All of these events are true. I have done my best to make the story accurate, using my journals as a reference. I have added meaningful dialogue to the best of my memory.
Not a Matter of Choice
Chapter 7: My year with Chuck, Part 2
I enjoyed my two weeks visiting the residency program. I met some great people and got good vibes about the attendings. I also talked to Chuck several times, and I confirmed that he was still planning to fly up and meet me at the end of the rotation so I wouldn't have to drive back myself. He also called me once at 2 am because he was depressed after talking to his ex-wife, and he wanted to hear a familiar voice. I was touched he felt that he could call me and that I was a bright spot in his life.
Once I got done with the rotation and said all my goodbyes, I packed up my stuff and drove to Greenville, South Carolina to check out a residency program in the area and spend some time with my aunt who lived in Greenville with her family. She was very excited about the possibility of my spending three years in Greenville, but after the week there, I found the atmosphere too stifling for my taste. We went to her fundamental church on Sunday, where the women all wore skirts because wearing pants was a sign of feminism and perverting God's plan of the man as the head of the household. We also visited Bob Jones University, where there was strict dress code and all dates had to be chaperoned. I wondered what my holy roller aunt would think about my relationship with Chuck. I decided Greenville wasn't the place for me.
Friday morning I drove to the Greenville airport to pick up Chuck. When he came out and saw me at the car, he had a big smile on his face. He came to me with his arms outstretched, and I walked quickly to him and wrapped my arms around him tightly. I breathed in his smell and reveled in the feeling of being embraced by him. We didn't stay like that for long, but it was a strong hug and very comforting.
"So are you ready to go?" He asked me.
"For sure. This was fun, but I'm ready to get back and spend the night with you."
"Really?" He gave me that crooked grin again. "Well then let's get out of here."
We drove back to Houston, and of course we fondled each other the whole way back. Chuck didn't have to be back at work until Monday, so we took a more leisurely pace home. I began the drive, but Chuck switched off with me during the trip. We drove right through, this time eschewing that Chinese restaurant in Alabama, until we hit Louisiana. Chuck then asked me, "Have you ever been to New Orleans?"
"Yes," I replied. "But I went with my family, so I didn't get to do anything other than walk around a bit."
"Well then let's go to New Orleans and the French Quarter, and then I want to take you some place special."
"Sounds great," I said.
We drove to the French Quarter and wandered around the streets, taking in the sights. Chuck bought us each a hurricane, and we drank them as we walked around. We grabbed a quick bite of Cajun food and resumed our walking. I didn't get to see anyone pulling up their blouses or dropping their pants, but I guessed it wasn't Mardi Gras. After a few hours of sightseeing, we got back to the car and drove. Chuck asked me, "So have you ever gone gambling?"
"No, I haven't," I said hesitatingly. I had never gambled before because I was a cheapskate at heart, and the thought of putting down $5 a pop to throw away was not that appealing to me. But, I liked spending time with Chuck, and it was clear this was something he wanted to do.
"Do you know how to play Blackjack?" Chuck asked.
"Well, I guess so. You just try to get to 21 without going over, right?"
"That's it. There's a lot more to it, but that's the general principle. Why don't you watch me for a couple of hands, and then you can join in when you want." So, we went into the Treasure Island casino, and I was partly marveled and partly taken aback by all the lights and sounds and slot machines and ways to spend a whole lot of money. The practical, miserly person in me recoiled. But, it did seem to be entertaining. Chuck found the blackjack tables, put down $100, and got red chips. He started at $10 bids, and explained the game to me. Stay for anything at 17, split double 7, 8, and 9's. Double down if the dealer has a 6, etc. I watched him for several hours, getting a feel for the game. But still, I didn't want to put down money on the table and start playing myself. I think Chuck got tired of me just watching at his back, so he kept on persuading me to try it for myself. I told him I wanted to wander around a bit to see the place, and he agreed. I think he was slightly relieved that I was going to go, because it didn't seem to him that I was having a very good time.
I walked around and looked in the slot machine pans for any stray quarters like I used to do at video arcades. I tried my hand at the slots, but after losing $12 in a span of a few minutes, I stopped that. After passing a number of table games I had no idea how to play, I decided to try my hand at some blackjack for the first time. I put $60 on the table and received some chips. I asked the dealer if they had any dollar tables, and the guy chuckled. "You might be able to find some dollar tables in Vegas, but the lowest is $5 here."
"Oh, ok," I replied. I explained this was my first time, so I wasn't sure what to do. There were very few people at the table, and everyone seemed very friendly. They took it slow for me and walked me through. I just couldn't count fast enough to keep track of how many "points" I had before I busted. Of course everyone else could see it at a glance. But, in spite of my ignorance, I had beginner's luck, and I started winning more hands than I lost. `This is easy and kind of fun,' I thought to myself. I continued to play, so focused on the game that I didn't realize Chuck had come up behind me.
"So, you're playing," he said with a grin. He put an arm around my shoulders. "How is it going?"
"It's going pretty good. I've made $25 already."
"Hey, good for you!" He exclaimed. "I didn't do too badly, so I'm heading to the $25 tables. You can find me there.
After a few hours, we both had enough, and we decided to turn in. I came out $25 ahead, while Chuck broke even. We went back to our hotel room at 3 or 4 AM and took a shower together to wash off the smoke smell out of our hair. Of course one thing led to another in the shower and we ended up having some more sex. It was 5 AM before we finally turned in.
We took a leisurely morning and headed out of New Orleans by mid morning. We drove west to get into Houston and went by Lake Charles, LA, the closest casino to Houston. Since we both had done well the previous night, Chuck asked me if I wanted to play some more blackjack. "Sure!" I replied eagerly. We parked the car and got onto one of the casino boats. I learned that it was illegal to have any casinos on land in Louisiana, but if it was on a boat, then it was allowed. So, these mini casinos were built on floating barges that were almost permanently moored at dock. Every so often, the boats actually would leave for half an hour or so to keep to the letter of the law. It was an interesting way to get around things.
We played some more blackjack. This time, I did not hesitate to put down money and get my chips. I considered myself an expert. After several hours of playing, we had some lunch and called it a day. All told, between the night in New Orleans and my afternoon at Lake Charles, I won over $300. I was ecstatic. We drove the two hours into Houston, and Chuck dropped me off at my grandmother's house. I thanked him for a wonderful time and for driving me back and forth, gave him a kiss, and went inside for a nap.
As an aside, my introduction to the casinos created a monster in me. I wanted to go to the casino all the time. I reasoned that it was a great way to make some easy money and have a wonderful time. Chuck and I went back again because I liked it so much, but I lost money this time. That's ok,' I told myself. I'm still playing with their money.' I went with my brother and father once. I lost, my father broke even, and my brother won. I went several other times with Chuck over the next several months. Sometimes, I wanted to drive the two hours by myself to Lake Charles to win back the money that I had lost. Once when Chuck and I went, I brought $300 with me and lost it all. I asked Chuck if I could borrow some money to win back the money that I had lost. He looked at me directly in the eyes and said, "Minh, I'm not going to let you borrow money for you to gamble." That was one of the wisest things he did for me. About six months after going to Lake Charles and losing every single time except for that first one, I woke up one day and realized I had lost over $700. For a medical student, that was a fortune. Horrified at myself, I immediately stopped going to the casinos. I was bitten badly by the gambling bug, but I was able to wake up from my temporary insanity instead of spiraling down into a hole so many others have been sucked into.
After my away rotation, we got back into the swing of life. I was still taking quite a bit of time off of school, just not signing up for any electives whatsoever. At night, if Chuck didn't call me, I would drive or walk over to his house. He had the habit of locking the door when he got in the house. That was fine, except that there were times he would fall asleep on the couch and wouldn't hear me. This guy could sleep through an earthquake. Ludwig would be barking insanely as I pounded on the door with my fist, and Chuck wouldn't stir. I have given up on occasion, but usually I persisted until he finally woke up and opened the door. Some times, that could be twenty minutes to half an hour of pounding on the door and banging on the window. A few times, I climbed over the wall into the back yard and pounded with both fists on the sliding glass door, watching Chuck sacked out on the sofa with the "O" sign--his mouth was hanging open.
Once when Chuck was asleep on the couch, I wanted to see just how "out of it" he was. I shook him vigorously. No response. Then I undid his belt, button, and zipper. I pulled his pants and underwear completely off of him. I then grabbed his cock and started sucking on it. It started soft in my mouth, but it gradually firmed up. In the middle of my bobbing up and down on his cock, Chuck woke up. "What are you doing?" He asked.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" I replied.
"How did my pants get off?"
That was a stupid question. "I took them off, of course. I wanted to see just how much of a sound sleeper you were." He laughed a bit, picked me up off the floor where I had been kneeling between his legs, and led me to the bedroom. We got into bed together, and he fell back asleep.
For all the wonderful things that Chuck did for me, it wasn't a perfect relationship. Chuck still had a lot of hang ups about his sexuality and what his family would think if he ever brought home a boyfriend. Plus, he still had sexual attractions to women some times. And he wasn't completely sure about our relationship. I was his first ever boyfriend after all. And he missed fucking. He never said that out loud to me, but I knew it to be true.
We tried anal sex once. He was particularly horny, and really wanted to fuck. I had never really been a bottom before. I wanted to make Chuck feel good, but I was scared of the pain. Ever since I was a teenager, I dealt with chronic hemorrhoids and rectal fissures. Bowel movements for me were not pleasant experiences. It wasn't uncommon for me to leave blood in the toilet after a bowel movement. The year before I met Chuck, I developed a thrombosed external hemorrhoid that was quite painful, requiring me to use Sitz baths and hemorrhoid creams for quite a while. So, if I had a lot of pain with just passing a turd, the possibility of accepting Chuck's thick cock into my ass for a pounding session was not the most pleasant thought in the world. Still, I acquiesced because I could tell Chuck really missed that part of sex.
I laid on my back at the edge of Chuck's bed with my knees up to my chest. Chuck was at the foot of the bed, his cock standing at attention with a condom on and lube applied. "Go easy, ok," I pleaded.
"Don't worry, I will," Chuck replied. He slipped one finger in me and spread the lube around and inside my hole for a little bit, then he withdrew. He then bent his knees slightly, aligning his dick with my opening, and pushed himself in slowly. His dick head got through the external sphincter, but it hit a wall created by my internal sphincter. The moment Chuck entered me, my rectal fissure split open, and there was a burning pain. Of course that caused me to tighten all my ass muscles, and I couldn't get them to relax. I was panting and clenching the sheets in my fists, not enjoying myself in the least bit. I had read plenty of stories about first timers to anal sex and how it hurt at first and got so much better afterwards. But I couldn't get over the pain. And Chuck was too horny to wait for long. After stopping at the entrance to the inner sanctum for a minute or so, he pushed forward, jabbing his hard cock into my inner sphincter, which only intensified the pain.
"Ow!" I yelled. "Try to take it easy!"
"Just try to relax," Chuck said. He tried to make his words soothing, but there was a definite edge to it. He was either impatient with me, or he just really wanted to get off. I took deep breaths and pushed out my abdominal muscles. After a bit of trying, my internal sphincter finally relaxed enough for Chuck to push himself into me. He sighed and slowly slid his entire length into my chute. He then pulled out slowly until only the first third of his cock was inside me, and he pushed in again. He was loving it, I'm sure. I felt a burning pain with every in and out stroke as his cock rubbed against my rectal fissure and caused my external hemorrhoids to flare. It was not a pleasant experience for me in the least bit. Still, I grit my teeth and bore it, since Chuck was getting a lot out of the experience.
After a while he did eventually cum and filled the condom with his sperm. He pulled out and went into the bathroom to clean up. I lay there for a bit longer, feeling my violated rectum. It was all puffy and engorged with blood, and it was quite sensitive. I could feel where the fissure had torn. I waddled to the bathroom and sat on the toilet. I felt like I had to take a shit, but there wasn't anything to release. As I was straining, several strands of blood and lube came out and colored the toilet bowl pink.
"Why don't you look at that," I told Chuck. He came over and looked into the toilet, seeing the blood in the toilet and on the paper I wiped with.
"Sorry if I hurt you," he said apologetically. Not apologetically enough for me though. We cleaned up some more and got into bed. Even though I had not cum, I didn't really feel like it after that experience, so we just went to sleep. I was mad for a while, but I calmed down and moved closer to Chuck after a bit. After that, we basically stuck to blow jobs and hand jobs, though there might have been one other occasion when I let Chuck fuck me. When I asked him once if he would let me fuck him, he said categorically, "No." That was the end of the conversation.
As I said before, Chuck was still struggling with his sexuality and how much to reveal to the people around him. In the year I knew him, we never once went out with any of his other friends. I never met any of his family members, and we restricted public affection to hugs. His parents came in from out of town to visit him, but he wouldn't let me meet them, not even as his friend.
He also enjoyed my company, but didn't trust me. If he was leaving the house, I had to leave too. He never gave me a key to the house, which was why I had to stand outside at midnight banging incessantly on his door for him to wake up and let me in.
For my part, I still struggled a bit with the whole gay/Christian thing. I had met a guy my age who was on staff with the Baptist Student Center. I got along really well with Chris and his wife Laura, and we started running together and just hanging out. As we got to know each other better, Chris asked me to be his spiritual accountability partner. That would mean we would give each other permission to share our sins and struggles with each other. By that time in my life, I had met rejection by a number of friends when I came out to them, and I didn't want to go through it again. I told Chris that he should be scared of the idea of accountability with me, because accountability was a two-way street, and there was a lot of stuff in my life that would surprise him. And I honestly told him that there were areas in my life at that point for which I wasn't sure I wanted accountability or change.
But, Chris was persistent. He wanted someone to challenge him spiritually and give him "radical accountability" as he called it.
We were driving together one night looking for a coffee shop, and Chris turned to me and said, "So what's your story?"
I hesitated for a bit, collecting my thoughts, trying to decide how to begin a conversation that I dreaded. I finally answered him and said, "First, I've been dating someone. Secondly, we're sleeping together; I'm sexually active. And finally--and here's the punch line--his name is Chuck."
Chris paused for a minute, and he replied, "I had a feeling that it had something to do with homosexuality." During our drive and at the coffee shop, Chris continued to ask pointed questions about my relationship with Chuck. He then said, "Maybe it would help if I told you a little of my story." He shared how he had struggled with homosexuality most of his life and even had a male lover for several months after his freshman year in college. But, through discipline and a whole lot of wrestling, he came to a point of freedom, peace, and inner joy through obedience. He then met Laura and struck up a friendship which became love, which led to marriage. Laura knew all about Chris and his attraction to other men. But, she trusted and loved him, and they've been very happy together.
So, my friend Chris was an "ex-gay," with everything I wanted: a "normal" life with a loving wife and a Christian ministry. Chris held out the hope that things could be different for me if I just let God do the work in me. He encouraged me to consider leaving Chuck, something I really didn't want to do. I was so confused after talking with Chris. I told him I would consider what he had said. He encouraged me to go home and spend the night by myself to consider everything, which I did. While I was at home, Chuck called me twice and asked me to come over, but I told him I needed to stay home this night. He could tell there was something on my mind, but I didn't really want to talk about it, so he let it be. Once again, I felt like I had to make a decision between my faith and someone I came to care a lot about. I wonder now if my actions and demeanor towards Chuck changed subtly after that and if that adversely affected our relationship.
The disparity in money for me and Chuck also caused conflict. I had next to no money as a medical student, while Chuck made so damn much of it. Because of that, Chuck was always the one to buy the tickets or pay for dinner. I think as time went on, he started feeling like I was trying to use him and liked him only for his money, which was not true. Chuck just was used to a vastly different standard of living, and there was no way I could emulate that with my student loans and my debt. He talked about going on a vacation to Cozumel and how much each of us was going to pay for the trip, and we got into an argument about my not having the money to pay my way. We made up after our fight, but it was just one more example of the differences we had to overcome if we wanted the relationship to work.
After a while, Chuck wanted to spend more time with other people to see what else was out there. Even though we never said it outright, I was monogamous during the time I was with Chuck. I had strong feelings for him, and I wasn't interested in other people. Towards the end of our year-long relationship, I did meet some other people--just friends really--and dabbled a bit sexually with them, like the hand job I gave Thomas after his massage.
During this time, I was also trying to figure out where I wanted to do my residency. After interviewing at five places, I narrowed my choices down to two places, a program in southwest Houston, and a program in Virginia. I knew either choice would dramatically change my life path.
Chuck and I sat down near the deadline for me to turn in my ranking for residency preference, and I detailed my thinking to him. I told him I liked our relationship, and that was the main reason I was considering staying in Houston. I wanted to see if we could make things work out between us in spite of all our differences. I liked the program in Virginia better, but that would mean that I would be giving up on our relationship.
He said to me, "I think you should go to Virginia." We talked about our relationship, and he told me he just didn't think it would work out. I didn't disagree with him, but I was crestfallen nonetheless. Chuck and I had spent the better part of a year together, and although I don't know if I loved him, I did know I cared for him deeply. It felt like I was being rejected by my best friend. We had break-up sex in my room. I sucked him until he came, and he jacked me off until I did. He gave me a big hug, and he left.
Our official break up was in February, but we still hung out and saw each other off and on through the next several months. It was very confusing because there were times when Chuck was very standoffish, and other times he would call me out of the blue to talk and get together. Sometimes, he would instigate some sex, which I never turned down, but always left me feeling confused afterwards. I asked him once, "So does mean we're still dating?"
"I don't know," he sighed. Then he turned a way from me in the bed.
My last weekend with Chuck was the first weekend in June 1998. We drove to San Antonio and stayed at the Holiday Inn on the River Walk. All we really did was walk around, do a little bit of shopping, and watch a movie, but it was relaxing.
As I was lying in bed a few days after our weekend, the line from the play Romeo and Juliet came to mind about being star-crossed lovers. Was my relationship with Chuck doomed to fail from the beginning? There had been a lot of difficulty and questions because of it, but there was a lot of happiness as well. At that point, I didn't know if I would want to sacrifice the joyful moments just to spare myself the times of heartache.
I wrote into my journal that night, "Well, like everything else, this part of the chapter is coming to a close, and who knows what twists and turns the storyline will take."
Even after I moved to Virginia and then the Northeast after that, I would stop by Chuck's house unannounced once every few years when I was in town visiting my family. Some times, Chuck would be home doing paper work, sometimes not. He would open the door, pleasantly surprised to see me, and invite me in. We'd sit for fifteen minutes or half and hour, catching up a bit and I'd leave. Even though we weren't dating, and I didn't want to have sex with him, he was a friend and a person I cared about.
Several years ago, I lost touch with Chuck. When I tried to look up his phone number, I couldn't find him. He wasn't listed anywhere. This past Christmas, I again was in Houston visiting my family, and I was walking through Chuck's neighborhood. I decided to see if Chuck was home. There was a dog barking inside that sounded like Ludwig, but the blinds were closed. There was no car in the driveway, so I couldn't tell if Chuck even lived there. So, I walked on by and headed home.
After my trip to Houston, I was still thinking about Chuck. I had forgotten that he was a Rice alum, so I looked him up in the alumni directory. When I found his name, he was listed as deceased! I just couldn't believe it. I scoured the internet looking for any information about Chuck and if he truly died. When I searched for his name and "obituary," I found it. So it was true, Chuck had died, and only recently. I got the contact phone number and an email and tried both. I talked to his mother, who said they found Chuck dead in his apartment that he had moved into after selling his house. They still didn't know why Chuck died, but the results would be back in a few months. I also got an email reply from Chuck's brother, who gave a hypothesis on why Chuck passed away--a medicine interaction with alcohol.
I'm still saddened by Chuck's death. He was my very first boyfriend and an amazing person. Even though I'm very happy in the relationship I'm in, Chuck's memory will always carry a special place in my heart.