PREFACE
During spring break of my junior year in college, I was reading the "New Yorker" magazine and came across an article with the intriguing title of "The Naked Face. "Rarely does one read a magazine article that has a profound effect on one's life. But it happened to me. This is the account of the life I had before reading the article and the stark contrast to the life I'm able to lead now.
Before chronicling the change in my life, permit me to briefly summarize what I learned from the article and subsequent research. All of us, when communicating face-to-face, send signals to others through facial expressions, body posture, gestures, and other nonverbal means. We also receive those signals from others. Some are obvious: a grin or a frown. Experts claim that as much as 90% of the meaning is carried by nonverbal cues. Many are not so obvious but still influence the interpretation of the spoken words. That much has been known for a very long time. Since the 1960s, however, some extremely subtle -- almost imperceptible -- facial expressions have been identified. Interestingly, they are completely involuntary and cannot be suppressed. We may not even be consciously aware of our own instant and instinctive facial expressions. We rarely if ever notice them in others because they are extremely brief, lasting less than a second before the conscious mind has a chance to take control and mask, if necessary, the initial reaction.
Because they are so short, they've come to be called "microexpressions." Each of the seven universal emotional states (disgust, anger, fear, sadness, happiness, surprise, and contempt) is revealed by unique movements of different facial muscles. It requires skill to recognize a microexpression before it is replaced with what the listener's brain dictates as a socially or politically correct reaction. Learning to recognize them can have a powerful influence on understanding of others' true feelings and on a relationship. Whether the other person is a stranger or someone close to you, microexpressions can confirm or refute the spoken response to what you say. Because they are unconscious and cannot be controlled, they more accurately reflect emotions, attitudes, and opinions. Unfortunately, it takes concentration and a lot of practice to develop skill in recognizing them. [If you want to know more, Google "microexpressions."]
Now, on with the story.
PART 1 -- BEFORE I KNEW
As I entered puberty, I was fascinated with the male body -- and in particular -- male genitalia. My brother was three years older and we had never been shy or modest around each other. I was amazed at how his penis grew, how his pubic hair gradually changed from a sparse sprinkling to a thicket, and how his testicles hung lower. He noticed me frequently looking at his emerging manhood but dismissed it with a casual comment, "Yours will grow too, Jimmy." That was little consolation. Ted was not only my brother; he was my best friend and I idolized him. I wanted to be just like him. I wasn't ashamed of my little stub of a penis but I wanted it to grow to be like his. I wanted to be manly like him.
I found that my fascination with male genitalia intensified in gym class at school. In the shower and changing in the locker room, I paid close attention to my classmates' development. But only for a while! I soon learned that it was unacceptable to look too often or too long. The comments elicited by too long of a visual examination went beyond the rude to the vicious. Still, I was able to catch quick glances. I envied those who were farther along toward manhood than I was. When I finally started developing, I was delighted. And proud. But by that time, I knew better than to display my achievement too flagrantly.
My nearly constant fixation on other guys' body and equipment forced me to face a disturbing reality. I came to realize that I was not merely curious about naked guys; I was sexually attracted to them. I had no interest in females. There was but one conclusion: I was gay!
I went through periods of denial, guilt, and depression. And there was no one I could talk to that might put my mind at ease. My parents' devotion to their religion and politics expressed itself as disgust for gay behavior. My brother echoed their sentiments. I felt isolated. Afraid. Ashamed.
But my feelings could not be dismissed. As I masturbated in my private world of fantasy, Alex Carpenter was my frequent, imaginary companion. Alex and I had gone to school together since the third grade. He lived just two blocks away and we would sometimes have sleepovers at his house or mine. One sleepover was particularly difficult for me. We stripped down to our underwear to go to bed. When I saw his half-naked body, those forbidden feelings arose to consume my thoughts. I turned off the bedside lamp but we continued to chat. After a while, he started talking about Shirley, a well-developed girl at school, and wondered what it would be like to "get in her panties." I had zero interest in Shirley or any other girl but, to bolster my disguise as a straight, I said, "I get horny just thinking about her."
"Me, too," he said. Then, in a surprising admission, he added, "In fact, I've got a hard-on right now."
I was also hard -- from thinking of Alex, not Shirley. I had seen him naked several times in the shower after gym class. He seemed to be fully through puberty and carried a lot of weight between his legs. But I had never seen him with an erection. His hard-on was right there under the covers next to me. I suddenly got an overpowering desire to see it. I had never seen a hard-on other than my own. My desire became an obsession, which, after some more sexy talk, caused me to ask, "You still hard, Alex?"
"Yeah."
Summoning all my courage, I said, "Wanna jerk off? I do."
"No!" he answered emphatically.
He was lying but I didn't know it. Much later I found out that he wanted what I wanted but was afraid to admit it. If I knew then what I know now, I would have seen by his microexpression that he was lying. I could have guided further discussion and might have won his agreement to jerk off together even though his initial response was "No!" As it turned out, we both fell asleep frustrated. It was a lost opportunity that meant I had to forego sex with another guy for longer than necessary.
Three months later, the situation changed. I was staying overnight at his house. Our conversation again turned to sex. Unlike before, however, he agreed to jerk off with me. During several subsequent sleepovers, we routinely jerked off together. I was delighted to have a jerk-buddy. But I wanted more.
One night, I suggested, "How `bout we jerk each other off?"
"No!" he said.
I'm sure his microexpression would have revealed his willingness before his conscious mind took control and refused the suggestions. Once again, the chance to engage in something approaching real sex was delayed. It was several weeks before he agreed to mutual masturbation. We had lost several weeks of time to pleasure each other.
Once he had grown comfortable with jerking each other, I asked if I could suck his dick. "No!" he shot back. "That's gay!"
If I knew then what I know now, I might have seen a microexpression that contradicted his words. It's likely that his true feelings were immediately overpowered by his conscious mind. Had I known that, I might have pursued the matter and got what I wanted -- what we both wanted. I had to be content with jerking off together throughout my high school years.
Late in the summer after we graduated from high school, he let me suck his dick and he sucked mine. "That was awesome," he said. "I wish we had done it sooner."
I wished the same thing. While I was delighted that Alex and I eventually enjoyed sex, I regretted that we had wasted too much time before it happened. I was reminded of a line in a poem by Whittier: "For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: It might have been."
By the time I went away to college, I had accepted my sexuality although I lived with two problems. One was that I felt it necessary to keep my interests in the closet; I feared the ridicule, condemnation, and persecution from friends and family who meant a lot to me. The second was more painful. I was increasingly frustrated over the apparent impossibility of finding a partner and enjoying sex with him. I didn't know what to do about it. I craved intimacy with a guy but had no clue as to how to attain it. Whenever I thought there might be a remote chance of coupling with a guy, I would very carefully make subtle but suggestive remarks but they were completely ignored. If I knew then what I know now, I may have detected an interest that could have been exploited.
Sean Grady was a perfect example. We became very good friends and not only because we were in the same fraternity pledge class. We had a lot in common and he was always fun to pal around with. He was strikingly handsome, which only added to my fascination with him and caused me to fantasize about exploring his naked body. But he dated several girls over the course of the school year and, in a few rare moments, would confide that he wanted to bed one or another of his dates. If I knew then what I know now, I would no doubt have detected that his comments (bragging?) about his girl friends were nothing more than an act to cloak his true nature, which was revealed two years later when he became an activist for gay rights.
That were surely many more missed opportunities because I was not perceptive enough to recognize signs of interest in possible partners.
There were also disappointments. One was Chad Adkins. We sat next to each other in a sophomore history class and became good friends. Just before midterm exams, he asked if I wanted to study for the exam together. I readily agreed. After three marathon hours of reviewing the text and our class notes, he said, "I'm exhausted. I think we're as ready as we'll ever be. Okay if we quit?"
"No problem," I replied. "I don't think continuing would do any good."
We closed the text and put away our notes. But he didn't want to go back to his dorm room. Nor did I want him to leave; I enjoyed his company. We talked for a while and then he started to send signals that I thought were increasingly suggestive. For example, it was he that turned our conversation toward sex. It was he who first mentioned how horny he got. It was he who, when we went down the hall to the toilets, took the urinal next to mine and looked too often and too long at my penis. Encouraged by what I felt were deliberate signals, I matched what I thought was his progressively suggestive remarks with more of the same. Judging from what he said, I was sure would be willing to have sex. Right then and there! But I was judging based on his comments only and was totally unaware of his microexpressions.
I was quite sure that he was leading me on but lacked the courage to say what he wanted. So I got bolder, "You can't wait for a chance to get sex. You have to make a chance. Nothing ventured, nothing gained." He smiled at me -- a good sign. I pressed on, "For example, suppose you're horny right now. Suppose you want to spend the night here. If that's true, you gotta seize the opportunity."
He gathered his stuff, stood, and said, "I'm not horny. I don't want to spend the night here. See ya tomorrow in class." He walked out, leaving me to wonder whether, in spite of his previous behavior, I had come on too fast and too hard. I wondered if, like Alex and Chad, he wanted sex but couldn't bring himself to say so. Or was my interpretation of his behavior biased by my wishful thinking?
We remained friends. I'll never know whether he forgave my brashness or regretted passing up the opportunity for sex.
There were other disappointments during my first two years of college -- times when I felt sure that another guy was a potential bed-partner but, when the conversation began to get more explicit, it ended abruptly. To this day, I wonder whether I would have had more success if I had been able to recognize microexpressions and capitalize on the information it provided..
I sadly admit that my goal at that time was no more than sex -- gratification of primal urges -- carnal pleasure. It would be later that I recognized the importance of respect, commitment, and love in a permanent relationship.
PART 2 -- THE TRANSITION PERIOD
The article on microexpressions stimulated my interest enough that I researched the topic as thoroughly as I could. Midway through my research, it occurred to me that having the ability to recognize and interpret microexpressions might have prevented the frustrating delays and disappointing failures I had experienced in finding a sexual partner. I resolved to develop my skill in order to achieve what I yearned for. I created opportunities to test and refine my ability. For example, I would mention in casual conversation some real or invented pain I had experienced as a child. I hoped to detect instantaneous movement of facial muscles associated with sadness. I would mention something revolting, hoping to spot the immediate but very brief signs of disgust. I would refer to a politician whose views were opposite to those of my listener and watch for a microexpression denoting contempt.
Three months into my experiment, I became discouraged. Too many times, I didn't see what I expected to see. Too many times, I confused one microexpression with another. What was I doing wrong? Or was the whole concept wrong?
Encouraged by a few successes, however, I persisted. I began to see more. I was able to recognize and interpret instantaneous facial changes more often. I gained confidence and was motivated to continue honing my skill. A great help was another interesting discovery in my research of nonverbal communication. Movement of the eyes while speaking (up/down/straight ahead and left/right/centered) indicates whether the individual is recalling something from memory or fabricating. These eye movements are also subconscious but are much easier to identify because they last far longer than an instantaneous microexpression. They are nearly infallible evidence of whether the person is speaking the truth or is lying.
Sometimes, the microexpression was the polar opposite of what a person said. For example, in a conversation with another student, I brought up the subject of gay rights. His words expressed sympathy for persecuted gays but the microexpression that preceded his words signaled contempt. He was only mouthing what he thought were politically acceptable words in the situation when, in fact, they did not correspond at all to his fundamental attitudes and opinion. At other times, the microexpression and spoken words were aligned, confirming that the person was speaking truthfully. My brother, Ted, for example, was not merely expressing my parents' values when he condemned homosexuality; his microexpressions confirmed that he felt genuine contempt.
Months of concentrated effort was beginning to show results. I continued to experiment and practice. I still made mistakes but the percentage of successes gradually increased.
My practicing continued throughout the summer and, as I began my senior year in college, I was determined to use my skill to find a willing partner among the majority of straights and those (like Alex, Sean, and probably Chad) who shared my interests but were afraid to admit it.
PART 3 -- EARLY SUCCESS
I met Brian Moore in the Student Union cafeteria. The place was crowded and he asked if he could sit with me at my table. Over lunch, we exchanged information in casual conversation. As the friendly banter continued, I found I was attracted to him; he was remarkably handsome. What better time to practice my skill -- this time with a goal of assessing his sexual interests. I asked him if he had a girlfriend. I was quite sure that I saw a microexpression of fear before he grinned and said, "No. Maybe someday."
Why would he be afraid? He might be secretly gay and in the closet like me. That would make him a potential fulfillment of my need. But there could be a host of other reasons. He might have had a careless encounter with a casual date and she was pregnant. There were too many possible reasons. I would need more clues.
I pursued my oblique interrogation. "I'll bet you've had lots of girls flirt with you."
The fear microexpression was more pronounced. "I suppose," he said with a grin that contradicted his spontaneous reaction. "But all girls do that, don't they?"
He then changed the subject. Why? To avoid revealing whatever it was that he feared?
We finished eating. As we rose to leave, I said, "It was good to meet you, Brian. We should get together again. How about supper tonight?"
We agreed to meet back in the cafeteria at six.
You've probably guessed the outcome of my meeting Brian. Over our evening meal, I deftly guided the conversation and read his reactions sufficiently well to convince myself that he was a closet gay. Upon that evidence I invited him back to my dorm room with the hope and at least a moderate degree of confidence that I could persuade him to spend the night. Once in my room, I kicked off my shoes and took off my shirt. His overt glance at my bare torso was brief but it was accompanied by a microexpression of happiness. It took forty five minutes of carefully guided conversation but I came out to him, thinking that it would reduce the barriers in his mind over revealing his interests. Thirty minute later, he came out to me. We spent a glorious night together in bed. Two virgin adventurers in the thrilling land of carnal ecstasy.
We became frequent bed partners. Within a few weeks of our first meeting, we agreed that there could be no permanent relationship; both of us needed to maintain our straight façade. But also, until our graduation and we went our separate ways, we would enjoy fantastic sex whenever we could.
Shortly after Christmas break, we were cuddled together after another very satisfying sexual experience, I was feeling grateful for my good fortune in having a sex partner. But he had become more than that. I fancied a permanent relationship with Brian who was not just great in bed but was a very good friend. He was intelligent, had a fine sense of ethics, and frequently displayed a refreshing sense of humor. Our personalities seemed to fit together. When I was with him (in bed or not), I felt fulfilled. He offered everything that had been missing in my life. When we were apart, my thoughts frequently returned to Brian and the anticipation of seeing him again. The thought of graduation and parting ways was an increasingly troubling cloud on the horizon.
By that time, I had told him about my reading of microexpressions and how it had facilitated our coupling. His first reaction was anger as evidenced in his microexpression and confirmed by his outburst, "So you used that to seduce me?" he exclaimed with undisguised emotion.
"Guilty as charged," I replied. "But I would never have done it without being convinced that it was what you wanted. Can you forgive me?"
His anger faded. "Yes, I can forgive you. But more than that, I thank you. I'm glad you did!" His smile was just what I had hoped for. After a pause, he added, "So that's how you so often seem to read my mind?"
"'Fraid so," I grinned.
"And why you always seem to know when I'm holding back and not telling you how I feel?"
"'Fraid so."
"Can you teach me how to do it?" he asked.
"I think so. It will take a lot of practice but I think you can do it, too. And by the way, there's no need to use the skill with me. Since we've become good friends, I've always been honest with you. I don't conceal anything from you. I won't even try if I know you can read my microexpressions."
Brian was a very good student. I pointed him to a number of reference articles that he studied intently. I often pointed out the need to confirm a suspicion based on a single instance. I encouraged him when his early attempts, like mine, were not successful. I sometimes tried to trick him by overtly saying something that contradicted my real feelings; in each case, however, I would either congratulate him for detecting the discrepancy or correct the deliberately false impression that I given him.
There was a bitter-sweet nature to his new-found ability. On the positive side, it significantly deepened the trust in our relationship. I felt -- and he agreed -- that each of us had become far more aware of the other's needs and wants and therefore more eager to do what would please the other. When our needs and wants were in conflict, we more easily arrived at a compromise. For example, when our relationship had progressed, I asked if he wanted to try anal sex.
He said, "Okay," but his microexpression revealed disgust.
"You really don't want to, do you?" I asked.
"Well," he began hesitantly, "I don't. But if it's what you want, I'll do it."
After more discussion, we arrived at a compromise that we were both happy with. He would bottom for me but I wouldn't expect him to penetrate me. (That agreement was modified later when he confessed, "I never realized how good it would feel to be fucked. Let me do it to you so you'll know how it feels." From that point on, we satisfied each other anally as well as orally.)
Our emotional bonding steadily grew stronger. That, however, exposed a negative side: we had agreed to part ways as friends upon graduation. The pain of that thought became intolerable.
PART 4 -- ULTIMATE SUCCESS
During spring break, we were sitting on the grass on a knoll in a park on a warm, sunny day and watching some boys playing soccer in the field below us. "Brian," I began, "We initially got together for sex and it's been the best thing that has ever happened to me. We agreed that it was jut for sex ... just until graduation. I want to reconsider that because ... well ... because I've fallen in love with you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Would you be willing to ... that is ... how do you feel about living together?"
He turned to me and said, "I've learned that I can't lie to you, Jim, so I'll tell you the truth."
The beginning of his answer to my question encapsulated the bedrock of our relationship: we were consistently honest with each other. No hidden motives. No compulsion to deceive in order to cover up secret thoughts. Instead, a complete willingness to open ourselves to each other and to mutually work our any disagreements. What could be more essential and fundamental to a committed relationship? All of which, I'm convinced, was made possible by our ability to precisely assess the other's feelings first through reading microexpressions and later by explicit and honest sharing of information and emotions.
He continued. "I would like to. Very much. But there are too many problems. My family. Your family. We would both lose something we care about. Even if they accepted us, even if they tolerated our homosexuality, there would be damage to family relationships. That would be painful. To them and to us. And then there's the persecution from friends who would no longer be friends. Believe me, I've thought about it a lot. I've enjoyed the sex but I enjoy being with you more than just for sex. I'm very fond of you as a person. I guess I could even say I love you. But we're between the proverbial rock and a hard place. Both choices involve pain. Not living together means we would lose what we've enjoyed. Living together would cause pain to our families. And to us because of the loss of our families' love. Do we really want to subject our families to that pain?"
How like Brian! Thinking of others instead of or in addition to himself. I knew he was being truthful when he said he loved me. We had long since abandoned the need to read microexpressions and we trusted each other to be honest with each other at all times. I knew that his concern for maintaining a close relationship with his family was very important to him. Therefore, I could think of nothing to say to change his mind. The loving relationship we had developed, that started with sex but grew into something far more meaningful, was doomed. I couldn't help feeling as though graduation from college would be the death of an extremely important part of me.
A week later, we were locked in a loving embrace, naked, and in bed after a glorious hour of intimate bonding and sexual gratification. I hoped that the time was right to revisit our plans for the future. This time, however, I was prepared with a suggestion that might resolve our dilemma.
"You know, Brian, we could live together as room mates, not as a gay couple. It's not that unusual for recent college grads to share rent. We don't have to come out to anybody. But we'd be with each other. We wouldn't have to give up what we have together. To our families and the outside world, we would just be friends. But when we're alone we could be lovers. Sure, it's a game of deception but it's a game where everybody wins. We're happy; our families are happy. I think we could do it. What do you think?"
"I think you're a mind-reader. Not only can you read my expressions but now you seem to be able to probe into my brain. I had the same idea -- even the part about living straight in public but loving each other in private. I was going to suggest it to you but ... well ... I wasn't sure what you'd think of me for changing my mind. After all, I was quite firmly against it just last week."
"Not only do I admire you for changing your mind," I enthused, "But you've given me the happiest moment of my life. I don't know what I'd do if we separated at graduation. Now I can look forward to loving you forever."
We sealed our agreement with a long and very passionate kiss.
It was as if a migraine headache that had persisted for a long time suddenly dissipated. The painful dread of losing the man I loved vanished. I could think of nothing but the joy of lasting love.