Dear Hunter:

Dear Hunter:

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.

Screen Shot 2016-06-16 at 6.25.12 AM

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).


  1. From the good folks at Merriam-Webster:
    courage, noun, cour·age, \ˈkər-ij, ˈkə-rij\
    mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty

    To be afraid, and to act despite the fear, is courage, not failure. Thank you for being courageous.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. As a life long southerner who grew up in a “traditional” family and the church of Christ (one step above fundamental churches) I can proudly say Love Who You Love and be proud.

    I grew as a person and realized we are all just people who want to love and be loved! My sister is a lesbian. I have countless fraternity brothers who finally admitted what we all knew and nothing changed other than I was even more proud to call them brother! A former co-worker and her partner, whom I ride with for charity events, proudly kiss in public. It is all about love and affection.

    You are more courageous than I will ever be!

    Hopefully, my travel will cross with yours someday and we can have an adult beverage or two together!


  3. I’m not a man, youngish or otherwise, and am not gay, so I first want to point out that there’s no way I can ever understand what that feels like or what kind of courage that takes. Even when I date women, I feel like there’s more acceptance and less prejudice simply because “lesbians are hot.”

    Still, I can pretend I can imagine what that would feel like. What if society told me loving someone meant I could be followed into a bathroom and beaten up or killed, simply for holding their hand or kissing them? What if I could be killed while going out dancing with friends and having a “girls’ night” at the club? Just for loving a person someone thinks I shouldn’t love?

    Just the *idea* of it is fucking terrifying. Absolutely, incredibly, utterly terrifying. I literally cannot imagine what it would be like to live that way. I applaud you for having the courage to live your life the way you want, marrying the man you love, and being a supportive, loving husband to him.

    Being afraid doesn’t make you weak, it doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you stronger.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. I’ve seen that fear in Bear. He was terrified at first of any public displays of affection. He’s relaxed since moving to this bastion of liberalness and I don’t think he fears any more, now. When we got married, what I had to get used to was that the words “my husband” were a complete non-event. That no-one reacted, that I was completely normal. That’s a nice thing to have to adjust to.


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