Being locked out has been a self imposed restriction of a latent life style. Homosexuality was from the very earliest years of Sebastian’s life a guilty little deeply hidden reality there, but not to be openly acknowledged. Except during a youthful stolen moment or encounter, not consciously planned but acted upon when the opportunity availed itself.
The accepted norm governed by proper middle class morality was the life pattern to be aspired to, accepted and certainly not questioned or faulted. Those values taught that there were deviations in behavioral patterns of varied societies, but not talked about in his.
Time and education did expose Sebastian to the “facts of life” and its variants, but one didn’t talk about such things except in locker rooms or a discussion of “Lady Chatterlie’s Lover,” Oscar Wilde, and maybe the antics set down by Christopher Isherwood in advanced English Lit 101.
Most of the time the problem or condition, if even recognized remained dormant. The chosen and accepted heterosexual life style goal consumed all of his energies, except for those brief secret lapses when his guard was down and his libido up.
Life’s formulas were tried on for size, some fitting better than others, some even seemingly pleasant and successful when gauged by the conventional norm. Sometimes conformity appeared to have its rewards. Especially when he needed acceptance.
Sebastian was so guarded and so aware of needing to fit in. More often than not unsure of himself and seasoned with a good spoonful of self hate.
Finally the decision to marry his needy school sweetheart and begin the charade of marital bliss. Sometimes often the initial stumbling attempts at sex it actually worked, but in retrospect it seemed like mutual masturbation. Certainly no proper young lady would consider any deviation from the prescribed missionary script. Any oral advances were unheard of if not forbidden.
With such sketchy limited fornication Sebastian knew there was a reason or reasons why they both secretly knew they were unable to conceive. The solution for the ultimate conformist: adoption.
Sometime when there was a 3 year old at home while Daddy was baby sitting and Mommy out of town, he recalls a friendly trick made an unannounced stop at the house. While Junior was napping the friend and he drifted into an encounter that ended behind a closed bedroom door.
Only to be interrupted by a wee voice on the other side of the door pleading,
“Don’t lock me out.”
Daddy responded as his ardor shrank with some subterfuge about needing privacy and would be out in a minute. Quickly dressing and abandoning his naked friend to escape later, he exited and escorted little Junior to the kitchen for a cookie. The door was still locked and the secret still locked out of his conventional and frustrated double life.
To be continued..............
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