Hello, this is part two of the chastity belt post. I wanted to tell you about a gay friend I have, as related to the chastity belt thing.
chastity belt
My chastity belt friend who wanted me to hold a key was queer. He had been pretending to be straight for a long time, so I thought the next partner he found would be a man. I was surprised the partner he dumped me for was a lady.
We did this role playing thing where he pretended to be my female relative. We would talk in a stylized way, when we went into another mode. I liked it and was happy to meet a need, but it was not a big deal to me.
Again, like holding a key to the chastity belt, I was not getting off on it, but open and curious. Maybe he was getting off on it. But I never really knew.
poem
I wrote a poem about the whole friendship and chastity belt experience, years ago. My gay friend read the poem and had a reaction to it.
So now I am talking about two different friends. The chastity belt friend was a flash in the pan. The gay friend is long term and dearly beloved. I’ve loved him as he’s gone in and out of prison, in and out of homelessness, through addiction and sex work, as his family has stopped speaking to him, and all the things that often happen to people who are considered mentally ill.
We are unsupported and disrespected by our society. So then we do more things to survive that make us more unsupported and disrespected.
When my gay friend read the poem, was curious about the role play I’d done and maybe the chastity belt key holding also. It sounded kinky, and maybe he hadn’t thought of me that way.
visit
I felt an incredible tenderness with this gay friend and wondered if he was really gay. Our love felt extra sparkly. I speculated that he was actually queer and bi, but said he was gay for simplicity. He was afraid of hurting people, especially women. So it might have just been easier to say he was gay.
When my spouse and I visited him, we went to his boyfriend’s place, and the boyfriend was weird and mean. He seemed to have a Jekyl and Hyde personality. I think drugs were part of that.
Over the years I notice that my gay friend’s boyfriends are all mean. Is drug addiction really that common, and meanness from drug addiction? I’m sorry so many people are damaged and harming others.
My friend goes through a cycle of getting released from prison, trying to find a job and housing, losing what he has, suffering, going back to jail and prison. It’s heartbreaking, and I’m sorry that our society doesn’t know what to do with him.
content warning: mention of hallucinated sexual violence
My gay friend is so crazy, maybe more crazy than I am. He was taking a bus to San Francisco to confess to a judge there that he had raped one hundred women.
I’ve been paranoid before and believed things that are not part of shared reality. But not like that. Usually my extreme states make problems in my inner life, with less manifestation in my outer life. I’ve never boarded a bus to confess to a judge. I stop long before I get to the point of carrying out weirdness.
I don’t go outside and start screaming–I have a home indoors and retreat to bed, quietly. That’s the difference between jail and all its fallout, vs silent suffering that I can emerge from in a few days, mostly unscathed.
I’m sorry our culture fails for so many people. Is that my point?
blessing
I wanted to write about my gay friend as a way of blessing him. It’s been a while since I heard from him. I can search for him online again, at the last prison he was trapped at. Yes, I have his prisoner number memorized. I can write to him at the last address I have for his mom. Love is a lot of work sometimes. And what did he ever do for me?
Well, he’s done a lot. New ideas, book and music recommendations, beautiful art. A hug. His unique love nourishes something special in me. And we never had sex, so he never broke my heart in specific ways that I can’t keep showing up for.
So thank Mother God that he’s gay. I hope he’s alive somewhere. Possibly sucking dick for meth, but with a spark of genius alive in him and another chance for a new day.
