A gay man of my generation didn't date much in high school. For four years, my only real option was to date a girl or hang out with my boy friends. However, an official date was almost an impossible proposition. Mildly surprising to me were the children who defied that convention almost immediately after my graduation. I was, one again, born just a few years out of date.
Then came the university and the freedom that overwhelmed me. Being too young to truly appreciate the opportunity offered by the experience, I squandered the single year I was allowed to attend. My typical American male confusion between sexual ecstasy and love lead me awry more than once and caused potential romances to flounder in the shallows of a one-night-stand and the backwash of codependency.
This recklessness, among other failings, contributed to my prison term. Surely I don't need to describe here the lack of dating and romantic opportunity within the correctional system. I am not railing against the rules forbidding sexual expression on the inside, it's a safer environment because of them, but the reality created tends to be frustrating. I did, in fact, fall desperately in love with one man during my years incarcerated. My inability to express anything other than a fraternal affection proved nearly enough to cause psychosis. Many men find ways to get laid, and I almost resorted to such measures, but that would have been hollow and disingenuous to how I felt. So all I could do was tell him as much as words would prove useful and hope we would still see each other after our terms ended... a futile hope.
Then came probation, because I was mean more than once, and my inability to navigate the awkward theesome that was approved romances under those rules. Luck delivered my next love to my door, literally, and his apathy toward the state's participation in our romance developed into a happy several years. Well, happy-ish. It is a romance I will never forget and one I would not trade for anything, but it did end in tears.
Probation has now ended and the state's participation in my love life had abated to minimal levels - I will never again be free of scrutiny - and my social life has grown exponentially since. Within months I've grown my circle of friends and expanded my zone of recreation to become an interstate enterprise. Within my limited experience in this life, this is common. It seems most people have relationships over large areas. I know no one in California, but I can claim friendships spanning several states.
The true crux of this entry - the predicate, as my best friend would quote from some TV show - isn't so much one of bemoaning my romantic status or complaining about the difficulties I've endured in the arenas of love, it's one of celebrating the greys of relationships.
I learned, both formally and through experience, that no two relationships are alike. I have more than one friend and each relationship has taboo topics and areas of common interest that are not duplicated in any other relationship I've ever had. I've fallen in love a total of three times and each not only had unique aspects to the very nature of the romance, but each FELT different from the previous. No wonder poets cannot describe the feeling accurately.
I now have friendships with sexual aspects. I have friendships that appear sexual, but are not. I have friendships that can go several months without contact and survive as if no time has passed. Then I have friendships that are based on vacation fantasy and currently exist as nostalgic vehicles. I love all these men as much as I ever loved any romantic partner... which may explain why I'm single.
I counsel my best friend against labels as a step toward non-judgment. (Judgment is wasted energy since acting on most of our judgment is harmful.) I'm finding this good advice for myself as well. Each of the relationships I am a part of is unique. Each will develop on its own coarse and in its own time. Defining what a friendship is as opposed to a romance or an acquaintance seems to place artificial limits on where the relationship is allowed to go... and I've always argued with my counselor about his statement, "you don't fuck your friends." I did, I do, and I will. Then I will still call them friends.
I have come to agree with my counselor - and every one before him - that communication is key to the success of any relationship. By explaining my flexibility to the people in my social life - and listening to their version of the same - the expectations of the relationship are made known and all is laid bare. Surprises and miscommunication are kept to a minimum and the early practice encourages continued "transparency" allowing the relationship to move about freely. I'm even making an attempt to retain a man as a friend after we discovered ourselves sexually incompatible, supposedly moving "backward."
The shades of grey are the fascinating part of relationships, they seem to be what makes most of them fun to be a part of.
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