The "Ever fancied a teacher?" thread had inspired me to tell this non-fiction story to you guys. It's about a crush I had on a 25-year-old teacher back in high-school. I posted this in the thread, but I then I thought it might be more appropriate in a thread of its own. He was charming and funny. Physically, he had a dynamic and very pretty face; it was attractive beyond reason!!), a beautiful perfect smile and a perfectly toned body. His arms and legs were lean but very muscular, his pecs were thick and perfectly shaped; he's one of those guys where their muscular tits jut out saliently from their shirts and every girl and gay guy stares at them. (sorry :rolleyes. Above all, he taught British literature. He also became my one-on-one tutor, combined with the fact that he was teaching one of my favorite subjects at the time. Besides from the physical attaction, he was also a warm person. At least from the start he was. He was so kind when we first met. He'd always smiled and tried to cheer people up when they were having a bad day. He was such a sweet guy. Unfortunately, my endless water of feelings for him would not last. I later learned that he was an ex-gay; sadly, I didn't learn it an easy way: I was involved, and I got my feelings deeply hurt along the way. My junior year was the year that I almost made it affirmative that I would start living a life trying to become celibate or to live heterosexist, at least for as long as I can. I too was ex-gay but to a much smaller extent than he was. After walk-in tutoring sessions that I go to in his classroom, I would say bye to him with a hug. The thing about my hugs were, well, I kind of wanted him to know that I really wanted to marry him, so I made a few small romantic caresses at his back (while I’m still hugging him). Each time, he would make subtle faces of being uncomfortable. Also, a few times I subtly took eye at his breasts (as I was describing them earlier ), but I think he noticed. Here’s what caught my suspicion, though: every time I do, his eyes seem to light up; the light was always dim, but I absolutely saw it in his eyes! Finally, One evening, at the end of a walk in tutoring session, as I was about to give him a hug, he blew out to me, “Anthony, just…okay, you really need to stop touching me!! I really don’t like what you’re doing!!” He looked pretty mad. I asked him if everything was okay and if he wanted talk about whatever might be bothering him; I maybe attracted to guys, but I was also compassionate and caring. Then, he said, “No. No, everything’s not okay! My problem is YOU!” At that moment, my heart started to pound and called out, “distress!” He then said something like, “I don’t know what kind of pervert you think I am, but whatever it is, I don’t appreciate your ‘flitting’ with me. It makes sick to the stomach!” I honestly didn’t know what to say. I was just frozen there. I wanted to break down into a river of tears. It was just that horrible. I did manage to make out an apology to him, that I didn’t mean to make him feel uncomfortable; they were, after all, just hugs. He was then, “Yeah, Ok! Just don’t get so close to me anymore. If you do, I’ll report you for violating my private space and for sexual harassment!” I never saw such an ugliness upon his face before! I just nodded my head in agreement, but I was crying a lake inside. It was so horrible! He then shoved me along my way; I thought myself it was really time to leave anyways. We then didn’t speak to each other very much anymore. From that day on, things really changed between us. The friendship we had for one another and my secret love for him as a person and as a charming attractive figure all plunged with the ship to the bottom of the ocean. “Sexual harassment…sexual harassment…” I keep asking myself, even today, what was that all about. He couldn’t have possibly meant it that profoundly, could he? Could simple friendly hugs like that really be construed as an act of sexual vex? I know I made those minor caresses that I described earlier, but even they weren’t very sexual. As tempting as it was to be all over him (I’m not going to lie), I always made sure that I met his boundaries and that my hugs weren’t inappropriate. I didn’t have the desire to make anyone uncomfortable. But now, every so often when I accidentally hug a homophobe or even make a small friendly caress to a girl friend or a gay guy friend, I think about the horrible things that my dream teacher in Junior year said to me that one day, and I couldn’t breath! It sucked the blood out of my heart like a vacuum cleaner. I also think about the few times I subtly looked at his breasts. Was it such a good idea, even if it was out of a crush? Maybe that’s also what he meant by “boundaries”. Then again, what was with his eyes lighting up behind the veil? It didn’t end there! No, about a week later, I bumped into him at the park nearby the school. I smiled a little at him with barely a hello; I didn’t know if it was okay to even talk to him anymore. He, however, spoke to me, “Anthony, we really need to talk,” in a calmer tone than he used back in the classroom that one evening. There was a nearby bench. I thought things between us were, at that point, going to improve, at least a little. No, actually, it didn’t! He confronted me with the homerun question, “Do you like guys?” I told him that I do. OH! Then, something happened that I cannot believe even today that I did. Guess what it is?? I blurted out that I had a dire crush on him!! I followed up with a few sentences. He reacted very poorly and said a lot of homophobic stuff to me that I don’t feel comfortable repeating here. Some of the less nasty things that he said that I feel okay repeating here were that I was going to go to hell if I didn’t change (remember that, being a partial ex-gay, I believed it myself and he only made the image worse!) and that gay men were sick perverts, one of the lowest of the low-lives. He told me straight out that he never wanted to speak to me again. This time, I couldn’t help but outright break down in tears. He left, and I sat there crying for what seemed like an hour. It was then summer two months later. I returned for my senior year in the fall. He was teaching the same thing again that year, British Lit. And now, here was the final blow, the thing that socked me in the stomach completely. Ready? After all the things that he said to me, he appeared in my small town’s local news paper that year, and it wasn’t good about him. He got arrested for having sex with three male students in the bathroom! Two of them were freshmen, and one of those freshmen was a questioning queer! The case of the third student appeared have taken place around the time when the hugging incident happened to me; it was then little wonder to me why he exploded at me and accused me of sexual harassment when all I did that one day was give him a friendly hug. I thought, after ALL the things he said to me that one evening when I hugged him, after ALL the things that he said to me at the park, THIS happened! How do you like that?? In the newspaper, he mentioned how he has been having homosexual “struggles” ever since he was 9. At that point, he thought he would never marry because he didn’t feel any attraction to girls. None, whatsoever! He then said he was eventually changed and became straight, living a life with God guiding his ‘beautiful heterosexuality’ and his ‘wife’. He then said something like, oh, it’s not as bad as what gay propagandists may make it seem like! He simply fell of the band-wagon when he did the three students. At the end of the article, he made a formal apology to them for raping them. “I sincerely had no intention to recruit these innocent boys who were closer to God then I’d ever be. Bless their little hearts for being a beacon of God’s light.” The court sentenced him to 6 years in prison; he’s still in there today. (“Bless their little hearts…” Hmmm. Sounds kind of like a gay line to me, doesn’t it? ) Anyways, there were rumors spreading at the school the next few days that the two freshmen guys were showing other fellow students the teacher’s large semen puddle in the bathroom as proof of the raping. I didn’t bother to believe these rumors, whether or not they were true. I didn’t care anymore. It was all way too much for me to bear. Now, all I have left are the memories of the good times when we didn’t know each other that well and the bad times when he was nasty and homophobic to me because he couldn’t himself accept that he liked guys (not to mention young students!). Above all, the things I have left of him are the memories of my bruised feelings and the emotional torment I went through at the time. I started dropping the idea of celibacy and living a heterosexist life at the end of the year. The teacher, regardless of how hot and sexy he was, was not good to me, but in a way, he was the one who saved me a lifetime of torment: he showed me that it really isn’t worth it to “change”, even if my being partially ex-gay and to a small extent couldn’t compare to the ex-gay he was being. I even feel like I should have thanked him for it. This is my true story involving a simple yet deep crush I once had on my 25-year-old teacher.
