EphemeralStick
Andie of the House of Queer
Hey everybody! So I just made my own milestone and published my first book on Amazon's Create Space. The focal point of the book is sex and recovery, with little bits of my travels in between. I wanted to share with you guys one of the chapters that deals with both of them and see what you think! If you're interested, I'll post a link at the end of the chapter to where you can find the full book. If you can't afford it no worries! I'll probably post a few more chapters should people be interested.
The Sailor and the Lovers
Sometimes it's hard to find good people in the world. When I was younger I was almost convinced that they didn't exist. By the time I left for South Carolina I was convinced that all gay men were the same.
All older gay men wanted one thing from me and I'll give you a hint, it wasn't my sparkling personality. Some guys were nicer than others but in the end the result was always the same. I wasn't good at standing up for myself either so I'd go along with pretty much anyone. I didn't mind it so much but it did feel like a depressing fate.
I thought that I'd be like this for all my youth and then eventually become just another creepy old man who would get to sleep with younger unassuming guys. Like it was some sort of inevitable cycle that was useless to fight. The fact that I had never met a positive older gay role model didn't help.
Towards the end of my time in South Carolina I began going to a youth group. It was an outreach program for gay youth called Safe Space. The program was really awesome. It provided a place for the youth to hang out and connect with each other’s, though I'll admit I didn't open up much. I was a dirty kid who was living on the streets.
I lied when they asked me where I lived, saying I was living with my older brother on a boat in the marina. It was the lie that I had been giving everyone who asked. After all I couldn't really tell them I was living in a hobo community, or at least I didn't feel comfortable telling them.
This all happened around Thanksgiving. You know that one holiday where we all stuff our faces with way too much food in order to celebrate the fact that a bunch of white people came and slaughtered a bunch of natives, driving them from their lands. A joyous occasion indeed. (Please note my sarcasm.)
This was to be the first time I celebrated a holiday without my family. I hadn't left on the best terms and I was feeling a little homesick to be honest. Lucky for me there was a solution. The people at Safe Space said that they knew a couple that had offered to share their table with any of the youth that didn't have a place to eat. How nice right?
I gave them my email and told them that they could pick me up outside a Starbucks. After all, free food and who knows maybe it would get a little kinky? This was an older gay couple; what else would I expect?
There was one other youth that took the offer though he's not of any significant importance. Heck I can't even remember what he looked like, just that he didn't make a lasting impression. Oh well, moving on.
The couple's name were Calvin and Tim. Or at least that’s what I'm going to tell you their names are. They were both over forty, not the most attractive guys but I'd deal. I remember getting in the car with them and thinking "great, well maybe they're both hung or something".
Calvin was a nice enough guy. He would talk about how he and his partner are involved with Safe Space and how happy he was that I and one other youth will be joining them and his family for the occasion.
Tim seemed to be the more outgoing one of the two. He kept us busy by asking me and the other guy about ourselves. I repeated the same old line, living on a boat with my older brother, estranged from my family, originally from Chicago. It was weird hearing myself make the same fake backstory over and over. Heck I even started to feel a little guilty over it.
I don't remember whose house we went to but I know it wasn't theirs. Possibly a relative? I'm not sure. All of the guests were older and seemed to be fairly nice. There was even a lesbian couple that Calvin and Tim were close with! Such a novel concept! I was even introduced to their adopted son.
The dinner was delicious, I spent most of my time talking with Calvin and Tim. I told them how I was hard up on money and they offered to pay me for some house cleaning. I accepted, convinced that I probably wouldn't just be cleaning at their house.
Eventually the dinner ended and we were driven home. First the other guy and then me. They asked where I could be dropped off and I answered the same Starbucks would be fine. It was at this point I think they were starting to suspect that I wasn't living on some boat in the bay. I had a lot of leftovers from the dinner so I hurried back to the island camp, using the super-secret method to get there.
When I arrived in camp I noticed that some of the sailors from the bay were joining us for a night of drinking and festivities. The usual crowd was there plus a face I hadn't seen before. An older man who had to be over fifty. He was a sailor who lived alone, his face was worn and full of wrinkles. He was called Carl. It was easy to tell this guy was the drunken sailor type, as stereotypical as you could imagine.
We all ate like royalty that night, with plenty of booze to boot. When everyone was good and drunk Carl sat down next to me. He leaned in close enough for me to smell the whiskey on his breath as he spoke.
He told me that he admired me for being who I am. That he wishes he could have had the bravery at my age to be true to himself. That he too was gay.
This was when I rolled my eyes almost hard enough to lose my balance. Here I just got done dealing with the two other older gay men and then when I come home I have to deal with this guy. I told him that I was grateful of the complement and quickly relocated across the fire.
We spent the night drinking and playing music. Eventually the night winded down and it was time for bed. I retired to my tent, thoroughly drunk and exhausted. I climbed into my sleeping bag and quickly dozed off.
This of course is when things got creepy. I awoke in the middle of the night to sounds of something nearby. Someone was in my tent. I quickly sprung awake to find Carl leaning into my tent, he rummaging through my laundry pile. I asked him what he was doing.
"Oh I'm just looking for a blanket, it's so cold outside."
I was a bit confused. Especially since the first thing you see when my tent is opened is the pile of blankets I keep by the door. I directed him to said pile and turned over, hoping he would just take a few and leave.
"It’s just so cold."
He kept saying it over and over. Like he was trying to get some sort invitation out of me. Not that he needed one considering he proceeded to climb all the way into my tent. He kept telling me how cold he was as he proceed to start climbing into my sleeping bag. I bit my lip.
How could this be happening? Here of all places? He wrapped his arms around me and started grinding his shriveled manhood against my lower back, restating how cold he was. His hands started rubbing me all over. I asked him to stop but he just held on tighter.
He was so cold. He started kissing the back of my neck, sloppily. Finally I had enough. I was way too tired and way too fed up with this. I was tired of guys trying to force themselves on me. In one quick movement I pushed him off of me, said that I would be right back and left the tent.
I sat down by the remnants of our camp fire, drinking from our community water jug and staring at the faded embers. I kept thinking the same thought over and over again.
"There's a creep in my tent."
The thought played over and over again. It just fucking figured. All older gay men were the same. They all wanted one thing from me and it didn't matter where I went in the country; the result would always be the same. I cried for a bit. Small soft sobs so that I wouldn't wake anyone.
As the sun started to rise I decided I needed to get sleep somehow. I went over to one of the other tents, the one that housed my good, straight friend Spoon. I woke him up and explained that Carl had invaded my tent and asked if I could crash with him. He agreed and I got some sleep.
Carl was gone from the island after that. I saw him once more after that on another sailor’s boat. His drunk ass got a little taste of karma seeing as he fell off said boat and into the unpleasantly cold waters of the bay. I even had the pleasure of watching him go over and not lifting a finger to help him: the other people on the boat had that covered.
You could imagine my feelings when Calvin and Tim contacted me about coming by to do some chores for them. I was distrustful. At this point I had to deal with Celine Dion's biggest fan, the mega-repressed man meat, the creepiest nice guy this side of the Mason-Dixon, and the sailing sex-offender. I also knew that I was hard up on money and haven't showered for a hot minute. After weighing my options I decided to go with what I knew and told them to pick me up from the Starbucks once again.
(At this point I want to give a shout out to every employee who worked at the Starbucks located in the South Windermere Shopping Center in the fall of 2010. You all are amazing.)
Tim picked me up in the morning. It was starting to get into the later end of November yet the weather was still comfortably warm in the daylight. I had gotten used to seeing the opening staff at the Starbucks since there were times when I would spend the entire night there, just sitting outside on their patio in front of my laptop using their Wi-Fi. The staff was actually rather okay with us since we would always be really friendly.
The ride back to Calvin and Tim's place was awkwardly long. Or at least it was for me. We made small talk about where I was from, what brought me to Charleston. I was surprisingly forward with my responses. I explained the situation in a positive light.
I told them that I had to come out to Charleston to be a part of a sailing crew initially although that plan had seemed to fall through. I told them about living in a tent on an island with a bunch of other homeless folk.
I tried not to mention much of my life before Charleston, I don't think I was ready at that point to admit what I was running from to myself let alone a stranger. Tim listened to everything I said, without judgment.
When we arrived at his house I said my hellos to Calvin and their son, I was then asked to clean the pool with a one of those pool cleaning nets. Pretty simple work. After I finished doing that incredibly easy task they offered me a shower. I was nervous at first, but I showered anyways. I figured that they weren't going to try anything at this point, considering their young son was running about.
When it came time for dinner we said Grace before we ate. This took me by surprise. A gay couple, with an adoptive son, giving thanks to God like normal Christians. I had long since given up on Catholicism at this point; I never imagined that there would be gays who were down with Jesus.
While we ate, Calvin and Tim told me stories about themselves. How their eyes met from across a crowded bar and how they fell in love. Calvin was an aspiring member of the clergy, while Tim was more of a free spirit. They didn't know it at the time but hearing their stories was what I needed to hear most.
I never believed that gay men could have a normal, loving family life. I always thought I would grow up to be just another old lecher, just like Carl. I needed to see that there was another option that I could aspire towards; having a loving family of my own someday.
After dinner Tim drove me back to the island. I would see them two more times before I left South Carolina. Once when they asked me to help them put up their Christmas decorations and again when I asked them to drop me off at the Greyhound station.
I never saw them again after that. They became just another passing encounter in my ridiculous life. However, they impacted me more than any other gay role model ever has. They gave me a glimmer of hope when all I knew were shades of abuse.
https://www.createspace.com/7039868
The Sailor and the Lovers
Sometimes it's hard to find good people in the world. When I was younger I was almost convinced that they didn't exist. By the time I left for South Carolina I was convinced that all gay men were the same.
All older gay men wanted one thing from me and I'll give you a hint, it wasn't my sparkling personality. Some guys were nicer than others but in the end the result was always the same. I wasn't good at standing up for myself either so I'd go along with pretty much anyone. I didn't mind it so much but it did feel like a depressing fate.
I thought that I'd be like this for all my youth and then eventually become just another creepy old man who would get to sleep with younger unassuming guys. Like it was some sort of inevitable cycle that was useless to fight. The fact that I had never met a positive older gay role model didn't help.
Towards the end of my time in South Carolina I began going to a youth group. It was an outreach program for gay youth called Safe Space. The program was really awesome. It provided a place for the youth to hang out and connect with each other’s, though I'll admit I didn't open up much. I was a dirty kid who was living on the streets.
I lied when they asked me where I lived, saying I was living with my older brother on a boat in the marina. It was the lie that I had been giving everyone who asked. After all I couldn't really tell them I was living in a hobo community, or at least I didn't feel comfortable telling them.
This all happened around Thanksgiving. You know that one holiday where we all stuff our faces with way too much food in order to celebrate the fact that a bunch of white people came and slaughtered a bunch of natives, driving them from their lands. A joyous occasion indeed. (Please note my sarcasm.)
This was to be the first time I celebrated a holiday without my family. I hadn't left on the best terms and I was feeling a little homesick to be honest. Lucky for me there was a solution. The people at Safe Space said that they knew a couple that had offered to share their table with any of the youth that didn't have a place to eat. How nice right?
I gave them my email and told them that they could pick me up outside a Starbucks. After all, free food and who knows maybe it would get a little kinky? This was an older gay couple; what else would I expect?
There was one other youth that took the offer though he's not of any significant importance. Heck I can't even remember what he looked like, just that he didn't make a lasting impression. Oh well, moving on.
The couple's name were Calvin and Tim. Or at least that’s what I'm going to tell you their names are. They were both over forty, not the most attractive guys but I'd deal. I remember getting in the car with them and thinking "great, well maybe they're both hung or something".
Calvin was a nice enough guy. He would talk about how he and his partner are involved with Safe Space and how happy he was that I and one other youth will be joining them and his family for the occasion.
Tim seemed to be the more outgoing one of the two. He kept us busy by asking me and the other guy about ourselves. I repeated the same old line, living on a boat with my older brother, estranged from my family, originally from Chicago. It was weird hearing myself make the same fake backstory over and over. Heck I even started to feel a little guilty over it.
I don't remember whose house we went to but I know it wasn't theirs. Possibly a relative? I'm not sure. All of the guests were older and seemed to be fairly nice. There was even a lesbian couple that Calvin and Tim were close with! Such a novel concept! I was even introduced to their adopted son.
The dinner was delicious, I spent most of my time talking with Calvin and Tim. I told them how I was hard up on money and they offered to pay me for some house cleaning. I accepted, convinced that I probably wouldn't just be cleaning at their house.
Eventually the dinner ended and we were driven home. First the other guy and then me. They asked where I could be dropped off and I answered the same Starbucks would be fine. It was at this point I think they were starting to suspect that I wasn't living on some boat in the bay. I had a lot of leftovers from the dinner so I hurried back to the island camp, using the super-secret method to get there.
When I arrived in camp I noticed that some of the sailors from the bay were joining us for a night of drinking and festivities. The usual crowd was there plus a face I hadn't seen before. An older man who had to be over fifty. He was a sailor who lived alone, his face was worn and full of wrinkles. He was called Carl. It was easy to tell this guy was the drunken sailor type, as stereotypical as you could imagine.
We all ate like royalty that night, with plenty of booze to boot. When everyone was good and drunk Carl sat down next to me. He leaned in close enough for me to smell the whiskey on his breath as he spoke.
He told me that he admired me for being who I am. That he wishes he could have had the bravery at my age to be true to himself. That he too was gay.
This was when I rolled my eyes almost hard enough to lose my balance. Here I just got done dealing with the two other older gay men and then when I come home I have to deal with this guy. I told him that I was grateful of the complement and quickly relocated across the fire.
We spent the night drinking and playing music. Eventually the night winded down and it was time for bed. I retired to my tent, thoroughly drunk and exhausted. I climbed into my sleeping bag and quickly dozed off.
This of course is when things got creepy. I awoke in the middle of the night to sounds of something nearby. Someone was in my tent. I quickly sprung awake to find Carl leaning into my tent, he rummaging through my laundry pile. I asked him what he was doing.
"Oh I'm just looking for a blanket, it's so cold outside."
I was a bit confused. Especially since the first thing you see when my tent is opened is the pile of blankets I keep by the door. I directed him to said pile and turned over, hoping he would just take a few and leave.
"It’s just so cold."
He kept saying it over and over. Like he was trying to get some sort invitation out of me. Not that he needed one considering he proceeded to climb all the way into my tent. He kept telling me how cold he was as he proceed to start climbing into my sleeping bag. I bit my lip.
How could this be happening? Here of all places? He wrapped his arms around me and started grinding his shriveled manhood against my lower back, restating how cold he was. His hands started rubbing me all over. I asked him to stop but he just held on tighter.
He was so cold. He started kissing the back of my neck, sloppily. Finally I had enough. I was way too tired and way too fed up with this. I was tired of guys trying to force themselves on me. In one quick movement I pushed him off of me, said that I would be right back and left the tent.
I sat down by the remnants of our camp fire, drinking from our community water jug and staring at the faded embers. I kept thinking the same thought over and over again.
"There's a creep in my tent."
The thought played over and over again. It just fucking figured. All older gay men were the same. They all wanted one thing from me and it didn't matter where I went in the country; the result would always be the same. I cried for a bit. Small soft sobs so that I wouldn't wake anyone.
As the sun started to rise I decided I needed to get sleep somehow. I went over to one of the other tents, the one that housed my good, straight friend Spoon. I woke him up and explained that Carl had invaded my tent and asked if I could crash with him. He agreed and I got some sleep.
Carl was gone from the island after that. I saw him once more after that on another sailor’s boat. His drunk ass got a little taste of karma seeing as he fell off said boat and into the unpleasantly cold waters of the bay. I even had the pleasure of watching him go over and not lifting a finger to help him: the other people on the boat had that covered.
You could imagine my feelings when Calvin and Tim contacted me about coming by to do some chores for them. I was distrustful. At this point I had to deal with Celine Dion's biggest fan, the mega-repressed man meat, the creepiest nice guy this side of the Mason-Dixon, and the sailing sex-offender. I also knew that I was hard up on money and haven't showered for a hot minute. After weighing my options I decided to go with what I knew and told them to pick me up from the Starbucks once again.
(At this point I want to give a shout out to every employee who worked at the Starbucks located in the South Windermere Shopping Center in the fall of 2010. You all are amazing.)
Tim picked me up in the morning. It was starting to get into the later end of November yet the weather was still comfortably warm in the daylight. I had gotten used to seeing the opening staff at the Starbucks since there were times when I would spend the entire night there, just sitting outside on their patio in front of my laptop using their Wi-Fi. The staff was actually rather okay with us since we would always be really friendly.
The ride back to Calvin and Tim's place was awkwardly long. Or at least it was for me. We made small talk about where I was from, what brought me to Charleston. I was surprisingly forward with my responses. I explained the situation in a positive light.
I told them that I had to come out to Charleston to be a part of a sailing crew initially although that plan had seemed to fall through. I told them about living in a tent on an island with a bunch of other homeless folk.
I tried not to mention much of my life before Charleston, I don't think I was ready at that point to admit what I was running from to myself let alone a stranger. Tim listened to everything I said, without judgment.
When we arrived at his house I said my hellos to Calvin and their son, I was then asked to clean the pool with a one of those pool cleaning nets. Pretty simple work. After I finished doing that incredibly easy task they offered me a shower. I was nervous at first, but I showered anyways. I figured that they weren't going to try anything at this point, considering their young son was running about.
When it came time for dinner we said Grace before we ate. This took me by surprise. A gay couple, with an adoptive son, giving thanks to God like normal Christians. I had long since given up on Catholicism at this point; I never imagined that there would be gays who were down with Jesus.
While we ate, Calvin and Tim told me stories about themselves. How their eyes met from across a crowded bar and how they fell in love. Calvin was an aspiring member of the clergy, while Tim was more of a free spirit. They didn't know it at the time but hearing their stories was what I needed to hear most.
I never believed that gay men could have a normal, loving family life. I always thought I would grow up to be just another old lecher, just like Carl. I needed to see that there was another option that I could aspire towards; having a loving family of my own someday.
After dinner Tim drove me back to the island. I would see them two more times before I left South Carolina. Once when they asked me to help them put up their Christmas decorations and again when I asked them to drop me off at the Greyhound station.
I never saw them again after that. They became just another passing encounter in my ridiculous life. However, they impacted me more than any other gay role model ever has. They gave me a glimmer of hope when all I knew were shades of abuse.
https://www.createspace.com/7039868
