The Nightingale – Part 4

Posted by BB | Labels: , , | Posted On 21 January, 2010 at Thursday, January 21, 2010

I, Beloved Boyd, am a Gay Mormon Boy and everything I say here is the truth to the best of my knowledge:

That night at the club was one of our last weekends before we went back home and back to school. Hayden and I were rough after that, as you could imagine. I was hurt and he was shocked that I would leave him piss drink at the club to fend for himself.

Hayden and I were the only gay boys from the University of Utah in Seattle. We were all we had. We both had a sense of longing for something to fill our broken hearts and the only thing close enough was each other: I, the boy who was throwing himself at Hayden; He, the boy I loved, the boy who first accepted me for who I was. Naturally we made up and hung out a few more times.

Again and again I tried to show my love for him. I thought that if I was just persistent enough, that his wall would fall, his defenses lower and there would stand, alone, his heart an love for me. Granted, two weeks is not long enough to knock at the door, but my knuckles were bloodied, my head bruised, my muscles sore and my heart cold and alone.

WARNING – This post contains content some may find inappropriate, but it helped define who I am.

Hayden was fine in accepting any sexual advance I threw at him, but he refused to open up to me or make me feel loved. Each time I messed around with Hayden he would leave and finish himself off in the bathroom. Somehow I got it into my head that if I could perform well enough for him to not leave, that he would stay with me.

So I designed a plan. I made sure we were alone in my apartment as we were watching some show. We lay on the couch and after getting him excited I started to go down on him. He tried to pull me away, but his body was enjoying it too much for him to succeed. I continued despite the pain, despite his protests, and despite of the gag reflex that he was inducing. I just kept going and going until he finished.

It was then that the real pain struck. Like the lava burning the slopes of a mountain, the tears burned a path of self-realization through the dirt on my face. Although I never thought I would be, I was the archetypical harlot. I used sex to try to get my hearts desires. I used sex to ease my pain. I used sex as a weapon. I was a succubus.

And it hadn’t worked.

I was still alone, burning with the pain of my tears and the pain of who I was. I started this journey in Seattle by coming out of the closet as a gay mormon boy I was ending the journey by coming out in a new way. In that moment, with the tear rolling down my face I realized that I had been measured, I had been weighed, and I had been found wanting. I was obsessed with sex and had been for many years. It worked to define me and I wanted to stop it.

As the moment of self-revelation passed I looked up and saw in Hayden’s eyes the most compassion I had ever seen.


There are 3 Words of Warning for The Nightingale – Part 4