In January I got a telephone call from Norman.  He and Betsy were driving to Chicago to visit friends and wanted to stop in Rockford to see me.  They bribed me with an offer of a good steak dinner.  I wouldn’t have needed the bribe, but I didn’t refuse it either.  Norman did say that he wasn’t telling Tim about the visit, and he wished that I wouldn’t.  I wasn’t real comfortable doing this behind Tim’s back, but I respected Norman’s wishes.

 

About a week later they arrived, on a Friday evening.  Tim and Carl were home alone, and Norman and Betsy fully expected them to have Tina and Carl’s latest spend the night, or at least stay pretty late.  They weren’t in the least concerned.  Betsy pointed out that if they were going to do something of which she and Norman didn’t approve they didn’t need a weekend alone.  The house was empty most of the time, Carl had a car, Tim and Tina had Tina’s house.  They trusted their kids, and had the good sense to realize that if they didn’t trust them, it wouldn’t make any difference anyway.  Tim and Carl had always been worthy of their trust, however.

 

I was surprised to have them talk so openly about Tim and Tina spending the night together.  Betsy very calmly noted that Tim and I had spent the night together, and if something was going to happen it was more likely then than with Tina.  I laughed.  But I asked if they really knew what Tim and Tina had been doing.

 

“Do you?” asked Norman.

 

“Yes, I do.  Tim tells all in his letters.”

 

“I know he does.  He lets us read most of them.  And we read most of yours, too.  Did you know that?”

 

“I guessed.  You and Tim have the best parent-teen relationship that I have ever seen.  Amazing.  But I would guess that you’re here for a purpose.  Ready to share?”

 

“No, let’s go get those steaks.  Then we’ll talk.”

 

“That would lead us to Ernie’s Steak House on the east side, off of Route 51.”

 

“Good, we’ll drive,” said Norman.

 

We got to Ernie’s, were seated in a quiet corner at Norman’s request, and ordered.  Norman insisted that I order the best steak on the menu.  That would have been the filet mignon Grand, but I convinced him that I really preferred the porterhouse, even though it was cheaper.  He laughed, “I don’t know whether to believe you or not, but I think I do.”

 

“And the subject for the night would be?” I asked.

 

“You and Tim, of course.  Betsy and I think we owe you an apology, and we stopped for just that purpose.”

 

“An apology?  You couldn’t have been kinder to me in any possible way.  Almost any other parent would have gone berserk if his fourteen year old son had come home from camp madly in love with his counselor.  I would certainly have been blamed; and I probably should have been.  I could have turned Tim off.”

 

“I don’t think you could have without lying to him.  That would have been very hurtful, and I can’t believe that we live in a world in which adults are supposed to lie to children,” said Betsy.

 

“Let me explain,” said Norman.  Tim came home from camp and told us the whole story.  We drew two conclusions right away.  First, as far as we could tell you were blameless–unless Tim was giving us a false version of the story, and we were pretty sure he wasn’t.  Second, we were convinced it was simply an infatuation.  We had met you at camp, but only for a few minutes.  We could see why Tim liked you, but couldn’t understand how a full blown love could have been created in those two weeks.”

 

“I more or less made the same assumptions, but Tim kept proving me wrong.”

 

“I know,” said Norman.  “He proved us wrong too.  In any case, Betsy and I talked about how to respond to Tim.  We thought of the old saw that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder.’  We also realized that nothing would make Tim hold onto a childish infatuation like our trying to discourage or forbid it.  So our strategy was to invite you, and let Tim see that we weren’t hostile or antagonistic to his love.  Thus our invitation to Minneapolis.”

 

Betsy said, “You were invited on false pretenses, and for that we owe you an apology.  We thought we needed to tell you all of this to clear the air.”

 

Norman said, “However, any such sneaky plans quickly went awry.  I have never seen Tim so happy as that weekend with you.  When we said you could sleep together, and you agreed, he literally thought he had died and gone to heaven.  He’s emphatic that that’s the best gift that we have ever given him.”

 

Betsy said, “And we fell in love with you, too.  How could we not fall for a young man who so obviously made our son deliriously happy?”

 

“Apology accepted, but not needed.  Whatever your motives, you couldn’t have been kinder to me that weekend, or since.”

 

“Charlie, I realize that you and Tim have agreed that there will be no commitments before his eighteenth birthday.  But it’s quite clear that you two are going to make it.  Betsy and I want you to know that you’re welcome in our family.  And we speak for Carl, too.  We’re looking forward to gaining a son.”

 

“Mom, Dad, thank you.  Now, tell me how Tim is surviving this year.  I can’t believe his work schedule.”

 

“Nobody can, especially us,” said Norman.”   He has become passionately dedicated to four things, you, diving, gymnastics, and study.  Tina’s a distant fifth, but she seems willing to accept that.  They usually date on Saturday night, and usually come back to our house following the movies or whatever.”

 

Betsy added, “You’re obviously curious.  Yes, they go up to his room, close the door, and I expect that they do things that only you are told about.  I can’t believe what Tim tells you, and I have a hard time believing that you’re comfortable with it.  But I have a hard time believing most of the story of you and Tim.  Someday, maybe.”

 

Norman asked, “Charlie, you seem so comfortable with Tim and Tina, what about you?”

 

Betsy interjected, “Norman, I can’t believe you asked that.”

 

I said, “Norman, you know the answer.  You have read my letters.  I had a brief fling with my roommate last year.  Nothing since.  No plans.”

 

“It was kind of a crude question, Charlie; as usual, thanks for your candor.”

 

Betsy asked, “Charlie, how are you doing?  I can see you look good; I assume your grades continue to be good.  But having Tim two states over can’t be easy.  How are you doing?”

 

“Sometimes I wish that I had the distractions that Tim has with his sports and studies.  Now that I have learned a good study discipline, I can stay on top of everything with time to spare.  Then it becomes ‘think about Tim time.’  That’s tough.”

 

Norman asked, “Would you like to visit him?  You know, this is a self-imposed exile.  Neither he nor we have said you can’t.  And it’s certainly proper for a camp counselor to visit his former campers.”

 

“No, I really meant it when I told Tim that we had to be apart these years.  We both have to have opportunities and experiences independent of each other–especially Tim at age 14, well now almost 16.”

 

Betsy asked, “What would you do if Tim wrote and said that he had fallen in love with Tina, and they were going to be married when they graduated from high school.”

 

“I’d wish them well, and mean it.  I would worry about whether a gay boy had a chance in that situation, but I’d trust Tim to make a wise decision.  I never thought that hitching his wagon to a 20 year old’s star was the right thing for Tim.  But he’s done that, and I have just learned to accept it.  But that’s why he must have the chance to choose a different option.”

 

Betsy said, “Charlie, I know why Tim loves you, and I know why he’ll wait for you.  I would too.”

 

Norman said, “There was a reason that I asked you not to tell Tim we were coming.  I had in mind a surprise for him at the regional gymnastics meet next month.  I thought we might get you and some of the others from the camp gang together to surprise him.”

 

“Oh, Norman, I would love that.  But let’s wait two years.  The second semester of his senior year he’ll be eighteen, I’ll be with him, and we can pull off a surprise reunion.  But not this year.”

 

“Then you go ahead and tell him we visited.  He’ll be so jealous.  Such is life for a teenager,” said Betsy.

 

Tim’s January letter told mostly of his coming regional gymnastics meet, where he was again going to show off on the balance beam.  He also told of evenings with Tina and encouraged me to have a sex life–suggesting that I try out a girl!  No, Tina was not available for loan.

 

My return letter told of his parents’ visit.  And I assured him that I had only one love in my life right now, and he was messing around with a girl–what was a young man to do?  Letter 16, of 40, into the mailbox.

 

The next letter told of his gymnastics meet, which had taken place in Madison, Wisconsin.  Actually, while he told the story rather well, and modestly, none of it was news to me.  Madison is very close to Rockford and I had driven up to see the meet.  I made sure to sit in the back of the stands, and neither he, Tina, his parents, Hal or Franklin saw me.  Hal and Franklin had decided to come when Tim had invited them at Norman’s suggestion–no surprises.  Ronnie lived in Madison, and he was there as well, cheering Tim on in his usual quiet way.  I was delighted to see Ronnie from a distance, and wished that I could talk to him without the others knowing I was there–but I knew that would be impossible.

 

Tim’s balance beam routine was improved a little.  While on the beam he did a spectacular routine of flips, rolls, headstands, and whatever.  But he had changed the way he mounted the beam.  At first he had just approached with about three steps and done a somersault to get his hands on the beam and flipped over.  Now he ran at it like he was about to do a vault, did two hand over hand flips on the ground, used his speed to get tremendous height, and came down in the center of the beam.  His coach told Norman that he had never seen anything like it, and was still trying to figure out just how Tim did it.  It was completely self-taught–the coach was never much interested in Tim on the balance beam–except that he glowed when Tim’s demonstrations were so successful.

 

It hurt to see Tim, Tina, Franklin and Hal and not talk to them.  I sat next to a young man, about my age, in the audience, who almost fell out of the bleachers when Tim did his mount on the balance beam.  He was enthralled.  When he learned that I knew Tim, he was eager to know all about him.  I enjoyed sharing a little of Tim, but I knew a lot more about Tim than I was going to tell a stranger.

 

He asked why I wasn’t going down and joining the group congratulating Tim, and I told him that Tim didn’t know I was here, and I didn’t want to detract from his pleasure with his close friends.  Well, it was almost the truth!  He wasn’t ready for the whole truth!  And Tim certainly wasn’t out to strangers.

 

We went to dinner together at a smorgasbord in Madison.  His name was Alex, and he was a student at the University of Wisconsin.  He was at the gymnastics meet because he had heard about Tim and wanted to see him.  I asked him how he had heard about Tim, and he said that the gymnastics coach at the University had told him.  He wasn’t a gymnast, but knew the coach.  Tim’s fame was spreading.  I wonder if he knew?

 

Alex and I hit it off.  He said, “You don’t want to drive back to Rockford tonight.  I have a little apartment, come stay with me.”  I readily agreed.  Rockford was going to be lonely.

 

Alex’s apartment was a sight to behold.  Neat as a pin, clean as a whistle–to use a couple of old cliches.  Not your typical male college student’s room.  Alex smiled.  “I’m gay.  Does that bother you?”

 

“No.  I’m comfortable with that,” I replied.

 

We sat and talked a while.  Alex had a beer and I had a Coke.  It was time for bed.  Alex said, “I have just the one double bed.  It’s either share the bed, or one of us sleeps on the floor.  You’re the guest, so you get the bed.”

 

I replied, “I’m quite comfortable with sharing.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Better you in the flesh than dreams of someone else,” I said.

 

Alex looked like he had just had a light bulb turned on in his head.  “You’re gay, too?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Boyfriend?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Another light bulb!  “Tim.”

 

God, was I that transparent.  “No comment.”  I knew that that wouldn’t fool him, but you can’t quote “No comment.”

 

“I’ll be damned.  Why aren’t you with him?  Hey, he had a girl friend tonight.  You’ve been dumped!  Oh, God.  I’m so sorry.  Do you want to sleep with me tonight?  You need a good hug, at the least.”

 

“I’d like a good hug, but the rest of your conclusions don’t hold up.”

 

“You going to tell me?”

 

“No.  I can’t.”

 

“But you’re up for a hug.”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“Let’s to bed.”

 

“Let’s.”

 

Alex stripped off his clothes and headed for the bathroom.  I did the same, folding them carefully, as I was going to have to wear the same clothes the next day.

 

When he came out of the bathroom I went in.  He was in bed when I returned.  Without thinking I started to get into the bed naked, but thought better of that with a stranger.  I headed for my underwear folded across the room.  Alex said, “I’m naked.  You might as well be.”

 

Clearly this was going somewhere.  Did I want it to?

 

I climbed in and Alex spooned around me from the rear, like I usually did to Tim.  It felt good.  He gave me a good long hug.  I tried Tim’s little wiggle in return, but I wasn’t very good at it.  I was too big.  But Alex got the message, or at least a message, and moved his hand down to my groin.  I almost exploded on impact.

 

Without a word being said we were quickly wrapped around each other, groping and kissing.  Eventually we wiggled around into a 69 position and relaxed while we massaged each other with our tongues.  Alex paused a minute and said, “You sure you want to do this?  You have a lover.  I don’t.  I’m cool with this.  But are you?”

 

I said, “If my boyfriend can have a girlfriend, then his boyfriend can have a boyfriend.”

 

“I guess I understand.”  He returned to the object at hand.

 

It was inevitable that I would come first.  I hadn’t had sex with anyone but my hand for over a year when Pete and I had last done something.  Alex came soon after, however.  We lay in bed wrapped together and eventually went to sleep.  The next morning Alex said, “Go again?”

 

I replied, “Sure.”  We repeated the evening’s performance, with little variation.

 

Alex said, “You want to talk about Tim?  I feel guilty about coming between you two.  That’s why I offered to stop last night.”

 

“My relationship with Tim is rock solid, and it isn’t sexual–though it may be when he’s older.  Until then, well, you saw Tim with the girl–her name’s Tina, by the way.”

 

“Do you know her?”

 

“I haven’t met her, but Tim has told me a lot about her--a wonderful girl.”

 

“Does she know about you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Does she know you know....  Hell, I’m all confused.”

 

“Look, I can’t really explain it all.  Tim and I are great friends.  We’re both gay.  Someday it may work out.  But he’s 16 and I’m 22.  Nothing’s going to happen now, and we both know it.”

 

“So you both mess around?  And you avoid him, like yesterday?”

 

“Messing around may describe what we did last night, but it doesn’t describe Tina’s relationship with Tim.”

 

“Are we going to see each other again?” he asked.

 

“Would you like to?”

 

“Yes.  I had a good night.  I have a few partners, but nobody I would call a boyfriend.”

 

“Are you out?”

 

“With a small group.  They’re accepting, but not enthusiastic.  I don’t know many gays here.”

 

“I know virtually no one in Rockford.”

 

“Togetherness is next to Godliness.”

 

“That’s almost right.  It fits the situation.”

 

“Shall we go around again?”

 

“I don’t know whether I’m able.”

 

“Trust me.”

 

I did, I was, so was he.  A good time was had by all, well both.

 

We had breakfast, and then I had to head for Rockford.  We kissed goodbye, and promised to keep in touch.

 

Well, I knew what had to go in my next letter to Tim.  I kind of enjoyed going into some detail, after I had read all of the gory details of his times with Tina.  The only problem the letter presented was that I couldn’t tell Tim where I had met Alex, because Tim didn’t know I was in Madison.  I just ducked the issue and said that I had met this cool fellow from the University of Wisconsin, and one thing led to another.  The details of the sex were pretty graphic.

 

Letter 17, of 40, gone.

 

Tim’s return letter was mailed on the first of February.  I’ll quote it in its entirety,

 

You son of a bitch.  You were in Madison for the meet and saw me and didn’t let me see you.  Not fair.

 

Tim

 

P.S.  I still love you, though.

 

He had seen right through me and Alex.  Where else would I have met someone from the University of Wisconsin?  Where would we have had sex except in Alex’s pad?  That had to be in Madison.  What was I doing in Madison?  Obvious.

 

For my return letter I could either be short and sweet or be long and sappy, saying the same thing.  He had chosen short and sweet.  I did, too.

 

Tim,

 

Sorry

 

Charlie

 

P.S.  I love you.

 

Letter 18, of 40, was finished.  Both letters had been exchanged by the fifth of the month, and now we had a long wait for the next one.

 

I was beginning to contemplate my next two years.  Tim would be a junior in high school next year, and I would be a graduate.  That meant I needed a job, or a place in graduate school.  But there was a serious complication.  It was unthinkable that I might live in the Twin Cities until Tim’s eighteenth birthday.  And, if everything went the way it seemed to be going, it was unthinkable that I would not live in the Twin Cities after January 26, 1965, Tim’s eighteenth birthday.  That would be about a year and a half after my graduation.  Such a move would mess up any graduate school plans.  It would also mean a change in jobs, so that I couldn’t really start on a career path.

 

I decided to look for a job in the non-profit sector.  The college Placement Office had a brochure about internships with the Red Cross.  The pay was only a living stipend, but they promised broad experience in the local operations of the Red Cross.  I applied.  I got invitations from three local chapters to interview.  One was out west, and I didn’t want to be that far from the Midwest.  One was in Des Moines and the other was in St. Louis.  Interviews were set up for both, scheduled for early May.  I was excited, and couldn’t wait for the next letter exchange to tell Tim what I was up to.  I hoped he would be pleased.

 

Tim’s letter came.  The big swim and diving meets were coming up.  He was all excited about his chances in both the platform and springboard events.  He had been finishing consistently first in platform in all his local meets, and either first or second on the springboard.  He was working hard to improve his springboard style.  He was also working to add a couple of more difficult dives to his repertoire.   Given that the dives he was currently doing seemed almost humanly impossible, I wasn’t sure where he could take all this.  But he was checking the books for dives with extraordinary degrees of difficulty.  His biggest problem was that he was doing dives beyond the skill level of his coach to teach him.  Nothing fazed him, however, and he was teaching himself and getting his coach to critique the results. 

 

He also noted, just in passing, that he had been working out on the trampoline as part of his diving regimen.  The high school Athletics Director was watching one day and was impressed.  He got Tim to do demonstrations in gym classes for a couple of weeks.  Tim was embarrassed, but I think secretly very pleased.  Of all things, this led to a job with a local sporting goods store, demonstrating their top of the line trampoline at the annual Outdoor Show at the Arena.  For three fifteen minute demos he got $100 and a top of the line trampoline.  Another huge pain for me that I didn’t get to see him.

 

Alex had come down to Rockford to visit me.  Since I had a roommate that I couldn’t exactly ignore, Alex had stayed in a motel, where I joined him for the night.  When we got to the room, Alex took my hand and drew me to the king size bed in the middle of the room.  He slowly undressed me and had me lay back on the bed.  While I lay there fully exposed, and very, very hard, he slowly undressed himself, hardly ever taking his eyes off of me.  Then he slid next to me, and kissed me first on the cheek, then the lips, then deep inside.  His hands worked their way down my body to my groin, and began to do a virtuoso job on my penis.  I started to reach for him, but he pushed my hand back gently and said, “Let me do this for you.”  It didn’t take long before my semen was all over me, and then Alex was on top of me hugging me, totally ignoring the mess between us.  Then he pulled me to the shower and washed me off, and himself as well.  I pulled him back to the bed and repeated the process.  We pulled some covers over us and quietly went to sleep, covered in little white bits of Alex.

 

The next morning we had breakfast in the room, showered but not dressed.  A nude breakfast, looking at Alex, was a real turn-on.  I showed Alex around the campus that morning, and by noon it was time for him to head back to Madison.  It had certainly been fun, perhaps more than fun, and we made arrangements for me to visit him in Madison in a week.

 

That was where things stood as I wrote letter 19, of 40.  I told Tim of my Red Cross plans and of my further adventures with Alex.

 

The next Friday was the beginning of my two night visit to Alex in Madison.  I got there in time to visit Ronnie in the late afternoon and still meet Alex for a late dinner.  Ronnie was doing fine.  He would be a junior in high school like Tim, but he was already thinking that it would be his last–that he would go to college a year early, probably at the University in Madison.  His parents were comfortable with that, provided he lived at home.  He was comfortable with that, thinking, probably correctly, that he would have a difficult time fitting into a college dormitory.

 

On my way over to Alex’s, I picked up take out fried chicken which we ate at his apartment, again naked.  We both found that to be a turn-on.  Sex that night was a repeat of our first night, a mad scramble ending with 69. 

 

The next day we walked around the University, visited the library, and the State Historical Society Library, across from the University Library.  The Wisconsin State Historical Society is the finest in the nation, with one of the best historical libraries anywhere.  I could have spent hours there, but Alex insisted, quite correctly, that we should walk along the lake shore.  We did, and had a lovely afternoon.  We had steaks at a restaurant, and headed back to Alex’s apartment.  I wondered if Alex had anything in particular in mind for our nightly entertainment.

 

He did.  We each undressed, and lay on the bed together.  We kissed and his hand moved all over me.  Then his tongue.  He shoved my legs into the air and moved his tongue down to my anus.  I said, “Please don’t go inside.”

 

“Why not, that’s where the real fun is?”

 

“I’ve never gone there with anyone, and when I do I want it to be with Tim.”

 

“Oh, Charlie, that’s the best sex there is.  You can’t pass that up.  You can’t expect me to pass it up.”

 

“With that he licked his finger to moisten it, and started to insert it up my ass.”

 

I rolled to prevent his entry.  “Alex, I’m not going there tonight.  Please don’t force the issue.”

 

But Alex was not to be deterred.  “Charlie, please.  That’s what I really like.  If you don’t want me in you, why don’t you fuck me.  I’ll show you how.”

 

“Alex, nothing anal is going to happen tonight.  Please don’t keep on pushing.”

 

Alex couldn’t not push.  He didn’t try to force himself, but he couldn’t stop begging, urging, cajoling me.  Then he tried a different tack: “Charlie, you know you aren’t going to wait two years for Tim.  You and I could really get it on together.  Come on, let me be the first to fuck you.  Then we would be true lovers.”

 

“No, Alex.  That isn’t who I am.”

 

“OK, no hard feelings, I’ll accept your rules.”  With that he started to suck my dick.  But I couldn’t let him continue.  His total lack of respect for me, and for my love of Tim, had completely cooled any ardor that I had once had for Alex.  The next thing I heard from Alex was, “Hey, you’re going all soft.  What’s wrong?”

 

“Alex, I don’t think there’s anything left between us.”

 

“Just because I wanted a little fuck?”

 

“It wasn’t that you wanted a fuck.  It was that you wouldn’t respect my answer.  And then you tried to put yourself between me and Tim.”

 

“You didn’t think I was going to have sex with you and not try to steal you away, did you?”

 

“That was what I hoped.  Maybe Tim and I are unrealistic that we can have fun with other people without threatening our love for each other.  Maybe Tina’s the rare exception, and that I’ll never be so lucky.  But no, Alex, it’s over between us.  That makes me sad, but we can never get back the fun relationship we had last night.”

 

I didn’t stay the night.  I dressed and left, not really knowing what I was going to do.  I could drive back to Rockford, but I didn’t like setting out at 11:00 p.m. on truck-laden, two-lane highway 51.  I thought of Ronnie.  Could I call him this late?  I decided that I might as well try out the special relationship that “the Gang” had.  I went to a phone booth and called.  Frank, Ronnie’s father, answered.  With some hesitation, I said who I was, told them that I had found myself in Madison facing a drive home.  I didn’t want to start this late at night, and did they have a bed?

 

Wow, I didn’t expect the reception I got, “Charlie, how wonderful to hear from you.  No, it’s not too late.  Come on over.  Ronnie will be delighted; he hasn’t gone to bed yet!”  In less than ten minutes I was at their door.

 

My apologies for arriving in the middle of the night were simply ignored.  Everyone seemed delighted to see me.  I’ll have to admit it boosted both my ego and my emotional well-being to be so joyously received in such odd circumstances.  I had to face the question of what I was doing in Madison in the middle of the night.  On the way over I had decided to be honest.  “I had a boyfriend at the University, and I was spending the weekend with him.  Last night he pushed too hard, and staying became very uncomfortable.  I decided to leave before anything unpleasant happened.  I’m glad that I did.”

 

“Thanks for sharing, Charlie,” said Adele.  “I’m surprised you’re comfortable enough with us to share all of that.”

 

“I guess I’m surprised too.  But something seems to happen when you’re with this gang of boys–even just one of them.  Honesty becomes the absolute rule.  You asked the question, I simply answered.  One of the things about this kind of open relationship: you have to be able to deal with the answers.  You know, you’re pretty special people to hear that I was in Madison for a failed gay relationship, and then you’re still willing to have me spend the night.”

 

“If you had ill intentions toward Ronnie you never would have chosen an 11:00 p.m. unexpected arrival as the means of carrying them out!  Besides, it never occurred to us to even question your intentions.  And if you make advances on Ronnie, we are quite confident that he can make his own decisions.”

 

We talked a while longer and then headed for bed.  Ronnie again joined me in the guest room to talk for a while–I think about an hour.  Then  he went back to his room to sleep.

 

He joined me again in the morning.  He talked of his science research with his high school teacher.  It was over my head, but I enjoyed just listening to his excitement.  Eventually we got up, ate breakfast, and I needed to be on my way.  Frank said good bye and added, “Never hesitate to call us, anytime.  If it had been 3 a.m. you probably wouldn’t have called; and if Ronnie knew you were here at 3 a.m., and didn’t call, he’d kill you.  Never hesitate.”

 

I thanked them all, said a special good bye to Ronnie, and headed back to Rockford.

 

Tim’s letter 20 came soon thereafter.  It was now May.  Much more importantly, this was LETTER TWENTY.  Half way.  It was hard to believe.  Tim was all full of excitement, as the numbering hadn’t been lost on him.  “Charlie, if we can make twenty months, we can make forty!  Bank on it.  I am.  Tell me more about Alex.  How did the Red Cross interviews go? 

 

Then he gave a long account of his sports successes.  It made me ache not to be able to see his efforts, not to be able to hug him after each event, and kiss him madly when he won a medal or trophy.  But I was playing by my own rules.  To this day I think that they were the right ones.  But, oh God, did it hurt.

 

I didn’t reply until I could report on both job interviews.  They were both fairly routine.  They were impressed with my grades, my debating experience (I had been active in both high school and college), my recommendations, and all the rest that goes into a job presentation.  In both cases I had told them that I could only commit a year and a half; that my last day would have to be January 22, 1965.  Interestingly, neither interviewer was particularly curious as to why I had to leave on that date.  I had simply said that I had made plans that would require me to live in Minneapolis then, and it was accepted.  I really didn’t want to go into any details, and was relieved when I didn’t have to.  But the St. Louis office couldn’t accept a less than two year commitment.  Des Moines could.  In fact, the January date worked well with their mid-range plans.  It was agreed that I would start the first of July, 1963, and end on December 31, 1964.

 

My twentieth letter to Tim told of the sad ending of the relationship between me and Alex, and of the happy relationship that seemed to be opening up between me and the Red Cross.  I decided not to tell Tim of the December 31 ending date; that would have shown a stronger commitment than I thought was fair to him.  He had to have the freedom to make alternate plans.  If he thought that I had shaped my job around January birthday, it would have locked him in.  No way.  The letter concluded:

 

“Tim, I’m very distressed by my failure to have a loving relationship with Alex.  I was used; I had made it clear from the beginning that you and I were in love; that the relationship with him would have to be different.  He couldn’t accept that.  Was my expectation unrealistic?  I’m beginning to fear that it is.  I think that, perhaps, the only way to have a relationship while in love with you is to be deceitful and not tell about you.  Of course, I could never do that.  Does that mean that any relationship is doomed to failure?  Perhaps it means that we should never have said that such relationships are OK.  Does it mean that the moralists are right?

 

“But then I think of you and Tina.  I would never have wanted to ask you for a commitment that would have precluded your relationship with Tina.  But, as I write that, I wonder if we are being fair to Tina.  I know you, we, are being honest with her, but are we being fair?  Tina is one in a million, and I didn’t find my one in a million.  Maybe I’m just jealous of you for finding Tina.

 

“I guess I’m rambling.  I’m not going to go looking for a new Alex, one that can accept that we could never fall “in love.”  But, if one comes along I’m going to grab him, or her.  I just might take your advice and try out a girl.  Fat chance of finding a girl like Tina, that could accept a relationship with a gay man.

 

“You lucky devil!

 

“All my love, Charlie.”

 

Half way there, 20 of 40.