Post by clansmanchris on Mar 29, 2014 10:54:25 GMT -5
Once upon a time, a long time ago, I used to smoke cigars. Usually "Hamlet" or "King Edward", but occasionally "Old Port". I would make one of them last for the duration of either my Games or Gym class as, in my last year of primary school and throughout my years at secondary school, I would go AWOL from my twice-weekly PE lesson, if I knew I was destined to be unsuccessful in my attempts to feign another injury or sickness to excuse myself from it, in order to enjoy a cigar far from the maddening crowd either in the school gym or on the rugby pitch!
Having started smoking, thanks to the wonderful thing one calls “peer pressure” at the age of ten, I gave up for six months when I was sixteen and for the second and last time when I "came out" in my late twenties. Looking back, I guess I began (and continued) smoking as capitulation to being “one of the lads”, but I guess in many ways I was destined not to be one of them anyway! I never did share their alpha-male interests in DIY, football, the latest electronic gadgets, fast cars and motorcycles, let alone the opposite sex, but being a smoker nevertheless afforded me a false sense of inclusion within a small band of guys who, in their own way, chose to smoke wherever smoking was prohibited – primarily at school in order to rebel - and not conform to the dictates and expectations of others.
Apart from thirsting for nicotine when I finally gave up smoking for good, I initially mourned the loss of the intimate friendships one shared with other illicit smokers, whether it be behind the bicycle shed at school or in "designated areas" when I reached adulthood. Eventually, this void was filled by an even more powerful addiction to chocolate – something I have still to relinquish – as I made friendships with others, smokers and non-smokers alike. But even now, when I am with friends who smoke, I share their sense of anger and frustration at often been asked to smoke outdoors and away from those who don’t, on account of the statutory ban on smoking indoors and/or in public places.
At the same time, conscious as I am that whilst, today, some smokers may have temporarily given up smoking for Lent, I have still to give up eating chocolate; and that, as from today when same-sex marriage is permitted in England and Wales, one is ever-mindful of the adage of my old Housemaster when he caught a couple of other boys smoking behind the bike shed at school, i.e., “there are other white (and sometimes brown) sticks belonging to other boys which boys should put inside their mouths in place of cigarettes or cigars!” I haven’t exactly given those up for Lent either, although I tend only to indulge in those with the right guy in a long-term monogamous relationship, yet as I do I often wonder what became of the first boy with whom I shared and if he too turned out to be gay, or whether swallowing another boy’s six-inch long stick (not unlike cigarettes and cigars) was simply a passing phase in his adolescence. More recently, I certainly miss Lee Hall’s little white stick inside my mouth more than ever today as, only this time last year, Lee and I were talking openly about the possibility of getting married, once same-sex marriage was put on a statutory footing. But, alas, it was not to be as we broke-up last October.
Whilst, on one hand, I ask God today why my relationship with Lee ended without me marrying him, on the other hand I thank God for the four wonderful relationships I had – with Andy (my childhood sweetheart), Bernie (the first guy with whom I had a serious relationship), Lord X (who is still in the closet to this day but with whom I had a wonderful relationship for almost six years), and Philippe (to whom I also briefly became engaged, and with whom I enjoyed a relationship for six or seven years) – and also for the dates I enjoyed with Ian and then Heathie, before I met Lee. All were, and are, lovely guys. Today, I also thank God I was born when (and where) I could be open about my sexuality without fear of prosecution or worse because of it, when there must be any number of folk (older than me) in England and other parts of the UK who were forced into self-denial when homosexuality was illegal. So, as we celebrate the legalization of same-sex marriage today, let all of us spare a thought for those who have lost love through circumstances beyond their control (particularly through fear of being criminalized for loving another human being), and as we celebrate Mother’s Day tomorrow let us remember all who were taken from their mothers, all who have lost contact with their mothers, and all mothers who have lost touch with their children, on account of their sexuality; and remember to cherish ALL within our own LGBT Family, for the unique and special contribution they make to our well-being. And as I reflect on my giving up smoking all those years ago, may one ask "What Have YOU, dear reader, Given-Up For Lent?"
May God bless and keep you safe and in His love.
Christopher, xxxx.
Having started smoking, thanks to the wonderful thing one calls “peer pressure” at the age of ten, I gave up for six months when I was sixteen and for the second and last time when I "came out" in my late twenties. Looking back, I guess I began (and continued) smoking as capitulation to being “one of the lads”, but I guess in many ways I was destined not to be one of them anyway! I never did share their alpha-male interests in DIY, football, the latest electronic gadgets, fast cars and motorcycles, let alone the opposite sex, but being a smoker nevertheless afforded me a false sense of inclusion within a small band of guys who, in their own way, chose to smoke wherever smoking was prohibited – primarily at school in order to rebel - and not conform to the dictates and expectations of others.
Apart from thirsting for nicotine when I finally gave up smoking for good, I initially mourned the loss of the intimate friendships one shared with other illicit smokers, whether it be behind the bicycle shed at school or in "designated areas" when I reached adulthood. Eventually, this void was filled by an even more powerful addiction to chocolate – something I have still to relinquish – as I made friendships with others, smokers and non-smokers alike. But even now, when I am with friends who smoke, I share their sense of anger and frustration at often been asked to smoke outdoors and away from those who don’t, on account of the statutory ban on smoking indoors and/or in public places.
At the same time, conscious as I am that whilst, today, some smokers may have temporarily given up smoking for Lent, I have still to give up eating chocolate; and that, as from today when same-sex marriage is permitted in England and Wales, one is ever-mindful of the adage of my old Housemaster when he caught a couple of other boys smoking behind the bike shed at school, i.e., “there are other white (and sometimes brown) sticks belonging to other boys which boys should put inside their mouths in place of cigarettes or cigars!” I haven’t exactly given those up for Lent either, although I tend only to indulge in those with the right guy in a long-term monogamous relationship, yet as I do I often wonder what became of the first boy with whom I shared and if he too turned out to be gay, or whether swallowing another boy’s six-inch long stick (not unlike cigarettes and cigars) was simply a passing phase in his adolescence. More recently, I certainly miss Lee Hall’s little white stick inside my mouth more than ever today as, only this time last year, Lee and I were talking openly about the possibility of getting married, once same-sex marriage was put on a statutory footing. But, alas, it was not to be as we broke-up last October.
Whilst, on one hand, I ask God today why my relationship with Lee ended without me marrying him, on the other hand I thank God for the four wonderful relationships I had – with Andy (my childhood sweetheart), Bernie (the first guy with whom I had a serious relationship), Lord X (who is still in the closet to this day but with whom I had a wonderful relationship for almost six years), and Philippe (to whom I also briefly became engaged, and with whom I enjoyed a relationship for six or seven years) – and also for the dates I enjoyed with Ian and then Heathie, before I met Lee. All were, and are, lovely guys. Today, I also thank God I was born when (and where) I could be open about my sexuality without fear of prosecution or worse because of it, when there must be any number of folk (older than me) in England and other parts of the UK who were forced into self-denial when homosexuality was illegal. So, as we celebrate the legalization of same-sex marriage today, let all of us spare a thought for those who have lost love through circumstances beyond their control (particularly through fear of being criminalized for loving another human being), and as we celebrate Mother’s Day tomorrow let us remember all who were taken from their mothers, all who have lost contact with their mothers, and all mothers who have lost touch with their children, on account of their sexuality; and remember to cherish ALL within our own LGBT Family, for the unique and special contribution they make to our well-being. And as I reflect on my giving up smoking all those years ago, may one ask "What Have YOU, dear reader, Given-Up For Lent?"
May God bless and keep you safe and in His love.
Christopher, xxxx.