Exactly one week ago, I figured "it" out. My elation at finally solving the mystery, understanding who I am, has given way to depression. There are no books on gay topics in the library, no gay organizations, no meeting places except for a gay bar that I'm too young to go to.
And I can't tell anyone. Everyone thinks that gay people are either horrifying monsters or swishy jokes.
What do I do now?
My friend Aaron invites me to a Marx Brothers Film Festival held at the Augustana College Student Union: The Cocoanuts and Animal Crackers tonight, and Horse Feathers, Monkey Business, and Duck Soup tomorrow (this was before DVDs).
Jana, a girl I know from Rocky High, comes into the first screening. With the most beautiful guy I have ever seen. Greek or Italian, rather short, short black hair, sharp features, flawless skin. He is wearing a yellow tank top that displays his smooth chest and nicely bulging biceps. But no verbal description can do justice to his amazing confidence and energy. He is a Golden Boy.
"Who...who is that guy with Jana?" I ask, transfixed.
Naturally Aaron assumes that I'm interested in the girl. "Dunno. But I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. He looks like a college kid, so at the end of the summer, he's out of here!"
"Are you related to Dino []?" I ask.
"Uncle Dino? Sure. We don't see him much, though. He joined a crazy fundamentalist church, Nazarene or something, and decided that we were all possessed by demons."
"He was my Sunday School teacher at the Nazarene Church!"
His face falls. "Oh...um...I didn't mean..."
"That's ok, I know they're crazy fundamentalists. I've been trying to get out."
"No, no, I shouldn't have made that crack. Let me make it up to you. Come by Lagomarcino's tomorrow, and I'll fix you up with a box of candy. Your friend, too," he adds, glancing at Aaron.
"Are you working there for the summer?"
"Sort of. My grandpa owns it."
The Lagomarcinos are one of the wealthiest families in the Quad Cities. They own several businesses, but they are best known for their landmark candy store in Moline, open since 1908. It sells ice cream cones and sodas, but mostly you go there for the fancy chocolates. (In 2015, one-pound assortments begin at $24, double the price of one-pound Whitman Samplers).
We arrive about 2:00 pm. Dino is working behind the counter, wearing a white apron, but still muscular, athletic, alive.
Before I can catch myself, I blurt out: "For someone who makes candy for a living, you have a really nice physique."
Dino smiles. "Thanks. I was on the swim team in high school, and I studied karate and boxing."
"Cool! Aaron and I used to go to the Davenport Athletic Club on Saturday afternoons to..." I catch myself before saying "to look at the cute guys."
"Maybe we saw you..."
"Probably." He pauses. "Hey, are you guys doing anything for the 4th? I'm having some guys over to see the fireworks -- Mom and Dad are in Europe. Our house is on River Drive [in Davenport], so you get a really good view from the front porch. We'll have some barbecue, drink some beers."
Who could turn down an offer like that?
Aaron could. "Can I bring a date?"
He looks confused. Does he think we're a gay couple? Are we a gay couple?
"It's guys only. We don't want any women messing up our fun, do we?"
Davenport, July 4th
Besides Aaron and me, there are six guys at the party: Dino, two of his high school friends, a cousin, two guys from college (he goes to Washington University in St. Louis), and a balding middle-aged man who introduces himself as Tony.
We all sit on lawn chairs in a back yard surrounded by a high redwood fence. There are Japanese lanterns and bug-zapping candles. Dino and his cousin grill steaks for us to eat off paper plates, with fruit salad for dessert (there is no ice cream or candy anywhere in the house). We talk and joke and drink beer (soda for me). No one mentions girlfriends or asks me if I would kick this or that actress out of bed. Heaven!
Is this a gay party?
"It's hot out here!" Dino's cousin exclaims. "What do we have these clothes on for?"
"Who's up for nude Slip N Slide!" Dino asks.
I get Sausage Sightings of everyone at the party, including Dino (average, cut).
We get a back up when guys don't get up fast enough, and the next person in line slides into them. Suddenly I'm part of a mass of naked men, laughing and jostling. Hands grab butts. Penises press against thighs.
We get dressed again to stand on the front porch and watch the fireworks over the Mississippi. Emboldened, I wrap my arm around Dino's waist. He smiles.
Afterwards we say goodnight. Dino says "Thanks for coming!"
"Are you free tomorrow? We could...."
He frowns. "I've got a family thing tomorrow, and then I'm going back to St. Louis -- I just came to town to work the 4th of July weekend, while my folks are in Europe. But if you get down to Washington U., look me up!" He gives me his address.
I write to Dino at Washington University [in those days long-distance phone calls are prohibitively expensive]. He responds, first with brief notes, and then not at all.
Was Dino gay? If so, what did I do wrong, to keep him from wanting further contact? If not, why did he suggest a nude Slip N Slide? Why did he let me put my arm around him? What was going on at that party?
As the years pass, I begin to wonder: Was there really a 4th of July party full of men exuberant in their physicality and not at all interested in women? Did I imagine the whole thing?
Today Dino is all over the internet: he lives in Davenport, where he manages one of the Lagomarcino's businesses -- not the candy store --plus he's an amateur astronomer, he runs 5K races, and he sponsors the Silver Gloves boxing competitions for boys aged 10 to 13. His wife teaches at the community college and runs a genealogy blog. One of his sons is an architect.
See also: I Lost It at the Movies; Cruising at the 4th of July Fireworks; and My Sunday School Teacher's Stripper Sons.
Dino is not his real name, of course.
ReplyDeleteNice work, Boomer! Much love and many naked hugs!
ReplyDeleteI didn't know they had Slip n Slide in the 70s. I thought it was one of those 80s toys. Guess everything's older than they think.
ReplyDeleteNaked swimming in all-male company of course doesn't make one gay, especially in a rural area where if there are women, you can see the double standard in action. (Women swimming in cutoffs and a bikini top, men swimming naked.) Or he could've been, you know, bisexual: A wife doesn't disprove interest in dudes, after all.
We had Slip n Slide when I was a little kid in the 1960s. It's been around for awhile.
DeleteYeah, "guys-only" often means "yeah, we're probably getting naked." At least when I was younger.
ReplyDelete"Campout, guys only" Translation: We'll be by the lake so we can swim. Bring the suit you were born in.
"Wrestling, guys only" Translation: You don't want to tear your clothes.
"Watching movies, guys only" Translation: Well, this was college, but it basically means at least a couple movies are porn.
My favorite "guys only" activity was in high school. A friend had a sleepover and was an only child, so with his parents' permission, he invited us over. We all masturbated a LOT that weekend. When his parents got home, his father caught us, asleep, naked, in a pile, several of us with our dicks still in our hands, and there was still a faint smell of seven. We got a lecture...about the dangers of weed!
My sleepovers never involved masturbation, at least nothing open. By the time we got old enough for erotic activity, we stopped having them.
DeleteWe'd do it on the pretext that we'd be going somewhere miles away in the morning. Better to all be ready before you go.
DeleteWishing I had someone to naked Slip n Slide with right now.
ReplyDelete