The drive to Planet Hollywood was pleasant. I was thinking about what had happened earlier, and about what I perceived Chase’s decision was to keep seeing me in a sexual way. He seemed happy at first; content and satisfied in the shower we shared. As my hands explored him, wet and soapy, I just couldn’t get enough of him
Chase seemed quiet, and I wasn’t sure what that was all about. For the first time since I moved back to Dallas, I could see a hint of the old Chase hiding behind those sad eyes. We held hands for the entire drive.
Planet Hollywood was a fun place for me. As an historic museum for old movies and collectibles, it had great food and a nostalgic atmosphere.
“Chase, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, managing a smile.
“Look, I was thinking. I know things are rough at home with your Mom. Your Dad’s been there for you, but I don’t think he’s very confident about what to do. You look miserable when you talk about home.”
Chase nodded his head.
“I’m going to suggest that you move in with me. Billy is moving in with a friend and you can have the my son’s bedroom.”
I watched for his reaction; he didn’t really offer one.
“You need time, Chase, to figure out what you want to do without being in a family situation that appears to be uncomfortable for you.”
Chase wasn’t looking at me. He was staring down at the table.
“Everyone needs a break from each other; you from your parents, your parents from you. By giving everyone space to think about what’s going on, it might just help everybody to adjust.”
I suspected that Chase had developed skill at hiding his feelings, not giving away much at all. Since telling his Dad about his sexual activities, he retreated into himself, and his mask was unyielding.
“I think you’re right, Dan,” he said to me flatly.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Chase?”
This time he looked at me and said, “Yes, I do need to get away for a while.
For the rest of the meal, I talked about the things we would do together, to make sure he understood that we wouldn’t be in bed all the time having sex. The signals I got from him all that day was that he wanted to be with me. I was more then willing to accommodate him, because I wanted him with me too.
The term “relationship” never came up. I hadn’t really conceived the notion that we would be in one, but it hung over us, vividly.
After dinner, I drove him around town where the gay clubs and bars were. I told him I would take him so he could see the lifestyle, to help him make the adjustment that I knew in my heart he would make.
My hand was resting on his thigh as we drove and I couldn’t help myself when I moved it to his groin area and began to squeeze him.
“You’ve wanted to do that for a long time?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess I have,” I said, not sure when I had first thought about touching him there.
Never in my wildest imagination did I ever consider touching Chase when he worked for me, or when he called and entrusted me with the information about his sexual activities seven months before. Not until I came out to him that morning, did I have the overwhelming desire to touch him.
When we got back to the apartment, we hit the bedroom again. I was determined to make him cum this time. He was surprised that I was ready to go so soon after our earlier session. We lay on our sides to take our time and enjoy oral sex with each other.
The one thing I noticed about Chase was that he knew what he was doing. I thought he was much more experienced than I, and I felt intimated by that. It didn’t stop me from sucking on him. For one thing, it was pleasurable, and I was also determined to make him feel good. I took him all the way down to his pubes. He told me I was the first guy to ever do that to him, since most of the guys he had been with were straight and only sucked on the head.
It didn’t take him long to get me off. I pulled off him and enjoyed my second orgasm with him. When I was finished, I returned to the job at hand. I worked him with my mouth and fingers. I savored his taste and the feelings I had for him while I made love to him. That’s how I thought of it; making love. He warned me that he was there. I pulled off and he shot off like a fountain. I milked him dry.
I was hoping to cuddle with him, but he said he had to get home. The mood was broken. We showered separately this time. I went first and waited for him in the dining room. When he came out of the bedroom, he headed right for the front door without saying anything.
“Hey, hold on there,” I said.
Chase stopped, and I walked over to him. This moment with him would be one of the most significant I would ever have with him, but I didn’t know it at the time.
I put my arms around him and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he said, unconvincingly.
I ignored it. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, but I thought it best to wait for a later time.
I would regret that eventually.
“Will I see you on Tuesday, as usual?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I kissed him on the lips with meaning. I rubbed his cock through his pants.
“I’m glad you’re going to move in. You know, when you do, you don’t have to go to the park anymore. If you want sex, I’m here. It’s safer for you not to go back there.”
I still hadn’t even considered what we were going to do as partners in a ‘relationship’. We would just be more than casual roommates who had sex with each other, and what ever developed we would explore together.
Chase nodded his head. I released him and walked him to the front door.
When he left, I was elated that he was going to move in. I wanted to save him, help him accept who he was, so that he could adjust and be happy with himself. Chase and I were now more than just best friends.
The next night, he called, and my hopes and dreams about being with him crashed around me.
“Hello.”
“Dan?”
Chase was crying and that concerned me immediately.
“Yeah.”
“I’m won’t be coming tomorrow,” he said, his voice nearly trembling.
“Why not?”
The struggle for him seemed unbearable, I thought.
“I made a deal with my parents today.”
“What was that?”
“As a condition for their paying for my college, I have to go abroad on a year long mission for the Southern Conference. I will be going to South America to teach, and to help build housing with other missionaries.”
I listened hard to his voice; the uncertainty was overwhelming.
“Okay,” I said. My heart began to ache for him.
“I want to be a minister so bad, Dan,” he said, with some conviction. “I can’t see you anymore.”
I had enough compassion to understand the battle he was about to engage in, a struggle to give up sex with men and serve God. It was a sacrifice that I accepted he had to do. When his crying didn’t let up, I realized that his major conflict concerned me.
I didn’t protest. I wanted to. I wanted badly to fight for him, but it was a battle I knew I would lose.
I didn’t know if he told his parents about us. I became paranoid at that thought. They might have been listening in. I chose not to bring that up.
“Chase,” I said. “Will you at least call me and let me know how you’re doing?”
I wanted him to know how much I cared about him.
“I will,” he said, “in a couple of days.”
“Okay.”
He was still crying when we hung up.
I waited patiently for him to call me. The days went by, with Chase on my mind. When he didn’t call, I began to realize that I had to let him go. That hurt. My rationale was that he was nineteen and he wanted his dream. He couldn’t have it if he was gay, and involved with another man.
He had let me go.
Looking back now, I realize that it was from this point in my life when things started to go very wrong for me. In my paranoid state, I began to think that God was punishing me for being with Chase, for nearly taking the young man from God’s service. I debated with myself, over and over again, as to what my truest motives were with him. Did I truly want to help him, or was I only thinking about my desire for a companion? I knew in my heart that I had only the best intentions for Chase; I just hoped God knew that.
I waited a month before I ventured on to gay.com again. I met a guy and we hit it off and he moved in with me. He was on medical disability, though I couldn’t see any real reason for it.
Stephen was older than me by two years. I enjoyed his company and I started to grow fond of him. I wanted a relationship with him, a monogamous one. He didn’t. He taught me what I hadn’t learned yet about anal sex: I liked to top. He was a versatile bottom. After staying with me for nearly three months, he announced he was moving to San Francisco. An on-line friend he met on gay.com had offered him a place to stay in a condo he shared with two other gay guys.
Three weeks later, I took my vacation and drove him out to his new home. Even though I felt betrayed and hurt, I knew he wasn’t worth fighting for. I stayed a couple of days and toured San Francisco, especially the Castro district. I felt at home there.
I returned to Texas and one of my assistants, who was gay, and the only employee I had who knew about me, had an ex-boyfriend who needed a room. I let him move in.
Shane had one outstanding virtue: he was quite the housekeeper. He looked for a job and never found one. He and I never became sexual.
Stephen kept calling me and telling me how much he missed me. I didn’t trust him, especially after the way he left me.
At work, I was having trouble with the janitor service. They would break into the video games, steal concession supplies, and leave the building without securing the doors. I was pushing to fire the company. I wasn’t allowed to, since my employer also owned the janitor service. I sent a very tactless email to my supervisor, her boss, the director of security, and the head of human resources, demanding that the service be terminated and why. The email made it to the top of the company, and two days later I was fired.
I was offered a place to stay in San Francisco with Stephen. Shane and I packed up and we moved out there. I went to work for United Artists Theaters after receiving my unemployment from Texas.
My stay in California lasted four months. I found it was too expensive to live on my income, and I wasn’t happy living with Stephen and the others.
Since my parents had moved to Florida the year before and I had worked there before, I transferred to a UA theatre in Clearwater and stayed with them until I could find my own place.
The job was a disaster for me since UA was not spending any money due to their impending bankruptcy. I quit, and went to work for a shopping center developer who had a closed theatre. I opened it for him, and he had his son-in-law shadow me to learn everything he could. Since he reneged on our original deal, I walked out after three months. The son-in-law took over and he ran the theatre until the owner sold it. The theater was torn down two years later, and I don’t really know what happened to the property.
I was out of work for two months before being hired by another independent theatre owner. After the initial meeting with the owner, I knew it would end badly. It did.
I moved into a trailer my brother and his wife owned and went to work for Wal-mart as a cashier. After five months, I received an offer from a local company to manage a ten-screen theatre that needed cleaning up. As soon I was told the salary, I should have walked away. After five months, I was let go due to the theatre staff being unhappy with me. I suspected it was because I had developed an abscess on my colon and was out for three weeks. I struggled to get my unemployment and finally won.
The surgeon had given me a temporary colostomy, scheduled for reversal in November 2002. During this time I was unable to secure employment.
It might have been a good thing, not working, but the reversal had complications. It ruptured, and I went into respiratory failure and became septic. For three days I suffered and knew I was dying. I didn’t think about my life during those days. All I knew was that I wanted to breathe, and no one was doing anything to help me. Finally, after my brother threatened the surgeon with a lawsuit, he took me back into surgery. He came out after he was finished and told them to make arrangements; I wouldn’t be living out the day.
I was in a coma. Because it was drug induced, I slept. I didn’t even dream. Being unaware of the real world, I never had the chance to enjoy not being involved with it.
Ten days later, I woke up with my hands bound to the bed railings, IVs everywhere and a respirator down my throat. I lay there, thinking I was screwed and couldn’t do a thing about it.
I thought of my son.
I thought of Chase.
The end of Chapter 3