I was about 9 or 10 when I first started to realize the excitement of attraction. I remember sitting at home on a Friday night waiting for "The Dukes of Hazzard" to come on. As with every episode they showed a preview of what would happen that night. I still retain the image, the moment and the thought of that night. It was a shot of Luke on top of a UPS looking kind of truck, but the truck was white. He was dangling his shirt over the windshield of the truck to force the bad guys to stop for lack of seeing the road. The though that went through my mind was Good, it's and episode where they take their shirts off. Then, That was an odd thought.
That was it. It didn't occur to me that it was a gay thought. I did equate it with sex somehow. I knew that the excitement I felt was the excitement of being "turned on". But I didn't record the thought as being gay or straight. I only recorded it as a thought.
Another image that is very clear in my mind is that of Genie Francis, Laura of Luke and Laura on General Hospital. It was the summer of 1981, everyone was swept up in the fever, and I "heart" GH, mugs, pencils, book covers, binders, etc. abounded everywhere. The Cassidines were going to take over the world, and deep freeze it.
My sisters watched GH religiously. Everyday during that summer, 3:00 p.m. would roll around; the TV would come on; the wail of an ambulance siren would fill my living room; and daytime dramas greatest couple was trying to save Port Charles.
I remember thinking to myself, why do my sisters waste their summer afternoon in front of the television. But soon I was wasting my afternoon as well.
The story was so exciting. Nothing like I expected to see on a soap opera. This was more like action opera. To this day I still think that it is the number one plot line from any soap, (next to the Vicki/Niki plot from One Life to Live). And she was right in the middle of it all, with an uzi, no less. She wore a sequined, spaghetti strap dress with, ironically, a rainbow zig zag pattern, and she carried a gun. She looked very powerful holding back Meekos' cronies while Luke battled the mad scientist; trying to uncover the code to stop his evil device, and a crush began, and continued through a decade, and her three returns.
Years later, I was watching one of those early morning television talk shows. The subject was homosexuality, and at this point I had began to accept my feelings toward men. The psychologists was talking about young "discoveries" about sexuality. She remarked, "If a little boy is watching General Hospital and he wants Luke to love him..." And I thought. Luke! I'd much rather have Laura loving me."
Being a film and video major has been a thread through my life. You can see it even in the people who I was a attracted to: Tom Cruise, Jack Wagner (another GH star), that blonde kid who was Ralph Macchios rival in The Karate Kid, Joe Piscapo, but there was also Vera from Alice, Sabrina from Charlie's Angels, C.J. from Matt Houston and Carolyn Collins from Dark Shadows (both the 1960s and 1991 Carolyns).
If you have read the biography page previous to reading this page you know that I have gone to an all boys parochial school. And if you haven't you know now, and your brain is probably working itself into a fever with all the questions and desires to know "What happened there?" As Old Rose from Titanic said, "Sorry to disappoint you...", because nothing happened. there was no startling revelation or coming out or "...prep school boys doing each other." as my friend Jason has suggested. No, during my high school years there was a much more important coming out for me, and that was coming out of my shell.
Junior high school was hell for me, as it is for the other 99 and 34/100ths of the population. We all begin to spout in our own awkward way, height, weight, busts, muscles. If you think that everyone doesn't get teased at that age, you have an ever smaller scope of though than some right wing extremists. Some of us just get it harder and more than others. But as we have seen with the fall of the Soviet Union and Berlin wall, nothing goes on forever, not even countries. So I hope that if you are a young adult person reading this you will look inside yourself and find some small ember of strength to stoke. Keep on, no matter what. Make the sun your witness to the promise that you'll hold on to yourself and explore new ways for making things better, rather than concentrating on how they'll get worse. I hope this story will give you a bit of an idea.
It was in sixth grade that this happened. I sprouted out from the small, skinny, blond kid to the tall, greasy haired, zit face, skinny kid. Most of the people who had been my friends during the early years of grammar school hung out with me less and less, and then not at all. Four a period of about four years I had no friends except for my cousins, John and Jason. I was a geek, or what you would term a geek. I was going through puberty but had no idea what was happening to my body. Teachers and family tried to help by saying all the typical things that you hear about when being bullied or picked on. All the things that cause you frustration because their stupid and don't really work the way they do in the Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary books.
Everyone was more than willing to offer suggestions about solutions: "You really should shower everyday; you need to take more care of you face 'cuz it gets oily; you should clip your nails." But no one realized that what they really need to do was see beyond the physical to the emotional. Not only was a boy with poor hygiene habits, but also, I was a scared little kid, on the verge of been an adolescent, who needed reasons not solutions. No one took the time to say, "Patrick, this is what's going on with you right now, and this is why you need to do all this stuff."
A couple of times I thought about running away. I did once or twice, but the first time my
suitcase was just too darn heavy, and the second time my dog wouldn't leave me be. Maybe she
knew something I didn't. I thought about worse things, too. I tried to commit suicide, but they
were only half hearted attempts. I am glad today that I was not successful at any of them, but
today I am successful at so many other things. Things that I couldn't see would happen at that
time because my vision was so limited. Now I know to look beyond the bend in the road, because
something usually is waiting their. Sometimes it's more twists and turns on the edge of a
mountain road, and sometimes it's a beautiful valley, with green fields, but either way, I take
comfort in know that both road travel under the same big, blue sky, stretching out to the horizon,
where the unknown waits.
High school was a much less traumatic experience for me. I credit John Crimmins with really helping me out there. In his own way he taught me to respect myself. Some of that happened toward the end of junior high, when the kids had begun to realize that the way they viewed me was starting to effect how I viewed myself. They started being a kinder, gentler clique. But high school was where it really all started.
In Spanish class John and I sat next to each other. Often when the teacher was not looking he would punch me in the arm--and want me to punch him back.
Now we are all taught that is not the way to handle a "bully", but if I was going to be in an all guys school for four years, I need to learn to stand up for myself, and John helped me do that.
Funny how an act as simple as saying, "Come on, hit me back.", could change my life.
That sentence; the double pat on his offered arm; and finally my punch, would give me the self
respect that I need for similar situation further down the road, and even today. Thanx, John.
While this wonderful transformation was going on within my heart and soul, it was sharing space with my sexuality--or dominating over it.
I realized that I had an attraction to boys in high school, and just filed it away. There was no defining moment when I realized, "I'm gay." It was something that more or less developed, like all sexuality. Perhaps, I was afraid or ashamed; it was a parochial school. Perhaps, I was so caught up in being a baboon within the society that I largely ignored it. Perhaps, nature, had something more in store for me.
I did the whole nine yards in high school, dating girls, trying out for sports, hanging out
with my friends. I never acted on any of the "shadow feelings" that I had. Never even came
close, really. The only situation that remotely touched homosexuality was when I was nose to
nose with this one kid, and our heads rub up together in a way that I felt was not challenging in
the fight sense. I walked away from that situation. It wasn't until college that I really began to
explore my "shadow self."
As I have said, I went to college in Maine, which is not exactly a gay Mecca. Especially, where I lived. It was 40 miles away from Augusta, in what is considered central Maine.
My sophomore year was the year of exploring. I met this guy, I believe it was though and IRC, or our my home town paper, but no mater. We made plans to meet some Friday night when I was coming home, we met at his apartment; Terms of Endearment was on television. We watched it, and talked. I went to the bathroom a lot because I was so damn nervous. He kept asking if I wanted to go out for pizza or coffee. I said no. There was really only one thing I wanted.
I wanted to know what it was like to kiss another man. I wanted to know if it would be more exciting than kissing a woman. I wanted to feel another man's hands on me, my hands on him, our bodies together. I wanted to know it all.
The night wore on and I kept looking for "the signal", I had seen it before with girls, but there seemed to be nothing. No look in his eyes; no "invitation" in our conversation; nothing to give me a clue at all. Finally, I decided to take the imitative.
"You have a very nice face." I said at the next lull in conversation.
"Thank you."
I stood up, and stroked his face. He looked at me, and I saw the signal in his eyes at last.
A shot went through me when our lips met. I felt a flood of excitement and adrenaline rushing through my body, along with the urge for more. I started to pull up his shirt.
"No, don't!" He whispered.
I stopped. It was my first time. I didn't want to ruin it by pushing too hard.
We kissed more. I enjoyed it. It was a thrill just to do this much. I didn't want to stop. I asked again and again to "come down with me on the floor." He kept refusing. We kept on kissing. A half hour went by. Then I went home.
That one night was the only night that I ever spent with him. But it would not be the last night for me. My life was now beginning to head in a direction that it should take. All the thoughts, feelings and longings of the previous years were now bubbling to the surface; sweeping me along in their swell. But an undertow was waiting for me. Just as beginning to dip my feet into the water.
One of my friends set me up. I hadn't been dating anyone within about a year. Though their were one or two people who I did have an interest in, but the feeling was not mutual. I did it as a favor to them really. The made me talk with my blind date on the phone. It was very awkward. I invited them over to watch a movie, we didn't talk much. After the date their was no kiss or anything dramatic. That would come later.
I can't recall just when it happened, but I do remember where. Their was a little public park next to the UMaine. We were sitting on one of the picnic tables talking. Then we started kissing. Soon I had taken my shirt off. The air was a little chilly for April, but I didn't care. I was caught up in the euphoric passion of it all. Had I not been so uptight or nervous about being arrested, I would have taken off more, but the experience was just as exciting and pleasurable with my pants on. I loved being touched, kissed, held, and I loved kissing, touch, and pleasing her.
Yes, it was a girl that I was with. She was a red-head. (I must have had a thing for them because I dated another later in my senior year.) She was very exciting, for a little while. It was exciting because I didn't think that I would enjoy a girl. I thought that it wouldn't be the same as being with a man, and it wasn't. It was similar, but different. Our times together that spring were wonderful. My passion did flow for her. It wasn't the same raging torrent that I felt with a man, but it was still passion. I wanted to keep touching her, feeling her; have her touching me. It was exciting to be with her in her room, the park, the soccer field. It was thrilling and liberating at the same time, but confusing as well.
I still like women. I thought. I still like women. What does that mean? I had known from
watching so many talk show that many homosexuals go through some kind of transition stage, but
usually when they talk about their experiences that talk about dating women and having sex with
women, they talk about the lack of pleasure they experience, both emotionally and physically.
What was wrong with me?
Over the next few years I remained closeted about my sexuality. I was partly ashamed of what I felt, and partly decided that I should make up my mind and be gay or straight.
I continued my relationships with both men and women over the years. I went to a gay bar in Auburn, ME (a town 40 miles away, with one gay bar. You had to drive to Portland an hour and half away for more.) I met men through the paper, and escort services. I met women through school. I drifted back and forth between the line of gay and straight. All the time I wondered to which world do I belonged. I sought comfort in the fact that all I really need to do was accept myself. That would be the day when all would be set right. But when would that day come? I knew that I was attracted to men, but when would be my day of reckoning, and reconciliation.
That day came my senior year at UMaine. It was the day that I realized that I was in love. Her name was Suzanne. We had started dating at Halloween. I remember it distinctly because we had gone to the schools Halloween dance. We were supposed to be meeting with some friends and they had not shown up yet.
"Let's go look for them." I said and took her hand. She clasped her fingers around mine. This is nice. I thought.
We found our friends, but didn't spend much time with them. We spent more time with each other. As fall turned winter we saw more and more of each other. I started to fall in love with her. That really scared me. Later we, well rather I, decided that we should see other people. It seemed like I was being honest with her, but I wasn't, not completely honest. The real truth was that I was attracted to another person, another girl. It was at this time that I realized I was different; different from all the other boys like me.
I hate to use the word bisexual. That conjures up so many negative stereotype: fence sitter, stone stepper. Stereotypes that are put upon people like myself from straights, but more especially gays, along with the often heard phrase from them "Bisexuality doesn't exist." Echos of what right wing extremists say of homosexuality.
For homosexuals and lesbians the fight for acceptance has been based on the fact that sexuality is something that is part of our genetic make-up, like our hair or eye color. I believe that, too. But I also believe that our genetic make-up is as complex as each of us are as individuals. Not everyone is a blonde, brunette, or red-head, though they fall into those categories. Some people are raven haired, dirty blonde, strawberry blonde. Even our racial make-up varies. Twelve African Americans may be all collective categorized as blacks, but they all have different skin tones. Height, weight, eye color, hair color, skin tone, they are all part of our genetics. Why is then that we think sexuality should be any different?
My second first time took place during my senior year as well. It was with this guy who I had found attractive for quite some time, but never did anything about. I never even really told him about it, though I did share with him my feelings towards me.
It was again on a warm spring night. We were up in my apartment watching a movie, smoking pot, talking. After a while we were quite, and then his hand moved ever so gingerly to my thigh. I took his hand and held it.
"No?"
My mind flooded with thoughts. Yes was the first one.
"Are you doing this because your high or because you want to?"
"I want to."
I let go of his hand, he moved it again to my thigh, and beyond.
It was another beautiful night. He was someone who I did cared about, who I was
attracted to, and who I wanted to give myself to.
At Fitchburg State I started my coming out process. I found the experience to be very easy. No one ran or screamed or stopped being my friend. In fact most people said, "Ya, I know."
The first time was to my friend Erik. I had finally gotten the gumption to be on panel at our school. It was for the RAs, and Erik was an RA. I wanted to tell him before he walked in and thought, "Why is Patrick here?". I wanted to know his reaction beforehand. I really wanted to gauge what he thought, and if he would still be my friend.
"I'm bisexual."
"Oh...okay...so did you want to watch Dr. Who or Planet of the Apes."
I have been very lucky. And I know that. I have always gotten good reactions from coming out to people. And happily have never been bashed (though I know that day will probably come too) Even my family has reacted well, not overjoyed, but not angry or worse, disappointed. I'm out at work, out at home and out at play.
After moving to Washington, DC I joined a rodeo group. It was very exciting to have two things in common with my other friends. Our rodeo is coming up, and I plan on running for Social and Entertainment chair next year. I have yet to find my Mr. or Miss right, but I have found what is right for me. Not drifting between two worlds, but living in them.
YankeeCowboy
Size Me Up!
The 5 w's
Bi American
Slide and Ride
In the flesh, or at least a glossy simulation
Cowboy Poetry
Blood, Sweat and Steers
Love, Lust and Cowboy desire
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