Blac Man's Paradise: Forever

Yo, what's up? This is your man Teejay Overman speaking. I'm currently in Brentwood, Long Island, staying at my uncle Larry Smith's house. I'm a big and tall young black man from Boston, Massachusetts. Vacations are fun and this is my third visit to Long Island. What can I say, I like the city. The beaches, the sand and the towns are beautiful. I'm having the time of my life. Doing everything I can and enjoying myself. It's a much-deserved vacation. I've endured all kinds of hell this year. Word up. So much drama at home and at school. I am basically a magnet for freaks. Well, not anymore. I'm on vacation, bitch! This brotha needed to relax!

Back in Boston, I attend Aristotle College, a small, four-year private school located in downtown Boston. It has approximately three thousand students. At first glance, it looks like a nice school. It has four dorm buildings, two for men and two for women. Unfortunately, the place is filled with drama queens, troublemakers and posers. It's often in the news and almost never for something positive. And for a young black gay man, it's not exactly a safe or positive environment. Still, what was the alternative? I am originally from Brockton. My father, Jose Overman and his wife, Louisa Almond decided to ditch me after they found out that I was gay. Oh, well. To hell with them. I won myself a scholarship to Aristotle College and decided to make something out of myself. I'm a driven man, not some chump who rolls over when the going gets tough.

When I first got on campus, I liked it. The school had an even number of men and women. The school's official demographics looked promising. Fifty percent male and fifty percent female, forty percent Caucasian, twenty six percent African-American, twenty percent Hispanic and fourteen percent Asian. Aristotle College also had a pretty decent sports program, especially considering the school's size. They had Men's Intercollegiate Basketball, Baseball, Soccer, Bowling, Volleyball, Gymnastics, Golf, Tennis, Lacrosse, Swimming, Ice Hockey, Wrestling, Water Polo, Sailing and Football. For women, they had Softball, Basketball, Volleyball, Golf, Soccer, Tennis, Lacrosse, Bowling, Swimming, Ice Hockey, Gymnastics, Water Polo, Rugby, Field Hockey and Sailing. The sports were all Division Three, meaning that student-athletes played because of love of the game rather than athletic scholarships.

I joined the Football team shortly after enrolling. I've always loved football. Ever since I was much younger. Yes, gay men love football. And not just for good-looking bodies. I focused on my studies and playing sports. There was drama happening around Aristotle College but I tried my best to ignore it. But it's not easy for a six-foot-six, 260-pound black man to casually walk through life unseen. I tend to get noticed. Joining the football team the year it won its division championship wasn't a low-profile-enhancing move either. But I've got a passion for the sport and I can't simply turn it off. When I was younger, I played football every damn day. Just me and the neighborhood brats. Guys and sometimes girls who loved the game. It was all in good fun.

In college, I found the last thing I was looking for. All I wanted was to survive and maybe have a chance at a better future. I certainly wasn't looking for love. Then I found it. What did love look like? Allen Emerson, of the Aristotle College Men's Basketball team. A six-foot-five, lean and muscular, golden brown, sexy-as-hell, totally awesome black stud. There was a guy who had it all. I mean, he was so damn fine. The face of a model, the body of an Olympic athlete and the brains of a frigging rocket scientist. A graduate of Boston College High School now dazzling the gentlemen and ladies of Aristotle College with his sheer athletic prowess.

My Dream Guy came from an impressive background. His father, Lawrence Emerson was a local district attorney. His mother, Leona Spears was the president of Saint Guillermina College, an all-female prep school. He was dating a gorgeous young woman named Christina Wallace, daughter of James Wallace, president of Aristotle College. Yes, he had everything going on for him. For a long time, I admired him from afar. I yearned for him. Until he discovered that I liked him. And he liked me back. We began seeing each other in secret. Nobody suspected anything. We were star athletes at one of New England's best colleges. Two handsome, gay black college men falling in love. How about that?

Well, I may have exaggerated a fact. Allen Emerson wasn't gay. He was bisexual. A lot of people confused the two. He was drawn to me, but very much cared about Christina, his centerfold-like girlfriend. Christina Wallace was something, folks. Six feet tall, lean and athletic, with long blonde hair and pale blue eyes. She had a body athletes would envy. She was the captain of the Women's Softball team. Oh, and she was also a Sorority Girl. How about that? Yes, in many people's eyes, she was perfect. A wonderful gal. Unfortunately, Allen had needs that she wouldn't understand. The guy's a complete bisexual. He likes both men and women. I understood that and gave him all the masculine love and affection he so desperately craved.

We would meet in his dorm and hang out. Other times, we would watch movies together and play ball. We went to restaurants and yes, even danced together under the moonlight in an empty warehouse backyard. I fell in love with Allen. I loved kissing him and also holding him in my arms. I hated when he would leave in the early morning. I didn't know where our relationship was going. Could two black men have a loving relationship at one of America's most conservative colleges? Well, we tried. Allen was conflicted from the beginning. Apparently, I was the first gay man he ever had sex with. I was the first gay man he ever kissed. I was happy to be his first. He was so scared of being found out. I shared his fear. My teammates from the football squad wouldn't take too kindly to my being gay. If anyone ever saw Allen and I having an intimate or compromising moment together, we'd be toast. They'd run us out of town. We had to be careful. We tried desperately to make it work. I tried not be jealous on nights when Allen would be out with Christina. He really liked her. I tried to be patient. But eventually what I feared would happen took place. Allen left me for Christina. He chose to go the straight route.

I fell into a deep depression. My GPA slipped from 3.98 to 2.75, which would be considered okay for most students but guess what? I'm not most people. I'm a bright student! Life sucked. I only thought about Allen twenty thousand times a year. I thought about him, his smile and his sexy body. Whenever I imagined him, I saw Christina in the picture and got filled with rage. I hated my life. I couldn't come out in college. When I came out to my parents, they treated me like I was the Antichrist. After that event, I resolved to keep my business to myself. The world was homophobic. I had to deal with it. Yet when I met Allen, I thought things were going to change. I thought I could find love. I thought I could be a gay black man playing college football in America while having a wonderful relationship with another man. I thought I could have it all. But it was all a dream. So much for dreams. They're for suckers.

So, to save my sanity, I escaped from Boston and went to Long Island for the summer. I'm in a new city. My uncle is a cool guy. You see, he's the only openly gay person in the family. He told me that I was welcome to stay with him this summer. Especially since the other side of the family was treating me like shit for being queer. Now, I'm in Long Island. It's June 2008. I return back to Aristotle College in September 2008. Ready for another college football season, tough classes and so much more. For the time being, I'll enjoy the sun and the beach. To hell with men, women, sex, college life and gay politics. I'm taking care of me!