It Is Understood

The Beginning of Ever After

So, remember.

I was not “looking” at the time. I was scared of my own worth. And wary of getting hurt again.

But I liked.

He was a rare one, one who both was physically exciting and also seemed - real

Unlike most prior experiences, I returned a call to make another date.

And, no matter what happened, he was persistant.

Even when I pushed away, he refused to completely stop contact.

We were together, we kinda broke up. We waited a month or two, we made contact again.

This went on for months.

One night, John said he loved me.

I became committed.

I was, after many long years, in love.


Shadow of the Future

Some night after this, John and I are at the usual bar we’d hang at. But this day there’s a bit of worry. Someone’s there that I’m told is upset with me being there.

“Who is it?”
“My old boyfriend, Phil”
“oh.”

They had been together for many years (more than 8, I think). Then something happened and they broke up. Phil then went off to France for a few months. (Something I can say sounds awfully attractive to me right now.)

It was a good few months after meeting John to know there WAS an ex. Meaning I figured there was an ex from some time, but not so recent.

But now he’s back. And he’s, apparently, very upset that I was in the picture.

I understand.

I remember how I felt after my last (and only other) boyfriend dumped me for someone else. We’d only been together a year, but I couldn’t bear even being in the same bar with my ex and his new beau.

This wasn't the same, of course. They'd been broken up for - how long? - already before I even met John. But the effect is the same. It sucks bad.

So, really, I understand.

Phil was not happy about things.

For this reason, I was kept away from him.

Read again: I was kept away from him.
--

Later that night, we came back to John’s house.

Across the street a trumpet starts blaring. A real live trumpet bleating out very loud, very unsymphonic sounds.

WTF?

John says, “That’s him. He’s living in the house around the corner.”

He's doing it cause he knows I'm here and he's pissed and probably pretty hurt.

Oh, Jebus. Did I sign up for this? I’m not sure how to deal with this unexpected turn of events.

John calls to ask him to stop, which he does, and we get to spend another night together.


The Prince and the Usurper

As I meet more of John's friends, it becomes clear they are also Phil’s friends.

In fact they all adore Phil.

Two or three comments come my way that make me realize at least some people think I came into John’s life while him and Phil were still together –that I somehow broke them up. And yet I didn't even know of his existence until a few weeks back.

I don't know how to deal with that so I keep silent.
--

One morning I'm leaving his house for work.

A guy comes bounding up the stairs with a basket of laundry – people came and went out of that house like a train station.

We almost collide in the hallway.

I apologize – he had an intense look on his face. Hmmm, kinda attractive actually. Anyway, I figure he's one of John's friends. I'll meet him again.

Well, no, in fact. Because that was Phil. So I'd never get to see him cause I made him upset. That was the way things needed to be.

Breakups are hard.

I understand.


Fall of the Hero

Some weeks later…

Phil falls gravely ill.

He becomes bedridden.

He needs to stay at John's house for longterm care.

I'm asked to not come to the house, because it would surely upset him.

I understand.

John and I meet up on and off for those very few months. He rents hotel rooms or we meet at a friend's house.

It’s intense and wonderful when we meet.

But it's a very hard time for him.

I understand.

--

Phil dies

John is devastated.

I am asked not to attend the funeral, because Phil’s family – they had become very close to John - might be hurt by my presence.

I understand.
--

The next month, John needs to get away.

He takes me, accompanied by another couple, to Sicily. My first (and last) time in Europe.

We have a great time.


Honor and Shame

A couple of months later, a memorial is being held for Phil.

Plans are being made for the church memorial and the reception / celebration of Phil’s life at John's house.

I ask if I can help in any way, it's so hard for John, but I'm told it's ok.

If there is only one thing I can think, it is that I want to be there to be supportive. Just to be there, if he needs someone to cry on, someone who loves him.

Two days before the memorial, everyone’s making up decoration, cutouts and picture collages and cartoons of whales, something Phil had an affinity for.

I kind of stare at some of the photos and wonder about who Phil was.

Who was this guy I was hidden from?

Everyone seemed to love him. He sounded like a real fun guy and a wildcard – though only from what others would tell me.

And tell me they often did.

“Phil was so amazing, you have no idea.”
“The most happy, friendly soul ever.”
“Yeah, and when he’d go nuts, he’d really go nuts, really the life of any party.”
“No one can ever replace him”

I understand.

He sounds like a really interesting guy. But I’ll never really know, of course.

Anyway, I ask John if he wants me to meet him at the church or at his house before the memorial.

He looks at me, surprised, as if something should have been obvious to me but wasn't.

I'm asked not to attend, because, again, it might upset Phil’s family.


The Very Quiet Revolt

I don't understand.

This time, I simply can not understand.

After nearly six months of "understanding," this time, I can’t do it.

For the first time in our relationship, I feel gut-punched.

I am physically whacked in the head, all going white flashy colors in my head for a moment, followed by a refocus.

“Huh? WhyIaudda… Whathefuckwasthat?”

How much time, how many months, had to pass before I could publicly show that I care so deeply for John that I'd want to be with him at such a hard time?

I feel like I’m the embarrassing secret gay lover.
Except everyone is gay and everyone knows I exist.
But somehow, I can't be with the man I love.

I am, frankly, in shock.

I slowly, but very deliberatively, make my way out of the house and go home.
All the way home, I stare out at nothing, in disbelief.
--

I call later – and it is hard to say this because it comes off sounding selfish…

"I'm kinda hurt that I'm being shut out completely."

"I don't know what to say. I'm sorry that you feel left out."

"Left out…???"

He thinks I’m upset because I’m not gonna get to go to the “party”?

Like I was gonna miss the big queer circuit event?!?

He doesn't think it had anything to do with wanting to be there for him?

That he even thinks I'd view this event in that way sends me into confusion.

Is that how I seemed to him through all this?

I basically just hang up.
--

I hurt through the whole weekend of the memorial.

A friend and I are walking through the town on the day of it and pass by the church holding the ceremony, which was in progress.

And I look at the closed doors.

I know I am unwelcome.
And I just can not understand what I had done to deserve this.


Fearing The Path of the Dead
Things changed after that. I became more prone to resentment, quick to anger, but with no clear way of expressing my feelings. So of course, they festered. And things strained between us.

There were a number of occasions that one of his friends would say:

“I guess I can understand why you wouldn’t come to Phil’s funeral, or his memorial.”

And I would steam.

On one of these times, I actually finally piped up:

"OK, look, I was asked, I was told not to go to these things. I wanted to but I was urged not to."

"What?!? I… I didn’t realize that. My god if that was me, I would have said ‘look, fuck you, I love you and I wanna be with you and I’m going to be with you and if you’ve got a problem with that you can go fuck yourself’."

And, really, wiser words were never spoken.
--

More than a year after that memorial, I forced John to listen to this story – of what had started the cycle of distrust and bitterness.

He seemed, again, shocked.

“I only thought you shouldn’t come to the party afterwards. I didn’t mean you couldn’t come to the memorial itself. I kept wondering if you would show up to the church.”

I remain, to this day, skeptical of that point. I thought it was pretty clear that I needed to stay away from the entire day of respect for Phil. It fulfilled the whole pattern of everything that had come before.

But, even if what he said was really so, I knew if I had shown up at the church…

If I had approached John as he stood alone, in sadness at his longtime partner’s passing…

If I had tried to stand next to him and hold him and comfort him…

I would have been asked to move to the back of the church, out of respect for Phil’s family.

I would have been asked to understand.

And if that had happened, I would have walked down the aisle and pushed open the large wooden doors of the historic church.

And I would have walked out into the sunlight and out of his life forever.


Once Upon a Time

Back then, such an end would have been devastating to me – an end to all things.

Now…

Now, I wonder.

*









Points of claification:
Phil never knew me, and really didn't have enough time (maybe 2 months?) to adjust to my existence before things went bad for him. I'm sure if there had been time, we could have gotten to know and like each other. But, tragically, this was not to be.

As for John, there must have been other things about him that made me stay with him for 10 years - made me try to work on it. And, no, it wasn't just the physical stuff, trust me. So, I have to address those good things, too.

And then, there is the question of myself. Why did i not push hard to be part of that aspect of his world, back at the time all this happened, and stop all the bad blood from forming? Why did it take over a year to force the story out, by which time alot of bad habits had set in?

I don't know when I'll tackle these. We'll see.