My name is Tommy and I have something to say. I am nineteen and I am in love for the very first time. I want to tell you about it.
My parents were killed in an automobile accident when I was five. And seeing that I had no other family, I was placed in foster care. I went through many families. Some cared and some did not. Some were in it for the money, some thought they were doing good, but they all had one thing in common. Never, not once, since my parents died did I ever feel loved.
Two weeks before my eighteenth birthday I walked out of the house of my latest foster family. As far as foster families went they weren’t so bad, but still there was no love. I put out my thumb and was going to head to Montana; I thought I might get a job on a ranch and become a modern day cowboy. But I got sided-tracked along the way.
I was outside of Kansas City, Kansas, just west on Highway 80. The sun was sinking fast and turning the western sky a rich pink. I remember thinking that God at least got his sunsets and sunrises right. Yes, at that time, at that moment, I thought God still had some work to do, and maybe He does. But as I was standing there looking westward and contemplating the good and bad of God, He changed my life. I can tell you this much, God has one hell of a sense of humor.
A lemon yellow 1973 Ford Mustang screeched to a halt and the man driving leaned over and said, “I’m heading to San Francisco, that do you any good? I nodded and opened the door. Not only the door of the car, I opened a door onto a new life.
His name was Bryant. He was a few years older than me and he told me he made his living doing something with computers. I don’t know much about computers because I’ve never owned one. The only time I fooled with them was at the high school and then only for a few minutes at a time.
Within minutes the sun was below the horizon and the stars were starting to make their nightly appearance. We did not speak as we sped across the prairie. Well, not at first, but then Bryant started a conversation that lasted until we hit Colorado. We talked about everything under the sun. Religion, politics, women, sports, death and taxes. By the time we hit the Colorado state line I had decided to continue on with Bryant all the way to San Francisco. Fuck Montana.
We came into Boulder well after midnight. He pulled into the parking lot of a cheap motel and said, “I’m getting a room and you are welcome to share it. If not, I’ll be leaving at first light and if you are on the road, I’ll pick you up.”
Half way out of the car he stopped and sat back down. “How stupid of me,” he said. “You must be hungry. Let’s rustle us up some food then you can do what you want.”
He was right I was hungry. I had not eaten all day. We found a diner still opened and he bought me the best meal I ever had.
Now this next part is kind of dicey . . . kind of private, but it is germane to the story so here goes. At school, and in my life, I had never been attracted to girls. Like computers, they were foreign to me. They were just there, part of the landscape. I was never aroused by a well-rounded ass in tight pants. Tits did nothing for me, and a smile from a pretty girl did not start my heart a racing. However, at gym class and in the showers, I thought that the male body was so much more beautiful than a female’s. But I did not dwell on it. I wasn’t a fucking faggot.
After we had our greasy hamburgers and fries, we went back to the motel and Bryant got himself a room. As I was getting my bag out of his car he said, “Up to you kid. You want to sleep outside or inside?”
I chose inside.
There was only one bed, so I figured I’d sleep on the floor.
After the lights were out, and Bryant was in bed and I was on the floor he said, “There is plenty of room over here. If you want you can share the bed.”
I wanted to share the bed with him. I was attracted to him, but I was no faggot. Or was I?
I got myself up, slid beneath the sheets, and felt his warm body. He did not make a move toward me. He did not touch me. I found myself getting hard, and I reached out and touched his face. He took my face in his hands and drew me to him. We kissed; it was my first kiss ever. His tongue probed, he was gentle.
What happened next is no concern of yours. Today, at nineteen, I am married to the most loving man in the world. He does his computer thing and I take care of the house. And at nineteen, I got love. I give love and I get love. Amen.