by terry ernest halfway there
If you can remember who the stingiest man in the world was, short of Ebenezer edented in the disco era. It was also keenly anticipated and planned right down
Scrooge, you might be halfway there. Hint, hint…he had one of the most beloved to the moment including the choice of bed clothes with matching duvet cover. It
radio shows of the golden era and stingy, honk, honk…he was so tight he could was my first time having a scheduled appointment for sex and mixed emotions
squeeze a nickel until the buffalo pooped. The holiday season, or what we used consumed me. I was as nervous as a virgin at a prison rodeo and capricious like a
to call Christmastime, invariably opens a flood gate of oh so special memories. child on Christmas Eve. Everything in Jack’s apartment was beautifully appointed
One of my favorites is the first steady-Freddie I had after giving up my fabulous and prepared for his love-making ritual. Candles lit the way to the bedroom and
four-year Navy career. We met around this time in the fall. Chicago was stylish he had even saved the first mistletoe we kissed under some weeks earlier. If there
with holiday cheer at every turn. The gay bars on Clark Street were awash with was ever a doubt that Jack was indeed a gay romantic, it vanished that day.
mistletoe so dense that it was nearly impossible to get a word in edgewise. Red We spent the next many weeks like peanut butter and jelly only not through the
and white hot flannel was the uniform of the day and tinsel was a great way to night. For reasons he didn’t need to explain Jack preferred not to sleep together.
accessorize your bell bottom cuffs. We met on the dance floor doing one of those For the first few months it didn’t matter that much because I just loved being with
lame box dances I was never any good at. Hey, it was too hard to concentrate on him but after a while I couldn’t help but want more. It took some convincing but he
the choreography when your head was doing a Linda Blair 360 in search of Mr. finally invited me to his place for the weekend. Once again excitement soared and
Right. But there he was, in the line just down from me, checking me out with a I couldn’t wait for that well coordinated Saturday night. His bed felt soft and very
grin so wide it would have been the envy of Gomer Pile. His name was Jack and warm and following another solicitous roll in the hay, sleep fell upon us quickly.
he was broad shouldered, green eyed and quite lovely at the tender age of 23. I I remember waking in the wee hours to what I thought was a thunder storm or
remember large hands and very warm lips. Of course the mistletoe was no doubt some disturbance in the street. But alas, it was really Jack’s secret, the reason we
priming that pump but it did last throughout our time together. Jack lived on the waited so long to spend a night together. He snored like a category five tornado. I
third floor of a nearby apartment building but it was four or five dates before I ever sat up in bed watching him in amazement. I had never heard anything like it even
got a look inside. As it turned out, he was a country boy and a ritualistic romantic. after years in a crowded Navy barracks. At one point I had to turn him from the
I had received flowers, an ID bracelet and several movie/dinner packages before window so he wouldn’t inhale the drapes. Short of waking him up I didn’t know
my first BJ. That may seem unprecedented in today’s gay society, but it was in what to do. My mother never prepared me for this one. Well, long story short, Jack
those days as well. As for me, that was the first time I experienced feeling honest was uncomfortably embarrassed and I grew intolerant of sleepless nights so we
love for a man without all the heavy breathing. went our separate ways. I often think of Jack during the holiday season… or at the
We sailed through the holiday season without the scars of unrequited gifts passing of a freight train.
and obligatory family gatherings and enjoyed every moment we spent together. If you have ever spent an entire evening tinseling a tree one strand at a time …
Our first romp in the sack was hot, sober and mutually satisfying, again unprec- you’re probably halfway there too.
Holidays ligHt
the Corners of My Mind
DECEMBER 2008 | RAGE monthly 33
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