While glancing at blogs I came across Geoff’s entry concerning Queer as Folk and I vividly remembered many years ago watching an early episode of the show. I was straight, married and watched it with Carrie. Of course the fact that I heard about it and watched it (much as I sought out Angels in America on Broadway years earlier) is a commentary in and of itself. The show was real and multi-dimensional – gay people in real life and gay people unlike Will having sex with each other. I watched it a few times, then we gave up Showtime. One less premium channel to pay for, $10 a month saved. But I suspect that I felt too strong a connection, one that I was not ready to admit to, not yet.
And if I am to be completely honest, I remember sitting with Carrie and her hand wandering and feeling me, feeling me get hard at all the “right” places. The episode ended with my receiving a blowjob, but also I suspect with certain things being much harder to deny, though deny we did for another four or so years.
I share this because I still find myself floating in the netherworld. The other night I missed my gay dad’s group – busy at work, a late exit, but also a lack of motivation. If there is such a thing as my gay time, I would rather spend it “being” gay as opposed to dissecting it, at least that was my feeling last evening. And the opportunity for dinner out with my family just felt right.
After dinner while the kids and their friends ran amuck, Carrie and I hid in her bedroom and watched some television. We lay on far sides of the king size mattress, I controlling the temptation to place my hand on hers when I saw it in the DMZ. We watched, we rested, we were comfortable. At that moment I could have stayed forever.
Which is why it is important that I be transported back six years in an instant, that I remember a moment watching Queer as Folk, that I even remember specific scenes – a shower with a new young lover, a scene in a corporate men’s room – and remember my reaction to those scenes, the erections that Carrie monitored as if she knew these days were a coming.
I would love to write of stability, of confidence and of direction and certitude. I cannot. I will keep moving forward as it is the only direction I seem to know and the only path remaining. But I will not deny that my emotions and desires are as labile as ever. Only one thing seems clear at the moment: I should have never cancelled Showtime.