pictures, but I don't plan on it being an autobiography of my life. 

I hope you will stick with me and give me the incentive to continue on a weekly basis to render my input to this new age of wonder and acceptance. 

Thanks for reading.......see you next week.