Gay Love Story

Chapter 1

Billy Carmedy

Sitting by myself, my feet stuck in the cool water of the little stream, I tried, for the ten millionth time, to reason out why I had to have these problems. I was just a normal everyday kid, no better, no worse than most. I didn't do drugs, I didn't smoke or drink. I worried about my grades and my lack of six pack abs and if I was ever gonna get any taller or grow any hair on my chest. No earthshaking stuff, but important to me.

When I was about eleven, I began to realize that I zoned out on the teacher because I was watching Teddy Gleason draw little cartoon figures on the back of his notebook. Now, that in itself is nothing because a teacher talking about energy pyramids and food chains can only hold your interest for so long. A kid's attention span is about as long as a gnat's tongue. But, what began to bother me was that it wasn't really the little figures Teddy was drawing that got to me. It was his hand. The way it closed in around his pencil and then the way he'd shove his hair out of his face with the other equally attractive hand. Why was I watching Teddy's hands? I would cruise my attention over to Marybeth Kelly and watch her twist her long red hair around her finger and wait to feel the same little tingle. Shouldn't her hands interest me more than Teddy's?

By thirteen, the hands thing changed to just about any part of the male body exposed to my eyes. I could go catatonic over a wrist, a slope of chest, the small of a back, the tiny half-smile a guy gets when he doesn't know anyone is looking. Sure, everything located between waist and knee was of great interest, but I loved looking at the not so obvious parts too. I spent an entire school year drilling a hole in the back of Ernie Blaine's head with my eyes, where his hair just whispered across that curve at the base of his skull. Ernie has curly brown hair and the long curls would move in and out of that curve.

I found myself scoping out the same cute guys on TV shows as my two older sisters. On the sly, of course. It started with Dawson's Creek when I was twelve and having to choose between Pacey and Dawson. I always wanted to think about someone like Pacey, all strong and confident, but, secretly, I wanted Dawson. He never quite caught up with the rest of the world. He reminded me of one of those little windup dolls that walks into a wall and just keeps trying to go ahead. His face always seemed to be saying "Huh??" Like me. I still watch reruns and I guess I may be the only person who was always glad Dawson never bought a clue. He muddled and muddled badly but, like me, he kept on muddling.

We watch The O.C. now. Ginny and Marsha go bonkers over Ryan. I do indeed like the way he looks and the 'bad boy' attitude he pulls, but I would rather know Seth. He just can't ever get it together. It always falls apart. Maybe this season.

What I'm trying to say is I've had a long time to think about this. It doesn't really get any better and I see no answer in sight, but I know that I have a thing for guys. Girls are funny and sweet and they smell good, but then so do my sisters. I kind of want someone funny and sweet who smells like me.

My friends, would they be my friends if they knew what I thought about all the time? Probably not. I don't have any illusions about people. I watch the news; I read the paper. I know how someone you've known all your life can turn on you when, all of a sudden, you "change". I don't know how to explain to anyone that I'm just me, Billy Carmedy, the same Billy that has always been around. It's sad really that they don't even take the time to think about how much this has been hurting. How long I've felt different and strange. How much I've wanted to tell someone, but knew I couldn't. No, to them, it would come as a big surprise. And, the worse part, I think they'd take it that I was trying to hurt them with it, threaten them somehow, as if me being gay would rub off on them and they'd start chasing guys.

I have these daydreams where I tell my parents that I'm gay and they just look at each other, smile, then open their arms and hug me, saying, "Oh, Billy, I'm so proud that you've told us, trusted us to love you and help you be best gay man you can be." I don't suppose that has ever happened, but it makes a nice dream.