One more time with feeling

Writing about Conrad got me thinking about other guys I've loved.

It was in my second year at boarding school that I met Paul.

My parents thought boarding school was an excellent idea because it's what all upper-middle class parents with too much money did with their sons. They thought it would be character-building.

Paul's father had died and his mother had remarried but his step-father also died, of cancer I believe. It seemed his mother couldn't handle the grief and did what so many other widows did.

She moved to another town and plonked her beautiful young son in a private all-boys boarding school, to get someone else to look after him.

Paul was my first crush at school. Because he was the first I fell for him like I've never done for anyone since.

I remember setting eyes on him in about the first week of school.

I was 14 years old, struggling with my sexuality in a difficult environment and along he came.

Of course we were totally different people.

I was the academic who played music and swam competitively. Paul was the sportsman who was more suited to a rugby pitch than the choir room. He was also a year below me.

In the diningroom we were each given a place to sit. I remember asking to be moved to a spot on the other side of the table.

"Because Sir, I have to squint to see my food when the afternoon sun shines through the window".

Of course, I only wanted to be moved so that I could see Paul. So that I could watch what he did. Perhaps so that he would look in my direction. Or at least glance at me.

During evening prep* when we'd be sat near each other, I wouldn't be able to do my homework but would instead just imagine him and I running away from the boarding house.

Me taking care of him. Living together for the rest of our lives away from the bells and the matrons.

Usually after school had ended for the day until the evening meal, we weren't allowed into our dormitories. Sometimes I would sneak up to Paul's dorm, just to sit on his bed or to lie on it very quickly.

He had a cute button nose, baby smooth skin and thanks to rugby, the most amazing physique.

We lived, slept and ate no more than 10 metres from each other. In my thoughts however, we were always million miles away together.

I wasn't long before I plucked up the courage to say something to him.

After that I made every effort to be at the right place at the right time, so that we could share a word about school. Or the weather. Or anything.

Whatever we spoke about, and for however brief, Paul would send my heart somersaulting for hours.

It wouldn't be long before Paul and I were together, alone, in our underwear. That's a story for another time...

I don't know where he is now. If you Google his name, nothing is returned. He isn't on Facebook. For all I know he's probably happily married to a woman with a child on the way.

He probably has a few recollections of "us". I have an ocean of feelings and emotions, tears and smiles that have pooled because of him.

The story of Paul is a very long and difficult one to tell but maybe I should.

Perhaps I need to relive it once more, so that I can say good-bye to it and him for ever.

* = prep is time in the evening set aside for the whole house to complete their homework, usually done at desks in a large room known as the prep room.