Tom (Tennessee) Williams didn't have sex until he was 28 (I was 23). His first love left him because the boy was disturbed by his own gay feelings (as my first love left me, also). Tom's earliest love later died at 26; mine died at 25.
The early emotional sadness has flattened me to this point, but certainly didn't destroy him completely.
The first stanza of a Tennessee Williams ditty penned in 1941:
I think the strange, the crazed, the queer
will have their holiday this year,
I think for just a little while
there will be pity for the wild...
And then a diary entry of Williams, also from 1941, after being punched by a pick-up that night:
Why do they strike us? What is our offense? We offer them a truth which they cannot bear to confess except in privacy and the dark -- a truth which is inherently as bright as the morning sun. He struck me because he did what I did and his friends discovered it. Yes, it hurt -- inside. I do not know if I will be able to sleep. But tomorrow I suppose the swollen face will be normal again and I will pick up the usual thread of life.
I was smacked in the face psychologically by officially-straight Sandra a couple of nights ago. "I suppose the swollen face will be normal again and I will pick up the usual thread of life."
Of course it will, and I will, as I always have.
"En Avant!" ("Forward!")---Tennessee Williams's credo.