Current mood:	ecstatic
Current music:	Yes I Am album by Melissa Etheridge

50,175
Can we all say, thank God, it's over. Well sort of, because now that I have sweated out the last 1500 words I have more entries I want to add in and more things to say. But for now, I'm setting Diary of The Unrequited aside for a bit and doing other stuff, like fanfic100 for which I have written a big zip, zilch, nada.

Right now however, I am doing a Snoopy Dance around the computer desk and having a nice measure of scotch to celebrate. And I thought this was gonna be hard! I still have a lot more of this to post so hang on to your hats.

By the way, I finished in only 17 days!!!

Once more the warning: behind the cutline is smut and slash (for the uninitiated that means porn specifically male/male relationship with sexual situations) so if that offends you don't read it.









Saturday, August 21, 1976

Yesterday was probably the biggest shock of my life. Garret called me in the morning and asked me if he could come by the apartment. I agreed and wondered why the rest of the day. We had gotten together for lunch every week since the wedding but he had not been here since the day he moved out.

Sitting across from him in a restaurant was hard at first, but it got easier with time and finally I could make it through lunch without remembering what his hands felt like sliding down my back as he kissed me, what his lips felt like, what it felt like to wake up next to him. I was not sure how I would feel seeing him in what used to be our place. I just hoped I could get through this without too much pain.

I went home and fixed a drink, sitting in a chair and waiting for him to show up. It was nearly seven when he knocked; I opened the door and asked him why he had not used his key. He looked embarrassed and mumbled something about not barging into my space. I reminded him that it had been his home too not that long ago.

We sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes, until he finally spoke.

‘Maggie’s gone home to her mother’s; I don’t know if she’ll be back. We had a fight, hell, several fights. I fucked up Jack, she doesn’t love me and I don’t think I love her.’

I wondered for a moment what I was supposed to say; should I comfort him, say I told you so or just stay quiet. My mind screamed at me to ask him what made him think I should care. By what right did he presume to come crying to me over the woman he had broken my heart to have. My heart, however, ached for him; I wanted to hold him, to make his pain go away, to make him smile again. I struggled and finally found something to say.

‘What do you want Garret? For me to tell you it’ll work out. I don’t know what to say. I just don’t know.’

I wanted to pull him into my arms and comfort him, but I was not sure what he wanted. I knew what I wanted, but he was married now, he had made his choice.

‘I don’t know, Jack. I knew what to do when we were...when I lived here, now it’s all so confused.’

I could not help myself, I reached out and put my hand on his; he turned to me and pulled me into his arms, just holding me for the longest time. I sat, barely breathing, wishing he would kiss me and say to hell with Maggie. Wishing we could be together, that he would forget his pride and stay. We didn’t have to live in Boston; we could go to San Francisco and live in The Castro district, where we would be accepted.

‘Can I stay here tonight, Jack. I’ll sleep on the couch.’

I should have said no, but I never can refuse him. We ordered takeout and sat talking and watching The Yankees demolish the Sox.

A couple of hours and a long, boring game later, I turned to say something to him only to find him staring at me with a haunted, hungry longing in his eyes. He reached out to take me in his arms almost hesitantly, as if he thought I might pull away and kick him out. At the touch of his fingers on my face, I melted. All the resolve I had was gone and I leaned in as he kissed me.

We made it to the bedroom slowly, stopping every few steps to kiss. Garret was usually so sure of himself, but tonight his fingers did not seem to have their usual dexterity as he fumbled with my shirt. I finally pulled it off and he stood for a moment an almost feral look in his eyes with his fingers splayed across my chest, suddenly he pushed me down to sit on the bed. I reached out and rid him of his pants and boxers, thinking she really had domesticated him; he hated boxers, only wore them when nothing else was clean and had sworn when the last pair his mother bought him had worn out that he would never buy another.

The moment I pushed the soft cloth down, I reached for him, sliding to my knees beside the bed. I kissed the tip and ran my thumb over the head as he moaned and threaded his fingers through my hair. I thought he would take over the way he used to and pull me onto him, but instead he just cradled my head in his hands as I licked and kissed him. I opened my mouth and slowly drew him in, swirling my tongue over him.

I looked up and his eyes were closed, absorbed in the sensation of my tongue moving over him as I held him there. An impatient noise in his throat told me he was more than ready for me to move and I surged forward engulfing him completely. His fingers tightened against my scalp and his knees shook; I pulled back and turned him to the bed, pushing him back gently until he sat.

As soon as he settled, I leaned back in, mouth open and took him down, swallowing as he passed into my throat; his hands once again holding me as he moaned. I moved over him slowly, enjoying the feel of him after so long, feeling each of his moans reverberate through my body. I wondered why he did not try to set the pace or urge me on when it suddenly became clear. He was nervous, afraid to do anything that might cause me to pull away, end this and send him home.

My wild, passionate, spontaneous, gentle lover had been taught fear. I wondered what had happened and then realized that Maggie was manipulating him in the cheapest way she possibly could. Husband steps out of line, wife refuses to give him any. I spared a moment to hate her before I pulled back and looked up at him. ‘Garret,’ I whispered softly, ‘Garret.’

He looked at me as I stood and pushed him back on the bed, crawling in beside him. ‘I need you to screw the shit out of me, baby.’ I told him, licking my way up his chest to his neck and nibbling on his ear, hoping to inflame him enough with words to break past his hesitation. ‘Pound me into the mattress until I scream.’ I lay over him and began rocking against him, rubbing our hardened lengths together. ‘Fuck me, baby, fuck me hard all night long.’

Suddenly, I was on my back with him over me, as he ground against me and growled in my ear. ‘You want it, you got it.’ He began kissing me hard as he reached for the lube on the nightstand. ‘The first time’s gonna be quick.’ He breathed in my ear.

‘Just make it hard, baby. I need you.’ I moaned running my hands up his arms and kneading his shoulders. I gasped as his lubed fingers rubbed at my opening and thrust inside, stretching and filling me as he sought out the small hard swelling and rubbed it unmercifully. For a moment, all I could do was lay back panting harshly as his mouth engulfed me and his fingers thrust into me. I could feel myself nearing the edge and then he pulled back and lifted my legs over his hips. I looked up into his eyes and moaned as he pushed into me hard and fast, his eyes almost glowing.

Once he was buried to the hilt, he stopped, trembling, waiting for me to adjust. I reached up, touched his face and whispered, ‘Let it go baby, don’t hold back just do it.’ He held my eyes for a long moment and pulled back slowly twisting his hips as he gave me a wicked grin, teasing me. Then suddenly he thrust forward hard and began pounding into me wildly.

I knew neither of us would last very long and I tightened my legs around him and met him thrust for thrust as the head of his cock pounded across my prostate with each stroke, sending me higher and higher. I tried to hold off until he was almost there but the feel of him after so long was too much and suddenly I was gasping out his name and writhing under him.

He continued pounding away at me driving me from one peak to the next relentlessly for what felt like hours as he held my eyes locked with his. When I was certain I would pass out from the sensations, he suddenly thrust into me as deeply as he could, froze trembling as he growled my name, and emptied himself into me.

He pulled out of me, collapsed on the bed beside me, pulling me to his chest and holding me as though he thought I would disappear. I pushed his hair back from his eyes and kissed him. ‘I love you, Garret.’ He pulled back for a moment and looked at me smiling. He still could not say the words to me, but the look in his eyes said it all.

I lay awake long after he fell asleep watching him, knowing I had just made the biggest mistake of my life. I had let him back in as I was just beginning to heal and I know he is not going to stay. He will walk away again someday and I will be left to pick up the pieces of my heart alone.

As I am writing this, the radio is playing that Gilbert O’Sullivan song Alone Again Naturally


But as if to knock me down,
Reality came around,
And without so much as a mere touch,
Cut me into little pieces.
Leaving me to doubt, all about God and His mercy,
Oh, if He really does exist,
Why did He desert me?
And in my hour of need,
I truly am, indeed,
Alone again, naturally.

It seems to me that there are more hearts,
Broken in the world that can’t be mended,
Left unattended, what do we do?
What do we do?

God, no wonder they say that cheap music is potent. That song is far too true for me. He is here now, but I will be alone again someday. He cannot stay because he cannot admit that I am the one he loves. He is still struggling so hard to be a ‘real’ man, as if orientation has anything to do with being a real man.

So here we are two fools who just cannot seem to get it right, stumbling around playing with our hearts like a boy’s toy cars, crashing them into each other until they fall in pieces then gluing them together and starting all over again.

Shakespeare must have had us in mind when his Puck said to Oberon ‘Lord what fools these mortals be.’ The only exception being that yours truly looks nothing like a Helena and yet I play to his Demetrius far too well. Following along like a puppy and when his stubborn pride kicks me, I stay and beg for more.

I know I am pathetic and a fool, but I cannot turn him away. He is under my skin and in my soul. I would pay any price to be with him and now I have, I have traded my soul. Here is what I had hoped would not come to pass. I am trapped by what I feel, by a man I cannot walk away from.




Friday, October 29 1976

He has gone back to her. I came home to find him sitting here with his bags by the door. I stopped short and then walked over and sat down beside him. ‘She’s coming back?’ I asked. He nodded and started to speak, but I put my fingers to his lips. ‘Don’t. You have to go, you made a promise to her and you don’t break promises easily, Garret, that’s not who you are. You aren’t the type who can walk away if there’s even a small chance.’ I sighed and continued. ‘I guess I understand that, its part of why I love you, so you don’t need to tell me the reasons. The door is always open; for a night or forever.’ I kissed him and went to the bedroom, sitting there until I heard the door close. I could not bear to watch him walk out again.

I lay across the bed watching the lights of the city come up and life go on around me. When we first got together, I became this happy guy; smiling, friendly, someone once told me I was the most optimistic person they had ever known, but now? I don’t believe in the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus anymore and all the other myths of childhood are gone to, including the one that says all you need is love. All you really need is to be loved enough to matter more than any one else to the person you love.

That is something I don't have, I do not matter more to him than his pride or his reputation as the tough straight guy. I do not matter more than having everyone think he is ‘normal’ and the worst part is he matters more to me than I matter to myself. I know he is never going to change and yet I cannot let him go, cannot walk away. Cannot find the strength to stop this insane spiral I am on; cannot find the courage to walk away from him even though I know it is what I should do.

I do not know if he will ever be back, but if he does come back, I will not turn him away, I cannot, I love him. That says it all.


Friday, May 13 1977

He was here when I got home as usual. I don't ask him what excuse he makes to her for these Friday nights but he has been here every week since she came back to him. It is one of my Friday rituals to curse her in my mind and wish her to the depths of hell for what she’s doing to him.

He is always quiet when he first arrives, almost hesitant to speak, as though he is afraid of saying too much, but as we sit eating take out and talking about work, he loosens up, transforming from her husband into my lover and it is an almost visible change. His eyes lose the desperate, sad look they hold the rest of the week and he begins to smile and laugh.

By the time we reach the bedroom, the change is complete; he is once again my Garret. We fall onto the bed and make love until the last possible moment, holding on to each second. As he dresses to leave, I see the transformation in reverse, the light dies slowly in his eyes and he draws back into himself becoming quiet again, unsure of himself.

When he is fully dressed again, he walks to the bedroom door and always turns back, eyes to the floor. Every week he quietly asks me if he can come back and every week I tell him the door is open, for a night or forever. He smiles sadly and whispers ‘Night, Jack.’ before turning to leave.

I get up, pour a drink and observe my other Friday night ritual. I sit in the dark, quietly sipping a scotch as the tears slide down my face crying for both of us. For what we were once and for what we have become and curse myself to the depths of hell for allowing it to go on. I am trapped by my foolish heart into loving a man I cannot have and trapped by my fear of life without him into holding on.

I spend my time being satisfied with the crumbs from Maggie’s table. When he’s not here, I get so angry with him, that he regards me so little that he thinks those crumbs are all I need to make me happy. I plan how I’ll tell him that it’s over, that he has to decide if he wants to be with the one who helps him hide from the world or with the one who loves him enough to hide with him if need be.

Then he walks in my door and I lose my resolve, the anger just bleeds away at the sight of him. He takes me in his arms and I melt, unable to bear the thought of not having him with me, even if it is only a few hours a week.

I am a weak fool, who cannot even protect myself from the man who is tearing me apart, but I would bear any amount of pain, just to be in his arms.