Jesse Fox West

December 1998

Greetings, friends,

Well, I am now writing you from the cultural Mecca of a small town college in Central Pennsylvania.

First and foremost, I wanted to thank all the people who wrote to me in response to my first article in September (wow, just September, it feels like a lifetime)

I have news since then.

I have moved to college, and wow the changes I've made.

Having a roommate is awkward, but manageable. There have been tough times, but it has worked out . . .so far.

More importantly, to you, the reader, I (gasp) "came out" to not just one, but two (three+ as of tonight!) people.

After reading my first column, you probably wonder how the $%(# that ever happened.

Well, I'll tell you in brief.

There is this girl.

(Ever notice how many stories begin that way?)

I told her, simply because I was depressed and needed to talk to someone.

It was that simple.

I told a friend of mine also, later, but back to the first one.

Let's call her Suzanne. Suzanne was extremely supportive, and the fact that she is Catholic helped too. We talked for a while, she suggested I join AWOL, the gay/lesbian/bisexual support group on campus. I refused. I'm not ready for that. It's generally not known on campus that I am gay, and I'd like to keep it that way.

Anyway, the other big step I took happened just this night (last night actually, as I glance at the clock)

I went to talk to one of the few openly gay guys on campus, a really sweet guy whom we will call Christian. To picture Christian, picture the cutest guy you've ever seen, give him long brown hair, cowboy boots, and a shy smile, and you're there. I have had a crush on him since I arrived on campus, but I will never admit it to him. (How do you tell someone you have a crush on them: "Uh, excuse me, um, but I think you are the cutest, nicest, most wonderful guy alive. Ummm . . .thanks for not laughing louder.")

He knows I'm gay, and accepts it. That's all cool. I just wish I could bring myself to tell him more. Oh well. He probably wouldn't like me that way anyway.

Do I love him? I don't know. They say when you would die to be with someone, you are in love. Only problem with that is my martyr instinct. I would die for any of my friends. I would die for Christian. So I guess I love him. It's hard to say. Is it more than friendship? I think so, but so do all the thousands of people my age who date and then break up two weeks later. Alas, with Christian, I must yearn from afar . . .

Now that I've (sort of) accepted that I'm gay, and that ain't gonna change, I've gotta work on getting rid of some of the fetishes I seem to have accumulated throughout my repressed childhood. Wow. I sometimes freak myself out with the various problems I have with fetishes.

Ah well, I still think I'm a twisted pervert for liking other guys, so why not top it off with a few interesting fetishes (ropes, feet, etc. . .)

So much for my supposed innocence and purity. Hah. I should have known it would never last.

Well, I still feel repressed (think Monty Python- help help I'm being repressed!), but not as much as before college. Maybe someday I'll be able to accept myself in my entirety. After I've done some work, it might be possible. I'll lose 50 lbs, (180 isn't a bad goal for 6'2'') get smart, get cute, get a boyfriend (Christian? -sigh-), get a job, get a social life, get a goal, get nicer, get cute (this is a big one for me- I am soooooooooooooo ugly . . .picture a cross between Steve Forbes and Bill Gates (shudder)), and get PECS. That's not too hard, right? should only take several hundred years.

Another funny thing is that I kind of hope Christian reads this. He won't know it's him that I'm talking about. Who knows, you, the reader of this right now, might be Christian.

Ah well, enough of my ramblings for this fair eve. I can nae bore ye any longer.

Blessed be the Father,

Blessed be the Son,

Blessed be the Holy Ghost,

Blessed Three in One.

Jesse Fox West

PS (call me Fox)

PPS you can email me at jessefoxwest@yahoo.com

©1998 Oasis Magazine. All Rights Reserved.