So, after almost two years of reading soc.motss, I decided to post here. I wrote this letter in Myconos (Greece) to my (female) friend, however my hand-writing is almost illegible, so I keyed it in when I returned back home. Some background information, which is known to my addressee, and is necessary to understand the letter: I am 32 years old gay man, came to America less then 5 years ago from Russia, came out only to Masha (my addressee) some 5 months ago. Masha's profession is psychology (there are few references to that in the letter). If you thought it was travelogue hit "n" now - it's kinda confession. 5-25-93 10:30pm Hi, sweety! I doubt if it is any practical to write you a letter. I am not even sure whether I am going to send it out. My impulse was to fix my state of the mind last night, but it (state of the mind) changed since then and therefore it would be reflections tonight about what did I felt last night. The keyword here is FELT. You know that I am not so much of a feeling person. But hot atmosphere of Myconos, overdose of gay people and all this stuff made one horny guy from thoughtful and wise man you knew. No, "horny" isn't correct word. Just somewhat of an adolescent who want to get laid. Distinction between two of these definitions is pretty significant. Here goes all the bullshit said on account of gays in the mili- tary. You know, there is The Nude gay Beach of the World - Super Paradise in Myconos. There are not only gays - straight couples, dykes, even innocent kids are there. Half of people naked, half clothed and it's not big deal for anyone. "Do you want to share shower with acknowledged gays?..." What a bullshit - nobody at- tacks nobody. People manage even hard-ons somehow. Well, back to my wanting to get laid. It was said that it's a snap to meet new friends on Myconos. I've heard it before (from Georgios the bridegroom). I overheard it few times here in talks in the bus. It doesn't work for me. I am very unsocial type (it has something to do with my socialist background). For 2 nights I go to Pierro's disco-bar - the epicenter of gay night-life of Myconos. All the people you could meet during the day all over the island are in and around starting 12:30 (after midnight, of course). In - dancing, around - just hanging around, looking at each other, starting new acquaintances. (I would seat alone, and none would come to me to say "Hi!," and I would rather die than do it myself. It can't be the language problem, half of people there are German, Swiss, Dutch or whatever. Oh, well...) And on the second night, early enough (when it wasn't too crowded in the dancing place) I see this gorgeous guy. The cutest one I saw here. Imagine Rob Lowe type (in the "About Last Night") only even cuter (with dark hair and dark eyes, and much better smile). He's with some older (40ish) guy in round glasses, or at least I thought he was with him. I am sipping my beer, they are sipping theirs. Dancing haven't even started yet. I am looking at him and just feel good that such beautiful creatures do exist. Nothing (almost) sexual is in this feeling. The same as when you look at nice kid or pretty pet. He moves to the other side of the room, orders some drink, returns to the other guy to get some money, then back to the bar-side. By that time the dancing starts. Two pairs do their "kiss-in" routines (you know, Queer Nation's way of kissing in shopping mall with the message "We are here, we are queer, get used to it!" or something like that). I saw them night before with the same act. Nothing disgusting about that, but the act is little bit over-done, and a little too exhibitionistic, and much too "the act." Then "a Texan guy" starts small talk with bespectacled old friend of the beauty (both on "my" side of the room). I met "the Texan" a night before (he was the only one who said How-are-you-doing to me - he didn't miss one person on Myconos with this). Stereotypi- cal blond with blond mustache, watered light blue eyes and almost in cowboy boots (at least I saw boots last night). I don't know why, but I dislike the type a lot. Anyway, I am dancing (and I don't think I am too bad at it after few beers) and I'm looking at the Prince Charming. He is looking at me!? I don't believe it, I think he is looking at somebody behind me - most probably his friend. I go away to my barstool, finish my beer, come back to dance-floor. He most definitely is looking at me. And smiles like an angel. With these great dim- ples. I don't know how to react. He starts to dance, extends his arms to me, takes my hands in his, hugs me. And then he tries to say something in my ear. The music is so loud that I wouldn't guess what it was even if he spoke English (or Russian for that matter). He's petting my beard and my cheeks and telling me something, which I interpret as that he thought I was Italian, in language, I am guessing, is French. I am trying to explain him my Russian-American nationality and that I don't speak any language other then English. We are hugging, I am kissing him in his neck. It's soft and smooth and smells beautifully. All this happens amongst the crowd and loud music, but I don't pay any attention - after all, that's gay bar, and nobody cares (it's my explanation now, when I righting it - I don't think I needed any excuse then). But, believe me, if he'd started to undress me right there and then I wouldn't object a second. He's touching me everywhere in my upper body and with the same angelic smile trying to tell me to do something - go to the bathroom? (Now I would guess may be he was trying to tell me to f**k off and go f**k myself, because he was looking at some other young guy. Now I think he may figured out my, let's say, un-athletic build, which was very well conceived under my pirate shirt. I wouldn't blame him for this - it can be very big turn-off - it is for me. I still can't figure it out what it was.) He is probably getting angry with me, but still he smiles. I go to the restrooms (he pointed to that direction). After some time he is in the stall, I come in. He is buckling (or unbuckling) his belt, I am trying to help him with it. (Yes, I am crazy, I would go down on him right there in bathroom if he'd let me - and I don't feel sorry for this inten- tion even now, 22 hours later.) But he doesn't let me. He pinches my cheeks, hugs me, tells me to stay there (all by gestures only - or I misinterpreted it altogether) and leaves. I translate it into Yiddish "gei kakun" ("go shit"). I feel he's lost all inter- est in me (if there were any). I don't know why I feel that, because he is still smiling. I am kidding myself that it was because of inability to find common language. I don't know if the time stopped. I can't estimate duration of this paragraph in astronomical time. Was it all only five minutes, or two hours, or an eternity? I went outside and drunk an orange juice for the next half an hour watching all people coming out. First I see "bespectacled" and "the Texan" coming together (by the way, they started kissing before we did). Then I saw my Prince Charming. Some time later I went in the same direction. After walking alongside seashore and onto the pier I found him sitting together with this other guy I saw he looked at when we cuddled. They were sitting arm in arm chatting. I walked in some distance and waved my hand casually - no response. The end of the tale. Now I wonder - didn't I dream all this story up. It was so symbolic of me not being IN the gay behavior, my lan- guage problems (forget the French), my shyness, my insecurities, my being in closet. I am more sober now. And I intend not get to this mood (to get laid). However I am ready to go out, and I am wearing the other dazzling shirt. (11:35pm) P.S. (5-26-93 4:30pm) Today I was at odd time in the town. (I made trip to Delos. Walking among remains of the most sacred place of the Greco-Roman civilization I thought of changing Latin "sic transit gloria mundi" to "sic transit gloria Dei," which I meant to be "thus ends glory of Gods" and that was quite scary thought.) When I was sitting in cafe looking at waterfront and drinking iced coffee I saw three men - Prince Charming, "bespectacled," and "the Texan" - walking nearby. I drunk my coffee in one gulp and walked in the direction where they disappeared. I found Prince Charming at postcard stand slowly looking at dozens of pretty cards there. I started to look at postcards too and when our eyes met (well, how would I know - sunglasses on both of us) I coyly said "Hi!" I started to pay more attention to the cards and didn't notice when and where he disappeared. This is an obsession. If I had some talent I'd invented the tale about "bespectacled" and the Prince, and it would be something like Mann's "Death in Venice." I started to think that it was my first love, my first love from the first sight, my first love without requital. I'd like to think that he is looking for Prince Charming too, and had mistaken me for the one for few short moments... P.P.S. (5-27-93 11:30pm in front of Pierro's) This part is not the prettiest of all, and I do wright it with some degree of reluctance. However it is immanent part of the whole story and probably a logical one. So without further ado. Last night I decided go to Pierro's just for dancing and to enjoy myself. Dancing started at 12:30, as usual. Before that I had 3 or 4 Metaxa brandies in Kastro Bar (no relation to the Castro in S.F. - but it is the most beautiful gay bar in Myconos, with classical music, cozy coaches and most extraordinary view of the Aegean Sea, especially at sunset). It's amazing though that all people (including myself) who enjoyed so much classical music - Bizet's Carmen, e.g. - by two o'clock ended up in Pierro's, and even Kastro's barman was there too. Anyway, returning to Pierro's. (Masha, dear, does this wandering of mind characterizes me as schizophrenic - or just as poor stylist?) I did enjoyed myself. I didn't get out even once for some fresh air. After hour or so I decided to stay until the place would be closed - I was just wondering what's going to happen at the end. Well, I was dancing just for pure joy of it, but was looking at some guys anyway. (By the way, an interesting phenomenon of straight couples in the gay disco. Straight women - it's easy to understand: good dancers around, and the safest place, if you want safety - but couples?) By four o'clock I was quite tired already and was kept alive by the "investigative interest" in what it was going to be in the end (and by slight hope that one of the guys I was looking at will pay some attention to me). And then something happened. A freaky looking blondish guy in ugly glasses... (What an obsession with, or rather against, glasses? From me, who started to wear contact lenses just three months ago, and who wore glasses all life. Isn't it a material for Freudian analysis?) ...The guy hugs me from behind, trying to dance in tact with me. It wasn't completely unusual behavior on this dance floor. I did something similar to this quite innocent- ly few times during the night (with members of acknowledged couples, though, so it was appropriate, I mean non-sexual, behav- ior). From this guy it was most definitely not a dancing step. When I turned around, he started to kiss me. (No, not the sweet necking I had with Prince Charming. He was almost hurting me.) I didn't like him a bit, as a matter of fact, I disliked him a lot, but... I guess, I was afraid to end this night alone (no matter what did I tell myself about "enjoying myself"), and deeply inside I was in need to hear the words that I would hear in ten minutes. So I let him to dance with me. We went outside. I learned he was Swedish (I didn't quite get his name, nor did I care to). I learned also that I was "so beautiful, he didn't believe it...", and that "he loved me so much." Every time he repeated this valuable information I disliked him even more. But then after all, I was in reversed position just two nights be- fore. And nobody ever called me beautiful (wonderful - yes, but not beautiful). And I wanted to be loved, or at least to have sex. May be, I thought, I would be able just get it and enjoy it. How naive I was. We've got to my room, we've got undressed and... nothing happened. I don't mean feelings, I mean pure physiology. Nothing, nill, zilch, nichevo. (Oh, my dear, it was safe, ex- tremely safe - this night I was more then able to control myself - if I would need such a control - unlike the other night. And I had all necessary protection in case I needed it - I didn't). You don't want details, but without me wanting him nothing worked. Of course, he was very lousy lover. I think I would've be able to do something if I "...loved someone so much..." and this someone was "...the most beautiful man on Earth..." (which I heard from him every minute). I told him that I didn't like him in the very beginning, but he answered it was OK with him. Soon I asked him to go home and showed him a way. It was first "real" sex in my life (I mean bed, lights on, guilt off) and - Oh, Boy! - was it a disaster! What was that all? I mean this four days crash course in being out, being in love, being loved, being disappointed, being disap- pointing. Have somebody set it up for me? Have I set it up for myself? Was it something important - or was it really insignifi- cant? Is there Prince Charming for me somewhere to which I am the one too? Will I be able to be gay and happy? Why all this is happening with me now, not sixteen years ago? This morning I decided to go tomorrow to Naxos of all Cycladic Islands - it was promised to be quiet there. It is one o'clock now, and I am still sitting in front of Pierro's. I am not going in tonight. I will be sorry about my running away from Myconos. I fear this place. I love it. I will return here when I'll be much more sure in myself, or, better yet, with my boyfriend... I love you too. Vadim. -- Vadim at home (vadim@netcom.com)