It started out innocently enough. Tim and I had grown up neighbors. He and his family moved into our neighborhood when we were both six years of age. He lived two lots down from me. There was a vacant lot between our houses where a house once stood, but had been torn down. A developer was going to build a duplex in its place, but that was to be two or three years down the road.
There was a huge dirt pile in the vacant lot. Consequently, the lot was a magnet for all the neighborhood kids. We tried to ride our bikes as high as we could up the huge pile. We dug foxholes for neighborhood army maneuvers. We dug tunnels, and buried stuff. It was a great place. Tim and I met on this dirt pile the day his family was moving into their new home. We became fast friends.
Tim was a good kid, a fun kid, and a great pal. We became best friends. We were often shared the same teacher in school. He went with our family on vacations and I went with his. Our friendship continued for years to come.
When we both hit high school, we remained best of friends. We did all the stuff high school boys did. We went driving in the country, shooting road signs with rifles. We took unsuspecting buddies on snipe hunts. We rolled houses, we drank beer, we smoked reefer. We were your typical teenaged boys.
I never thought too much about it at the time, but when we hit 16 or 17, many of us started developing relationships with girls. Our once large group of guys started dwindling as each one of us "fell in love" and started dating girls. Each of us, that is, except for Tim. Like I said, I didn't think much of it at the time. I just figured that Tim wasn't as interested in girls as the rest of us. I left it at that.
Don't get me wrong. Our gang didn't suddenly evaporate into nothing. We all still got together to do "guy stuff" when our girlfriends were out doing their thing. We just didn't get together as frequently as we once did. And, when we did, our talk was about what else.... Girls. We talked, bragged, and embellished about playing "stink finger", and trying cop a feel of a girl's tits. Of course, we always made ourselves sound more cocksure than we really were. But, that, too, is what being a teenager is all about.
Of course, Tim always remained quiet when we told our tales of conquering our latest girlfriend. When we talked about pussy, and sucking tits and whatnot, Tim had nothing to offer. Again, I thought nothing of it.
Looking back, during our entire high school career, I don't recall Tim ever talking about a girl, or even asking a girl out on a date. I don't remember him ever liking a girl at school or trying to make friends with one.
Time passed, like it always does. Tim and I graduated high school and went off to the same state university. We wanted to be roommates, but since we had decided on different majors, the university housed us in different locations on campus. Tim and I saw one another every day. We ate together several times a week, and our friendship remained strong during the first semester in college.
Near the end of the first semester, Tim and I started getting together less often. Nothing was said and nothing was done as far as I knew that would bring any strain to our friendship. In fact, I asked Tim about it, and he laughed it off and said he was just so overwhelmed with his course work that he simply didn't have the time to get together as often as we once did. He assured me that nothing had come between us as best friends.
Tim had an on campus job that prevented him from spending the entire Christmas vacation back home. He came home for a couple of days and went right back to school. I, on the other hand, enjoyed the entire three week break between semesters.
Upon returning to school, I found a note taped to my dorm room door. It was from Tim. He needed to talk to me as soon as I was able. He said something about needing to talk to me as a friend.
After unpacking my stuff, I gave Tim a call and we agreed to meet at Starbuck's just off campus.
The place was pretty well deserted since most of the students wouldn't be coming back for another day or two. So, we had the place to our self.
Tim was obviously nervous about something. I assured him that I was his best friend and he could tell me anything. The nervousness melted a wee bit, but he was still very tentative with his words.
"For god's sake, Tim, will you cut the shit and tell me what's going on? What's buggin you, old man?"
"John, I'm gay. I'm a fag. I'm a queer. I'm light in the loafers. I'm a cocksucker. I'm a homo. Is that clear enough for you?"
He sat staring at me with a blank gaze. I stared at him.... Not knowing what to say in reply.
Crazy thoughts flew though my mind. Was this the end of our friendship? Why was he telling me this? How long had he known? Was he sure? Was this just a phase he's going through?
Then, the memories of him never having a girlfriend, never seeming to be interested in girls, and never participating in our discussions about pussy started to make sense.
Then the thought hit me that I knew this all along. I was not mad. I was not appalled. I was not sickened by this knowledge. I was a pretty liberal, free-thinking kind of guy. I'd tried sex, drugs, and rock and roll. I lived a good, fun, uninhibited life. I, in fact, was somewhat relieved to know that his being gay was the only thing bothering him.
I finally responded. "Okay. So, what am I supposed to do? You're not making a pass at me, are you? You don't love me like that, do you?" I grinned a sheepish grin, somewhat afraid that he might say 'yes'.
