Source: Spike’s Website
I am a 15 year old computer nut. I have been messing around on the web for a year now, but go further back than that with the internet and BBS’s. I have an older computer, which limits what I can do on the web, but what I have is mine. Hard won, not given to me nor taught to me. I consider myself a writer. If not that, at least literate. I am not into sports. I don’t socialize with my peers much, nor do I entrust my education to the local school board.
My family consists of my mom, an ex-hippie that has pulled this family together during some really rough times and has a good head on her shoulders, my jock brother Randy (11) and my favorite brother Kevin (8). I can say that cuz neither will ever know about this web site. My male biological ancestor walked out seven years ago, so I’ve had a lot to do with my brothers since then.
When I was 10, I found myself a mentor, a wonderful old man that needed me as much as I needed him. I’ll call him “J”. He has jokingly called me “Spike” for a long time, but I’d rather not explain why. He is a retired college instructor, in the electronics/robotics/computer field. He was retired when his campus was closed by federal cuts in student grants and loans. He takes care of his elderly mother now, is not currently working full time, and is at the same economic level as we are. Everyone gets all over me when I use the “p” word, so let me just say that my family appreciates what we have.
J has been the best thing that could ever have happened to me. Everything I am today I owe to J. He and Mom are both educated people who believe that I must prepare myself for adulthood by learning how to learn, how to think for myself, and how to believe in myself in these times of oppressive control by society and government. I don’t mean that J is a friend of the family. It’s not like that. He is all mine. Mom sees the results of my association with J, and she could not be more pleased. In our family situation, there are not a lot of chances to be successful. There is no need to let fear and ignorance get in the way of common sense. Survival is any everyday challenge.
I had known in those early years that J was a boylover. He has taught me thousands of things, about his feelings as well as the more scientific facts of life as a human being in our universe. In general, he taught me to worry about the big things, the things that are true and sure, and not allow my mind to get bogged down in superstition, politics, pride, fear, the more trivial human passtimes. “Don’t sweat the nickel shit” he always says. And you know what? Most of life is just that.
Back then I never did understand what J wanted from me. I mean I understood “what”, but not “why”. He wanted so little, but I was frozen with the fear of all these fairy tales about monsters and demons out there in society. “Always trust your teachers”. “Always trust Mr. Policeman”. What a crock of bullshit they feed us. No wonder so many kids turn 21 and are still immature, insecure wimps. J was the perfect gentleman, never pushed, always accepted my “no” with grace. Yet he trusted me, and that meant more to me than I can possibly tell. The more he explained to me, the more he allowed me to discover the world of fact and reality for myself, the more I understood the value of someone like him. I was incredibly lucky.
Just when I turned 13, J was retired from his job, and took off for another part of the country, with no plans to return. I wasn’t in love with J, I’m not sure a straight kid can be as “in love” as most boylovers would like to believe. I did my best to accept this development in my life with dignity. He left me with some “tools of the trade” (books, hardware, software) and more knowledge than most of my peers. But the next two years were much more difficult than I had imagined. Not emotionally, although I seem to remember not feeling many emotions during that time, but in my day-to-day routine. It’s as though I was on my own again, unwillingly – somewhat alone in the midst of a busy family.
Last September, J returned as unexpectedly as he had left. His little business venture failed, his friends elsewhere fallen by the wayside, his mother needing attention, he was back, and living in the same little town. He did not have the money he had in the past, he lived with his mother, and he seemed older, more settled. But he was back, and I was determined to not make the same selfish mistakes I had made in years past. I was older now as well, understood myself better, and not about to let old superstitions interfere with my happiness. It didn’t take long for our friendship to transcend anything it had been in the past.
In this last year, we have both discovered the word “boylover”, and realized just how common this phenomenon is to the human experience. J has never been insecure or guilt-ridden, and he has been at this for a long long time. We have begun to realize the implications of “internet for the masses”. Our internet interests are different, but we neither have been able to post messages to BoyChat, view graphics web pages in their full glory (althogh downloading a graphics file is possible), or do IRC with any degree of safety. I became active with the web as my means of reaching out to others. J did little reaching out. He studied, trying to regain his computer skills after two years of being out in the country (offline). I feel a tremendous need to seek out more mentors, teachers, who will at the least function as a captive audience for a budding writer, and at the most be a warm, trusted friend. J supports me in this, although we had set up a strict set of “safety rules” from the very beginning. I have many e-mail friends now, although some are less active, less involved in my life and my continuous string of little projects, than they once were. I have lost a few because I could not, would not, give in to their expectations of a more personal, physical relationship. Good people, but with old-fashioned ideas, unable to realize the great promises and compromises that cyberspace thrusts upon us.
In the time I have had a “mentoring” site up, I have had a few other loved boys directed my way, either by friends or by unknown lurkers, and have been able to get a feel for their experiences and their attitudes. Maybe I can be of help to them, most certainly I can learn from them. I have encourged them to write about their feelings, but have not yet had a safe place to put these stories. Now, with the advent of a safe home, I can get together what I have, shame a few more out of people, and offer them to you here. I also have a few opinions that may interest you. Some good, some not what you want to hear. But all aimed at improving the relationship between you and your special friend. I guess this is my purpose for being here.