On Saturday night the Husband and I had dinner with the first guy I ever… how shall I put this?
I suppose “first guy I ever made love with” fits the bill.
I had not actually seen this person – I will call him ‘Jeremiah’ (though I have no idea why I’m calling him Jeremiah) since the ’90s. Though we have – on occasion – sent each other emails keeping one another up to date on each other’s relationships, jobs, travels, movements etc.
I’m best at email relationships with exes.
Now your humble blogger has never been one of those gay men that make BFFs of his old boyfriends. When a relationship is over, I wish them well – truly from the bottom of my heart – and go on my way. A friendly email exchanged from time to time over the years always seems sufficient to me. Come to think of it, email always seemed sufficient to the exes as well.
And when I saw Jeremiah and his partner walk into the Toronto restaurant I was immediately hit with a warm wave of nostalgia. I had to smile.
I would have known him anywhere.
And though there may be a few more pounds (on my side) and a little less hair (on his), he still had the same sweet and mischievous smile that lead me to bed the first time all those years ago.
I went to shake his hand but instead he hugged me. He still wore the same cologne. He was charming and witty and handsome as ever. Also charming was his partner of twelve years, “Samuel”. I think Jeremiah and Samuel complimented each other beautifully.
The Husband enjoyed the evening as well.
And how nice it was. I thought, that there was someone else who remembered those same old foggy memories of mine. Memories that I had – over the years – began to question. Funny how you sometimes need another person to validate those old memories.
Yes, he remembered it all too.
And dinner lingered to almost four hours. We discussed the years in-between: Jeremiah’s work, my book, politics, travels… and that night in the ’90s when one of us walked away and left the other one standing alone.
When dinner was over (punctuated by the looks of irritated wait staff), we hugged again and I headed home with the Husband, thinking how well everything turned out in the end… and remembering my time with Jeremiah and our first time together a little more sweetly.
I’m glad he was my first.
And I’m so very glad the Husband is my last.
Jeffrey, The Gay Groom