This is a true story.
I was a 22 year old Mormon boy with virgin lips when I had my first kiss. I returned from my mission and moved to Utah, ready to start a new life on my own. After a few months, feeling quite lonely I posted and ad on MSN. I was struggling with feelings of isolation and depression. I thought that I might be gay and wanted a friend to understand and help me. Someone named Marcus, a returned missionary from Brazil (22) replied to my message. He invited me to meet him at an institute class at BYU, which I did. Yes I was nervous. I had never met another gay man before, nor openly admitted that I was gay. I was so lonely. I desperately needed a friend.
I went to the institute class on BYU campus. That class changed my life. I did meet Marcus. He was very nice and very good looking. We instantly formed a bond. While sitting together in the class, a devotional was given by a girl who looked very familiar. She was reading a scripture. She looked up from the podium and scanned over the class. Her eyes met mine and she let out a high pitched squeal. "Elder Robison!!!" The girl was a sister from my mission, Sister Darla Danielson. She didn't' even finish reading the scripture. She jumped off the rostrum and ran down to meet me. She gave me a very tight hug. The feeling was incredible. She and I also bonded at that moment. Within 20 minutes I had forged 2 very powerful friendships that I would remember forever.
Consider this peculiar coincidence. Looking back I can see how this moment was so pivotal and highly ironic. I met, at that time, both my soul-mate/girlfriend. . .and my first gay lover. What a combo?!?!
I ended up spending a lot of time with Darla. Every free moment I was at her house. Her roommates considered me a part of the house-hold. We laughed, played games, watched movies, went on picnics, camped out. We Had a glorious time. Darla was a very cheerful girl, prone to laughter. She was incredibly loving. I likened her to a Heavenly Mother. She cared for every pure thing and she had such compassion. I could not keep secrets from her. She saw deep into my soul as if I were completely transparent. I can honestly say I loved her.
Marcus and I also hung out together. He had a charm all his own. He was tall, with darker features. He was masculine and had an exotic foreign charm. He captivated me. He seemed to be OK with his homosexuality. He wasn't as scared and confused as I was, yet he was kind and compassionate to me. We had fun times together. We watched Simpsons and played video games. He baked some very delicious Brazilian food. He also worked in a factory that made scented candles. So his apartment always smelled delightful, as did his skin (I came to find out).
The three of us, Marcus, Darla and I did everything together. I really enjoyed having my two best friends around me so often. I longed to be with them so badly when I was away at work. I looked forward to the weekends of fun. I looked forward to singing songs around Darla's piano. I looked forward to sharing mission stories with Marcus. I was completely overcome with a feeling of pure happiness and acceptance. I Had never before felt such a thing at home. This was a new world to me, and I loved it.
Time passed. Months went by and the mood began changing. Darla got a job and wasn't always available on weekends and nights. I had become so addicted to my new friendships and the feelings of codependency that I couldn't stand being alone. I began spending more time with Marcus. We watched late-night movies. We went on long drives. We spent time talking about issues that were important to me. I felt free and comfortable to share the parts of my life that I had always considered to be shameful. He made me feel validated. The first time Marcus touched me was while watching "The Mummy." I barely remember the movie because of the anxious electricity going threw my body. Marcus had put his hand on my shoulder. I was concentrating only on that. My heart began beating faster. I was sweating. I felt feverish. It was like being electrocuted. . paralyzed but unable to let go of the live-wire that was his hand.
When the movie was finished and the credits kept running we just sat together on the couch basking in the heat of the moment. Finally I got up to turn off the movie and he invited me to stay the night, which I did. He laid down on his bed and took his shirt off. I also took off my shirt and laid down next to him on the twin-size. I faced away from him, and he wrapped himself around me and pulled me in til I was completely enveloped by Marcus and the smell of candle wax. The feel of his skin against mine was intoxicating. I felt a tremendous release of energy flow out of me, and my physical body reacted by surrendering to the moment. I inhaled and took it in. I just laid there in an ocean of ecstasy that I never knew was possible. The thought went through my mind, "Is this bad? Something so wonderful can't be bad. Then why do I feel like I should run away right now, run from this feeling of peace and safety. It MUST be bad. I like this. I want this. I'm in touble. . . ."
Hours passed in darkness and heat.
That was the first time I experienced the touch of a man. We hadn't comprised our temple covenants that night. We remained semi-clothed. I refused to remove the clothes below my waist, even though his fingers tried to wander there.
I continued to date Darla. Our discussions grew more serious. We spoke of having children and careers. We talked about where we wanted to be married. She seemed to be unsatisfied with my level of excitement about the topic. She seemed worried. Plus Darla had some family troubles that began to bother her. Her thoughts turned more inward. While we talked about our future lives, I could sense that something was not right. Was it suspicion?
Meanwhile, my sleep-overs with Marcus were continually more intimate. I hadn't crossed any real moral lines, but the passion that was developing between us was intense. Marcus was becoming more and more aggressive in his insistence that we see more of each other. His hands continued touching me and searched under my clothes in places that made me very uncomfortable. The level of intimacy he wanted scared me. I was growing weary of his advances. He began playing off of my vulnerability. He knew I enjoyed his touch and the closeness that we shared. He also knew I was feeling weak and confused and not ready to commit to going further. I was becoming weak, and signs of depression were setting in again.
Marcus was preparing for an extended trip to Brazil. He was going home to see his family and he asked me, very seriously, to return to Brazil with him as his boyfriend. This was def con 5, now or never, all or nothing. I had seconds to think it through. The word "boyfriend" was deafening. He had caught me off-guard with such a monumentous proposal. I reacted defensively and I chose to abandon ship in order aleve the anxiety. I told Marcus that I was not his lover and not ready to commit myself to him. I was not ready to accept my sexuality openly. I was not prepared to be openly gay. The idea of running off to an exotic country with my gay lover scared the SHIT out of me!!!
Marcus, suddenly angry and rejected, asked me how it felt to be with him. It felt wonderful. His touch was so powerful. The attraction I felt to him was ionic. Being near him made my body do things that weren't normal. My heart raced, my palms sweat, my fingers ached to be entwined in his. While my mind was preaching virtue, my body was demanding to be connected with his in every intimate way possible. With all of these things blazing through my mind, Marcus asked me the question that flipped the switch. "Do you feel this way with Darla?" Boom. . .mushroom cloud.
Not even in the slightest. My feelings for her were completely emotional and appropriate and temple-worthy. I felt no such feelings of lust or affection toward Darla and I think she knew it, Marcus knew it. . but it had never occurred to me. I was SUPPOSED to ache for her. I was SUPPOSED to touch her, hold her and kiss her. I was SUPPOSED to long to caress her neck and shoulders. Those thoughts were so foreign to me. Yet here I was completely flayed before Marcus, longing to be physically united with him. Marcus was the one my body ached for and he wanted me just as much. But Marcus was not the one I was considering to marry. HOLY CRAP!!! I was in checkmate.
The weight of the impasse broke through my tear ducts and I ran out of Marcus' apartment with tears trailing. I knew I was in love, and Marcus knew it. But if anyone else knew, my world would end. I thought my family would disown me. My church would excommunicate me. My lovely soul-mate, Darla would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself. I drove home.
Marcus followed me. It was raining (ironically appropriate). Marcus came to my door. He begged to let me in. He was both sad and angry (sangry?) I was a miserable mess. The desperation that I felt, to hold on to the wonderful feelings of acceptance and bliss, was my drug. Was I willing to steel for it? Sell myself to the night? Betray my loved ones? Forfeit my integrity for that wonderful feeling of ecstasy? . .
. . .I opened the door.
Marcus came inside. He looked pathetically beaten and unable to accept defeat. He grabbed my shoulders, flipped me around and pinned me against the door. Soaking wet, he placed his hot, quivering lips on mine and penetrated deep with his tongue. The virginity of my soul was sacrificed that night, along with that of my lips and my body. I gave in to the magnetism of our bodies. The rest of my life would resemble that proverbial struggle between two seemingly contradictory forces: love and lust.