Spray On Insect Repellant.

I first saw his ad on Gumtree in the guy seeking guy section while I was googling around on Tuesday afternoon. After a couple of emails, I got a chance to meet him on Friday. He had the appearance of a typical university student, – scruffy, unpretentious and adorable. He was much older than me, but he was intelligent, good looking, nice, almost everything I would ask for, and most surprisingly, he was actually interested in meeting someone like me. We met up to get to know each other and to make sure, in his words, ‘that we weren’t axe-murderers’. We got talking down at Lapent Reserve and it was the first time I had met someone who was gay and who I could talk to about being gay, and that was a nice experience.

 

We went back into his car and he asked if he could kiss me. I didn’t say no outright but made it clear I felt a little awkward. There were a few reasons I think why I reacted this way which I’ve now come to regret. I think the main one being I didn’t want to seem like a slut, or someone who was fucking desperate. I also felt that after talking to him like I knew him a bit better and hence it was awkward for me to have kissed him. Instead I think he felt a bit rejected and that also I portrayed myself rather immaturely. I don’t know what he really thought and I didn’t ask. 

We went to Maccas after the sun had finally set and talked a bit more. He told me about his interests in music, living with in his area, his family and I guess I must have told him a bit about mine. During the two days we met up, he spoke the most while we were talking, but I felt comfortable this way. Over the course of engaging with each other I remained honest but in hindsight I probably unwisely held back as much as possible. There were long silences between us which made me feel uncomfortable and I’m sure it was the same for him as well. He always had to ask me questions to get me talking and I can sense that not knowing what to say was one of my major flaws. 

When we decided to call it a night I think he wanted to kiss me before I went but I just opted for a more modest hug. He told me he liked me and I said I liked him a lot as well, but always trying not to seem desperate or clingy. We arranged to meet again the next day, and I remember, when I was walking home, regretting not making out with him and promised myself I’d do it the next day if the opportunity arose.

I spent most of Saturday looking forward to 8 in the night. I was excited but nervous like on Friday. I expected the second day would become judgment day, and that it was gonna be the moment when he would tell me if there was something between us, or not. It was either going to continue or it would end that night. 

 

He brought the spray on repellant this time so we wouldn’t be attacked and eaten alive in the summer night. It turned out to be one of the hottest nights on records – temperature wise that is. We didn’t go where we planned because it was too much of a hassle so we went a park close by. We walked down from High Street Rd to Jells Park and back, chatting mostly about what he was working on at work and on the odd occasion I would speak as well. Maybe he felt I didn’t open up to him enough. I’m not sure. While what he was talking about – his research at work - was always fascinating, inside though I was dying to find out what he really thought about me. Though I expected it, the biggest fear for me would be for him to turn me down. Although I told myself rejection was inevitable, that it was too good to be true, there was always a lingering temptation to believe otherwise. It’s always that little glimmer of hope that takes hold of you, and, as always, inflated expectations come with great disappointment.

When we couldn’t find a tap for a drink, I sat down next to the barbeque. It was almost dark, probably about half past nine. He was still standing when he put his arms on me. I pulled myself to get my hands around him. Pressing my head against his body felt good. I felt safe. I wanted to hold on but I was always conscious of not taking it too far. I don’t know why I didn’t; maybe I feared that if indeed I went further, he would reject me. In hindsight I hate myself for not hold him on longer and making out with him, as it would turn out to be my last opportunity to do so.

He stopped because I mutted something about it being awkward. I was such a fucking idiot. I can’t exactly remember why, but we started heading towards his car again. I turned to him and tried explaining that I was afraid of doing anything because

 

“I didn’t even know if you’d like me that much.”

 

What I meant was not that I believed he liked me a lot, but that he liked me at all. He responded something along the lines of

 

“Well as I said I like you, but I don’t think we could be partners or anything…”

He probably didn’t know it then, but what he said felt like a he had dropped a bombshell. I knew it was gonna end there and then, and there was nothing I could do about it. He mentioned it was largely due to our age differences. He’s 29. I’m 18. But he was the first person I really liked that could possibly like me back because he was gay. While at first when I came out to myself about being gay it killed me to find out most people whom you might like in this life will never like you back, it killed me now to find someone who could possibly like me to reject me.

We went and sat on a bench near the car, starting to hug each other again. Out of the blue, he spotted there were people looking at us. He leaped up and ran while I just sat there still trying to figure out what was going on. I spotted a car, and as it slowly approached to where I sat, someone inside yelled out “YOU FUCKIN’ POOFTA!”. At first I didn’t quite understand what happened and just sat there, but after a few moments it dawned on me. The feeling of violation quickly descended on me. I felt numb – mostly from feeling rejected earlier but also now with my first hand experience with homophobia.

“It wouldn’t be your last” he said, still angry at the people in the car.

 

My first experiences with being rejected by someone who I liked and who could actually like me back and the threatening homophobia wouldn’t and shouldn’t have been surprising at all if I weren’t diluting myself so much. Together they left me feeling, violated, rejected and a little hurt inside. But I’m also hoping I’d learn from but both and hopefully they have humbled me.  

I quickly realized I’ve been immersing myself  in too many left leaning blogs and reading to much of The Age that it’s clouted my judgment of the level of homophobia out there in the real world. I’ve seen homophobia being mocked, parodied, and discredited that it’s just become a joke to me. I’d been desensitised that I couldn’t believe the word ‘poofter’ was used in a genuinely threatening fashion. Ironically I was saying to him, only moments earlier, how I thought that I felt things had improved. Now, although writing this blog still deeply in a state of paranoia, I realise how wrong I am.

After thinking how lucky we didn’t get hurt, we went to Maccas to get a drink. We wanted to find a quiet place to talk but what we just experienced in the dark had numbed both of us. Inside though, I was still grappling with how I was to end it with him and while I didn’t want to, I figured there was no other way. A part of me died when  he said he “couldn’t see it being permanent” and I guess he had made up his mind, and that he was only trying to find right words to end it without seeming to hurt me. He reiterated that the age gap was the biggest concern for him. Unlike the fact I’m not out to my parents, that it was too much of a hassle transport wise, or among other things, I felt powerless to do anything about it. I couldn’t shrink the eleven years that ultimately separated him and me. And while I don’t blame him for rejecting me for that reason, it would be dishonest if I said i wasn’t feeling a little hurt inside. But if it’s too good to be true then it probably is. 

He said he still wants us to be friends and said we could see each other as such. I do want to see him again, even just as friends. I really enjoyed talking to him. Well, it’s more like me just listening to him and me interjecting every once a while with questions that ultimately reveal my ignorance. But I’m afraid everytime I see him now I will think of what I should have done instead, what could have been, what could happen, and that would seem to him and to myself that I’m incapable of moving on. Ultimately that’s what I feel I need to do. That’s not to say I haven’t got any regrets. I wish I made out with him. And I wish I held him for much, much, much longer. As I write this blog I’m pressing my nose and mouth against my right shoulder hoping to breathe a bit more of that scent of the spray on insect repellant, still left on my shirt, a nice reminder of the short time I spent with him.

 

I really liked him. But what can I do? There’s a first time for everything and it’s time for me to build a bridge and get over it, and move on. Inside, I’m unsure if want to move on and I’m unsure how long it’s gonna take, but it’s probably time to get back on Gaydar with the myriad of depressing profiles that proclaim “No Fats, No Fems, No Asians“. 

 

At least there’s MacWorld to look forward to.