Thought Catalog

Richard Grayson

Richard Grayson, a retired lawyer and college professor, is the author of With Hitler in New York (1979), I Brake for ...

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A Young Writer’s Diary Entries From Early January, 1983

Now that I’ve experienced a loving gay relationship, I feel more alone than I did before I knew what I was missing. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of Sean; I’m surprised how affected I am by losing him. There’s no one I can talk to about it, and my letters to Susan, Stacy and Miriam have all been perfunctory. Denial, mostly.

A Young Writer’s Diary Entries From Late December, 1982

As we got into bed, Sean took off a high school ring and put it on the night table. I asked if it was his, and he said, “No, my boyfriend’s.” Sean never did lie to me, I know that. I always knew he was seeing other guys. I just feel foolish for thinking I was more important in his life than I actually was/am.

A Young Writer’s Diary Entries From Mid-December, 1982

This fall weather reminds me of the rough times I went through breaking up with Shelli and with Ronna; I’m annoyed with myself for being so vulnerable to Sean. Yet I’m also pleased, in a way, for this means I’m not yet dead emotionally – not if I can still feel these crazy feelings about Sean.

A Young Writer’s Diary Entries From Early November, 1982

The class seemed quiet until Benett and his friends started shrieking “Gay power!” and other chants I couldn’t make out. I went on with the punctuation lesson except for a comment about Tourette’s syndrome victims; Robbie caught my eye and smiled. Later, I told him I’d see him in the play he’s acting in.

A Young Writer’s Diary Entries From Late October, 1982

I was asking students to give me an adjective, and after two girls said “little” and “short,” I laughed and said, “You’re looking at me.” I heard Benett say, “Then they would have said faggot.” “That’s a noun,” I told him. “And here’s another noun for you: asshole.” He and a couple of his friends walked out of class.

A Young Writer’s Diary Entries From Early October, 1982

I heard those three goons in the back of the class call another kid (not to his face) “the fag”; they’ve also made anti-Semitic remarks. Today they guffawed throughout the class. Of course, it didn’t bother me that much because I’m going to have the last laugh. And so will the gay kid, Robbie, an outgoing, smart theater major.

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