Justin's Life... May 9-10, 1996

Justin's Life... May 9-10, 1996

May 9, 1996

6:09PM Written from the notes I took

Monday, April 29th, I woke at 7:30AM with Curt next to me. I got in the shower and he left to go get his car, but as I was zipping my suitcases, Curt buzzed the door to say that he needed to come back up to my apartment. His car was gone; it had been towed. He was pretty upset, saying that it was in gear and probably got hurt during the tow, so I tried my best to calm him down, telling him that they towed cars all the time and thus had experience. In the back of my mind, I knew it was past the time that I should have left for the airport, but I focused on calming him down.

Curt called the Boston Department of Transportation to find where his car was taken and how much it would cost to get it out. We then tried to decide if we needed two cabs or if one cab could swing by the D.O.T. to drop him off then take me on to the airport. The dispatcher said one would do and we headed out a few minutes later.

Before we got to the D.O.T., I thought ahead to realize I didn't have cab fare. I thought Curt was taking me to the airport and hadn't visited the ATM. I felt like a heel, adding to the nearly $50 he had to pay for his car, but I had to ask Curt for $10; the fare had to be paid.

Once Curt got out at the D.O.T., the cab went on to the airport and I checked in. I still had a few minutes before the plane began to board, so I called Curt's cell phone. No one answered, but I left a brief message to say that I was sorry about the ordeal and that I cared about him.

I arrived at the Cincinnati airport a couple hours later to find my mom waiting for me. Her shortness stunned me for a few seconds, as it usually does when I return home after a few months. (Almost all my contacts are with guys. Mom is only five feet tall, shorter than anyone I normally see.)

Once I'd gotten my luggage and adjusted to the surroundings, Mom and I started talking as we headed to the car. I told her about the day's earlier events then gave her a bottle of shampoo from the Body Shop as a pre-Mother's Day present.

When we were heading homeward, I showed her some e-mail I'd received from readers of the diary. One of the letters was a copy of Dan's initial inquiry, another was from Richard, an author who sent me several of his books, all inscribed, and another was from Daniel, a guy who wrote a few weeks back about acquiring the movie rights to my life.

Mom was impressed but said that she couldn't see how my life was interesting enough to be a movie. I joking responded that it was all the sex and violence, my canned answer to the "Why would people read about you?" question, but she wasn't satisfied with that. She said that since everyone else read the diary, she wanted to as well. I told her that if she had a computer and could access it, she could. I explained that there were things a guy wouldn't necessarily want his mother to read. I mean, I've read parts of it to her before, but nothing too explicit.

We continued to talk until until finally I decided to give her a little taste. I said something like, "Well, technically I'm still a virgin," to which Mom giggled, "but when I was in LA, Frank and I were in the hot tub... without our clothes." Her response was "So?" It didn't phase her at all. My mother, an easy stand-in for June Cleaver or Carol Brady, didn't flinch at the fact that her son was naked with another guy in a hot tub?!? I was amazed.

Mom and I continued talking until we got back to the video store. There, I hung out with Amanda a little before having dinner with Mom & Dad at Cracker Barrel. Mom told him about the occurences on the car ride home and he, too, had the attitude of "So?" He explained a few minutes later that to them, the idea of me being naked in a hot tub with another guy wasn't any big deal because even though it was the same as a straight guy being naked in a hot tub with a girl, it was different in their minds.

The three of us continued talking and the subject of sex and their children came up. My earlier comments about being "technically" a virgin had established the degree of sex I'd had, but I told her that I figured her other kids had had sex. She wanted to know Dad's opinion on if my brother had had sex. He said that he assumed as much. Mom responded that she wanted to know why her kids wouldn't tell her things like that, that she needed to get him protection. Dad said that it wasn't like the days when they grew up, that condoms were available everywhere. I sat there chuckling with my mouth hanging open. When I was little, I thought there'd never be a day when my parents would treat me like an adult. Here I was, being treated like an adult, and I was speechless.

After dinner was done, I took Dad home then returned to the video store where I met up with Amanda. The two of us went to the newly expanded Wal-mart. It had a video store, a grocery, a hairstylist center, and 38 checkout lanes. The Mall of America it wasn't, but it was pretty darn big for Kentucky. I bought a toothbrush then Amanda took me home where I wrote a few postcards before falling asleep.

May 10, 1996

2:42PM Written from the notes I took

Through Wednesday, I was pretty lonely at home in Kentucky. I felt isolated from the world in that my normal contacts had been cut off. I couldn't send e-mail and my conversations with Larry had almost stopped. (He normally calls me every night and we talk for about an hour. He was busy was other people, but he didn't want to call my house at 2AM in Kentucky & wake my family anyway.) I did call Rob and Curt a lot, but it wasn't the same. Larry and I have a relationship where we harass the other. It's a much more involved, playful conversation than with most people.

Finally, Wednesday afternoon I broke down and sent Larry a "I miss you bad. Please call me" postcard. He couldn't have gotten it, but Wednesday night he called and we talked for an hour and a half. I caught up on his life and told him about how I'd spent most of my time at Wal-mart.

Thursday morning, I had an eye exam appointment at the Wal-mart eye doctor. Once I'd signed in, the assistant took me back to a few machines where she performed a glaucoma test before getting out the flip cards.

"This will tell if you're color-blind. Tell me what numbers you see."

"57. 3. I know I'm partially colorblind. 12. Nothing. Nothing. 4."... etc.

The assistant then started laughing, saying that she couldn't believe I couldn't see the numbers since they stood out so prominently for her. I thought it was odd for a professional to be so openly amused by such a common thing, but I wasn't offended: I've played "Hey, what color is this?" too many times.

When the doctor finished with the previous patient, he took me into the eye exam room and asked if I wanted contacts or glasses. I explained that I was thinking about trying disposable contacts and he responded that he'd give me a pair and I could come back next week to let him know how I liked them. I said I was leaving for Boston on Tuesday and he said he'd go ahead & give me the prescription, that I probably wouldn't have a problem.

"So, you go to school in Boston?" he asked.

"Yeah, Boston U." I lied back.

We then proceeded to talk about what year I was, how I liked Boston, what my major was, and so forth. I thought a simple "Yes, BU" answer would be it, but the lie just kept getting bigger. (And that wasn't the only time I lied about going to BU when I was home. Instead of explaining that I had to take a year off due to finances, I simply answered the questions with the appropriate response about 3/4th of the time. "Done with finals?"..."Yes" "Another year down, I bet you're glad."...smile "What year are you?"..."Sophomore")

Anyway, the doctor examined my eyes then gave me a pair of contacts to try on. They seemed to work when I read the chart again, so I walked over to the prescription-filling section of the office and bought a box of each more.

After I walked back into the main part of Wal-mart, a guy was galloping toward me. When I looked up, it was Scott. He was thinner than I ever remember seeing him and asked me how I was doing. I told him that I was just in town for the week and he let me know that he's joining the military (and hence, had to lose some weight). A few minutes later, his wife came up beside him and we talked some more. Before long, though, he said that he needed to be off and we said good-bye.

Thursday night, Mom wanted to have a nice dinner with the family, so we picked up my grandmother then headed to Lexington. It was a typical day at home with Mom & Granny: We got lost... twice.

When we finally met up with Dad at the horse park, it was though life hadn't changed at all since I'd left. Dad obsessed and double-checked over the horses the same as he always did. During dinner, Mom and Dad concentrated on the food like it was the only meal they'd ever eaten and Granny said she couldn't eat it all. It was just the same.

When we got back home, it was late, but I called Larry and we talked for an hour or so.


The rest of my trip home was pretty uneventful. Of note, though, Mom came upstairs Monday night and told me that she was really going to miss me. She then started crying. I hugged her and told her that she was going to have to fly out and visit me.

Tuesday morning, she took me to the airport and we said good-bye just before I got on the plane. As I was walking down the isle, I had trouble breathing and had to fight back the tears. Instead of the feeling like I wanted to stay as I did when I left Frank and Larry in California, I had an intense feeling that I was leaving something behind that I needed to bring with me... in hindsight, I guess that something was Mom.


When I arrived at the Logan airport, I found Curt waiting for me just past the security gate. I gave him a hug and the two of us walked to baggage claim. When I'd gotten both of my suitcases, we went to Curt's car and headed back towards my apartment.

Since I knew Curt already had plans for the afternoon, I thought he was just going to drop me off at my apartment, but instead, he parked his car at the garage across the street. While we were walking down the ramp, I asked why he didn't park on the street. He responded that he had a few few minutes to spare and the two of us went to my apartment.

When we got inside, I gave him a couple of Kentucky souvenirs and we hugged a few times. Curt went into the bathroom and when he came out, he gave me a static bag. The week before, I'd commented on how computer memory prices were going down and how I intended to order 8megs when I got back. My computer was going to have 16 megs of RAM and finally work well. I was pretty excited and asked Curt if he'd install the SIMM. (I could have installed it myself, but I wanted to make him feel like "the man." You know, making him feel good for making me feel good.)

When Curt opened the static bag, I saw two SIMM cards, so I asked how many RAM he'd gotten me. "32," he answered back. I was floored. 32megs of RAM!! I'd never even fathomed getting 32 megs. In my far off wishful thinking, I thought perhaps I'd order 16 megs. I was smiling and speechless. What an amazingly sweet thing Curt had done. I gave him several kisses on the cheek as he installed the memory.

Before long, Windows95 was running with 36 megs of memory, the most my computer can handle, and Curt & I were kissing and ended up on the floor. After a couple minutes of straight kissing, I joked that Curt needed to take time to breathe. I mean, I'm someone who needs to be ga-ga over the other person before I'm really comfortable deep kissing him. But at the same time, I do want to kiss just to show that I care. A few longer than a peck but less than 2 seconds kisses is what I prefer.

Anyway, soon I asked if Curt needed to get going. I walked with him back to the parking garage then I went on to the post office. There, I found a postcard from a red headed guy named Jim and an envelope without a return address. Inside it, there was a short letter which thanked me for the diary and a $20 bill. The postmark was from Austin, Texas, but other than that, I have no idea who it was from.

When I returned to my apartment, I played the computer, testing to see just how many programs I could open, and read the e-mails I'd received while in Kentucky.

At around 9PM, Curt called to see if I'd gotten anything to eat and if I was ready for him to come over. --Since he had an early flight out of Boston Wednesday morning, he had asked me earlier in the week if he could spend the night at my apartment.-- I said that I hadn't eaten anything and he said he'd be over shortly.

When Curt arrived, we picked up a burger and sub from the local mom&pop pizza/sub shop then came back to my apartment to eat. After dinner, we watched a movie then went to bed. Curt kissed me a few more times and hands went wandering. I don't remember the specifics, but after a while, our boxers were off. We layed next to each other hugging, just absorbing the feeling of security. I then fell asleep.

Throughout the night, Curt's hands kept wandering. I began to think the word "moderation" wasn't in his vocabulary. I moved over to the edge of the bed, but didn't say anything. The next thing I knew, Curt was under the covers and I felt a really moist sensation. I knew that we'd established that going down on me was absolutely not to occur, but it sure felt like that was what was happening. A couple seconds later, I decided that it really was happening and said that it was time to go to bed. I put my boxers on and curled up on the side of the bed. Curt's hands kept wandering. I turned over so that I was facing down and I was so far over that my arm and leg were hanging off the bed, but Curt's hands kept going into my underwear. Finally, I couldn't handle it anymore and said I had to pee.

I got up, went into the bathroom, and started thinking about what had happened. Curt had violated me. Rob had gone down on me once: It was a bond that I shared with him and only him. True, I'd stopped both of them before it could be said that I'd had oral sex, but nevertheless, Curt had broken that bond. I loved Rob. I cared about Curt. There's a big difference. And Curt knew that going down on me was something I didn't want to happen.

There was no way I could get back in the bed with Curt. I turned on my computer and started typing him a letter. About five minutes into it, he came in to ask what was wrong. I mumbled something about how I'd tell him later and he said that if it was something he did, he was sorry then went back to bed.

I wrote:


I'm not really sure where to start this letter. All I do know is that there were too many thoughts racing through my head to allow me to sleep. So, in no particular order, except that in which it comes to mind, here goes:

You're too forceful. You don't take the other person's feelings/body language into account until WAY after the fact. Sure, you came into see why I'm up at 4:36AM, but you completely ignored everything else. I mean, I know you're sensitive about this subject or else I would have said something earlier, but if someone turns his head when you're trying to kiss him, that means at the very least, "I don't want to kiss now." I turned my head several times, each of which resulted in you repositioning yourself to kiss me again. Finally, I had to ask/say that it was time for you to head to your meeting.

But that was just the beginning, tonight it was like you were completely clueless. There's no nicer way to say it. If someone is curled in the fetal position as tightly as possible or laying face down hanging off the bed, it means, "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME." But when I did either of those, you kept sticking your hand down my underwear. I don't mean to be cruel and I'm not trying to hurt your feelings on purpose, but as far as sexual relations go, you are completely centered on yourself. That's not even mentioning yet the fact that you went down on me. You knew that was something I didn't want to happen. I couldn't see what you were doing and trusted you enough to think that you wouldn't, but when I realized what had happened, I didn't get mad or yell, which in all rights, I should have. I simply said that it was time to go to bed and after some resistance from you, put my boxers back on... BUT YOUR HANDS KEPT WANDERING. What were you thinking? Were you thinking? I don't know what to do and I know you'll be upset by this letter, but right now all I can think is that there is _NO WAY_ that anything remotely like this is going to happen Thursday night. I feel violated. It's true, I probably should have spoken up earlier tonight, but we've had this conversation before.

I know you're new to all this, but I was new to all this once and I've met other guys that were new to all this, and the relationships weren't like this. Having a relationship/friendship with someone means being in tune with their feelings. If you want just someone to have sex with, then find a person who just wants to have sex. I know you're a good guy or else I would have thrown you out of my apartment tonight, but you're going to HAVE to pay attention to other's wishes and you're going to have to give me some time to re-trust you.


At 5:10AM, I sent that e-mail on its way and blind carbon copied it to Larry. I then wrote Larry to say, "I want to curl up into a ball and disappear... I wish I was there so you could hold me. Love you... *crying* -Justin" When it was sent, I crawled under my desk and fell asleep.

When Curt woke at 6AM, he came into the room where I was and said, "This is unacceptable." He asked me again what was wrong and I told him that I'd written him e-mail. As he was getting dressed, he asked if he was going to have to wait until his plane landed before he could read it. I said no, and printed out a copy of the letter. He put it in his pocket, said that I didn't have to take him to the airport, then the two of us went to the T station.

Once Curt went through the security gate, I took the T back to my apartment, showered, changed the sheets, and got in the bed. I'd flown back to be in Boston for Rob's and my one year anniversary, but I was in no mood to be romantic... or even friendly. I cried for a while and fell asleep.

I woke around noon to the sound of the phone ringing, it was Larry calling to see how I was doing. He said that he'd cried when he read my e-mail. I was touched by him caring so much. We talked for a few minutes then I said good-bye.

Around 1PM, I got a letter from Curt which read:


I am truly sorry for my lack of consideration to your feelings or wishes over the last 24hrs. I can make any number of excuses as to why I did the things that I did but those excuses will not make you feel any better or put your trust back into me.

Yes I did violate you and ignored your wishes, unfortunately all the words here can not take back what has occurred. All that I can say and ask is for your forgiveness and your allowance for me to learn from this terrible mistake so that I can maybe become a better person from it. This incident has me re-evaluating alot of things on how I deal with this and future relationships.

I would like to talk, when would be a good time to get intouch with you.

Again sorry for turning something special in to a nightmare.


Rob called around 1:30PM and the two of us met. I put on as happy face as I could muster and tried not to let him know anything was wrong. It was supposed to be our day and I was going to do my best to make it a happy one.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to keep the previous night's events to myself. Rob noticed several clues until finally I told him the entire situation.

We watched a movie and when the night was done, he asked if I wanted him to spend the night. I thought for a few seconds then told him that I needed to be by myself. He said good-bye and went home.

Yesterday morning, I responded to Curt's e-mail:


Needless to say, I've been thinking a lot about what happened Tuesday night and what it means in the grand scheme of things. The going down on me was the proverbial straw on the camel's back. We'd already had conversations about how you didn't read other people, that you ignored what signals I was sending back, that on this particular subject, you are totally into yourself. Yet, each time we've met, you've pressed on. But where will it end? If you sleep over again, will it result in your turning me over and penetrating me?

Ever watch a cheesy horror movie, or a bad TV movie where the wife's being beaten or the girlfriend is being stalked? A movie where the characters seem too dumb to be real? A movie where you start yelling at the TV screen telling the characters "Don't go in there!" "Are you crazy?" and so forth? In this situation, I feel like the I'm the guy doing the things that seem too dumb to be real. But at the same time, I'm the one yelling at the screen, saying, "Get away! He's just going to do it again! Oh, get a brain!"

In this situation, though, the movie isn't finished. I'm the director, actor, and audience member. And I've decided, "It's just too dumb to be real." I'm taking myself out of the situation... effectively eliminating all temptation and giving me the peace I need. No, I'm not disappearing out of your life completely. I am, however, eliminating all sexual/romantic relations and sleep overs with you.

If you'd like me to pick you up from the airport, I'll be there and will put on as happy a face as I can muster. I will be honest, though, and tell you that I'm still pretty unnerved. "So, if I'm still upset, why am I offerring to pick you up from the airport?" Well, I don't want you to think that I'm completely avoiding you. Like I said, I'm removing all the sexual/romantic/sleepover stuff from our relationship, but otherwise, I want to continue to be friends. Am I yelling at myself, saying "Don't do it, stupid."? Yes, but I never listen to advice... even my own. *smile*


Curt called yesterday afternoon and apologized several more times. He also said that his return plans had been changed and therefore I wouldn't have to worry about picking him up from the airport that night. We talked for a few minutes, me still not being in the best of moods but a lot better than the day before. We said good-bye and that was that.

Basically, I want to put that whole ordeal in the past. Dwelling on it serves no purpose. I'm not mad at Curt and I forgave him. True, our relationship is changed now, but he's still someone I can hang out with, go see a movie with, etc. And who knows what the future holds. I won't pretend to speculate on it.

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© 1996 Justin Clouse

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