~ Chapter 4: The Sexy Clown ~

Yeah. Simon Spier. I bet you didn't expect to hear his name come up, did you?

Funnily enough, I think I was in the same boat when you told me about your messages. The last thing I expected, when we were starting a brand–new relationship, was to be reminded of the shit that went down after he was outed. It was another thing I immediately decided to cut out of the narrative of me that I shared with you.

I don't even know if you know this part of his story because when you told me about him, you focused on his relationship with, uh, what's his name? His boyfriend. You focused on the fact that they were still together and seemed surprised to realize that I would have already known about Simon.

In case you don't know, this kid in Simon's grade outed him and posted screenshots of some of the emails he and his boyfriend had anonymously sent back and forth. The thing is, Simon has a little sister. She was in seventh grade when it happened; you've never met her because, last I heard, she was going to a special high school that let her focus on cooking.

I don't know if it would've trickled to the middle school if she hadn't been there. Maybe I would've remained blissfully oblivious to Simon's plight, but she was there, and I was painfully aware of it.

The post that outed him blew up everywhere. When we got back to school, it was all anyone could talk about. It was so uncomfortable and awful. Until then, I really didn't know where people stood with it, you know. I thought that maybe if I ever had a boyfriend who made me want to come out, everyone would surprise me by being accepting and supportive. It turned out that was a pipe dream.

Some people thought it didn't matter. They didn't understand why we were talking about it as if not talking about it solves anything. Then again, silence would've been better because the way a lot of people talked about it sucked. Some people said that Simon outed himself for the attention, which, no. I can't imagine anyone that would out themselves like that instead of coming out. I don't know anyone that came out for the attention. People come out because they are tired of pretending to be someone they're not, and I felt like I was the only one that understood that. If anyone else did, they weren't talking about it.

If Nora was in the hallway, I knew it simply because of how much shit she got, but it never seemed to get to her. She defended Simon and refused to let anyone think that she was hurt by their comments, but she must've been.

It was such a weird time. Everywhere you looked, someone had an opinion about it. I remember I made myself sick our first day back to school because I couldn't handle listening to what everyone was saying. Usually, it didn't hit me until I got home – the guilt, the hate, the emptiness. But that day, while we crowded around Jackson's phone and watched a video of two kids that climbed on a cafeteria table to mock Simon during his lunch, I couldn't do it. I couldn't stay there and watch someone live out my nightmare, especially when people were treating my nightmare like it was their entertainment.

My mom picked me up, and I pretended I needed sleep. I eventually slept, but not until I drank enough to lull myself into a dreamless sleep. I woke up with the worst headache I've ever had and got to spend another day in bed. Eventually, I had to face school and a student body that was still relentlessly making fun of Simon's abrupt gay debut into this world. If anyone disagreed with what was being said, they stayed silent. Like me.

I like to think it was different in the high school, you know? Like, maybe we were just too young and immature to get it but that Simon actually changed things there. Except, that wasn't my experience when I moved up to high school. The same kids that called Simon desperate or girlie or made jokes about how he must like getting it in the butt moved up with me. The jokes about Simon faded because no one's memory really lasted that long, but I never forgot. I never let go of what I'd learned in eighth grade. It wasn't just my family and my friends that expected me to be straight. I needed to be straight, or people would say the same things about me that they said about Simon.

I gave up any pretense that I was going to stop dating. I became determined to find the girl that could make me feel as good as Carlos or Jeremiah had. Once I found her, everything would be fine. There had to be someone. I can't describe how much I needed there to be someone.

While I was searching for that someone, my life fell into three distinctive parts. If I needed to subtitle them, I would start with:

Part I: The Girls

When you asked about the girls I slept with, I intentionally was as vague as possible. I told you there had been three girls but didn't tell you anything about the girls I dated and hadn't slept with. From the moment Simon was outed until I started dating Derek, I was essentially never single; I went from girlfriend to girlfriend, breaking up with them when they were getting too serious.

I spent my days pretending to be blissfully happy with whatever girl I happened to be dating at the time. I was really good at pretending. I remember every single one of them. Hold tight because there's a lot. Just remember that you can't be more disgusted with me than I am.

My first girlfriend after Simon got outed was Laura. She didn't last very long; we broke up after a few weeks because she told me she loved me, and it was 1 – too soon and 2 – not something I had ever said to another person before. That was my only line. I wouldn't lie to someone and tell them I loved them. I couldn't.

After Laura, there was Kaitlyn who used me to make her ex jealous; we didn't have sex, but we did enough that he definitely had a reason to be jealous. Then there was Jessica, the second girl I slept with.

After Jessica was Alison. We dated almost the entire summer before our freshman year until we slept together because she didn't want to go into high school a virgin. Then there was another Jessica. She didn't want to have sex until she got married because she was a good Catholic. The thing is, and I'm sure you know this, some of the Catholics figured out a work-around to the whole no-sex-until-marriage thing. So, we didn't have sex. Technically.

After Jessica was Kayla. That was probably the best relationship I ever had because I didn't have to worry about the physical stuff. Kayla told me that she'd never sleep with a guy if she hadn't been with him for a long, long time which immediately took the pressure off of me. She barely liked to kiss. Ironically, I think I liked Kayla more than any of the other girls I was with; probably because I had the chance to get to know her and she was pretty awesome. She broke up with me when her best friend told her he was in love with her ("he's like my brother" my ass). They're still together.

Then there was Patience who got back together with her ex after a few weeks and her best friend Jodi who broke up with me because she felt like I wasn't as serious about her as she was about me. Then Alison and I got back together. Alison is the last girl I dated, the last girl I kissed, the last girl I slept with, and the last girl I lied to. I broke up with Alison the day after Derek and I started dating.

I went through girls like they were cars I could test drive to figure out if they felt right. I didn't sleep with most of them. Contrary to what half the guys in our grade would make you think, most girls weren't tripping over themselves to sleep with every guy who was interested. Most girls, in my experience, wanted to know a guy was genuinely interested before they took that step with them, and I was fine if we never reached that point. I was essentially never single. I went from one relationship to another and none of them left me feeling satisfied. At no point, not with any of the girls I was with, did I feel like I was truly happy with where I was.

That's where one part of my life ended and the second began. I was very careful to keep the two separate.

Part II: The Guys

I had committed to finding the right girl, but I couldn't stay away. I didn't really want to stay away. It was like the more I tried to distance myself from guys, the harder it was to avoid them.

It was surprisingly easy to meet guys. I thought it would kind of be like trying to find a particular piece of hay in a haystack, but it wasn't. There are so many gay teens in Atlanta if you know where to look.

You never forget your firsts. Even if I wasn't having sex with them, I was having a ton of firsts especially because Jason hadn't been interested in any of the in between stuff. We went from making out to having sex which is not how it should have happened.

All of your firsts happened with me, and you have no idea how lucky you are. Some of my firsts happened with Carlos and Jason, but there was so much more to experience. I don't know the names of some of the guys I fooled around with. It's a part of my life that I can never rewrite, and I hate that. At the time, I thought it was amazing.

I got experience in stolen nights. It kind of sounds like it should've been a shitty arrangement, but it really worked for me at the time. Without the need for a commitment, it didn't feel as bad, you know. Maybe I was cheating, but I wasn't falling in love or anything. I just wanted to feel something, and those guys definitely made me feel. I know how bad that sounds. In the moment though, it felt necessary. It felt like how I managed to cling to sanity.

When I got home, the thoughts started to seep in and so did the guilt. I knew that what I was doing was wrong. It was messed up to date girls when I knew I'd never feel anything with them and to sneak around with guys to feel the things I wanted to feel with girls. This is where the third part of my life came into play.

Part III: The Drinking

When I got home from whatever guy I left, I always got this feeling like the world was moving faster than I was and like I was stuck. Sometimes, making it from my front door to my bedroom so I could drink felt like agony. It was like the moment I was home, I couldn't hide from it. I couldn't escape the guilt and anger and hate, the emptiness, the reality of who I was, or how desperately I wanted to not be me. That's when I would start to drink because I realized I could escape all of that if I muted the world enough.

I'd lie in bed drowning it all out. I'm not gonna lie, Victor, I don't remember many of those nights. I needed to forget; I felt powerless to deal with everything otherwise. I desperately wanted things to be different, but there was also a feeling of safety that went along with knowing exactly what to expect from my day. Yeah, it sucked. But I figured it would be so much worse to have it suck AND be unpredictable. I had a way of coping that I thought worked really, really well for me.

Then, one day at the end of the summer, I snuck down to my parents' liquor cabinet, and there was a lock on it. Obviously, they'd noticed. Three years of total access to that cabinet had probably been more than I had any right to ask for, but I was still so blindsided. That amount of alcohol doesn't just go missing, but they hadn't talked to me about it.

I figured if that day had to come, I'd at least have some warning, but they just ignored it. I think I know why. They probably assumed I was taking it to parties and not drinking it all myself, and in their eyes, it was more important for me to be social than for me to be safe. It makes sense. They've always seen me as a screw-up. At least that was one area of my life where it looked like I was thriving. I could be wrong, but I don't think I am; I've been trying to outlive their disappointment for as long as I can remember.

It doesn't really matter why they waited so long or why they didn't talk to me about it. What mattered is that I suddenly needed to figure this out for myself. I have never been as desperate as I got in that moment. What was I supposed to do?

I definitely wasn't going to go up to my room and not drink. It wasn't an option. I don't think it even crossed my mind.

No, the thought that did cross my mind was that I should borrow the spare car, go to the shady liquor store in downtown Atlanta, and pray that they believed I was 21. It was a tall order because I barely looked fifteen and, even if they tried to card me, I wouldn't have anything to show them. I only had my permit, but I figured it was unlikely that I'd get pulled over, and this felt like an emergency.

I got to the liquor store and barely walked in before I felt like I was being watched. I probably wasn't, but it made me paranoid enough that I essentially booked it from the store. I ran right into Zeke.

I may have fudged some of the details when I told you about Zeke. For one thing, I let you believe he was a Creekwood student instead of a 19-year-old in a GED program with a convincing fake. I get it. It's creepy. I was fifteen, but we didn't start doing anything right away. I mean, we kissed, but he didn't try more than that until I turned sixteen. According to him, he wasn't "about that felon life". Those were his exact words, Vic. You would've thought that would have been a massive red flag, but I didn't think anything of it.

Before you get mad, just remember that I didn't technically lie. When I told you about Zeke, you said that you didn't recognize his name and asked if he'd already graduated before you moved to Creekwood… and I said, "something like that" because he never actually graduated. I never told you that he was in high school when I was sleeping with him. I know that technicality doesn't save me. It was a lie, and I am sorry for that. Truly. I promise, no more half-truths, okay? Not with you. So, here's the whole truth about Zeke.

I ran out of the liquor store and nearly plowed him down. I must've looked kind of panicked or something, and I think I was. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I really wasn't sure how I was supposed to make it through my night without drinking. I thought I might've had a little whiskey stashed away in my bedroom somewhere, but I couldn't be sure, and I'd come all this way. I told Zeke this lie about how I was trying to buy alcohol for my brother for his 21st birthday. He definitely saw through it, but he went into the liquor store and bought me two handles. He didn't even ask for money.

No, he asked for something much different. At first, we were just hanging out. He wasn't as creepy as you'd think. If you ignore how we met, it was actually kind of nice to just exist with someone without the usual pressure I felt to figure my stuff out, and Zeke was the least threatening person in existence.

Zeke dropped out of high school in the middle of his junior year after he became legally emancipated because his parents were genuinely bad people. You'd think it would be the gay thing, but it wasn't. Zeke didn't even come out to them until after he was free of them. He was only 17, but he found a full-time job as a party entertainment specialist. That's a really fancy was of saying he was a clown but was too embarrassed to tell people that that was how he made a living.

If you think about it, I did kind of tell you about Zeke that one time I joked about sexy clowns… though, I guess I should have joked about a sexy clown, singular. Imagine if Chris Hemsworth and Sean Mendes made a baby, and then that baby made a baby with that basketball player you refuse to admit is your celebrity crush, and then that new baby became a clown. That's Zeke.

We slept together on my birthday. I was legally able to consent to sleeping with him and that had been really important to him. Maybe he'd turned 20 in September and wanted to hook up with someone who was freshly 16, but he wasn't trying to make me do anything I didn't want to do, and he was right that four years wasn't that much. It wasn't that different than a freshman dating a senior which happened all the time. We made our excuses to make it seem less skeevy.

Not to say it's his fault by any means; if it wasn't him, I'm sure it would've been some other creep. At least Zeke was nice. I'm really not sure what made him interested in me; it couldn't have been that hard to find a guy closer to his age, but I needed him, so I never asked.

Once I got my license, we fell into a routine. Every Wednesday, like clockwork, we met at the liquor store thirty minutes before it closed. He'd put whatever he bought for me in the trunk of my car; then I'd follow him to his apartment.

I used to think it was so cool and mature that he had his own apartment. I thought it made me cool and mature to be with someone like him. We would drink a little; Zeke was always careful not to give me too much because I had to drive home. Then we'd fool around. We did a lot of stuff… some stuff I didn't even know was stuff until he showed me. I didn't give up the other guys, but he was the only guy I'd have sex with. I liked sleeping with Zeke. It wasn't mind-blowing or anything, but it felt amazing. The attraction was definitely there with him and that was a game changer. I wanted to try things out and figure out what worked for me, and I got to do that.

I also saw Zeke every Sunday. Sundays were very… date-like. We'd watch a movie together and have dinner. Zeke felt personally victimized by how many old movies I hadn't seen, so he'd made it his mission to show me as many of them as he could. For me, Sundays were weirder than the sex we had every Wednesday. I still don't know why he insisted on our Sundays, but it felt like he was trying to cram a relationship into our arrangement. Maybe it was how he dealt with the fact that he was sleeping with a 16-year-old. I had alcohol; he had date nights. We made it work.

I actually liked Zeke. I didn't have romantic feelings for him, but I liked being around him, so I didn't realize just how weird it was. Not until around Valentine's Day. Zeke thought it would be nice if we had a meal together that we didn't make, so we went out just to pick up our food, and we ran into some of his friends. He introduced me as his little brother. Yeah. His little brother. And they believed it.

I've thought about this a lot though, and I don't think I would've gone near him after that if it hadn't been for the free booze. He was willing to buy whatever I asked him to buy, so I was willing to do whatever he asked me to do. So, yeah, I was absolutely at the age of consent, but he was also an asshole that exploited my addiction. He had to have known that I had a problem. He had to have.

When I started dating Derek, I just stopped showing up. One random Wednesday, he was probably waiting in that parking lot for me when I fully knew I was never going to show up. I blocked his number and deleted it. I didn't want it to be an option; Derek had been very clear that if we were going to be together then it was just the two of us. I needed to be with him and only him. It was a surprisingly hard decision to make and yet a really easy one. I didn't know if I could accept that I was gay and be with Derek.

I was definitely ready to stop sleeping with Alison, but I wasn't sure I was ready to bring emotions into my sex life. Everything I'd done with guys up to that point, even with Zeke, had been so easy because I there had been no strings attached. You would've thought that I would've fallen for Zeke at some point, but I never did. I never saw him as more than a means to an end… that sounds so much worse now that I said it out loud.

The funny thing is that you already knew how many people I've slept with. We stayed up talking almost the whole night before you and I had sex. It was weirdly easy to tell you that I had sex with three girls and about how many guys I'd fooled around with before I got together with Derek. Telling you how many people I slept with didn't give you the full story though, did it?

I didn't want you to know this; I didn't want to ruin the way you looked at me because when you saw me as a good guy, it made me believe that maybe I was on my way to becoming one. When I'm with you, I almost believe that I'm more than I was back then. I'm more than the kid that fucked up his life that badly. I'm more than the person that cheated and slept around and drank to avoid facing my truth. When you found out about my drinking, it became impossible to separate my life into the shitty parts and the parts that you were in and that was really hard for me.

The moment you found out, it was like I was the old Benji again. I immediately fell back into my old habits where I lashed out at someone so I could avoid thinking about how much I hated myself. Sometimes, I worry that I'll never stop being that person. Like, maybe he was just hibernating and now he's back.

It's hard not to worry about that when it feels like everyone is always watching me and waiting for me to fail just like I've done a hundred times. You never knew me back then, so maybe that makes it easier for you to see me differently, but most people can't. Derek couldn't. My parents can't. I don't even think I can. I want to be different but that's not the same thing, is it?

Did I tell you I took Advanced Guitar my freshman year? I know that seems off topic, but I promise I have a point. It was my very first high school class, and I figured if I had to wake up every morning, guitar was a worthy thing to wake up for. I'd been playing guitar almost half my life at that point, and I was damn good at it. I didn't have to think about it; I let the music do the thinking for me and gave myself over to it completely. Advanced Guitar was a junior and senior-level course, but I'd been able to audition for Mr. Garibaldi over the summer and he waived me into the class. I was too good for any other music class.

We never talked about Derek, did we? We filed it away under things that were too hard to talk about. You see, that first day of school when I walked into my Advanced Guitar class, I walked into an almost empty classroom. It didn't stay empty for long before a few other kids walked in and, eventually, Derek joined us. He was in that class too.

I hope you're ready to hear about Derek because it's time for his part of my story. Here goes nothing.