tedwords

"I used to know this old scarecrow..." Elton and Bernie

In my life, there have been three people I have truly loved, body and soul.

The first, of course, is Corb. He's the center of my world, my best friend, my everything. We are like the two trees growing outside our back yard that are so intertwined it's impossible to tell where one part begins and the other ends. We have been together twenty years and I can truly say our love has grown stonger with each passing year. I truly don’t need anyone else in my life. And what I am, all the good that I am, has been mainly shaped by him.

The second is Josie. She is the mother of my children, the person who helped me discover who I truly am. Her love and support has been unyielding through the years. This whole journal started as our marriage started to unravel but our friendship continued to strengthen, so even this very means of communication has been inspired by her. She was definitely the catalyst to jump starting who I am, and I love her so much for it.

And the third? The third was Steven. Always Steven. He was my first and most tragic relationship, a sad victim of unrequited love. I spent my last few years in high school obsessing over him, writing pages and pages about what he meant to me. Someday I will reread those pages, I have them still. I have not been able to in more than 30 years, but someday.

Our friendship fell apart after I lost my virginity my freshman year of college. It was one of those weird hot summers where everything happens and life totally spirals out out of control (I am convinced these things happen every 6 or 7 years). I said stupid things, was a bad friend when he needed me at a time of his own pain, and then, we didn’t speak for thirteen years. And I kicked myself ever day for years because of it.

And then, we reconnected during that crazy summer Josie and I were unravelling. That was another weird hot summer. We got together for one evening and then, didn’t speak again for another twenty years. I still wanted too much, he had to be a bit firm. And then, we became friends again through another social media platform and somehow have managed to maintain a steady, affectionate, civil dialogue for the past ten or so years.

Through the years, I sorted out what Steven represents to me. Unlike Corb, which is true love, and unlike Lisa, which is the love of a true friend, Steven represents the love during the first blush of youth, when you are stupid and unformed and not sure what life is about. His was friendship I wanted to be so much more but couldn’t deal with properly, because I was young and broken and couldn’t process things properly. My feelings for Steven were all entangled in youth and sex and obsession, and he was fucked up in a different way, but so was I and we were never able to get what we needed out of each other. Because what we needed was completely different, and I suspect, I needed and wanted so much more. He was someone I loved with all my heart, spent years writing about and mooning over, but ultimately, it took me years to realize he was never going to be able to give me what I needed.

And yet why, I have always wondered, did he mean so much to me? Why Steven? Why did I obsess so much? There were other guys who I could have had the same attraction to…my friend Kevin, for example, but I avoided his advances like the plague. Or, my friend Tim, who really wanted to be my friend. Was it that I wanted to fall in love with something unattainable?

Oh, the point of this, right. Steven lives in Great Britain, which is why I am bringing all this up now. Because I decided three months ago, as we were making plans to go to London, to see if it would be possible for the two of us to see each other in person again. After 28 years and ten years of friendly conversations on Facebook Messenger, it was time. So I texted him, and he said yes.

And on our second night in London, after a lovely day spent at the Tower of London, it was time to see him. And when I tell you it was a disaster…

Now keep in mind, he lives in Kent, which is about an hour from London, but he at least has a better knowledge of the city than we do, coming from the States. Still, the comedy of errors that ensued was epic.

Deep breath.

Since we at the Tower of London but headed to the ABBA arena that night, Steve and I started talking at around four, as he started heading by train to London. He suggested meeting somewhere in between where he was coming from and where we were, so suggested making it back to Embankment/Charing Cross. But then, as we were looking for Charing Cross, he changed his mind and said he miscalculated when he would arrive (he was going to be later) and so we should come to him, since he was closer to the Arena, and instructed us to go to Stratford. But the instructions he gave were kind of confusing, involving multiple stops on the tube, and to make it easier, we decided to get a black cab. The cab driver asked us if we want to go to Stratford International, so I texted Steve and he said yes, and then said “tell him the DLR stop, although Stratford is Stratford.”

FAMOUS LAST WORDS.

What happened next was a complete cock up that lasted well over an hour. I am not even sure I have the patience to describe it. Once we arrived, we were let off, and I messaged Steve I was there.

He said he was there.

We sent photos. He tried calling. The connection was lousy.

He told me to go inside the shopping center, I did. Said I was at Sainsbury’s. He said he was there. We traded photos. They were drastically different.

Thirty minutes go by. Corb’s mom understandably started getting irritated, I got irritated back at her…Corb intervened.

We traded more photos, and realized that Stratford may be Stratford, but it was freaking huge. And, 15 minutes later, realized Corb and I were on the bus side and he was actually at the Westfield Shopping Center (which, upon reflection, really would have been helpful to know).

So, with all of maybe an hour left, we finally met. Th three of us came to him at the Mall, which, since I was with a 79 year old woman, seems a bit…well, less than thoughtful. But I wasn’t thinking of that, was just thinking of seeing him, after all these years.

And how did it go?

Well, I am not sure what I was looking for, but under the circumstances, with Corb and his mom buying shitty fast food so we could make up for lost time because this disaster meant we had to eat quickly before ABBA, and then plying me with bits if chicken as we spoke, it was difficult for the conversation to be anything but surface level.

We spoke about his job. He has the fun job of being a background actor in the entertainment industry…movies and TV shows shot in England. Has appeared in over 50 movies, mostly as “guy on left side of star during wedding ceremony.” This is a lot of fun to hear stories about, especially all the actors and directors he has worked with. It doesn’t pay much, he is poor as a church mouse (in his words), but still, that’s fun and something he is really proud of.

We also talked about my job and my thoughts of retiring, my production of Chess, we talked about his brothers and sister, my brother and sisters. His uncomfortable relationship with one of his brothers. Politics in America. We are both super in touch on that front.

Was there anything deep or insightful gleaned? No. Perhaps the most was when Corb mentioned how I can sometimes get grouchy and I looked at Steve and said, “You don't know what that’s like, right?” He laughed and gave me a look I haven't seen since I was 18. And I felt something akin to a ripple of those old feelings.

But after that, we realized we were going to be late for ABBA Voyage, and the next clusterfuck started to take place, as we took Steve’s advice on where to get a cab, and that turned out to be awful advice, and we then went the opposite direction and Steve thought he knew where the taxis were sure to be and Corb finally ended up calling for an Uber (which is, frankly, what we probably should have done in the first place). And then, of course, I asked for a photo of the two of us, which Corb took, and Steve asked fer one of the two of us, and I kind of leaned by head in to touch his shoulder in his photo…an expression of…something, I guess. How much he means. How much I had wanted him to mean. And that was that.

We agreed to try and maybe meet for a longer catch up on Friday, after we return from Stonehenge. But we have Wicked that night, a surprise for Corb’s mom, and I would like a nice meal in London, too, that being our last day. So I'm not entirely hopeful it can happen.

###

After that, we went to ABBA Voyage. We were 10 minutes late, which sucked, and Corbs mom had to take a long pee, but once we were seated.

IT WAS AMAZING.

Everything I ever wanted and more. I danced, I cried, I sang along. The three of us were ecstatic by the end and loaded up on ABBA merch.

This was the fantastic end to a never-to be-repeated day.

###

Which gets me back my fundamental question: why did Steven mean so much to? Why was he the one who, “Under these branches/I once wrote/Such foolish words for you.” Why why why?

After the night was done and I was in bed, Steven and I resumed our Facebook Messenger conversation, the one we have had going on for ten years. The conversation was mostly pedestrian, but at the end, we maybe actually, finally started getting a bit deeper.

STEVE: There are tons of my life I look back on and cringe. But that’s because have grown and can look back and cringe. Also I can’t pull on any of those painful threads and make the go away because if I do it changes it all and I don’t end up here. The pain and happiness is what has made me. Accept the good and the bad, and try to learn from the past, There is no manual to life, and as my sister says, “We did the best we could with the tools we had.”

ME: I certainly have had my share of screw-ups, but if I hadn’t gone through what I did, I wouldn’t have my relationship with Corb or my three kids and I am so proud I handled my relationship with Lisa well. And so what if I had to wait to be my full self til I was in my thirties…I have had two tremendously succesful relationships, have a successful career, have traveled the world, have fulfilled myself artistically…I am pretty happy with how life turned out. I just had to be patient.

STEVE: As long as you are happy it’s all good now. Many never make it there. I have conducted in royal albert hall and various major european concert halls. I have worked on the West End and now I do film and TV. I have no complaints except I would like a wee bit more money. Tell high school Steve the life I would have led and he would go, realy?

TED: I don’t think either of us would have predicted our destinations in high school. I think we are both successful in our own ways.

STEVE: Eh, I am happy, that is success.

And I think, during that conversation, I came to realize…finally, why he meant so much to me. And it was, as so often happens in life, not for the reasons I thought for so long.

It was not for physical love. Oh sure, do I wish that one of us had acted on all of the somewhat friction-charged opportunities we encountered growing up? 100 times yes. That time my senior year of high school where we ran into the costume room with the lights out and fell into each others arms and just lay there, listening to each other’s breathing. That memory stuck with me for so long. If only I had had courage to reach out and–

Sure. But that’s really just physical, and if I just wanted that, I could have pursued that elsewhere.

I have been obsessed with Steve since I was 17 for one reason: he represented the one person that could have been my best friend throughout coming to terms with being gay, throughout Lisa, finding my way to Corb. Everyone needs that one best friend they can turn to. But I fucked that up three years into our friendship because I was frustrated with our relationship. I thought I wanted more with him, but the truth is, I just wanted to be with a man and didn't completely get that, and he was the closest person in my life that fit that bit. Keep in mind, this was the 80s, sexuality wasn't as open back then. I was in the closet, I was conflicted. I was in denial, I had "Ted is a big fag" written on my locker in black magic marker.

And that was completely, utterly unfair because he was dealing with his own stuff, and I think, to this day, still has a few demons left to let go. And also, as this story I told clearly indicates, he isn’t the most thoughtful person…but then, neither am I, frankly.

But that said, I am probably a more giving person. I do think that Steven and I spin in spirals that often meet in the middle but are in some ways opposites expressions of the same creamy center.

We are both deeply creative souls–that is our common point–but that is where we spin off.

Steve sacrificed his financial security for his art, while I built a safe secure life where my artistic expression is more of a side outlet.

Steve prioritized his needs over relationships and lives alone, while I have taken care to take care and cultivate the people in the life and haven’t lived alone since the short year that I left Josie’s house.

There are scores more, but possibly the biggest one is, while I suspect we both identify as bisexual, it took me years to come to terms with it but became out and open. He resolved his questions differently. Frankly, I am not sure exactly where he stands.

And the sad fact is, if the two of us had just been able to talk about our problems, maybe we could have helped each other grow more and learn from each other. Or at least have a sounding board throughout the decades and watched ourselves grow from that. Which is what I guess I really wanted out of him all along. I wish the dialogue we have had these past years had extended throughout my entire adult life. I needed someone like that.

But as Steve said, we did the best with the tools we had. And in our case, the tool we had broke and took years to repair.

It was so good to see him, even with all the snafus. Even if it felt like the world physically did not want us to connect again. But that, I guess, has been the story of our friendship.

And after writing all this? It's made me realize how much I love and value Corb. Because despite knowing everything, he moved heaven and earth to make sure I had this brief moment to connect with Steve. Even with his mom along for the ride. He is the real hero in this story.

In my life, there have been three people that I have truly loved, body and soul. But only one of them, Corb, turned out to be exactly what I wanted from the other two and the only thing I want for the rest of my life: the love of a pure heart and my best friend I can tell anything to. That's truly the creamy center I crave.

It didn’t take a trip to London for me to know that, either. But maybe, it took a trip to London for me to understand it even more clearly.