Tarn and I.
It all began in a chat room, you know on the internet, though on second thoughts, perhaps not. I suppose if we're going to look at beginnings then I ought to go back to the year I turned fourteen, because that's when I began to suspect that I was homo_s_e_x_ual. It crept up on me gradually, there was none of this "I knew I was gay from the age of four sort of crap." I don't believe it when gay men tell me things like that. Personally, I don't think young kids have any intrinsic notion of their own or other people's _s_e_x_uality, other than that imposed on them by adults who should know better. That's a personal opinion by the way, I'm not Moses, I haven't carved it in stone or anything.
I was interested in the telly, sweets, ice cream and comics, as I got older these childish interests were replaced with slightly more sophisticated interests such as football, cricket, pop music, sweets and comics, okay, so I've never really grown out of the sweet tooth and I still collect comics(a bit anorakish I know, but some of them are worth money) _s_e_x_ was of no interest to me. My willy was for peeing out of and my other was...well you know what I mean!
At fourteen my hormones began to make themselves felt in ways other than wanting to defy my parents and produce copious acne. I began to have stirrings in the lower regions, only it wasn't girls that triggered them. I was mortified. I didn't want to be different, I wanted to be like my mates, I wanted to be turned on by the opposite _s_e_x_, only I wasn't. I liked girls well enough as friends, I enjoyed their company, but it was the male body that attracted me most. I couldn't help it. Games at school became a torment for me. I would find myself looking at the naked bodies of my school mates, not with envy or mockery, but with desire. It freaked me out. I was male, I was supposed to like females, I wanted to like females. I wanted to dream about kissing Sandy Shaw and Lulu, making love to Marianne Faithful or Dusty Springfield, well, in retrospect that last one was a long shot(she too was gay) instead I found myself fantasising about Paul McCartney and Paul Jones, even Mick Jagger had a certain attraction. I wasn't happy, I couldn't understand it and I had no one to talk to about it.
My parents were nice enough as parents go, but in a diehard Catholic working class tradition sort of way. Having a gay son would not be acceptable or even comprehensible to them. My mum would have told me that I'd grow out of it and then prayed for me a lot, and my dad would have told me not to be so bloody daft, no son of his could possibly be a poufter. My friends were all one hundred per cent hetero_s_e_x_ual and I did not have the courage to be different, so I struggled on alone, trying to come to terms with this unwanted affliction, and that's what it felt like, an affliction.
I made all the right noises, leered at all the right magazines and was careful to ask enough girls out to curtail suspicions about my _s_e_x_uality. The teenage years are difficult enough, trying to find your niche in the world, not quite a child and far from a grown up, it can be confusing for anyone. Realising you don't fit the expected and acceptable mould complicates the pattern still further. I went into complete denial, angry with myself, my parents, even with God for saddling me with this unwanted burden. Even at university, when it was easier to make contact with people such as myself, some were quite open about it, I couldn't, driven by guilt and fear. I was doing an engineering course, I don't think I would have had a very happy time of it if I'd come out of the closet so to speak. So I stayed firmly bloody hidden.
Anyway time galloped on, I got married to a nice Catholic girl that my parents approved off, until she ran off with a second hand car dealer from Lewisham that is. Frankly I was grateful for his timely intervention. There were no children to complicate the divorce and we came to amicable arrangements over the worldly possessions. I bought myself a nice, one bed roomed flat and a computer, got connected to the internet and began tentatively exploring my _s_e_x_uality, albeit through other peoples experiences. I also discovered something else about myself when I accidentally surfed onto a gay SM site. It didn't turn me off, or make me want to laugh, in fact my right wrist was in danger of developing repetitive strain injury. I was dismayed to be honest, at first I mean, after I'd...erm...settled down and my breathing had returned to normal!
Jesus, I thought, I've got two _f_u_c_k_ing perversions for the price of one. I was seriously _f_u_c_k_ed up, coming from Catholic stock you can imagine the guilt I was wrestling....not only was I a bloody queer; I was a bloody kinky queer! Despite all efforts and cold showers, I began to fantasise, then obsess about being spanked naked over another man's knee, then _f_u_c_k_ed hard, really hard, you know, until my eyes watered and my anus begged for mercy! It was a cycle of guilt, shame and self loathing. For the love of St Peter, I was almost thirty nine years old, a still closeted gay and now a spankophile, it wasn't even something I could contact the Samaritans with!
Tarn changed all that, he really did. Yes, that's really his name: Tarn. He's of Scottish stock and you'll never guess what his surname is...Swan...Tarn swan...his parents obviously had a warped sense of _f_u_c_k_ing humour. You do know what Tarn is don't you, in Celtic speak....yep a lake...Swan _f_u_c_k_ing lake, he made me piss myself laughing once, when he described how he was pulled over by a cop for speeding and asked for his name...Tarn Swan, he says. This cop looks at him and growls, oh yeah and I suppose you think I'm Dame Margot Fontaine! Cut the crap and give me a real name, so Tarn hands over his licence etc. Imagine in school when they used to call the register out surname first...Swan -Tarn, much hilarity at his expense. No wonder he had to learn how to defend himself.
Well, I hear you ask, who the hell is Tarn and how did you meet him?
In a gay chat room on the internet to cut a long story short! To cut an even longer story short(one that covers a time span of almost a year) I began to confide to this man things I'd never confided to anyone, barely even myself.
"Why don't we meet?" He said one day.
Well, I couldn't think of a reason why not, so I said yes, though to be honest, I was _s_h_i_t_ scared! After all, this man, whom I'd never set eyes on, knew more about me than God did....I think!! So I said yes, and thus it began!
Want to know what happened next? Then tell me, and I might just tell you!*