Kile Ozier shares how he met the love of his life and what, unexpectedly, happened next…25 years ago.
Can men love other men deeply, remain monogamous, commit to It All? I believe so.
I met Terry in a bar on a Monday night. The attraction was gently powerful and mutual, yet something kept me from taking him home with me that night. Something inside me told me that this man is special…unique…more than a trick. “Wait!”
I purposely didn’t call him the next day, as I wanted to preserve whatever mystique may have remained after that first meeting.
The games we play.
I called in the middle of the afternoon, hoping to get his machine so that he would have to return the call. He picked-up the telephone, and was shocked that it was me.
“I can’t believe you’re calling,” he said. There was some surprise in his voice, though he expressed it calmly, “I didn’t think you’d call.”
“I said I’d call, didn’t I?”
“Most guys don’t, even when they say they will.”
“Yes, well, men are pigs. I do what I say I’ll do,” I said. “What are you doing at home?”
“Business is slow and it’s so hot over here; I came home to take a nap.”
<pregnant pause>
“So, I called to ask you out.”
“I hope so,” he replied. “I’d hate to think you’d call and not ask me.”
I asked him out for the following Friday night. We agreed to meet at my house at 7:00pm, and that I would make reservations somewhere. So I did and he did and we did.
So. Friday night arrived, and at 7:00 — so did Terry.
I went downstairs to meet him. Most vivid in my memory from that moment is the brilliance of the sun shining on his hair and shoulders from behind him; just above the trees across the street. I’m sure my memory is enhanced by these years of his absence and my love for him, but Terry had the clearest brown eyes I have ever seen. At that moment, there was a sort of gold aura around his frame as the sun shone off his thick, wavy brown hair and the pale linen jacket he wore over his button-down, oxford cloth shirt and Levi’s.
I don’t think, at the time, I fully appreciated the beauty of what I was seeing, though I did think he looked awfully good.
Twenty-five years have passed and Terry remains as vivid and alive in
my heart as that night in San Francisco.
He was as tall as me, younger, slender to the point of skinny, with a gangly frame, size 13+ shoes, and a way of walking that made it seem as though he was traveling in several directions at once. His skin was smooth and clear, with those chocolate eyes set deep and a little close together, rendering his serious gaze quite piercing…when he was serious.
When he smiled, though . . . when Terry smiled, his whole face lit-up. The entire room lit up. His mouth would open just a little bit to reveal a slightly uneven row of pretty, white teeth, and he would look as though he was about to laugh — which he usually did.
He may not have been perfect; though I believe he truly was perfect for me.
◊♦◊
For some self-protective reason, we each drove our own cars to dinner. I had made reservations at a very new, very trendy restaurant on Russian Hill; the sort of place just hitting the high mark in the mid-80’s, with galvanized steel dining tables and overstuffed pillows adorning stucco banquettes. The menu had such items as Fried Yucca Blossoms and squid-ink pasta, served on huge plates by pretty waiters.
The place had attitude for days, and I knew everyone there.
I had selected this restaurant to impress Terry.
It was a horrible date. The place was empty, static; service was slow and our conversation slower. I wasn’t sure quite how much I liked this guy, but I did know that I wanted to find out. I learned he had bought his poultry business from his Italian grandparents and rebuilt it with his brother into a thriving poultry boutique, capitalizing on the healthier end of the fowl-and-light-meats spectrum with rabbit, free-range chicken and the like. Business was booming at his two locations, and he was considering opening a third.
Do you find this conversation topic riveting and romantic? Neither did I. Interesting, but not romantic. As dinner dragged-on, I realized my myopic mistake in bringing him here.
Terry left the table to use the restroom. Returning with that gangly walk, he tossed himself onto his seat, looked at me, looked down at his plate and said, emphatically, “This is my last date, ever! If this doesn’t work out, I’m never going on another date!”
I said, “Do you wanna leave?”
“Let’s go,” he responded. We left.
Our plans had been to go to a bar near my apartment for a drink. We drove up Broadway, side-by-side, to my place, parked, and I asked him if he wanted to come inside for a glass of champagne. He agreed, unhesitatingly.
In my refrigerator were:
- a pound of coffee beans
- milk
- orange juice, and
- twelve bottles of very good Champagne
Classic bachelor fare.
I poured us each a flute, brought the bottle with me and we sat at my desk in the bay window to talk. We talked…and talked. We watched the stars outside the window…and talked. I have no recollection of what we discussed, only what he looked like as we talked; but the conversation flowed comfortably, freely, candid…unobstructed. We talked for a long time.
The relationship is the greatest gift one can give another. Sometimes difficult; always worthwhile.
I’m sure that under other circumstances I would remember everything about those few hours. What I do remember is that moment when, as I was saying something — sharing some insight or feeling — Terry set his glass on the table, rested his chin in his hand, with his elbow on the table, looked deeply pensive for a moment, and that wonderful smile unfolded on his face.
The way he looked at me as I finished my thought was a little bemused, a little amused. Then…looking me right in the eyes, he said…slowly and quietly as though he were just discovering these feelings, “…I think…you might…be It.”
Tender silence.
At that moment, Love washed over me. I felt the enormity of the loving and vulnerable, valuable person sitting before me. I realized how we humans keep, deep inside each of us, our private soul. I sensed that Terry and I were both on the same quest, armored with with our chosen persona — seeking another who could fulfill and not desert, that other person willing to love and nurture and support.
I have sworn that, should I ever again find such Love, nothing will take priority over
my presence and full attention.
How does a man know when he has found the right one? In a world of no guarantees, what is the equation, the combination of traits and circumstances that leads one to take that leap of faith into another’s arms and heart? What is it that plants the seed of the purest trust?
I don’t know those answers; but I did know who was in the room with me.
I looked at Terry quietly for a moment, drinking us in; then leaned over and gently kissed him for the first time, that night.
“Would you like to stay, tonight?”
“Yes.”
Standing up and setting the glasses down, we doused the lights and left the room.
It was a beautiful night. Unconditional love had entered my life.
—————————————————————————-
I learned many things about myself and about what Love can be from Terry before he died just over two years later. Making several mistakes and stupid decisions through the course of our being together; his love for me never wavered. Ever.
Terry showed me the power of Family, how to love through strong disagreement, I watched him suffer through a rift with his brother – never stopping loving him, he showed me a man can give himself completely to his partner…showing him the most intimate and vulnerable parts of himself…and be a complete ass the next day…and Love was never in Question. He showed me what Love can be.
I worked too late, too often; spent too much time “making contacts” for my business. No matter when I got home, Terry would meet me at the door with a kiss that would meld him into me. He would kiss me with his entire self. Always.
He trusted me and I never broke that trust. All he wanted was my presence; after he died, I realized how deeply I regretted and still regret simply not being home to have dinner with him, every damn night. I should just have been there. Time is Everything.
The time I did not give to Terry was time wasted.
I have sworn that, should I ever again find such Love, nothing will take priority over my presence and full attention. The relationship is the greatest gift one can give another. Sometimes difficult; always worthwhile.
Can men love other men deeply, remain monogamous, commit to It All? I believe so. Terry died so soon that I don’t have the empirical evidence to prove that we could have built and maintained such a relationship; but in my heart of Hearts, I know that he was the One…he was It.
Twenty-five years have passed and Terry remains as vivid and alive in my heart as that night in San Francisco. He still shows up in a dream, from time to time.
There is nothing I would not do to have that chance again, and do it right.
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This was a beautiful telling of your love story.
I should have spell checked before I posted, lol
Amazung story Kile. I truly believe everyone has a sole mate in this world. It is the truly fortunate one whom find theirs. I know it has been 25 years since you lost your sole mate, for him to live so vividly in your memories is a true testament to how much you loved each other. I’m sorry for your loss. Those size 13-1/2 shoes may be hard to fill, but I’m sure someone can come close. You are a wonderful human being and whomever finds their way into your heart will be lucky to have you. Your friend, Tony… Read more »
Wow, Tony; thank you for this…and for your wishes for my future… 😉 As they say, over here, “Insh’Allah….”
Thanks, JT.
I’m so sorry for the loss you’ve experienced. Such a sudden, unexplained departure can be, conceivably, more tortuous than death in some ways…as s/he’s still Out There and unresolved…
There has been no one since Terry. One potential, but though intense, it did not work out. Been a long twenty-five years…
Thank you for reading and for commenting. Good luck to you, too…
KO
Kile, Love is love and those lucky enough to share the bond that you and Terry shared is incredible. I am sorry for your lose ll those years ago and hope that you were able to find someone else who you could love just as much if not more. I had a love as deeply as you described and after 4+ incredible years together she left suddenly, no warnings, no red flags, no discussion. I think there was some deep unresolved issues and she panicked over a major decision and just left. I lost my best friend and the love… Read more »
I am a lucky man to have known and felt it.
That’s such a touching, beautiful way that he loved you!
Thanks, Will. I agree with you; this is what, I think, all people are capable of finding and sharing. All the lucky ones, anyway! Thank you for reading and commenting…
KO
I believe that my wife and I enjoy a similar sort of bond :). We aren’t gay, but that’s kind of the point: people are just people and a relationship is a relationship, regardless of gender.