Once upon a time there was a small boy who lived in a small town. A
family raised him and they loved him as much as it was possible to love a
child. But the small boy knew he was different to the other children. He was
special. On his first day of school he could not see his teacher. Tears had
sprung up in his eyes when his parents waved him goodbye at the school gate.
None of the other boys had tears in their eyes. When it was time for the children
to go out and play, the little boy felt too scared to join in with the game
of football. He had never played football before and the other boys would
laugh at him when he got it wrong, because after all, he was special. So,
as sport wasn't for him, and because he was special, he spent the play-time
walking on the grass and feeling sad because he was alone.
The boy's school days were difficult, as the other boys often teased him about
his sensitivity. He secretly dreamed of a day when a dark, handsome man would
rescue him and he would be loved in the special way that handsome men loved
beautiful ladies on television. But he knew this would never happen because,
after all, he was just a strange small boy. Eighteen years after he was born,
the boy visited a friend in a city. Sitting among a group of people, he met
the eyes of the man next to him. The boy moved closer to the man, and the
man put his hand around the boy's hand. The boy thought his heart would explode
with love. "I must be very, very careful not to upset this man," thought the
boy. "I have finally found someone who can love me in this way. I must hang
on to him because I won't find anyone else in this world who can love someone
strange and special like me."
After the man had spent various evenings having sex with the boy, he took
the boy to a quiet place and told him he didn't want to see him any more.
The boy cried until there were no tears left, but the man just ignored him.
A few months later, the boy moved to a very big city, as he thought there
might be the smallest chance of meeting another man who could love him.
The boy spent year after year in the big city and he started to have sex with
different men who would make him feel special again, at least for one night.
From the outside he began to look different, but inside he was always the
special schoolboy. His heart still yearned for love, but he learned to cover
it up. He thought if he pretended to be tough like all the men in the city,
finally someone would really love him the way he wanted. He had sex with lots
of men and he learned to do more and more crazy things with sex, because that
was what all the sexy men did. If he behaved as the sexy men did, one of them
would eventually fall in love with him and he would finally have his heart's
secret desire.
But
it never happened. The boy started to feel sad and ill, and when he went to
the hospital, they told him he had the same sickness as most of the sexy men
he had practised sex with.
The shock made the boy realise that he wasn't immortal or special after all.
Something made him set to work to try to heal all the little bits of hurt
that were inside him - all the bits from every time he had let himself be
used for sex, when all he really wanted was love. The boy wondered if maybe
the illness came from all those little bits of hurt floating around inside
him. Thirty years have gone by since this boy was born. Becoming positive
set me on an amazing journey of self-discovery; a journey, which will have
no end, but has finally made me feel like a man.
From next month Sam takes a break as a regular PN columnist. We will
miss his regular musings on sex, gay life and the city.
