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After a couple of days of phone tag, I finally connected with Tony* tonight. I’ve just had a few moments where I just can’t believe that I am 31 years old and the rest of the world didn’t stand still. People have gotten older, moved, had lives that I know nothing about…
He told me about his life, his boyfriend of the past three years, how he came out to his mom, and the asshole ex who stole his identity and ruined his credit. He told me that he had been looking for me for years, that he regretted the way things were left between us.
Anyone that has known me for a long time, or at least known me well, knows at least a bit about my history with Tony. He was my first love… the first time in my life that I actually KNEW that finding a nice girl, getting married, and having kids was not going to be in my future. He was the first person I couldn’t picture my life without. We fit together physically, as though the space on my chest was designed for his head… I know that sounds melodramatic, but I was 19 and that’s apparently how 19 year old midwestern gay boys think.
I think there’s this special place in your heart for your first love… a space that is never quite filled by anything or anyone else. Wounds to this place are deep, leave ugly scars, and on occasional rainy days when you’re feeling a bit melancholy they ache. But that space remains.
It’s because of Tony that I have never kept in touch with any of my exes. I always made sure that there was a definite “last conversation” or “final goodbye.” I wanted there to be no doubt of closure… that things were over, and there was no chance of reconciliation. I never got that chance with Tony.
The last time I saw him, we had just spent a fantastic week together in Nashville where I was living. Two weeks after I drove him back home to a little town in northern Missouri, I made the 8 hour trip again to see him. He knew I was coming, as I had just talked to him on the phone. He wasn’t home, or at work. I drove to all his haunts and couldn’t find him. While driving around, we ended up pulling up to the same stop sign opposite each other. I honked and waved. He sped off like a demon was on his ass. I chased him for 2 blocks before deciding that I didn’t need to be chasing anyone.
I stopped at a friend’s house. She seemed surprised to see me, and said, “Didn’t you get the letter?” Well, no… I hadn’t.
He dumped me via that letter… addressed to the wrong last name, sent to my work address. Since the name was wrong, the receptionist opened the letter and read it to determine the intended recipient. In one fell swoop, one day in September 1996, I was outed at work, and completely devestated.
He wrote that he had found Jesus while at Army Basic Training and that I was trying to send him to hell. He said that I was stupid for thinking that we had any future. That I wasn’t worth spending any further time thinking about.
And until this week, we never spoke again.
Tony told me tonight how much he regrets what happened, and explained how difficult it was to deal with his feelings for me, when surrounded by a small town mentality, a disapproving family, and the United States Army pressuring him.
I did not expect, nor require an apology. I had made my peace, and moved on (mostly) a long time ago. The fact that he apologized, however, leaves me somewhat speechless (not evidenced by the length of this post) and needing to process.
Lest anyone misunderstand… I’m not hoping for a reconciliation, our lives have diverged and we are both in great relationships with other partners… I am hopeful for the opportunity to have an adult friendship with someone who was once a major part of my life.
*Not his real name. I didn’t ask his permission to use his name. Maybe later.
