The Summer of '85

The summer of 1985 I was 19 years old. I had just finished my freshman year at college. I had done well despite my intense anxiety and social phobia. Maybe because I had looked forward to it for so long. Maybe because I was determined to make it work. I made good grades, and I discovered that I loved my classes. My teachers back in high school were not generally very knowledgeable or scholarly, but my professors at WVU… They knew their stuff. I took a class on the ancient history of Western Civilization, and it turned out that it was taught by an Egyptologist who could read hieroglyphics, and Latin and Greek. He had traveled extensively all over the Mediterranean region. So when he talked about ancient Greece, for instance, he’d include his personal impressions and experiences of the various cities and scenes of important battles. I was seriously impressed.

I also discovered Morgantown’s clandestine gay community which centered around a dive bar on High Street, not far from the downtown campus and within walking distance to my dorm, called The Double Decker. I spent many Friday and Saturday nights there. I made a few gay friends. And I danced with a few boys, and fooled around with some, too.

I started therapy, and I was lucky enough to get a kind and gentle psychologist who happened to specialize in the effects of homophobia on young gay, lesbian and bi people. She became an important person in my life for a number of years.

Because I didn’t care for dorm food all that much, and because I had been walking all over campus and Morgantown, I had slimed down considerably. I was getting noticed at the bar, and I was getting attention despite being very shy and not the easiest person to approach.

The year didn’t end on a high note, though. I went home with a boy who had been drinking a bit too much and he was kind of direct and surly with me. But I overlooked this because I thought he was cute, and I thought of myself as lucky for the chance to go home with him. It turned into a date rape type of situation.

Looking back now, I guess it probably wasn’t a good idea to go home and live with my parents for the summer. But I didn’t have any money, and I lacked the social skills to arrange to an adventure with a friend and share expenses. However, that is exactly what I should have done.

Oak Hill was a major culture shock after a year at college. I had changed, my attitude and expectations had changed, but my old hometown was the same confining place it had always been. I went back to work at McDonalds, and I went back in the closet. While my young straight coworkers parties and dated, I kept my distance for fear that someone would discover my secret.

I used the money I earned to buy some pretty gay clothes though. I remember a pink oversized t-shirt, and a pair of Madras short shorts with strips of pastel colors like yellow, pink and turquoise. (I still have those shorts, but it’s been quite a while since they’ve fit.) I also got a spiky haircut. I was a teenage gay boy dressed up to have a good time, but I was stuck back in my hometown.

And then soon after I got home, I realized that my mother was sick again. My mother had schizophrenia, and it went untreated all while I was growing up, but she was finally diagnosed and began receiving treatment in the spring of my senior year of high school. I was so thankful and relieved to learn that her illness could be treated, and like the young, hopeful thing that I was back then, I assumed that all the drama was finally over. It was such a huge disappointed to learn that we had only been given a reprieve.

I think that summer was the pinnacle of my youth. I had one year of college behind me, and I knew I liked it and that I could hack it. I was as fit as I would ever be. My confidence in myself was the highest that it has ever been. I felt reasonably attractive. I could have had more fun that summer than I had ever had. I should have been with boys like myself. I should have been able to party, hang out with friends, get lucky a few times, and maybe even have a romance. But instead I went backwards.