12.15.2004
Pastime Paradise
"I don't know why I love you, but I love you..." ~Stevie Wonder
I fell in love with Stevie when I was nineteen. I knew I was in love the very first time I listened to him. Sure I had heard his songs before, I even knew some of the lyrics to his most popular tunes, but it wasn’t until I listened for the very first time did I fully begin to understand the man and his unrivaled gift.
I met Stevie when I met Peter. At nineteen I was a wide-eyed young man experimenting in a new and vastly different world. I had heard stories, saw a few late night documentaries on television, even heard the cracks of haters whose taunts vilified any and all who dared speak its name, but, I honestly knew nothing about the life or its inhabitants. Peter changed all of that.
We met one sunny afternoon in lower Manhattan the summer following my first year of college on Water Street. I was enjoying my lunch on the pavilion overlooking the FDR Drive and the Brooklyn waterfront when I saw him. He was standing, leaning against the rail with a dark blue pinstriped suit, white shirt and blue and red paisley tie with his head pressed sadly into his hands. I watched him for quite a while before making the journey to where he stood. The trip caused all types of anxieties to arise in me. First of all, why the hell was I going over there? What the hell was I going to say once I reached him? And furthermore what the hell was he going to say in return?
Despite my minds many concerns I continued until seconds later I stood next to him and too began staring off into the distance. Moments later I felt the warmth of his eyes taking me in. Then, in a matter of seconds he quickly turned away. I had to say something, but what? Then...
“Are you okay?” I asked facing him.
“Yeah…” He answered quietly. “I’m cool.”
“Are you sure?” I pressed, adding a smile at the end.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I was just thinking.”
“It must be serious.” I reasoned aloud.
He nodded, indicating it was.
“Well this is a good place to come to deal with things. I come up here a lot to think. It relaxes me.”
“Really?” He said with a look of surprise and skepticism. “I’ve never seen you. I’ve been working around here for about a year and I’ve never seen you up here before.”
“Ahh…that’s because I’m in school. I’m doing the summer job thang.”
He took in my security uniform. “Oh okay. So what’s your name?”
“Chris.” I said extending my palm. “And yours?”
He straightened his back and grasped my hand securely. “Peter.”
Peter was gorgeous, and so I imagined it wasn’t hard for him to tell I was attracted to him. We spoke for about a half-hour more before we casually exchanged numbers. The intent: To hang out before I went back to school in a little less than a month. I wasn’t out, and until him, I had only slept with one other openly gay man so our exchanging of numbers was innocent, although my loins hoped for more.
Three days later, on a sweltering Friday evening we hooked up. The two of us sat nervously in my car as we tried to deduce where to spend the evening. We talked movies, we talked pool, we talked everything while driving throughout the borough of Queens except our true intentions: whether or not it was okay to like each other. A half hour later, after exhausting nearly all of our options he brought up Hatfield’s.
“Hatfield’s?” I had never heard of the place.
“Yeah. It’s a bar but…”
“But what?” I asked intrigued.
“But…” he paused, his legs swaying back and forth. “I’m not sure if you’d like it. It’s a place where um, where um, guys go who like guys.” He said finally letting it out.
I smiled warmly, releshing in the discovery. “So, how do we get there?”
Our relationship exploded onto the scene. He was my everything, and though it’s been more than ten years since that initial meeting I still remember how safe I felt with him. He protected me and schooled me about the life I was entering. He warned me of the shady types; the type that played with your heart; the type that wanted nothing, and as a result would never have anything; the type that spent their entire week preparing for the weekend and their all too familiar haunts like Two Potato, Sound Factory Bar and Keller’s. Damn. I almost always forget about Keller’s. He loved that place and we spent many a weekend there throwing back drinks and grooving to the sounds of Martha Wash, Sylvester and Robin S chanting her hypnotic lyrics, “Heartbreaks and promises, I’ve had more than my share I’m tired of giving my love and getting nowhere...” Damn I can almost hear the bass line thumping and the children hollering "you've got to show me love!!" It was a great time to be young, to be alive, to be free. I was happy, I was safe, and I had finally been found.
Enter Stevie.
Stevie entered my life through a mix-tape he had made at his ex’s house. All the greats were on this tape the funk doctor himself Teddy Pendergrass, the band of all bands Earth Wind & Fire, the sister that made us all long for home Stephanie Mills, and of course Patti, Luther and Rose Royce made their appearance. But none of them spoke to my heart the way Stevie did. He somehow managed to capture my emotions and hold them captive. The first time I heard As, I thought for sure the weight of the song would kill me. The way he described my love for this man, and the extent to which I would always love him frightened the shit out of me. How did he know? How the hell did he know my deepest darkest secrets?
And then, when he whispered “And baby you…you…you, have made life’s history, cause you’ve brought some joy inside my tears…” I knew for sure Stevie and I were soul mates. How else could one know the workings of my heart so well? Peter didn’t know; I know he didn’t, because there were times when no matter how many ways I tried to explain myself, he still couldn’t get it. He still didn’t understand. But Stevie did. Stevie understood. Stevie was the only person at that point in my life that knew and understood it all, and like a fool in love, I fell.
I started buying his music in droves. I wanted to sample everything this great mind created. I went through each and every find with a fine-toothed comb and hand picked my favorites. Soon I had discovered a Stevie Wonder song for every situation, for every heartbreak, for every great love affair. The man became my rock, the mountain I clung to when my relationship with Peter gradually began to fade. At the time I probably should have taken the lost hard, but I didn’t, because I had Stevie. I knew everything would be alright because through the man I had learned a powerful lesson: all in love is fair…
But, you never forget your first love. No matter how good or bad the relationship might have been, you never forget the very first time you saw them, the first time you held them, the first time you connected as one. These things remain forever engrained in ones psyche and often offer a pleasant refuge when revisiting a sometime tumultuous past. In truth, I’ll never forget Peter, not because he was the great love of my life, but because he like so many others helped me find myself. Without him and the challenges he presented so much of who I am would not exist...I am a better man because of him. A much better man.
Thank you Peter. And thank you Stevie for filling my life with a love only you could produce. I don't want to bore you with my troubles, but I just had to tell you there is something about your love that makes me weak, and knocks me off my feet.
All my best to you and yours this holiday season...
|
I fell in love with Stevie when I was nineteen. I knew I was in love the very first time I listened to him. Sure I had heard his songs before, I even knew some of the lyrics to his most popular tunes, but it wasn’t until I listened for the very first time did I fully begin to understand the man and his unrivaled gift.I met Stevie when I met Peter. At nineteen I was a wide-eyed young man experimenting in a new and vastly different world. I had heard stories, saw a few late night documentaries on television, even heard the cracks of haters whose taunts vilified any and all who dared speak its name, but, I honestly knew nothing about the life or its inhabitants. Peter changed all of that.
We met one sunny afternoon in lower Manhattan the summer following my first year of college on Water Street. I was enjoying my lunch on the pavilion overlooking the FDR Drive and the Brooklyn waterfront when I saw him. He was standing, leaning against the rail with a dark blue pinstriped suit, white shirt and blue and red paisley tie with his head pressed sadly into his hands. I watched him for quite a while before making the journey to where he stood. The trip caused all types of anxieties to arise in me. First of all, why the hell was I going over there? What the hell was I going to say once I reached him? And furthermore what the hell was he going to say in return?
Despite my minds many concerns I continued until seconds later I stood next to him and too began staring off into the distance. Moments later I felt the warmth of his eyes taking me in. Then, in a matter of seconds he quickly turned away. I had to say something, but what? Then...
“Are you okay?” I asked facing him.
“Yeah…” He answered quietly. “I’m cool.”
“Are you sure?” I pressed, adding a smile at the end.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I was just thinking.”
“It must be serious.” I reasoned aloud.
He nodded, indicating it was.
“Well this is a good place to come to deal with things. I come up here a lot to think. It relaxes me.”
“Really?” He said with a look of surprise and skepticism. “I’ve never seen you. I’ve been working around here for about a year and I’ve never seen you up here before.”
“Ahh…that’s because I’m in school. I’m doing the summer job thang.”
He took in my security uniform. “Oh okay. So what’s your name?”
“Chris.” I said extending my palm. “And yours?”
He straightened his back and grasped my hand securely. “Peter.”
Peter was gorgeous, and so I imagined it wasn’t hard for him to tell I was attracted to him. We spoke for about a half-hour more before we casually exchanged numbers. The intent: To hang out before I went back to school in a little less than a month. I wasn’t out, and until him, I had only slept with one other openly gay man so our exchanging of numbers was innocent, although my loins hoped for more.
Three days later, on a sweltering Friday evening we hooked up. The two of us sat nervously in my car as we tried to deduce where to spend the evening. We talked movies, we talked pool, we talked everything while driving throughout the borough of Queens except our true intentions: whether or not it was okay to like each other. A half hour later, after exhausting nearly all of our options he brought up Hatfield’s.
“Hatfield’s?” I had never heard of the place.
“Yeah. It’s a bar but…”
“But what?” I asked intrigued.
“But…” he paused, his legs swaying back and forth. “I’m not sure if you’d like it. It’s a place where um, where um, guys go who like guys.” He said finally letting it out.
I smiled warmly, releshing in the discovery. “So, how do we get there?”
Our relationship exploded onto the scene. He was my everything, and though it’s been more than ten years since that initial meeting I still remember how safe I felt with him. He protected me and schooled me about the life I was entering. He warned me of the shady types; the type that played with your heart; the type that wanted nothing, and as a result would never have anything; the type that spent their entire week preparing for the weekend and their all too familiar haunts like Two Potato, Sound Factory Bar and Keller’s. Damn. I almost always forget about Keller’s. He loved that place and we spent many a weekend there throwing back drinks and grooving to the sounds of Martha Wash, Sylvester and Robin S chanting her hypnotic lyrics, “Heartbreaks and promises, I’ve had more than my share I’m tired of giving my love and getting nowhere...” Damn I can almost hear the bass line thumping and the children hollering "you've got to show me love!!" It was a great time to be young, to be alive, to be free. I was happy, I was safe, and I had finally been found.
Enter Stevie.
Stevie entered my life through a mix-tape he had made at his ex’s house. All the greats were on this tape the funk doctor himself Teddy Pendergrass, the band of all bands Earth Wind & Fire, the sister that made us all long for home Stephanie Mills, and of course Patti, Luther and Rose Royce made their appearance. But none of them spoke to my heart the way Stevie did. He somehow managed to capture my emotions and hold them captive. The first time I heard As, I thought for sure the weight of the song would kill me. The way he described my love for this man, and the extent to which I would always love him frightened the shit out of me. How did he know? How the hell did he know my deepest darkest secrets?
And then, when he whispered “And baby you…you…you, have made life’s history, cause you’ve brought some joy inside my tears…” I knew for sure Stevie and I were soul mates. How else could one know the workings of my heart so well? Peter didn’t know; I know he didn’t, because there were times when no matter how many ways I tried to explain myself, he still couldn’t get it. He still didn’t understand. But Stevie did. Stevie understood. Stevie was the only person at that point in my life that knew and understood it all, and like a fool in love, I fell.
I started buying his music in droves. I wanted to sample everything this great mind created. I went through each and every find with a fine-toothed comb and hand picked my favorites. Soon I had discovered a Stevie Wonder song for every situation, for every heartbreak, for every great love affair. The man became my rock, the mountain I clung to when my relationship with Peter gradually began to fade. At the time I probably should have taken the lost hard, but I didn’t, because I had Stevie. I knew everything would be alright because through the man I had learned a powerful lesson: all in love is fair…
But, you never forget your first love. No matter how good or bad the relationship might have been, you never forget the very first time you saw them, the first time you held them, the first time you connected as one. These things remain forever engrained in ones psyche and often offer a pleasant refuge when revisiting a sometime tumultuous past. In truth, I’ll never forget Peter, not because he was the great love of my life, but because he like so many others helped me find myself. Without him and the challenges he presented so much of who I am would not exist...I am a better man because of him. A much better man.
Thank you Peter. And thank you Stevie for filling my life with a love only you could produce. I don't want to bore you with my troubles, but I just had to tell you there is something about your love that makes me weak, and knocks me off my feet.
All my best to you and yours this holiday season...
