My Uncle's Shoes

Crayola Boy

Tom Froehlich

I have always believed myself to be open-minded and accepting.  Almost boastfully so.  I am willing and able to talk to anyone from any walk of life and enjoy their company.  Having joined Alcoholics Anonymous I had exactly that opportunity. The only thing we have in common is that we are drunks. I have met doctors and actors and bartenders and the homeless. We are encouraged in our program of recovery to put “principle before personalities”.  This certainly sounds good in theory but, even in the subculture of AA you find subcultures and people of similar backgrounds and economic backgrounds tend to find one another.

That is where I met Eric. Eric, who was twenty-one years old, had blue hair and a double pierced eyebrow.  He was also funny, had an endearing smile, and laughed easily. I was drawn to his group of friends who were also a diverse group, coming from a sober living house they shared in Venice.  

Eric was the only gay member of the household and not only accepted, but well like by his housemates.  I had been encouraged by my sponsor to seek out gay friends in the program and oddly enough it seemed that Eric and I were the only two gay guys at the meetings we both attended.  We became friends and enjoyed a safe and harmless flirtation. After all, he had blue hair and a double pierced eyebrow and oh that’s right, he was three decades younger than me.  I would tell myself that what kept the possibility of romantic involvement at arms length was our age difference. Granted, one would think that would be enough of a deterrent. I had dated younger men in the past, but never attempted to bridge that great of an age gap. Nonetheless, I was comfortable with where our relationship stood and never really considered the possibility of it going any further.  But I like hanging out with Eric. A lot.  But it was platonic. Really.  He was far too young.  And even if he had been older I certainly wasn’t dating someone with piercings and hair that came straight out of a crayola box. 

Then through months of hearing him share his life and his journey in meetings I began to see past the crayola colored hair and his youth.  I began to see him for the man he was and the trials he had overcome.  I saw the courage with which he faced his demons and overcame them with a confidence and certainty that there was no turning back. When I commented on his courage he said, “You know Tom, I figure as long as no one I love is dead or dying I don’t have much to be afraid of. The rest is just life. What am I going to do? Not live it?!” I asked him how he could look at life so simply and he answered with a smile,  “Because it is that simple.”

In the back of my mind I felt something shift.  But in the front of my mind I heard, “I am not dating a guy with blue hair! That is not he kind of guy I date!”.  Then the words echoed in my head and I actually heard what I was saying. I will not date someone who is outwardly different. I heard that I care what other people think based on simple appearances. I heard that I am open-minded to people of all walks of life as long as I keep them at arms length so I won’t be judged as they may be judged. I heard these words and I was ashamed. Ashamed that for years I had talked the talk, but when it came time to walk the walk I was nothing but a hypocrite.  Someone who surrounded himself with the avante garde to make himself appear open-minded and accepting when in fact he was ready to jump aside when the first judgment was flung. It was not a feeling I liked. Not a realization about myself I was happy with, but it apparently was part of who I was. Maybe it came from years of yearning to fit into the trendy crowd and never quite making it. Maybe it was because having an alternative sexual orientation was enough for me to handle.  Or maybe it was just because I was a close-minded prick. In the end it didn’t really matter because neither of those scenarios were anything I was very proud of.  The question simply was, “Am I an open-minded accepting person who sees people for who they are inside and what they have to offer or not?” 

I reflected the people I felt a true connection with in my life. I have a large circle of friends, but the friends that truly fed my soul were not the popular crowd.  People who had the courage to be, well…themselves.  These people made me smile. They fed my soul and my creative spirit.  They were the spice in a varied mix of people I associated with.  I looked at my not so successful dating history and saw that I had dated the “right” kind of guys. Regular guys with brown hair and khaki.  I had been in fact the alternative one of the couple. Artsy and longhaired in a relaxed fit khaki world. A world I never completely felt a part of.  Sometimes for a smart guy I can be very, very stupid.

Eric and I continued to get to know one another in meetings and our own private conversations. And my perception of him changed. It’s not as if the blue hair went away. Well, actually he dyed it to “Rock Star Red”, but that’s not the point. The point is that I started seeing that I admired the fact that he chose to have blue hair and was confident enough to be who he chose to be. Oh, granted it is certainly a cry for attention, but who doesn’t have that? His just manifested in rainbow hued hair.  In the scheme of things it seemed pretty harmless. Besides, he had a wardrobe of coordinating crayola colored t-shirts. 

Then one day his best friend asked me if I was interested in him. I said, “God no! He’s really sweet, but he’s far too young!”

“Okay. I was just asking, because he is interested in you.”

And again I felt something shift in my brain. Okay, well maybe it wasn’t just my brain. I had gotten past the blue hair and piercings. The problem now was that I was definitely attracted to someone young enough to be my son. That is if I had a son. Which I don’t. So I guess I can relax on that one.  I realized that it had been my prejudice that had kept me at a distance. Kept me safe. That distance was closing fast and apparently there was someone on the other side looking back. 

I took a deep breath and thought well if it happens it happens, but I am not making a move. I realize now that it was because of fear of rejection from a younger man, as well as, not wanting to take responsibility for what may be an irresponsible move. In other words, I was a chicken shit.

Then the day came and Eric simply looked at me and said, “I’ve been interested in you for months Tom and I’m pretty sure you like me, so what’s the big deal?” 

“Eric, you are thirty years younger than me. How can you make it seem so simple?”

“Maybe because it is”, he said, “I like you and you like me.”  If I worked really hard I could complicate that, but I’m going to do my best not to.  It simply is what it is and it’s a really good thing.  At least I think so… 

That was two years ago and our relationship, not surprisingly, quickly ran its course, but I don’t judge it. At least I do my best not to. I learned that things don’t need to be that complicated. Unless I choose to make it so. It’s just that simple.