In the 1960’s some people thought I should or would be thinking like some typical horny hetero-boy when it came down to my deepest desires for female closeness in my teen years.
It wasn’t like that. As a pre-teen to young teen, I never thought of touching girls on their inner thigh or slipping my hand under a bra to cup a breast.
My desire in liking someone was to bravely talk out loud. To overcome the inertia of shyness. It wasn’t about T&A. My imagination was left at holding hands, hugging, or fantasizing about tender, innocent kisses with my same gender crush. Slow dancing. Going to a beach or walking in a park. A picnic. A hike. Mere conversation took my breath away.
I wasn’t a hetero-boy, seeking a molestation of a local girl or their cousin for a physical thrill to brag about or to secretly covet that I copped a feel - Like I know happened many times in the neighborhood to unwilling girls. I wanted to explore attraction and the art of being close to another whom I liked, and then have that feeling of closeness returned without ridicule or being called sick.
It was not about sweaty palms on a moist body part, which seems to be the only way the warped part of society thinks of teen lesbians and gays: sex+sex. It was about heart+heart. It was about interests being the same - Catching one another in a timid stare that cast a shy invitation to approach and talk as profoundly as a teen could about life’s potential offerings. We wanted to talk of mutual attractions in the very tender center - in the heart of our youth. Kids are no different today.
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