20 years ago this week (possibly today, 80% certain it's today and not the 24th which is the other option...) I saw the Sixth Former.
I've told the story of my coming out story which started with the first time I saw the Sixth Former, the object of my unrequited love for a long, long time after. I think the fact my memory of the George Michael thing, which happened AFTER the Sixth Former, suggests my memories are not to be trusted too much and that, if that's true, I was still in denial about my sexuality for a few more months.
But I think this post, written closer to the time and thus a bit more reliable, gives you a taste of the power of my unrequited love. I'd totally forgotten this incident. At that time I was... emotionally unstable. It may not have happened. But... I was working when I wrote the post so I very much doubt I made it up.
Reading it certainly suddenly made me remember that first half term after my crush on him had appeared. It was literally painful. I can't imagine feeling emotions that strong nowadays. Teenage hormones certainly have a huge effect.
I don't know his name. There's no way he knows what an influence he had on my life, my tastes in men and, for a long time until I gave it all up, my religious beliefs. He passed through my life never knowing me and I never actually knowing him. But he left a large wake behind him and I surfed that wake all the way to Jim.
I hope he is well, living a happy life. I'm not as crazy as I was then. No "OMG I LOVE HIM!" stuff. Yet I do wish him every happiness possible for he was more influential on me than almost any person outside my Mum.
That quiet, beautiful boy. This poem always reminds me of him.
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