“Good Kisser” by Lem

I didn’t ever have any form of real sex with Jack Kennedy. …So…when he called me a good kisser…it was because…we tried kissing once. It was mainly his idea although, thinking I was gay, I thought it was a good idea too. …I hadn’t actually done almost any kissing before with men. The guy I experimented with kissed me quickly first, “You have to do that!” he said, or something close to it. But I’d never actually made-out with a man. Ever.

Anyway…I wanted a normal life. As much as possible. And I believed I was gay. So…like some people substitute mushrooms for beef in marinara sauce…and either do or pretend to like it…I had the idea to substitute Jack…for a girlfriend. And I was determined to try to thoroughly enjoy being a gay man. As much as possible.

So…I decided to try kissing with him. In our room. At Choate. …One Saturday. And he was nervously thrilled by the idea. He was genuinely bisexual and while I wasn’t his absolute ideal he was excited to experience homosexuality with me. He found me attractive enough to be…THRILLED.

I was…not aroused…but hopeful. I hadn’t sexually experimented almost at all with women before I was molested. So…I had no real experience with being genuinely aroused by a woman and making-out. I didn’t cognitively under I what was supposed to be happening. Jack was experiencing it. But he also wasn’t because it was planned. Genuinely planned. Not planned out of desire. We actually sat around causally and talked about it like it was a non-sexual idea. Like the weather. And he should have realized there was something wrong with it. Because when people are aroused they don’t do that in that way really. I was far too intellectual and cold and detached about it. But he wasn’t smart and good…and aware enough to realize it was weird.

You all HATE Megan Markle. Right? Because she’s so…pretentious? Jack Kennedy was like her. …In private, in person. …And I’m not even saying she’s her persona as a person. But he really was that persona. In private. With me. …All of the time. …Self-absorbed. Lacking common sense in…annoying ways. Dull. …Her persona is AWFUL. …She’s very good at looking pretty on camera. And she’s got to be clever. But…she’s gross in her lack of awareness. And he was like that ALL OF THE TIME. Jackie romanticized it. …But I…tolerated it.

At any rate…he missed that I was too relaxed. And so…we went in for a kiss and I…tried. I opened my mouth a little…and tried. I had been thinking about kissing for years. Although with women. So I had some idea how it was done. And…I was…not good at it really…because my heart wasn’t in it…and it was very detached and methodical. But I was physically, technically, good at it. I knew the motions. The moves. And it was…stilted and…if I had been him…I’d have felt rejected. I think most people would have. Because even in my physical movement there was a hint of rejection. It really was too mechanical and cold. …But I felt…grossed-out and…backed away…and he lashed out…yelled and demanded we try again…but he…must have thought it’d gone really well. …And he wholeheartedly insisted we try again. Keep going. He’d acted so…grossed-out and offended and disturbed before it happened…all while also standing there puckered-up and waiting anxiously for me to kiss him…and when I decided it was weird…and stopped…he felt we should keep going. He was desperate for us to keep going. But he had to hide it. So he acted like a gym teacher…commanding a group of unruly children to cover.

“Come on Lem!!” he said in a drill sergeant-like voice. Although it was also quite whiny.

He frequently acted that way when I was giving him sexual favors. Like a whiny…disgusted…drill sergeant. Both obviously annoyed and HORRIFIED by the homosexuality he assigned to me…and yet also DETERMINED to get sexual pleasure from me as quickly as possible. …And yet with an embarrassing lack of self-awareness very akin to Megan Markle. …I highly doubt she’s who she publicly pretends to be. And I’m not sure why she’s gotten stuck with that persona. …But I think part of it is faking being Old Money. She’s really not Old Money. But I think she feels she has to be. And so in order to be successful at that identity she alters her personality in weird ways. …But Jack Kennedy actually was that person. Very sincerely! You don’t know that because there’s no recorded interview or…evidence that would suggest that that people trying to be objective would notice. That he’s…fake. All you focus on are his speech written words or his supposed wit. But if you put him in context of his evil…and analyze him the way you analyze people today…instead of letting him have special privileges…you notice that he’s REALLY ANNOYING. Always SO scripted. His every movement a manipulative attempt at controlling your perception of him. None of it is real. And occasionally you see him in photos. Looking very awkward. But he obsessively altered himself in public to be adored.

I refused to keep kissing him. And I was so grossed-out I might have killed myself if he kept forcing me. Or killed him. And he knew that and so he had enough common-sense to let it go. Casually shrugging and laughing it off while also acting incredibly offended and SO sure he was SO much cooler than me somehow. I was taking it all too seriously was his attitude. But I refused to do it and it scared him too press the matter. But…that and his imagination, possibly based on my seemingly attractive lips, gave him the impression I was a good kisser.

Here’s the thing: He also said stuff like that to dominate the conversation. He knew I was incredibly uncomfortable and genuinely grossed-out, although his psychotic narcissistic tendencies didn’t let him fully understand it, and he was INSANELY offended by my feelings. He found my rejection of him…beyond egregious. Totally unthinkable. …So he just lied and pretended I was obsessed with him and that he was doing me a HUGE favor by kissing me. A HUGE favor!!! And then he willfully lived in that phony world and created a narrative that supported it in people’s minds. No concern whatsoever for my needs AT ALL.

Why I didn’t realize I was straight is…complicated. I just assumed I was…”not much into kissing”. …Sure I could have kissed a woman. But all men could do that! …Being homosexual…I just wasn’t one much for kissing, I thought. It was my…quirk. …See…I thought I was gay for very intellectual reasons. And I fervently believed it! …So I lived in that reality that didn’t exist. But…part of why I was able to do that was because I was under the impression that I was normal for also desiring women.

No, neither Lacey nor I are gay. And I wasn’t gay. I was very confused.

There are some people like Jack…who do live in denial. We aren’t those people!!!

“He’s not as good of a kisser as Jack said.” says Elliott Roosevelt. “He’s great, I’m sure, but according to God it’s not…as good as Jack claimed.”

“Was Jack in love?” asks a woman.

“NO! …He might have been…but what primarily motivated him was his narcissism. He had a very warped sense of everything.” says Elliott.

“It was based on nonsense. It was an abusive compliment. But…maybe he had some small sense that I was good at it based on some technical skill I had in my timing or movement or something. No different than good acting. …I genuinely felt nothing for him.

For me…our relationship was sexual to a point. …And actually it wasn’t sexual AT ALL. You can’t sexual relationships to a point. That’s not a thing psychologically. But I felt it was because…I assumed we were real friends. At our core. I thought he had a real friendship. …And I thought…underneath our…homosexual we had…friendship.

…We were…both fooling ourselves. …He wasn’t my friend!!! He didn’t really care about me as a friend. He faked that to get me to sexually service him. But…I didn’t know that. I thought we had a deep bond as real buddies. And I gave him personality traits he didn’t have. …But he felt romantic love for me…and assumed I offering him unconditional love when I wasn’t. …People think I was giving him that because of how selfless and constantly kind I was. How forgiving and patient I was. Impossibly so! Part of the reason even intelligent people don’t have the ability to comprehend what is being said about his wedding…in regard to my missing sadness…is because they’ve constructed a false narrative about my supposed unconditional support and love for him. My worship. …It was just fawning out of fear. But people don’t want to see that. …But in reality I didn’t love him that unconditionally. …I just wasn’t experiencing pain because I was straight…and I was trying to be normal and have a life…as a self-diagnosed gay…all while also believing myself that we were really good friends at the end of the day. …So I had the sad delusion of real friendship…as an actual straight cis man…and Jack Kennedy believed he was…adored by me. Unfathomably worshiped by me. …Because I never got that hurt. And I was always “there for him”. It was mindless, full loyalty. The same loyalty given by brow-beaten genuinely decent men in bad marriages to shrewish women. Without deep love. Just…a sense of duty. But he misunderstood it as something far more important. I really was just fawning over him in a phony way because I was scared of him and his brutal criminal father. And all their money. And their violent, controlling narcissism. But he saw it as…ASTOUNDING love for him. …My sexual exploration I attempted with him also gave him the wrong idea. Because I genuinely thought I was gay. So…I happily suggested we try homosexual stuff. I had anticipated I’d like it. We didn’t try kissing first, which was a huge red flag that I wasn’t gay at all…and I wasn’t…aroused…but rather…anticipating being aroused…and he should have figured that out, but he didn’t. …I was genuinely straight and I had the impression I was gay. He secretly actually was bisexual. And being narcissistic he ignored my subtle messages because he didn’t care about me and I was…very empathetic and very…confused. I didn’t know I was straight. So I gave the impression that I was sure I was gay. Laughing at his sexual advances and pretending to enjoy the way we posed.

Look…I was uncomfortable in those photos. And there’s a difference between being scared and being afraid to get caught. I wasn’t afraid to get caught. I was…trying to face myself…and be brave…and have a laugh. …But I felt it was very icky. I was straight. And I didn’t really want to be with him. But…I didn’t think I had much of a choice.

Why didn’t I pursue women? Because I was fundamentally opposed to it. And I was very sure of it. I felt it was wrong.

Why didn’t I stop Jack? Because I thought he stayed away from truly nice girls most of the time. And…I thought women like that were trash. …I was not…as nice of a person…as Lacey.

So…I laid blame with the women. Not Jack. In a way. Jack was…a clown. An Irish weirdo. But he was…my friend, I thought.” says Lem.

“So you were racist against the Irish?” says Megan Markle.

“Yes.” says Lem.

“Was there ever a moment when Jack really should have realized that you weren’t actually attracted to him!?” asks a lesbian.

Lem thinks. “When we were on vacation in France. …He reached for my shoulders. To throw his arm around my shoulders. …And I stood up. Smoked. Crossed my legs. And he just sat there. …Most people would have picked-up on my coldness. He did possibly for a second. But he didn’t like it. He just didn’t like it. So he decided it didn’t mean a thing.” says Lem.

“Did he sleep with other men?” asks a lesbian.

“Yes! Red Fay and him slept together. So did several other men. …I didn’t care. I honestly barely showed any interest. …It was the idea of other men who were…supposedly also his friends that I was jealous and possessive. But that was a genuine misunderstanding. I wasn’t in love with him. I was never obsessed with him. Not in reality. …And when they actually had gay sex with him I never truly gave a damn. No complaints. …No hurt feelings. …It was…rejection in friendship that did occasionally make me angry.” says Lem.

“Was he trying to make you jealous!? Romantically!? And it just didn’t work?!” says an actor, laughing.

Lem thinks. “He might have been. …What hurt my feelings was…deep.

I thought we were real friends. I assigned a dry…middle class…mostly masculine, definitely bisexual (although at the time I thought it was gay) personality for him. Sort of like…an iron worker. Or a steel worker. Some…hardworking…hard drinking…tough-as-nails…closeted man. With a scrawny body. Okay? But who…tried to be…A MAN. A fight all men have. To prove themselves. And I admired him. I genuinely respected his noble American attempt to be…brazenly self-confident as an Irish Catholic in a very wealthy family. I thought he was…great. Potentially. But I thought steelworkers were great men often too. …But that man wasn’t real. And I didn’t realize that fully until I was dead. Part of the reason why I assumed I was gay…and a secret loser…was because I admired him so much. I admired all of those men. Men who worked so hard for their country and their families. And for not a lot of money. …I grew-up around them. And I saw their poverty and being a very caring person I…deeply admired them. I genuinely admired them. And I thought he was like that. I was a very unusually deep person.

I saw his homosexuality as…a quirk. A flaw I shared with him. A cross we bore together. A joke we shared because we both felt so much pain. Pain in being so…freakish and weird. So…unfortunate.

But that man didn’t exist. The man I felt like a nothing failure in comparison to didn’t exist. I felt like…a gay, effeminate, pampered, Old Money loser…in comparison to…with delicate feelings and spoiled posh laughter learned in childhood… Whereas he was…tough. Rebelling against the evil of the world. Bravely fighting on. A scrawny fighter! A man determined to never quit! Like a worker on a ship. Smiling boldly as he suffered physical pain. Back aching. Mind…set. Maybe not the smartest man. Maybe a rather average man. But American. And…really something grand! AMERICAN!

Turns out…he was FAR more shallow than that. …He NEVER had that much goodness in his heart. He…wasn’t tough. …But I didn’t know that.

Once Ben Bradlee was at the White House…and he was bisexual and in love with Jack slightly…and I was supposed to be having lunch with Jack. …We’d arranged it. And I was looking forward to chilling out with my buddy, so to speak. Eating. Drinking. Having fun. In the White House. …And Ben Bradlee showed-up…before I was there, except I didn’t know it. He was in another room. But he joined us. So…rudely. So…condescendingly. …And I was hurt. Right away. …Because I had thought that Jack and I were just going to hang-out, so to speak. I thought he valued just being with me alone in a non-sexual environment where we could just…chill. You know? Have drinks. …Relax. Over lunch too! …They had some very good chefs! …And we were eating salad…and I was settling in to enjoy myself…when Ben Bradlee just waltzes in…cocky and smiling. So casual. SO SMUG.

And I just…sank. My heat sank.

And Ben sat down…and Jack totally ignored me as if I wasn’t even…there, almost. Or I was his…underling, and nothing more. And het got around to chatting with Ben. Both men laughing and talking to each other like they were the real best friends and I was…some weird servant-freak. An unaccomplished nobody. A nothing. A hanger-on who was…nothing. And Ben and him talked like that for a while. And Jack briefly glanced at me in a sexual way, as if he was checking-in and trying to reestablish our intimacy. And I felt…repulsed. Because…that wasn’t the setting! In that setting he was my friend. Or so I thought. So…it made me mad. But I kept calm. …But then he just…leaned in closer to Ben and started giggling silently. …As if after checking-in he could have fun. …And I knew he had slept with Ben. Or they’d come close. And…I felt…insulted. Because…I assumed he was rejecting me first and foremost as a friend. Not a lover. As a friend! …And so I got angry and showed it. Said something hostile. And that sort of thing happened often.

Look…I’m sorry…but despite what you’ve read…I was actually heterosexual. I was…faking my homosexuality by accident. But it was fake.” says Lem. “I PROMISE YOU!”

“So Jack often interpreted your anger as a sign of love for him?” says a lesbian.

“Yes!” says Lem.

“When really you were really just angry because you felt rejected as a friend?” she says.

“Yup!” says Lem.