Rude awakening

For two summers in college, I worked at a camp in North Carolina called Camp Arrowhead in the small town of Tuxedo, outside of Hendersonville. It was your basic boys' camp, complete with dining hall shenanigans, canoeing, camping, horseback riding, all tucked away in the hills on the border of North and South Carolina. I loved every minute of it.

While there, I made many good friends that were also counselors. One in particular was my friend, Arno. Arno was from Zimbabwe originally, but was attending the University of South Carolina. And he made me laugh. A lot.

We used to stay up late into the night, sharing stories and drinking and laughing. We really became very close. I listened to his pain at leaving his family in Zimbabwe and how much he missed them. I laughed at his jokes and we quickly formed a deep friendship. Once he came to my parents' house and we all went to Six Flags and once I visited him in Columbia.

While I didn't call it "love" then, and to be honest, I'm not sure it was, I know my feelings ran very deep for this guy and I would've done anything for him. He was funny, pained and liked being my friend.

Years and years later, I was at my apartment having moved to Arizona and decided to Google him. Strangely, I found him and sent him a quick e-mail at his work address, really just to say hi. When he wrote back, he told me that his work was sending him to Tempe the following week and we should get together! I was thrilled... and scared...

Surely he knows I'm gay, I thought. But I figured I better let him know before he gets here, so I sent him an e-mail. He wrote back saying that it was cool and he couldn't wait to see me. Whew...

He shows up, looking pretty much the same, but a little pudgier and grayer... (Aren't we all?) We go to a local restaurant and start shooting the breeze as he fills me in on his life... Married, working in Columbia, etc. I do the same and I'm truly enjoying myself.

Now, I'm a very physical person with those I love. I touch, nudge, grab someone's arm to make a point, you know.

And, at one point, I grab his forearm as it rested on the table and say, "I'm really glad to see you." He pulls away and says, "Stop touching me so much."

And I felt like he'd slapped me in my face. I was completely shocked and left the table to go into the bathroom. Close to tears, I paced back and forth trying to absorb what had just happened. I was getting angry. Really pissed and had decided that he should just take me home and we'd call it a day. Maybe this was a really bad idea. Maybe he secretly really had a problem with homos. Maybe he was struggling with his homo side and I scared him.

I came out, pissed as hell, and asked him to take me home. He started apologizing up and down and he begged me to stay and let's have fun. He said he didn't mean it the way it sounded and that he just wasn't used to people touching him so much. And that he was really glad to see me too.

The night wore on. We had fun catching up, drinking. He wanted to go to this jazz club and he totally reminded me why I had loved him so much in college. He had this charming smile that lit up his face. He kept saying how happy he was to see me. And then, all of a sudden, he jerked his head to me and said, "By the way, when you e-mail me, don't use so many exclamation points. That's so gay." I thought he meant it as a joke, but he was dead serious. "You don't know who could be reading that at my work." His whole demeanor changed for a second as he said it and it freaked me out.

As I often do when I'm really upset, I just turned away and stared straight ahead, afraid of what I might say or do. How do I respond to this??? I guess I could storm out and never see him again. Is he fucking serious???

Somehow, I got past it and we went on to, believe it or not, a gay bar to have a drink. He wanted to, so I said ok.

As we sat at the bar at Roscoe's, he went off. How bad I looked, how I didn't seem to care about myself and how I was deifying my boyfriend at the time and wouldn't stop talking about him. How I was better than what I was being. He really went on and on, pointing out my shoes (Arno has always been really fashion-conscious... I'm just saying), pointing out the shorts I had on. He kept telling me I was better than this. And, to this day, I can't remember my reaction.
I really and truly can't.

And I was devastated. At the time, I thought all of this was about me being gay... and I can't be sure now. I was at a time when I didn't care much about myself and I'm sure I looked pretty bad. I've NEVER been a fashion plate, by any means... Somehow I missed that gay gene.

I can't be sure what he meant, but all I know is it hurt... and it hurt bad... I actually think that the gesture of his pulling his arm away hurt worse than anything. And I wanted to yell at him, call him a fat fuck and tell him what I thought of him marrying a girl from South Carolina named Ginger and that HE was better than THAT.

But, I didn't. He left AZ and we never communicated again. I didn't want to. I didn't care to ever see him again really.

But few episodes in my past have bothered me this much. Truly.

I don't let bad feelings pervade between me and my friends. I'm always the one to call and resolve, get together, talk things over, express how I feel, listen to how he/she feels and get it all out in the open so we can be friends again. They mean a lot to me and I HAVE to make sure there's some kind of resolution, even if it's not great.

But I let Arno go. I try and remember the guy who had the winning smile, the guy who laid with me on a pontoon boat on our backs and professed our undying friendship for each other, the guy who, after watching "The Trip to Bountiful" went to his room and cried because he missed home and I comforted him.

He's the guy that's still somewhere inside. And I'd rather remember him that way.