Chapter 15: Greater Intimacy

The summer flowed into fall and colder months, with colder nights.

I was reminded of an earlier moment when it was still summer like and I thought I was the newbie at least more than I was among this social circle. I realized that Lynn was quiet at the poetry readings or elsewhere. She wasn't looking for recognition or attention in those settings. She wasn't trying to achieve something. I remembered going canoeing with some of the regulars at the poetry readings. I much more than Lynn was. But then I remember this guy named Will referring to Lynn as "the girl in the canoe with Bruce."

Lynn had been coming to these readings longer than I had. She even had a degree in English like most of the other regulars. To me, it had seemed that she would be the one who fits in more naturally with this crowd.

In November, we went to the beach dressed in warm coats... the sun had set and it was dark. We climbed a lifeguard's platform. We were standing. The wind blew across the dark beach making it even colder.

"It's cold," she said as she turned in the direction of the ocean. I was behind her looking in the same direction. I wrapped my arms around her from behind her.

I was confused about my physical arousal. This had not been the first time I noticed this happening. I was still haunted by religious brainwashing but everything that was happening was so right. I'm not just talking about this night. Our feelings, passions, desires spoke making everything seem so inevitable. All my religious beliefs about signs of physical arrousal being wrong could not deter what was happening. Not even in my mind could I hold onto the same ideas about sexual arousal being dirty or wrong.

Don't imagine, dear reader, that during this time period I am leaving out details about what happened. You don't have to wonder if I left out details about whether we went further than kissing or holding each other. I'll get more specific, in a moment, about what was happing during this time period.

I felt a sense of peace in my life. As winter moved into Wilmington, I found work in the human services field working with individuals with developmental disabilities and other similar problems. It's amazing how we can find solutions that match our career trajectory when we are psychologically healthy.

Lynn and I would kiss so passionately at my place when the roommates were out and at her place on Wrightsville Beach. Mostly at her place. My roommate Donna had rented a second room to a nice girl named Terri.

It was awkward when I showed up at her place and her stepfather, Bob, was there because he was not much into making conversation. He spent almost one week every month at the house. He was a pilot for one of the big airlines and so he made good money. I felt like I had to make some conversation with him because technically it was his house along with Diane, Lynn's mother. My parents would have made it known if this was their home.

At one point, I had to ask Lynn, "should I be more polite to him and think of things to say?" I asked her.

She said "no, he's just like that. If he doesn't talk, you don't have to talk to him."

This is what I mean by Lynn having a strong sense of self-esteem. No one was going to control her or disrespect her! I wish I had maintained that attitude with my own family as preparation for how I should insist that everyone treat me. There was nothing shy about Lynn when it came to her stepfather, what she wanted, how she expected to be treated.

I was attracted to the fact that I was not getting anywhere with Lynn if it were not what she wanted as well. I never did like the idea that the guy had to make the first move. It would have allowed me to wonder if Lynn wanted me, wanted to be close, wanted to spend time together as much as I wanted those things.

It was just awkward from time to time when he was there. If he answered the door, he would just say "come on in" and then shout "Lynn."

I would then hear, "coming" from Lynn.

Bob didn't try to make conversation. He acted as if I wasn't there. So, I didn't say anything either. There was no "thank you for inviting me in." "How are you, today, Bob?" Still, if we were hanging out together in a common room and Bob was there, I didn't like Lynn to walk away because if Bob came walking by it felt awkward because he didn't speak.

I didn't need his approval though. It also was clear that what we did together was none of Bob's business!

As an aside, I mentioned that Lynn had Cystic Fiborsis (CF) earlier. I was able to push aside the actual meaning of this and we had a “normal” relationship. I knew that it caused excess mucus to build up in her body. It made it hard for her to digest food. She had to take pills with every meal. She had a cough. It affected her lungs and her breathing. She couldn’t get air in her lungs as easily as others. While I pushed this to outside our attention so that we could have a normal life, I wasn’t unaware of or unconcerned about her breathing.

Intimate Encounters

Lynn could tell when I was uneasy around Bob, so we often retreated to her room—our safe space. Sometimes we’d talk for hours, lost in conversation. Other times, we’d simply lose ourselves in each other.

Her room became a kind of sanctuary, especially when we were alone in the house. Even when her mother visited, Lynn always had her privacy. But when it was just the two of us, the world disappeared. What remained was quiet, intense, and deeply real.

Desire built slowly and honestly. There was no game-playing between us. When we kissed, it wasn’t something I did to her or she did to me—we were kissing. Every gesture, every pause, every breath was shared. It felt like our bodies were moving with a single voice. It was as if our bodies were communicating in a language I never knew before.

Because of her Cystic Fibrosis, I was always mindful—particularly when I was above her. "Am I too heavy?" I asked more than once, meaning something deeper: Are you okay? Can you breathe okay?

Initially she said “no,” so swiftly to return to the moment and our passion.

Then, she answered not just with words but with her arms, wrapping herself around me and pulling me closer—as if to say, Don’t interrupt this. The intensity of how tightly she held me told me that she wasn’t going to let me interrupt anythng that was happening.

We weren’t undressing at all, but our intimacy became a common aspect of our encounters. I remember my hands beneath her shirt, touching the soft skin of her back, trailing gently up her side. It seemed almost as if every motion was something that just happened. Perhaps her body moved in some way that suggested how she wanted to be caressed. That doesn’t say it all because it would suggest that I wasn’t just as driven by a desire to caress her skin.

It was confusing that what I was experiencing was both exciting, thrilling and yet the experiences were also full of peaceful contentment. I suppose our level of intensity was increasing.

When I reached to caress her breast, I found myself reaching under her bra - again concerned about hurting her. She sensed my awkwardness. She sat up, removed her bra from under her shirt, keeping her shirt on, slid back down onto her back and pulled me back toward her. Her shirt stayed on. In my mind, it seeemed that she knew that I was hessitant to go to far. Lynn wasn’t religious but she knew I was.

And still—my body reacted in a way I hadn’t fully prepared for. The lingering conditioning from my Catholic upbringing crept in as embarrassment. There was no voice in my head saying, “You’ve sinned,” but there was this vague echo of a childhood message: Keep space for the guardian angel. Don’t go too far. Don’t get too excited.

But the sense of how right this was the strongest idea within me.

When I slipped away to clean up in the bathroom, I felt like I was keeping something hidden, something I learned to hide as a child. I had not outgrown that instinctual and non-verbal belief that there was something shameful about what happened. That old shame wasn’t hers . She had never made me feel embarrassed. It was mine, unspoken and buried.

She hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t either. But there I was, unsure how to reconcile what my body knew was beautiful with what my past had labeled “too much.”

Looking back now, I understand. She wasn’t waiting for permission. She was reading my pace and offering me reassurance. If I had gone further, she would have gone with me—not out of pressure, but because she wanted me. Because she loved me.

And yes, I was still a virgin. So was she. But that wasn’t what made those nights significant. What mattered was that we were discovering each other. Holding each other with honesty. Exploring a kind of closeness I had never known - one where the desire for someone to be close to me held new meaning. That expression of desire by Lynn for closeness to me said something so powerful and it spoke to a form of toxic shame that I had carried too long.

I was no longer the outsider, the family scapegoat.

This wasn’t a story of one person leading and the other following. It was something we created together - a language our bodies spoke to one another and yet a connection deeper than touch.

The Christmas holiday loomed ahead, and I was fervently discussing with my roommates the idea of capturing photos of a neighborhood renowned for their extravagant Christmas decorations.

That's when Donna and Terri insisted on taking pictures of Lynn and me together. We decorated a tree, and they urged us to pose in various ways. It was deeply gratifying to realize this mattered profoundly to my roommates. Someone was genuinely thrilled for us. Within me I felt an expansive joy that someone was happy for me. Yet, in that moment, I wasn't consumed by how desperately I had yearned for all of this. I was acutely aware of not taking a single instant for granted, refusing to dismiss or overlook any fragment of time. I was engulfed in a profound sense of awe, something enduring and powerful.

It wasn’t just amazing that I was happy to be with Lynn but that someone else, two other people, my roommates, were hapy for me, happy for my joy.

I also recognized the newfound ease I felt with Lynn.

The most precious gift that Christmas was Lynn's revelation to me. I confessed my earlier uncertainty about her interest at the beginning of our relationship. She laughed, and said, "I'm glad you were so persistent." The truth hit me like a lightning bolt. The fact that initially, she wasn't as invested in us as I was didn’t matter. But the fact that she was grateful for my persistence struck a deep, primal chord within me - one that needed this validation. The realization that I could bring someone such profound happiness in countless ways was overwhelming.

I'm definitely going to embrace this life with Lynn.

Lynn and I were "an item" and that felt so right. I never took things for granted. I would savor every little thing as if my mind was taking snapshots to populate an imaginary photo album within my mind.

Remember Dusty, the emcee for the poetry readings? She worked at the Coastline Convention Center as I mentioned. Because she was so welcoming, I would go there alone sometimes or arrive alone before Lynn joined me. Dusty would ask about Lynn and what was happening with her... how she was doing.

So, among our social circle, people saw us as a couple. This made this entirely blissful dream so real. I wasn’t an outsider any longer. I wasn’t the friend of both members of a couple. I had known love once before but this relationship with Lynn went so much further and deeper. There were no limits to how much this relationship could grow.

Still, there were some formalities to be discussed.