the cant language of the homosexual world; although he was now prepared with misgivings to accept the word ‘queer’, which Simon represented to him as being by this time a general usage and not a term of art. ‘Nothing,’ declared Axel, ‘is more boring than homosexuals who can talk about nothing but homosexuality.’ Simon, who almost always gave way to Axel, relinquished these trivia with a certain regret. It was a myth of their relationship that Simon’s life before he met Axel had been depressing and even sordid, but this was only half true. It was indeed Simon’s nature to seek to give his heart, and to want to give it entirely, and unresponsive and unfaithful partners, of whom he had had many, had caused him much unhappiness. Yet he had enjoyed some of his adventures and liked the jokey parochial atmosphere of the gay bars which he had been used to frequent in the old days before Athens and Axel. His philosophy had been: one offers oneself in various quarters and one hopes for love. The love he had hoped for was real love. But the search had had its lighter side.
In fact Axel did something extremely important for Simon. He made Simon understand for the first time that it was perfectly ordinary to be homosexual. Simon had never exactly felt guilty about his preference. But he had felt it as a peculiarity, something rather nice and even perhaps a bit funny, something rather like a game, but definitely odd, to be concealed, giggled about and endlessly discussed and inspected in the private company of fellow oddities. He had never quite seen it as a fundamental and completely ordinary way of being a human being, which was how Axel saw it. Axel gloomily accepted a degree of discretion which the prejudices of society seemed still to make inevitable. But he refused to belong to a special homosexual ‘world’, to what he called ‘that goddamn secret organization’.
Simon did his best to change his ways and to drop what Axel referred to as ‘tribal habits’. But sometimes he felt that the change was only superficial and he was almost being guilty of insincerity. He felt uneasy about some of his instincts which he now judged to be frivolous. He speculated endlessly about what Axel really thought about him. He did not doubt Axel’s love. But at the beginning Axel had certainly loved against his better judgement. Was he still doing so? How much did it matter not understanding about the balance of payments? Did Axel think he was stupid? Did he see him as a bit shallow, as a trifle corrupted, even worst of all as rather vulgar?
A spiteful spectator of the early stages of Simon’s romance had once said to him, ‘Axel says he just adores your particular brand of vulgarity.’ This reported remark tortured Simon until he suddenly realized that Axel could not possibly have made it. Why was this not obvious at once? Because it corresponded to a deep fear. In three years the fear had diminished but not departed. Simon remained diffident and uncertain. ‘You’re a damn muddler, Simon,’ Axel had once said to him angrily. ‘It’s a moral fault and it’s not charming.’ Simon reflected and realized how much in the past he had traded on the charm of a certain fecklessness. (‘Oh you flibbertigibbet, you!’ one of Axel’s predecessors had been used to cry, while Simon hung his head coyly.) Would fecklessness and muddle one day lead him to make a fatal mistake? Could there be a fatal mistake? He thought sometimes of asking Axel this question, but he knew that Axel would not answer it, any more than he would ever answer Simon’s so often repeated cry of ‘Will you love me always?’ ‘How on earth do I know?’ said Axel.
‘I will love you forever, Axel, to the end of the world. I give myself to you now and forever. I will be faithful to you always. I rejoice that you exist, that I have met you, that I can touch you, that we live in the same century. I will never cease to bless you for my good fortune.’ Simon
In fact Axel did something extremely important for Simon. He made Simon understand for the first time that it was perfectly ordinary to be homosexual. Simon had never exactly felt guilty about his preference. But he had felt it as a peculiarity, something rather nice and even perhaps a bit funny, something rather like a game, but definitely odd, to be concealed, giggled about and endlessly discussed and inspected in the private company of fellow oddities. He had never quite seen it as a fundamental and completely ordinary way of being a human being, which was how Axel saw it. Axel gloomily accepted a degree of discretion which the prejudices of society seemed still to make inevitable. But he refused to belong to a special homosexual ‘world’, to what he called ‘that goddamn secret organization’.
Simon did his best to change his ways and to drop what Axel referred to as ‘tribal habits’. But sometimes he felt that the change was only superficial and he was almost being guilty of insincerity. He felt uneasy about some of his instincts which he now judged to be frivolous. He speculated endlessly about what Axel really thought about him. He did not doubt Axel’s love. But at the beginning Axel had certainly loved against his better judgement. Was he still doing so? How much did it matter not understanding about the balance of payments? Did Axel think he was stupid? Did he see him as a bit shallow, as a trifle corrupted, even worst of all as rather vulgar?
A spiteful spectator of the early stages of Simon’s romance had once said to him, ‘Axel says he just adores your particular brand of vulgarity.’ This reported remark tortured Simon until he suddenly realized that Axel could not possibly have made it. Why was this not obvious at once? Because it corresponded to a deep fear. In three years the fear had diminished but not departed. Simon remained diffident and uncertain. ‘You’re a damn muddler, Simon,’ Axel had once said to him angrily. ‘It’s a moral fault and it’s not charming.’ Simon reflected and realized how much in the past he had traded on the charm of a certain fecklessness. (‘Oh you flibbertigibbet, you!’ one of Axel’s predecessors had been used to cry, while Simon hung his head coyly.) Would fecklessness and muddle one day lead him to make a fatal mistake? Could there be a fatal mistake? He thought sometimes of asking Axel this question, but he knew that Axel would not answer it, any more than he would ever answer Simon’s so often repeated cry of ‘Will you love me always?’ ‘How on earth do I know?’ said Axel.
‘I will love you forever, Axel, to the end of the world. I give myself to you now and forever. I will be faithful to you always. I rejoice that you exist, that I have met you, that I can touch you, that we live in the same century. I will never cease to bless you for my good fortune.’ Simon
Similar Books
