As I looked into Yves’ eyes I sensed anger close to violence. Perhaps it was his acknowledgement of my sexual attraction to him. I felt my heart pounding as I struggled to understand my fantasy of him attacking me in that moment. Perhaps it was that part of me that was bred as he was, to believe that a person in my position deserved to be beaten. Maybe it was my understanding that his violence was the wall he had erected between himself and his real feelings. We both held our gaze and to an onlooker it might have seemed we were engaged in a deep peaceful meditation. We knew, however, that we were in an intense struggle to understand ourselves through each other. Suddenly I felt his barriers melting away and I saw the familiar exchange of male sexual energy I was accustomed to with other men. In a perverted way his anger and violence had been his admission of his ability to love other men. It had been perverted by the social structure that had required men to hide their true feeling. It was this moment when my own face changed to anger and violence. I wanted to reach out and touch Yves’ cheeks, to pull his lips to mine. I was angry that the same social system that kept him from knowing himself was the same system responsible for my own barriers of fear. I wanted to hold his body close to mine, to feel the sweat from his golden tanned torso soak into my clean dry t-shirt. I hoped he could read these thoughts as we held our gaze one minute longer.

"Wow, what happened?" Yves questioned as he rubbed his eyes.

"I think we got lost somewhere together!" I said.

Yves was fascinated by the experience and wanted to try it again. It was not easy to find heterosexual men who would agree to sit across from an open homosexual and stare into his eyes. I was astounded that the ones who did agree were the first to ask for more and would actually suggest more intimate arrangements. Yves suggested that we sit closer and hold hands. I suggested that we focus on the third eye. This time I saw Yves’ face change from a man to a boy, from anger to peace, then to bewilderment. I took mental notes of how he changed related to my own thoughts. When I gave him love he smiled. When I gave him sexual energy he closed his eyes or looked away. We were able to continue the second round twice as long as the first. When we ended this time he held onto my hands as we began to discuss our experiences.

Yves was able to pinpoint the cultural indoctrinations which created the barriers to intimacy with me. We could go far in our conversation as long as I allowed him to retain the illusion that he was in no way attracted to men sexually. The more we talked the more clearly I saw the fear that had been implanted in him as a man. As a Frenchman he had been allowed to develop parts of his masculine nature which would have labeled him Gay in America. Seeing this natural part of him was valuable to my understanding of the violence of American men in the realm of homophobia. The European barriers could be broken down without the violence, enabling me to understand how to approach the demise of homophobia in the American male.

I asked Yves to remove all of his clothes and I was not surprised at his compliance with no hesitation. He was not intimidated by my observations of his masculine beauty. Now I was in familiar territory for I had come to the point where I had gained his trust. I could say or do anything which demonstrated my love for men as long as I made it clear that I expected no reciprocation. When I removed all of my clothes he became nervous, expressing a desire to leave. This was a normal response I had seen many times over. I asked Yves to sit on the other side of the room facing me and he complied with no further mention of leaving. Yves found it difficult to look into my eyes now. When he allowed me to look into his I saw the fear and violence more clearly than before. We were at the gate to his liberation. Now it was time for me to tear down the wall once and for all.

I asked Yves what he was afraid of. He said he was afraid of me and I rejected this notion with a firm response. He told me he had erected a huge wall in the middle of the room to protect himself from me. I asked him to trust me and take down the wall. I told him I would honor his wall if it were not there. I saw his eyes soften and he smiled as he removed his biggest barrier. I had disarmed him and it was time to go in for the healing.

We were once again able to look into each other’s eyes. I gave Yves all of my sexual energy. He did not look away or close his eyes so I knew we had proceeded through the biggest barrier. As I became erect I could see him struggling with his sexuality. I saw the shaft of his penis riding the waves of motion from his scrotum as he attempted to control his thoughts, and to keep his body from responding. When I asked him to tell his feelings in this moment he said he was feeling nothing. This was exactly the response I needed to proceed. I told him I didn’t believe him. I asked him to look at my penis and he refused. The time of the awakening had come. I had to work quickly as to not allow the chance for his left brain to intercede.

"Why won’t you look at my penis Yves?"

He looked everywhere in the room except between my legs.

"Is it because you will feel sexual feelings toward me, a man?"

Yves assured me this was not the reason, so I persuaded him to look when he could not come up with a better excuse. I watched as he stared at my hand moving up and down between my legs. He immediately lost the mental control over his own penis. I questioned him once again about his fear of feeling sexual feelings for a man. He told me he was thinking about a girlfriend.

"The time for lying is over now Yves. There is no woman in the room, just you and me. The truth is you are turned on by the sight of a man masturbating."

Yves started to cry. "You are right !" he said, "I knew it all along."

I asked if it was O.K. to come across his imaginary barrier to hold him. Yves responded by crawling across the room, lying his head on my leg. In our struggle to break down his barrier to his sexuality we had come to a place of intimacy that required no final orgasmic explosion. We could not, therefore, participate in the myth of male sexuality which required us to fall asleep after our conquest. No, this time we were at the beginning of something so big and so beautiful that neither of us would ever fall asleep again.