“You don't like pussy?”,she asked.
"No! I am gay."
“Oh, okay! Then you can sleep here without any worries.”
They were afraid that men would do something to them, that they would be assaulted at night... Well, at least they shouldn't be afraid of me, and they knew that now. While out and about in SOHO, I met Stefan. He came from Slovenia. We saw each other regularly. I thought he was a very interesting one – and so too
handsome guy. We liked to talk, and well. Slowly we got to know each other better and I fell a little in love with him.
At some point I discovered he was in the country illegally. There was absolutely nothing wrong with this - but I no longer fully trusted his contact with me. Stefan was handsome, intelligent, and a lot younger than me. He was in his early 20s, I was in my mid-30s... So often people were seduced, deceived, to be used for a residence permit. I was on my guard. I'd stick to flirting. I had already fallen in love enough. That's all I had to do if I wanted to keep my sanity.
He never wanted to go to his home. It was either to my hostel or at the gay bars, he didn't allow it any further... I still insisted. Finally he gave in.
We arrived and there were a lot of people living in that house... Several people without papers, together, together. Stefan had one small room to himself.
“Are you coming?” he asked.
“Yes, but not for sex,” I replied.
What is his intention? I wondered… I knew Stefan wasn't working, at least not officially. That was not possible because he was in the country illegally.
“How do you get money for this room?” I asked.
It took him a moment to answer. He acted irritated, almost waved it away.
“Sometimes I go with friends to the construction site, but that is in the black.”
“Why did you come to London?”
“I want to be better and I… I want to be able to send my parents money, at home, in Slovenia.”
“I understand,” I said. In the meantime we had arrived at his room. I made it clear that I sympathized with him, but that I could not help him financially.
“I'm here on vacation,” I said. “You know I'm going back to Belgium soon.
I really want to remain friends, but that's all I can do.”
We sat in his room for a while and suddenly – he stood up and loosened his belt. I was shocked. He looked at me, with very focused eyes, as he opened his pants. I stood up and walked over to him and pulled his pants down to his ankles. I started walking. With his pants down to his ankles, he couldn't chase me.
I went back to my hostel and felt really stupid. Very naive. A while later we met again in SOHO. He apologized for what he had tried.
“I have to say sorry too,” I said. “I shouldn't have been so naive.”
He smiled sweetly.
“We can't remain friends,” I concluded. Not much later I left back to Belgium with life lessons richer.
Fortunately, getting to know people out and about did not always have such uncomfortable or unpleasant consequences as with the notary's son or Stefan, on the contrary.
During a night out in Brussels I met a very nice American gay couple: Nick and Richard. They came from San Francisco: the gay city. The very first gay clubs had emerged here years before and about 60% of the city's population was gay or bi, and 40% straight.
Exactly the opposite world, so interesting.
“Have you ever been there?” they asked me.
“Where, in San Francisco or the US?”
"Both?"
“Not at all,” I said. I had never been to America before.
“Come down!”, they said. “You can stay with us, then you don't have those costs.”
I had to think about it for a while. Even though I could stay with them, those plane tickets didn't cost anything. Nick and Richard had already returned home, but I did have their contact details.
The decision was made. I sent a message to San Francisco:
30.
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