...except when you do. I've been reading a story today about a love affair (with some sex, admittedly) between two boys, one 16/17 years old and the other 12/13 years old, and even though it's now at more than 30 years remove, I've managed to get myself quite upset by thinking about the boy that I, with hindsight, was in love with when I was 17-ish, he being 14-ish at the time. I have mentioned this before, and I really didn't think about sex with him at the time, not least because I really had no idea about the mechanics of gay sex then, but reading the story has made me think 'What if, what if...' - had the internet been around in those far-off days, my whole life might have been different, I might have come to terms with myself so much sooner, I might not have spent my life hiding, hiding myself from myself as well as from the world. It's too late now, there's no time machine to take me back and give me the chance to live my life differently, I know I've got to make the best of what I've got now, but, oh, I can't help thinking, at times like this, how it could have been different. Hindsight is the most useless commodity known to man.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
P.S. There is a fictionalised version of my one-way love for 'R' in my 'Cuckoos' blog, called 'Beached'. Given the way I feel at the moment, I'm not going to be re-reading it imminently.
SB
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