I Had to Say Something by Mike Jones Page A

were arrested and my father was all right, but the incident did shake him to his core. He didn’t tell us about what had happened until much later in life. If I had heard stories—true stories—like that as a kid, I would have been a wreck. By the time he retired in 1983, he had risen to Assistant Chief of Police.
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    When I turned sixteen, I wanted to get my driver’s license just like every other kid. I didn’t want to drive so I could go cruising, however. I wanted to drive so I could take my mother out to do things.

    Since we both loved theater, we went to a lot of small play-houses. Comedy shows, more than dramas, were our favorite because they gave us the chance to laugh out loud together. I got to see something other than my bedroom walls, and she got to go out and have a good time.
    My parents didn’t push me to start dating girls. Their approach was mostly hands-off, and that gave me freedom to explore what I wanted. They taught me how to be a decent and respectful person, and that has really served me well. They never asked me who I was dating or when I was getting married.
    Still, I decided that maybe it was time I got out and tried to make friends, though I didn’t know how to go about it. I tried to date in high school, but it was a disaster. I was afraid to ask girls out, so they would have to ask me out. But I got the feeling that girls asked me out because they felt sorry for me. By this point, I was already a weight-lifting champ, but I was still an outcast and a loner.
    My sexual being, however, was blossoming just as I was becoming successful in bodybuilding. During my junior year, I had sex with a teacher. During class, I could tell he was interested by the way he looked at me. At an early age, I had developed gaydar, or a gay sexual radar, that made me sensitive to something in men’s eyes. I could see when they were interested in playing.
    â€œMike, I can help you with your studies, if you like,” he told me. Back then, flirting and intimacy between teachers and students was common, but no one talked about it. Since I really was struggling with my grades, I said yes and hoped he would just happen to do it in the nude.
    I went to his house many times. If his very attractive wife was there, he would simply say he was tutoring me. But when she was gone, we got naked and had fun. He was a good-looking
man in his late thirties. Because of his help, I not only got laid, but my grades went from a D to a B in his class.
    After graduation, my looks started to mature and got better. My body was looking great from all the weight lifting. I started wearing contacts instead of glasses, and my acne problem started to dissipate somewhat. I was very happy with my entry into adulthood, but I had no idea that I would be able to take those looks all the way to the bank.
    My mother was still the best friend I had. She needed to share her life in a way she couldn’t with her husband or her two other sons. And I needed a friend, plain and simple. My duty to my mom was to be there always to listen. She would vent with me as if I were a woman, and I understood her frustration from a woman’s point of view. If she had any legal or financial questions, she’d come to me first. Maybe she saw me as the ideal child, embodying the good qualities of both a son and a daughter.
    It always seemed I was the one all the women in the family could talk to. I remember Grandmother Jones, who lived to be ninety-six, told me that she always felt like a fifth wheel around the family. “When you are around, you always make me feel welcome,” she once told me. “You give me more attention than anyone else.”
    I have always been able to recognize when someone is lonely, maybe because I know the feeling all too well. I am quick to react and give that person the time and attention they deserve. It’s my nature, I guess.
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    My Grandma Jones gave me one bit of advice: always