Episode
4 - A Personal Reply
Trace sat alone in his shared office as his
coworkers prepared for lunch. He stared at his desktop calendar
blotter and counted the days. Reaching fourteen, his stomach
fluttered as he realized it had been two weeks since he placed
his ad. He checked the next issue of “The Advocate”
to be sure it was printed, and there he was represented in the
black typeface: NH: GWM, 26, 5’9”, 150, 30w,
dk br, dk br. Nice prof masc guy seeks masc GWM for friendship
and fun. N2: theater, music, reading, hiking, running, tennis,
and coffee shops. LTR oriented.
Trace thought over the two week time frame
and figured enough time had passed for someone to read the ad,
write a response, and mail it. In fact, he thought there could
be a response waiting for him now. Trace knew he would be missing
the communal work lunch break that day as he grabbed his keys
and ran out of his office.
Accelerating to eighty-five, Trace felt impulsive
and foolish for driving all the way to his hometown on his lunch
break, but the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach drove
him onward and dispelled any thoughts he had of turning around.
He checked his watch and worked the time frame through his mind.
He figured with no traffic and traveling a consistent eighty
miles and hour he would get there in twenty minutes. If he allowed
himself five minutes at the post office, then he would have
twenty minutes to make the return trip. Twenty plus five plus
twenty equaled his forty-five minute lunch break, so he liked
his chances of not being late, as long as he stayed at eighty—or
higher. To provide a margin for error, he depressed the accelerator
and sped up to eighty-five miles an hour. He still felt the
trip was impulsive and fretted over the extra expense in gas,
but he reminded himself a new life required new investments
and depressed the accelerator to bring his speed back up to
eighty-five.
Pulling into the empty post office parking
lot, he jumped out of his truck, and as the truck still bucked
from the abrupt stop, he pulled the lobby door open. Out rushed
the stale dry air from the empty post office lobby, and with
it, came the familiar smell of paper and glue. Finding the smell
nostalgically familiar and oddly erotic, Trace breathed deeply
as his stomach fluttered and his cock thickened.
He walked along the row of post boxes until
he located number 836. He fingered his keys until he found the
thick post office issue and inserted it into the lock. He swung
the little door open, and inside, he found two envelopes.
Beads of sweat ran down his back as he positioned
himself sideways in the driver’s seat with the two letters
on his lap. He felt conspicuous sitting with his knees sticking
out the open door, but no one else was in the parking lot, and
it was too hot to sit in the truck with the door closed. The
heat bugs screamed their agreement as Trace lit a cigarette
with trembling fingers. The letters resting on his lap made
him nervous. They represented a whole new and potentially different
life with interactions and experiences he felt wholly unprepared
for. Dragging his cigarette, he pondered their contents: Who
are these guys sending me letters? Will I like them? Will they
like me? What do they have to say? Is this even a good way to
meet guys?
Deciding he would never answer these questions
unless he opened the letters, Trace ripped one envelope open
and withdrew the folded letter. Opening it, several fringes
from the one spiral bound page fell over his knees, and he observed
the letter was handwritten. He dragged on his cigarette and
began to read:
One Hell of a Hot Summer 1994
Greetings GWM,
I wish I had your name to
open with, so I could make this a personal reply. My name is
Elan. No, that is not my given name. I changed it a few years
ago. I noticed your ad and liked what it had to say, so I thought
I’d send you a letter and introduce myself.
I am a 26-year-old GWM too.
I was born in September, so I am a Scorpio. I don’t really
believe in astrology, but in the randomness of trying to find
connection in the world, I like how it at least offers some
sort of guide to go by. In any case, you might be into it, so
I thought to mention it.
I am 5’11”, weigh
160 pounds, and I have blonde hair and blue eyes. I am pretty
much just me. I guess that means I am a pretty normal acting
guy, but we all have our queeny side, honey!!!!
I hate that this is the fourth
paragraph I am staring with I, but I don’t know how else
to write this. It is hard enough to describe yourself in a letter
to someone much less find a literary way to do it. I am a creative
person, but I am not Jane Austen. I hope you don’t think
it means I am stupid. Hence, I made the reference to Jane Austen
and used the word hence just now.
I didn’t graduate from
college, but I spent three years trying. I plan to go back someday,
but I am busy with work and don’t know when I will get
the time. I own my own office cleaning company, and it keeps
me pretty busy. I started it when I was in college because I
was having a hard time finding a job other than retail queen
work. When I first started, I had one job cleaning a lawyer’s
office. Now, I have fifty customers, six employees, and two
vans with my name on the side of them. Having a van with your
name on the side of it is not as glamorous as it sounds, but
I have picked up three customers and one date by advertising
that way, so I can’t complain.
I have been single for years,
actually, always. I have dated some guys, but I am not into
the bar scene. I smoke (hope that isn’t a problem), but
I don’t drink or dance (also hope that is not a problem).
I never know how or where to meet guys, so I have been reading
the personals for the past six months. Your ad is the first
I have responded to. I liked your interests and what they say
about you.
I have been really busy with
work, so I don’t do as much fun stuff as I used to, but
I want to change that. I like to do all the things you listed,
and for the past six months, I have been telling myself, I am
never going to do any of them again unless I make myself do
something besides work. Work is the other reason why I haven’t
had a boyfriend or dated recently.
I have started every paragraph
with I, and this is really annoying me, so I will stop here.
Also, I don’t know what else to say. I am a much better
conversationalist in person. So, I guess now it is up to you.
If you like what you’ve read, give me a call 203- 876-2133.
Maybe we can meet for coffee and explore your coffee shop fetish.
I bet you don’t drink as much coffee as I do. Maybe I’ll
get to see if you do or not.
Sincerely,
Elan
Trace placed the letter on his
lap as he thought it over. Unsure of his expectations, he was
ambivalent about the letter’s content. He was disappointed
by its lack of a picture. He assumed sending a picture was part
of the protocol. He realized he would include a picture request
in his next ad—if there was one. He worried over what
Elan meant by “we all have our female side.” He
alternated between finding this an enlightened remark and thinking
it was a cover for effeminate behavior. He thought it was positive
that Elan owned his own company, but he felt superficial for
thinking such a thing, and he reddened as he realized he had
nothing to offer anyone financially except his truck and his
school loans. Unsure of his feelings, Trace was glad he had
another letter to compare the first to and tore the second letter
open.
Immediately, he noticed it was
typed and included a picture. Despite feeling shallow, Trace
explored the picture before the letter. He held it between his
fingers as he examined it. It depicted a man in a t-shirt and
jeans sitting on a 1970’s style divan. He held a pony
beer in his hand. Trace thought the man looked old, but he clearly
was not. Something about the picture displeased him. The man
was not unattractive, but he was not attractive either. Shame
flooded Trace’s face as he realized based on the picture
alone he would not respond to this man’s letter, but he
unfolded it anyway, and its length stunned him.
Hello, my name is Dale. I
am writing to you with great excitement. Your ad is very intriguing.
It is so different from all the stats ads. It is very difficult
to comprehend a person through a list of numbers, and I really
appreciated how you listed your likes and interests.
I like coffee houses too,
and as the picture shows, I also enjoy a “little”
beer from time to time. Hiking, running, and biking are my favorite
activities. Last month, I hiked Big Bear, and the month before
that, I hiked Mount Washington. Mount Washington was an amazing
hike, very challenging. You couldn’t see anything at the
summit, except for the endless whirl of fog, but it is almost
always like that up there for obvious reasons. I have not gone
to the theater much, and I have only played tennis as a kid,
but I would be very open to exploring these things with you.
I think stats are a terrible
way to get to know someone, so I enclosed a picture. I am a
32 years old gay male. As you can probably tell from the picture,
I am tall. I am 6’1. I have a muscular body (ex-Marine
here), so there is nothing gangly about me. This is my physical
self, but there are other things I must tell you about me for
you to fairly decide if you want to date me or not. As for me,
I very much like your ad, and I am very excited about you and
the possibility of meeting you—even just knowing someone
like you is out there. Whatever you decide, just know that I
am already interested in you, and no matter what your decision
is, I will be fine. I have a therapist, and in fact, she has
read this letter and will be there to see me through this experience.
I have had a very difficult
passed two years. Largely because, I have been dealing with
coming out. I realized I was gay in my early twenties, but I
pushed it out of my mind. In fact, I joined the Marines to prove
to myself and the world I was not gay. It worked for a while,
but the pressure got to be too much. One night, I walked into
the barrack’s bathroom and rammed my head three times
against the corner of the porcelain urinal. I was trying to
kill myself. My C.O. found me in a pool of blood and took me
to the infirmary. I ended up in a coma for four days. Needless
to say, I was discharged, and since then, I have tried to build
a new life for myself.
Part of that new life is dating
men, and when I saw your ad, I could not help but want to write
you. Your ad stood out from the rest—
Trace stopped reading and could
not imagine what the rest of the five-page single-spaced and
double sided letter went on to say. Trace placed the picture
in the folds of the letter. Stepping out from the driver’s
seat, he walked toward the post office. He pinch sealed the
folds of the letter and felt shame welling within him. The letter
was just too much—too much information—too tell—too
much to ask of someone just coming out himself. He appreciated
Dale’s candor, and he thought he should at least respond
kindly, but he knew he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t stand
out from the rest regarding this letter. He tore the letter
repeatedly until it was reduced to indivisible shreds and dropped
it in the trashcan.
He fingered Elan’s letter
as he turned and hurried back toward his truck: I guess
it starts with Elan.
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