Date: Mon, 1 Dec 2008 19:39:37 -0500
From: M N <vngam@hotmail.com>
Subject: not-a-matter-of-choice chapter 8

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.