Big party cities always attract interesting people and in those big cities there are always nice gay discos. On one such night out in Brussels, I met a handsome son of a notary. He was also studying to become a notary and talked endlessly about his hobbies (golf and tennis) and all the countries he had already vis-ited. A man who knows his world, as they say. He also mentioned that he had a very big dog at home – but it was a sweet animal, he said! Affectionate and playful and sweet to people who come to visit.
Visiting, hmm? I thought. Okay, let's see where this goes. It turned out to be a very nice evening – and he was a very good kisser.
“Will you come with me?” he asked me after hours of playing and flirting.
I was looking forward to that. Back then. We drove to his home in a beautiful new Mercedes, which of course turned out to be a closet of a house. Wow.
We walked to the front door via a beautiful garden path - we opened the door, the fun could begin and -Oh no.His indeed gigantic dog walked towards us. That animal jumped me over and drooled all over me. I have always loved animals – but preferably from a distance. Not like it happened here. Terrible. The dog was so sweet, but I thought this was so gross -
“Oh come on, just step outside for a moment!”, said my companion
against the dog. He let him out through the front door. I was able to get back on my feet. It had just rained... Wouldn't those legs get completely dirty and wet from the mud and puddles? I thought about everything. We walked further into his house and all my built-up cravings immediately disappeared. His lounge, kitchen, dining table… Everything was a complete mess. How can someone with such intelligence live like this? I thought to myself. It's so dirty here. I couldn't stand this. “Can I go to the toilet?” I asked, to get away from it all. The bathroom was spic and span. How strange was this? I went back and asked if I could have his bedroom too
to see. It was also spotless. How is that possible? I decided to help him clean up his kitchen. I started to put all kinds of dirty pots and pans in the dishwasher, but then he grabbed me.
“That's for later,” he breathed in my ear.
He tried to kiss me. I couldn't do this. I found this all downright disgusting. I put my hand over my mouth and said
“Sorry, I can't do this.”
I gave no explanation. I took my coat and left his house. The highway to Leuven and Hasselt was not far from his house, fortunately. I walked there and got ready to do a car stop. Everything still had to sink in:how can anyone live like this, kept running through my head. How?
Pretty soon a car stopped that could take me away. I got home without any problem.
Back home, sobered and alone, and a little robbed of my joy - by my fear of contamination. Of course, you never really know who you're going home with when you leave a club together, but...
I couldn't do this.This wasn't the first time my fear of contamination sabotaged my plans. I thought back to Tim, to other boys and men, withwho sometimes couldn't make love... Was that because of the stress? Or was that… because I just thought it was gross sometimes? Was it for both reasons? Did those reasons make each other worse? My head was spinning.
“You're an adult, Luc,” I told myself.
There's nothing dirty about sex. I enjoyed making love – I had already had so much fun – but sometimes my body didn't want to. Sometimes I just thought it was gross. Sometimes I thought giving oral sex or kiss-ing was just dirty and I had a really hard time with that.
_____
I stayed in London occasionally for a while. I went to London for the very first time with the ABVV youth. The city had always appealed to me ever since. So beautiful and - as I later learned - so accepting of gays. The SOHO district was legendary, this was a real gay district – and me
tried very hard to get there regularly. Every few years I went on holiday to London for a few months. I would spend the night in dirt-cheap hostels – this was sometimes really difficult, given my fear of contam-ination. Hostels had large, communal bedrooms, with bunk beds. During one stay I slept in such a room, with 9 young women.
“You're not going to attack us?” one of them asked during the first meeting, in English.
“No!” I said.
“
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