Hello Project,
I thought so much before I wrote to you. I had read your manual “Being Gay” with much interest and also many of your posts on the Forum. In short, you seem to me a person of considerable experience and therefore I think that consulting you may be useful. I go to the specific, which is very delicate matter.
I’m 51 y. o., in my life I had sex with a single guy. The story is complex but I think it was important to both of us. When we met for the first time he was twenty, I was 43, the age difference was great. At first I did not think I could have sexual sex with him, frankly, at that time and even later for some months I didn’t even consider such hypothesis. By the way, I’ve never had big sex interests. In my youth it attracted me much, but more to the level of imagination than of any possible sexual relationship with a guy.
We knew each other for the sake of pure chance in an environment that had nothing to do with gays, we started to talk, then the thing went on. It was understood that it was an important thing but none of us had told the other to be gay. He knew I was not married and that I didn’t have a woman, I knew he didn’t have a girl, but the talk stopped there. We began to attend more assiduously, and we came to the point that we met almost every day but just to do the most common things of everyday life, to go shopping, to go to public offices or just to spend an afternoon together. Sometimes people took us for father and son and I felt proud of all this.
He was studying at university (he is a guy of a monstrous intelligence). During the exam period he came to study at my home, I did not disturb him, because I worked until 17.00, at night we talked a bit, but just a little, then I accompanied him back to his home. He said to his parents that he was studying at the university library. Months have been spent together for the whole day and a few times even at night, and there has never been sex between us. There was no physical contact of any kind, not even shake hands.
He had a terrible relationship with his parents and occasionally gave some sign of depression, I do not say at a pathological level, but he tended to depressed mood: not to see prospects, to devalue and to consider himself a nullity, which does not exactly match reality. I thought he had adopted me as a dad and I felt very proud of it. I think I’ve been one of the very few people with whom he had a non-superficial dialogue.
Then the dialogue became more straightforward and he told me that he was gay, and until this it was more or less what I was expecting, he told me of his falling in love with a former schoolmate who wasn’t at all worried about him, then he expanded the talk and told me that he had met also the boy’s father and had felt strongly attracted to him, and that the interest in mature men had also manifested on other occasions, it was not exclusive but was still very strong, much stronger than that in boys. And in the end he added that he also felt this interest in me and that for a long time had been uncertain whether to say it or not.
He told me he had perfectly understood that I was gay because no one would have cared for him in that way if he hadn’t been gay and for that very reason the attraction towards me was very strong because in the end to feel attraction for a straight man doesn’t make sense, because he will never match you, while with a gay man there is some chance. I was literally speechless. By the age of 43 I was certain that my life would be devoid of sexual experiences and that I would never have a partner. The guy’s speech stirred me, for one side I was in love with him, but on the other hand the age difference seemed so huge that the only thing to do was to get away and let him create his affective life, at least as far as possible.
I told him that I loved him, but that I wanted our relationship to remain what was from the beginning, but obviously my answer was not very convincing, and so he began very carefully to look for physical contact, at the beginning really minimal and then, increasingly stronger. It took more or less a month. To try to avoid what was now inevitable, I told him that I was afraid of sexually transmitted diseases, he asked me very seriously if I had had sexual intercourses with someone and I told him that it never happened and he told me in a way more convinced that he had never had any relationship with anyone and frankly I had no doubt about, so our sexual intercourse began, I was 44 and he had 21. He obviously kept sleeping almost always at his parents’ home.
They were incredible days, I was happy, but I hid in the most secret part of the soul the fear that all this could come to an end because he sooner or later could have experienced the need to fall in love with a coetaneous. Obviously I could not talk to him about this, but the fear was always present. Our relationship has been going on for two years and a little longer, then he met another guy, a little older, and talked to me about him. At that moment I realized I would lose him in a short time. He practically talked to me almost to ask me permission to stay with that guy.
I’ve done everything to make him detach from me as less painfully as possible. I told him that I loved him and that I didn’t feel betrayed at all and that I always would have loved him. We said goodbye and for a couple of months I did not have any news. Then he called me again, he was fine with his boyfriend, at least so he said, but he wanted to see me again to make love with me, I didn’t know what to do. He insisted to the extreme limit and I did not dare to tell him no. We met and we made love taking all the precautions. He was happy, but I think he was most happy to have not been refused. I have had great guilty feelings over both his boyfriend and himself, because I had made him realize that that state of affairs was, after all, possible.
In the following months, such behaviors repeated several times, more or less at intervals of a couple of weeks. Then he broke the relationship with his boyfriend, who I think was a great guy who loved him, and went looking for other experiences, from what I understood, just sex. I’ve seen him become more and more cynical. With me every now and then there was a bit of sex, with no risky and hyper-protected behaviors because I knew he had other guys. But with me there was not only sex, many times we talked for hours and very sincerely. He trusted me and he told me a lot of things about when he was a kid and then a teenager and I think the experiences he has gone through, really heavy, leave an indelible mark on him.
Things have been going on in this way for some years now, he has his “contacts” (let’s call them so) for sex, and I’m among those contacts, and then with me every now and then there’s another kind of dialogue, sometimes with some very difficult moments when we both think it would be better not to meet anymore. I don’t call him, but when he calls me, what always happens at most within 10 days, dialogue resumes as if nothing had happened.
He always tends to devalue the affective side and I tend to devalue the sexual one. He doesn’t like affectionate tones, at least so he says, and I don’t like the idea of being above all, though not just a “contact” for sex. About two weeks ago we came to harsh tones and I thought very seriously that the best thing would be to disappear altogether, but, I must tell the truth, I keep thinking about him, if I saw him quiet with a guy, that is if I saw him happy with a guy I’d be happy myself and I’d put me aside with peace of mind, but I’m objectively worried about him, I fear that he could let himself go too much and such a thing scares me, and then when he calls me, as it happened this morning, I feel that the contact between us has a profound meaning and I think it can be really important to him. I love him, sometimes I don’t understand him at all, but between us there is a strong bond, far beyond sex.
Today he called me to propose a sex meeting, I told him no, but loosely, then we talked a bit, and frankly I was happy about his phone call. When we greeted he said, “I love you!” And it’s something he never says.
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