I have been angry, sad and confused this week over the shootings in Florida and, as you know, I wrote this semi-lovely piece about what’s it’s like to not be able to comfortably hold my husband’s hand in public. As I wrote that, the voices in my head – both the professional (the clean) and the personal (the smutty) – were screaming at me to stand up against this, to be a stronger guy, to hold Axel’s hand proudly, and to show the world that we, two boring balding middle aged guys, were strong, proud individuals who were not afraid of anything. I felt good about that until I failed 26 hours later. Miserably.
I failed over a kiss.
An airport kiss to be exact.
In an odd twist of events, I was home on a Tuesday and Wednesday and was flying out for two days of work at the end of the week followed by a drive to Montreal where I am going to spend some time with the chastity God, Chris, from Steelwerks. What’s different here is that Axel is meeting me in Montreal and we are going to have a few days of “us time” along with time with new friends, so he took me to the airport so we would not have to have two cars there when he leaves tomorrow.
To be honest, I would almost rather hand over all of my body to the man versus the key fob to my truck because he tends to do things like scrape wheels on the curb and leave protein bar wrappers and random peanuts in crevices, but, nonetheless, it was easier to let him drive me in mine. We were laughing and talking on the way to the airport and as we drove up for him to drop me off, he went right to the Delta/American door and, even though he went way too fast toward the curb for my liking, he pulled smack up right in the middle of all the people in an effort to make it easier for me to get my bags and get inside.
As I gathered my things and went to exit, I was about to offer him my traditional “thank you for loving me and caring for me and I will miss you so much” pat on the leg, but he foiled that and HAD THE NERVE to lean in for a kiss. A KISS. Right there in front of all of those people, he wanted to kiss me inside my black truck with a black interior and tinted windows. I mean, it was just like we had a spotlight on us in that shrouded blackness and everyone was going to turn and look while pointing. My head raced because, I was scared, I was aware of the people, and I was very uncomfortable in those 14 seconds this was taking. Why the fuck couldn’t I just do the leg pat? I really raged in my head for a second and, then, I kissed him.
All day I thought I had failed myself because I had that fear in my head. I thought I was weak and I had cowered. I thought I should be ashamed of myself for even worrying. I thought about the fact that when Thumper drops me off he kisses me and that I am often proud of that and why that might be different for me and decided that it just is because, with Thumper, there is an “in your face” feeling I have because I could, if asked, just say “he’s my friend and we are affectionate – fuck off” but when it was my husband I would have to tell my whole story and would have to come out, yet again, in that brief moment exposing myself to whatever that could be.
As I write this, I realize I did not technically fail because, I did kiss him, but it was sadly not what a kiss should be remembered as being. But, I did it.
As I flew, I had thought about what, if anything, I wanted to write about this because I am really wanting the world to get back to naked pictures and Thumper’s “dick” pics, but, I decided I would process that a bit and see what I felt like that.
Then, as I arrived at my hotel last night, I got this as a response from you to my ramblings about the shooting the day before and you literally made my day.
You were a first time commenter and, when I got it, I wanted to almost cry because I felt for you as I remembered being a youngish gay man too. But, you also validated me and my feelings as well, because, well, just because. I don’t know your kink side or how you found me, but to realize that someone is using these things as guidance makes me incredibly happy and I hope that when you become a non-youngish man, like me, that these feelings of fear will go away.
To go back to the kiss, I feel like I should point out that I made it 1,273 miles from home and not a single person pointed their finger at me and giggled because I kissed a boy. But, the shear fact I still have that in my head tells me I have a lot of work to do on myself because, thanks to you, Hunter, I realize that these things set a tone for the next generation and that my actions now can determine perceptions in the future.
Thank you for commenting on this and for helping me stay in check with where I should be on these issues. As a youngish gay man, you have an incredible future ahead of you because, even though we are focusing on these negative things these days, the world has literally opened up to us and for us during our actual lifetimes and every single day someone is having their awareness raised.
I you do need a real like role model, message me directly, but, the fear and all of the other things you mentioned are real and will likely always be there for some degree, but you don’t have to give into it, EVER. Just be aware and continue to move gayly forward.
P.S. – Axel (and likely you Thump, if you deserve it), get ready, cause I am kissing you both in a wide public place (perhaps in shade though – you know, baby steps).