MY EARLY YEARS

 

 

I was born in a small town in Connecticut. I lived there for 20 years till I moved down to Florida with my ex-boyfriend. Let me start from the beginning though. While I was a young boy I would frequently visit my grandparents’ house in northern Connecticut. I would sojourn all summer and throughout school. I was close to my grandmother on my father’s side of the family the most. I loved here more than anything. The bond between us grew stronger due to the absence of my mother in my early life. I grew up in a different family; all of my friends’ mothers would ask how my parents were doing, especially how my mother was doing. My mother has pancreatitis and loupes. Due to her illness she was constantly in and out of the hospital.  For the first two years of my life I didn’t know my mother because she was in a coma. That’s why I bonded with my grandmother so well. My dad worked full time at his job so he would drop me off at my grandparents’ house and they would take care of me ‘til my dad got out of work. While I would wait for my dad, my grandmother and I would cook and play games. My two cousins Kristina and Jason lived with them as well because their mother had MS and their father was an alcoholic. My grandparents managed to take care of me, their daughter afflicted with MS, and my two cousins. It was a lot for them to do in their old days, while they were still young. My grandmother was 62 and my grandfather was 63.

            I loved both of them so much. My nana was like a mother to me while mine was away in the hospital. Like all good tales there must be heartache and some sort of pain. My story is riddled with heart ache at such a young age that I learned to become numb and shut everyone out. My grandmother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I was only 8 at the time so I was not sure the severity of the issue. Things pretty much stayed the same except I would go to chemo therapy with her now. I remember walking in the room for the first time and there would be all of these old women with tubes going in and out of their arms. They all looked so sad; fortunately I was a very happy and charismatic child which led me to be very playful with new people. I would color, sing and dance in that room ‘til my nana was all done. People seemed happier when I did it so every time I would continue that trend.

            One day when I went over my grandparents’ house the atmosphere felt different. Everyone appeared malcontented with the situation. Apparently the cancer grew worse; the therapy was not working. She was dying. I didn’t go back to my grandparents’ house for a month. The person who I should to look up to was now reduced to a frail and feeble state. Her hair was coming undone and she did not move much. The gravity of the situation was starting to collapse on me.  A week later I revisited her for the last time. Everyone was inimical. They did not want me to see her because of the state she was in but the main argument was that this could be and was my last time seeing her alive. As I approached the room everyone became silent. The arguing seized and they awaited to see my reaction to my nana. I have nightmares about this moment still. It’s about 30 seconds that play through my head in vivid detail. I push open the door and I see her curled up, unable to say a word, just moaning in pain. I sat next to her on the bed and I held onto her and said, “I love you nana.” She was unable to respond but I know she heard me. As I hugged her I could feel the gentlest squeeze of my hand which reassured me that she knew how much I loved her. The next week she died. This time visiting her came sooner than last time. A week later my grandfather died of a heart attack. There was no wake for him just buried him. These were my only grandparents. My mother’s side I never liked them. They were always dead to me from the beginning. Still waiting for them to die.

At the wake I saw many relative that lived from all over the country and other countries. Whenever I see her sister I always have a little dismay in my heart. They look like twins. We don’t talk to that side of the family anymore because of a money issue. It’s sad that some money could stop a whole family from getting together.  After her death I became reclusive. That’s when I started to see Mrs. Carin, a therapist at my elementary school. I hated seeing her. I was forced to leave class in the middle of lessons to go and talk about things. My grades were never good in elementary school. I couldn’t pay attention and I had no motivation. I didn’t have many friends; I stayed quiet and to myself most of the day. Mrs. Carin tried her hardest to try to get me to talk about anything. I would remember her asking about my grandmother dying, my mother’s illness and how it affected my family. I never said a word. I sat there for what felt like hours just playing with the stuffed animals. I had to go see her for several years then I got a new therapist while I was in middle school. At this time I went to my parents and I told them while I was in 6th grade that I don’t want to see them anymore, I don’t talk, they don’t help and I could be studying.

I stopped seeing them during 7th grade. As a result I became slightly happier, or that’s what people thought. I would have more friends over, go over to other people’s houses and I seemed joyful. This was just a mask though. I felt so depressed for years. It was not just the death of my grandmother that brought on this depression it was that combined with my family life. Escaping my parents arguing, my mother in and out of drug induced comas from over medicating herself, to me just being stuck in the middle of everything. Going to my grandparents was a way to make me feel like I lived in a normal household.

In 8th grade I became overwhelmingly dejected that I would fantasize different ways to kill myself. Drown myself in the water; no I wouldn’t be able to stay under water long enough without my body floating. Slit my wrist; no I wasn’t a fan of knives and the pain would be terrible. Jump out the window at my school was one that ran through my head the most. I would day dream in my Spanish class and envision myself just walking up to the window and falling out. I wrote several notes to my parents saying “it’s not your fault, I’m just not happy”. I shoved the small notes in my pocket and would dispose of them at a later time. I forgot to do so one day and my mother found them as she was cleaning my pants. I got home to many questions that I could not answer. “Why are you so depressed”, I can’t answer it because I had no idea myself; I just felt terrible.

As I approached freshman year I started to realize that I liked guys. From a young age I always liked guys but that was normal. Boys and girls thought each other were disgusting. Then as I went to middle school boys started to like girls; I was the odd one out. I still liked boys but I forced myself to like girls to fit in. I was already at a low number of friends I didn’t want to lose anyone I was friends with. I remember I would ask girls out and get so excited for them to say yes; then when they did I would get this terrible pit in my stomach. That pit was regret. I liked the idea of someone validating my attractiveness by being my girlfriend, but actually dating them made me sick. I dated many girls in middle school and a couple in high school and everyone just felt wrong. I was confused. I walked like a straight boy, talked like a straight boy and even kissed girls like a straight boy. What was I doing wrong? Why couldn’t I be happy like them?

I had such and abhorrence towards gym class. I was an athletic and energetic kid. I was on the soccer and track team and even dabbled in archery, but gym class was different. Gym class was the only one that I had to change in front of other boys. I felt so uncomfortable being around other guys and being in my underwear around them that I would wear two pairs of pants to gym class. I would slip in the locker room take one off then I would slip it back on after and no one really knew. I avoided the lockers as much as possible. My gym teacher came up to me on a couple of occasions and asked me why I wasn’t changing some days. It wasn’t a scolding tone, it was more of a trying to understand tone. I would say in a soft tone looking at my feet that I forgot my clothes at home. He would stare at me not saying anything for a while and would dismiss me to go to the others.

Myself, being a quiet kid made me a semi target for bullying. Most of my classes I would just sit and stare off into the distance just thinking about anything. I would hear kids snickering in the background whispering about me. That was fine though, I would rather them pick on me than someone who wouldn’t be able to take the comments. I would go through the days like anyone else just more solemn. There aren’t too many memories in middle school that stick out to me or ones that I remember… or ones that I completely shut out for some reason. I’ll move on back to my home life.

Getting home from school would be such a treat. I didn’t like my classes. I hated to read, math was terrible and my dad would always compare me to other students. Ever since I was a little kid I was always held to high expectations. I was bored by school which led me to get poor grades. My parents always said that I could do better and then would compare me to the other kids in my class (the “smart” ones) who would excel at everything they tried. I loathed them. “I bet Derek or Olivia would have gotten a 100 on that exam, we are taking you out of class to go to ‘special’ tutoring”.  So every day in school for 1 hour I would be pulled aside to try to catch up on my reading, writing, and math skills. 

The pure animosity I felt towards that ‘special teacher’ was matched only to my embarrassment of having to leave to go with her in the first place. She would sit down with me and talk slowly, use small words, and smile with joy when I would say something correct. Any spark for learning had quickly been suffocated by her. I know it wasn’t her intention to be like that, but still I was in fourth grade and being talked to like I was a preschooler.

School was bad, but then there was sports. I disdained baseball. Every week my dad would take me to little league practice. It was such a waste to be outside in the nice summer weather doing something I hated. I was awful at it too. I remember vividly going up to the plate and swinging and missing over 15 times…. but apparently you can’t strike out in little league. I felt so horrible every time I had to bat, not only was I letting my team down but I was also letting my dad down; that was the worst feeling of all. I hated the game and could care less about how I did, but the feeling of letting my dad down was excruciating. But even striking out my dad would always cheer and encourage me to do better.

Never being good enough, always performing below average. Those words, never said to me directly by anyone echoed through my head. I felt defeated by fifth grade. Then I told my dad about how much I hate baseball, he agreed to switch me to soccer. So off to soccer practice I went. I didn’t hate soccer. I was a defense player; I was average, but I could hold my own against other players. Every game I had my dad would be there always watching, and cheering. All I had to do was keep my dad cheering for me. That gave me the drive to do my best. One game my team was up against one of the best teams in the region. We were tied 2-2 and their offense team was charging us and drastically outplaying us. I was able to stop them and redirect the ball to one of our players. From that we got a goal and won the game. Off in the distance I heard “that’s my son”, I turned and looked and it was my father standing and cheering.

That’s just outside of the home for extra activities. My home life consisted of mainly my mom overdosing on her pain medication and sleeping for days; or wandering around the house in an incomprehensible blur. My father would come home irritated at my mother in her state and they would argue for hours. They loved to drag me into the middle of their fight and have me choose one of them to defend. I hated it. I would be in my room listening to them fight and boom, they were now in my room yelling right in front of me. My only escape at home was playing world of Warcraft. I first got the game in 6th grade and I would play it religiously. In there I was someone. I was in an amazing guild (a group of players from across the world working together to have fun and play the game) called shattered souls. I made several friends from all over the world and I still talk to them today. In there I felt like I was important, wanted… smart. I knew all of the dungeons, boss fights and many of the quest lines. It was the best part of my childhood. I didn’t need to go out and be with other real people when I had all of my online friends. I could be myself and they loved me for me. It was great; when I played I felt content. I played all through high school into freshman year of college.

Let’s bring things to high school now. High school is where everything changed for me. Unfortunately that doesn’t happen till late junior year. Freshman year; I dated my last girlfriend. Her name was Kourtney; she was a big boobed short ginger girl who loved to cook like me. She would have been perfect if she was a guy. We dated for a couple months but I broke up with her because she really started to develop feelings for me but I only felt a little about her. When asked why I did I told her I would explain later and that she had to trust me. I go through the rest of my freshman year not dating or talking to any girls. I never went to any dances; I hated dancing. Classes were boring to me. I still didn’t like to read or do math. Science was a bit different though; I started to get into biology and even enjoyed the lecture.

            The spot to go to when I was in middle school and in high school was the roller rink. Most kids didn’t skate; they would sit down and just talk and eat pizza. It was a place to get away from school and parents. I remember one night there was a new guy there from a different school who was mutual friends with my friends. His name was mike. He was a nice guy a little taller than me at the time with bright green eyes. My heart pounded when he would look at me. I approached him at the table and introduced myself. We talked for a while and ate pizza and then he told me he was bisexual. Sweat condensed on my forehead, I twitched in my seat as to not know what to say or act now. He said he was leaving soon so he gave me his number. As he exited the building he sent me a text saying to meet me outside because he wanted to kiss me before he left. I looked at that message for several minutes speechless and unsure what to respond with. I said I didn’t want to do that… of course I did but I wasn’t out to anyone or myself.

            That wasn’t the end of it though. I would text him more and more and soon call him. This isn’t the cute story you think it’s going to be. I am ashamed at myself and I warn new gays about this phenomenon called “isolated island love”. It’s where you don’t know anyone else who likes guys so you think you two are the only ones. You force yourself to like them and get very clingy and a tad fanatical. I had isolated island love really badly for mike. I remember calling him for hours and he would have to go because someone would call him. I would wait 5 minutes call him back and ask who he was talking to. I was obsessed with this boy. He stopped talking to me and I felt defeated. I know what I did now was too much to deal with but that’s what I see happening with most newly found gays in high school. At this point I still wasn’t out yet.

            It’s still the summer and after befriending mike on facebook I made several other friends at his school. One of his friends was a nice latino boy named Reno. He introduced me to this boy named Aaron. We talked for a couple days then we decided to meet at the mall. He lived about 40 minutes away from me but the mall was a close midpoint for both of us. He was out to his parents so he just old them we were going on a date. I was not so I told mine that I befriended him at a track meet against the other schools.

            We met for the first time in the food court. He was a tall blonde haired kind of geeky looking guy. He had dark blue eyes and a goofy smile. We talked and ate in the food court for a while then wandered around the mall. This is the first guy I have met for a date…. My hormones were ragging because I didn’t start jerking off till the beginning of freshman year of high school. I dragged him into this bathroom at one large furniture store. We went into the stall and kissed for the first time. My first gay kiss was in a bathroom stall at a furniture store. Of course a kiss wouldn’t satisfy my hunger so I started rubbing him and unzipping his pants. We are both rock hard in the bathroom stall in our underwear. We didn’t do anything else but kiss and rub each other. We must have been in there for about 20 minutes. When we left we noticed a lot of security guards roaming around now. We thought they assumed we stole something and ran to the bathroom. Luckily we were both wearing hoodies so we turned them inside out and left each other. I waited in the parking lot and several times a guard would come walking out looking in both directions then walk back in.

            Aaron and I talked on the phone and continued to text. I told my parents I wanted him to come over. He came over after a couple weeks and we went for a “hike in the woods”. We go into the dense wooded area and make out for a while. Then I yank out his cock and start to blow him. He spun me around and began to blow me. We are both naked in the summer in the middle of the woods blowing each other. I was such a power bottom at this moment in my life; he had a massive cock too at least 8.5 inches with a good girth. I’m on top of him now and we are still kissing. He had condoms and lube with him. Neither of us put a condom on before… so it was a bit awkward. He didn’t want to have sex until he loved me… I told him I loved him and he said he loved me. Of course I wasn’t in love with him but I was right over his dick now and wanted him so badly. Lubed up and ready to go we fucked there. Then we got a little kinky and I was taped to a tree and we did a couple role play scenes of someone kidnapping me in the woods and taping me to a tree. With a knife to my throat he fucked me some more till we both came. When we cleaned up we went home and my mother noticed I had a sunburn all over my body. Head to toes that raised a little suspicion. He left and I had my first fuck and boyfriend. A couple months into the relationship he told me he was a vampire and talked to dead people. I told him that was weird and I broke up with him. He still hasn’t forgiven me and won’t talk to me.

            My second boyfriend I met through the same guy, Reno. This boy’s name was kevin and he is bisexual. We talked for a couple days and then decided to meet at the movie theater. I met him at the movie theater, I can’t remember what we saw. I was too focused on him. He had a lean but robust build. His bold green eyes dazzled my soul and when both of our eyes met he gently touched my face and pulled it towards his. I heart almost gave out. After the movie was out he kissed me one more time. This was just as euphoric as every last kiss I received this night. The moment was shattered though when I saw my father’s car lights flick on. I froze, kevin left and I was alone in the beam of my father’s head lights. Did he see the kiss?

            I stepped into the car and just sat there in silence as my father drove me home. He didn’t say a word. His voice was a bit tense and the atmosphere in the car was edgy. He asked me if I enjoyed the movie, I said yes and that was the end of that conversation.

            Kevin texted me later that night and asked me if I wanted to be his boyfriend. Of course I said yes. I had really fallen for this guy over one night. He came over later in the week and we went hiking… we get to the middle of the woods which was semi close to the beach. We kissed for a while and he tossed me on the ground and we had a nice experience. Unfortunately for me I had a hard crush on him and I told him I loved him and what not so he broke up with me. That was my first heart ache I’ve had from a boy and it felt unbearable.

            It was a while before I started talking to any other guys. At the beginning of my sophomore year of high school I decided I had to tell my parents that I liked guys. I tried to tell my mother before but I wasn’t able to speak the words. One day when I got home from school I went into her bedroom and I sat on her bed with her. She was reading her magazines as she often did. I told her I had to tell her something. I didn’t move I just started to cry. I managed to utter the mangled sentence, “mom, I like guys”. She began to cry with me, not for being upset but for fear of the issues I may face. A couple weeks later I told her that I have to tell my dad. When he came home for work I decided this would be the day to tell him. I waited till after dinner. I sat down with him on the couch with my mom. He stared at the tv while I began speaking. I will never forget this part. I told him I liked guys and in a stern voice he said, “I know”. Really that’s all you could manage to say. I had no idea what to say. No eye contact was made, no gestures or movements; he continued to watch the TV. I was sitting there on the couch crying. I ran into my room and just laid on my bed for hours.

            Later in sophomore year I decided to come out to everyone. I changed my interested in on facebook to guys and left it at that. People messaged me and I would tell them. No issues from anyone actually. At this time I had two best friends, max and angelo. I knew max wouldn’t really care but I wasn’t sure how angelo would react. We were close friends so of course we would tease each other. He didn’t care and he of course teased me a bit, “you always walked gay anyway”. Later that night he messaged me on facebook and told me that he will always be my friend and that me liking guys won’t change a thing between us.

            Junior year of highschool I talked to my English teacher who changed my whole view on learning. She sparked a huge lust for knowledge that was not easily quenched. I began to read all of the class books. For the first time I enjoyed reading. We were assigned to read our own books at least one a month and after each book we read we would stand up in the middle of the class and talk about it. I loved to read gay erotica… and I would read a book a week. This lead to many uncomfortable book talks. Hi my name is matt and I just finished the book men in space it’s about these guys who go into space and… can I sit back down. My teacher knew what I was reading too, one class she came over and lifted the book out of my hands and read the page I was on. I was so red because it was a really detailed sex scene. She laughed and gave me my book back.

            I later approached her and talked with her about starting a Gay-Straight Alliance at my school (GSA). I told my parents that I was going to do it; my dad was not happy but there wasn’t much he could do about it. When I want something I strive to get it. She agreed to be the advisor and just like that I started the first GSA at my school. I wasn’t sure if many people would come but the first meeting we had 30+ people join in. It was a nice accomplishment for me; the club is still around today.

            Senior year I really wanted to go to my last prom with a guy. I didn’t know many guys around the area who would actually go with me. I knew one though… my ex-boyfriend kevin. I called him up and told him that I really wanted to go and that it would mean so much if he went with me. He was currently dating a girl at the time and I ensured him I only wanted to go as friends. I just wanted to have that nice experience and call it a night. What a night it was too. It meant everything that he went.

            The last couple months of my senior year I started to apply for colleges. I received a letter in the mail saying I wasn’t able to go to my number one school Uconn because I didn’t have the foreign langue requirements. I was accepted to my number two school in Connecticut which was ECSU. My roommates were very nice and didn’t care I was gay. Freshman year of college was the first time I began to drink. One of my roommates was just… jaw dropping. His name was Harmon, he was 2 inchs taller than me with light sandy blonde hair and abs. He would constantly walk around in his boxers in our room. One night while my other two roommates were home for the weekend, harmon and I decide to have a few drinks. We killed a bottle of Smirnoff. While we drank we watched key and peele. Halfway through the show and after we killed the bottle he looks and me and drunkingly says, “hey matt… you, you can sit on my bed with me if you want”. At the time I was on a chair next to his bed. I take a swig of my booze and get on the bed near him. We keep drinking the rest of our drinks. I’m starring at him and he is looking back at me. I say “I have to go to bed now… I have to go to bed now!” he was confused and I said I didn’t want to do something bad. I stumbled off to bed and fell asleep immediately. I woke up the next morning realizing I missed that opportunity, I will never know what could have happened and this is one of my biggest regrets in life. Unfortunately for me, harmon he was a terrible student and had a very low gpa. He was kicked out the next semester and we got a new roommate named will, he was a dick.

            My sophomore year I started to go to the club and I met a couple new guys there. Attached below is the story of how I start my polyamorous relationship.

 

 

            After a 3 months of dating armand and I started to get distanced from drew. Drew wanted to date anyone he wanted when he wanted. Armand and I were content with each other he we left him. Come new years’ time he told me that he was going to be moving to Florida in June to work for his father. I told him that I would transfer schools and move down there just to be with him.

            I worked all summer long to build up all of the funds I needed to move. I told my parents that this is what I wanted. I didn’t care what I had to do I wanted to be with him. This is the longest and most substantial relationship I have ever had. Over the course of our relationship our sex life quickly depleted into non-existence. We started to argue more but we both knew that I was more or less stuck in Florida now. We tried to last as long as we could and we made it over 2 years but then we just couldn’t handle the situation anymore. We weren’t happy. We both loved each other very much and still do but we just were not suitable for each other.

            I knew I had to move out soon as possible. I looked for a month and didn’t have anything spectacular option wise. I tried 5 roommate sites and then I resorted to using craigslist. Many nice older gay couples offered me housing… but I wasn’t ok with the conditions for their rent. Then I found an ad to be on “the gay real world”. For shits and giggles I submitted an application and I as scheduled to do a 5 day app period. That’s my story more or less on how I ended up here.