Now I’m torn between finishing the story from last night, or continueing with the great adventures of Sam. If I continue with last night’s post I eventually get to Sam anyway. It’s just a matter of how soon.
I know, I’ll write what I want to write about. How’s that. Actually I think I’ll alternate the stories for a bit so that no one gets bored and I don’t get tired of making the shit up.
So I’m in Atlanta for the weekend. I’m visiting my friend Stacy who I worked with in 1987 at Bennigen’s at Lenox Mall. She’d moved on to other restaurants by now as a bartender and I had quit my restaurant job (actually I was fired) returned to Kentucky and started working on my MA in theatre.
So I’m there visiting Stacy and we are doing what we do a lot of. Hanging out. I still have a lot of friends in Atlanta that I want to se, so for the first few days I manage to see some of them. One of them is my friend Tony. We’d dated ever so briefly but had remained great friends. I always spent a little time with him. And there were others. Everyone was understanding of my mood and they let me be. And then I was sitting in Stacy’s living room and checked my messages and what would you know, Sam had called. He had left a message saying he was sorry and that he’d love to come to Atlanta if he was still welcome. I called him later when I knew he would be at home and gave him directions as to how to get here.
And what do you know, the next day, about four hours later than he should have, he got to Atlanta. First stop — food. Stacy and her friends are all in the restaurant business and they’ve worked at some of the best restaurants in Atlanta. So we headed over to Veni Vedi Vici. They had a friend who was the manager and he was going to hook us up. We were there about three hours and had the opportunity to try a lot of different things. Some of them I liked, some of them I didn’t but I tried it all. Sam was more hestitant to try things, but after some coaxing he warmed up and was a little more open minded about it.
After dinner. It was supposed to be drinks and dancing. That was the plan anyway. I don’t remember what bar we stopped at first. We approached the door and held our breath that Sam wouldn’t be carded going in. He gave them his biggest smile and no one said a word. We took about ten steps into the bar and Sam freaked out. He was hyperventilating, wouldnt let go of my arm, and was hysterical. He was convinced that everyone was looking at him and that everyone wanted to have sex with him. There was no calming him down so we gathered up our purses and we left.
Outside the bar we stood in the parking lot and chatted about what had happened. Sam kept apologizing, but also saying that he didn’t think he was ready to go into a gay bar. Michael, Stacy’s friend told him, “No one’s ever READY to go into a gay bar. But if you want to have fun and dance. You take a deep breath and do it.” Sam still wasn’t convinced. I was just getting annoyed. He’d come to Atlanta to make up for being so narrow and closed minded and he wasn’t helping his case any. Finally Michael convinced him to come in and try again. Michael held his hand as we re-entered and Sam did okay. Inside we were able to get him a couple of drinks to take the edge off and FINALLY he started calming down. He was able to dance and at least let go a little. By the end of the night, he might have actually been having a good time.
We didn’t stay out late that night. We were all tired and we had to be up early the next morning. When we got home Sam and I brushed out teeth and said our goodnights. And we closed the door. We lay in bed for a long time talking. He gave his part of the story. I gave my part of the story. During the talking it came out that part of my frustration was our sex life. He was close minded about what he was willing and not willing to do. And for the most part he thought all of it was dirty. I explained that there were things that I needed and wanted and if our relationship was going to work he was going to have to try and accomodate me. It might be tough at first, but with patience and understanding, he would eventually come to like it.
And so for the sake of my argument we tried it, and it hurt, and he said no, and I think it was the last time I even tried to do this ever again. I just realized that the sex we were having was great, and I could live without it. At least in my relationship. Since I wasn’t being monogamous, I’d just get it elsewhere.
And then we returned to the world of school, jobs and giving him a key to my apartment.