23 rd of December
from the train for Salerno
Merry Christmas, my friend
How are you? Bad, I presume. Right? I'm really sorry. But just what I feared has happened.
You, notwithstanding all your speeches, are different. The fact you don't want to talk about it personally, shows it. In a letter. I would have liked to talk about it at once. But as you prefer. I respect your... inhibitions.
After what happened, to sleep in the same bed made things more difficult. You said you felt self confident. That there was no danger.
I had to push you away. Being rather rough with you when you tried it. But I did that for you, not for me. I would have made love with you again. As you felt, I was aroused as you were. But if I said yes, then you would have gone to tilt again.
Probably you are that way all the time, now. Probably it would have been better if I'd followed my instinct, not my brain.
I desire you, Federico, it's useless to hide that.
And you desire me, don't you see?
What's making you so scared? Being a faggot? A queer, a gay, a sodomite? I'm not scared at all. Those are just absurd labels. You are Federico. I am Sebastiano. Nothing different. Why cannot we be ourselves? Why cannot we love each other?
I feel it, I love you.
But not because you are a man, just because you are Federico.
You see, with Carla I'm OK. With her I fuck. Really more than pleasurably. But to be sincere, I am not in love with her. I love her, sure. But I'm not in love. That one with a capital L. Good sex and affection. And stop.
On the contrary, I'm in love with you. Every fibre of my body loves you. That's why just being near you gives me hard-ons. If I had hard-ons for any male, I could say: I'm a fag. But I got hard-ons just for you, so I say: I'm in love.
Does that seem so strange to you?
And then, if to show you my love in a physical way I need to stick that label on me, good! I stick it on me. On my forehead: "Sebastiano - Faggot".
If it is the only one way, I'll say it to everybody: "I'm in love with a man, Federico".
But that would probably just worsen things, no? You would run away. You would be ashamed of me. You would accept from me, just one part. An aseptic friendship. Sterilized.
Better than nothing. I accept that. Knowing that you are not able to accept nothing more from me. Just friends. "A sound virile friendship". What nice words!
I would like to give you all of me. Give you so much of me that I was ready to give you my body also. But you don't want it. Patience! If someone doesn't want a gift, you cannot force him to take it. I prefer being accepted as a friend for half a relationship than a lover refused entirely.
Probably you will be annoyed by this letter. But I don't write letters and then tear them to pieces. Even at the risk of upsetting you, I send them to you. And in the painted envelopes. Because I think that is a sign of our friendship. And we are still friends.
Ciao Federico. Take care and try to feel ok
Sebastiano, a friend
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Bologna, 26/12/86
Dear Sebastiano,
even if we are so far apart, I think a lot about you.
Thank you, you really are a friend and did right, the last night there in Rome, to stop me: I was about to fail again in that, notwithstanding I succeeded in controlling myself all the preceding nights.
It's all so strange.
In those days I did nothing but look at boys and girls: boys don't appeal to me at all, girls on the contrary do, of course not all of them, just the nice ones, but that means that I'm not a degenerate, I function normally.
But then, what happens to me when I'm near you? Could the difference be just the physical proximity?
So, I have to confess to you, that two nights ago I went to the Minghetti, a park here in Bologna known as a meeting place for faggots. I told myself: I have to try, so I can understand. After a while a guy approached me and touched me down there and I almost ran away, but decided to stop, to let him have his way, to test myself, and I wasn't aroused, not even slightly. That guy continued for a while and I was totally indifferent, so at the end he got tired and left. I was really satisfied with the result of my experiment and went home, much more quiet and serene.
If it had been a girl that touched me in that spot, and with so much insistence, I would have been aroused at once, and responded to her.
Forgive me if I talk about such intimate matters, but I know I can do that with you. And just with you.
Did you spend a good Christmas with your family? For me, all was as usual, listening to all my mother's kin about our relatives, the comments of my father about the republic going to rack and ruin, but I'm happy with that.
If I'm not wrong, you told me that your brother Ruggiero collects ancient paper money, and here at my parents' home I've found some Austro-Hungarian paper money that belonged to my granddad and, since my parents don't care about it, I asked them to give it to me for your younger brother, and I enclose the bills in this letter, hoping they are different from any he has.
I saw a really good movie, Woody Allen's "September". Do you like this actor-conductor? I like him very much and as of now I haven't missed even one of his movies. If you can, go see it, if not in Salerno, they will show it in Naples. When I buy a new videorecorder, the one I have at home doesn't work and isn't worth repairing, I'll look for all the videos of his movies.
I'll be back in Rome on January the 3 rd, but I'll immediately leave with Stefania to go to Campo Imperadore, hoping we can do some skiing. Would you feel like coming also? Do you like to ski? If you decide to join us, we will be at the Hotel just in front of the rope-way, you cannot miss it, it is the only one in front. I don't remember the name, unhappily, because the vouchers are at home, in Rome.
We will be there to the 10 th of January, then we will be back home.
See you soon, anyway, my dear Sebastiano.
I embrace you
Federico
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Monday 29 th of December
from Salerno
I will write you again. I hoped to receive a letter from you. Possibly it's too early. It will probably come in next few days.
In my letter of two days before Christmas I was probably too harsh. But I can only write things the way I think. Can you understand? And I'm not able to be ingratiating. I don't like euphemisms. I call a spade a spade and a cock a cock.
But really our friendship is precious to me. So the next time I come to Rome, I'll stay at a hotel or sleep on the couch in your living room. You see, Federico, the next time it would probably be me who tries. Because you are important to me. Because I like you. Because I'm really and deeply falling in love with you. Because I desire you. But I don't want problems with you.
And even now, just writing those words, I got a hard on.
See, now I am supposed to tear this letter up. Not to send it to you. But that would be absurd. It is exactly what I feel. What I never felt before. For anyone. Not even for Carla.
But if I insist on pursuing you, I will lose you. And I don't want that. And I don't want to make you feel bad. I want you to be happy. Even if in spite of myself.
Between the two of us, I am probably the stronger. And the stronger has to carry the biggest burden. It's a natural law.
So I will not tell you my feelings any more.. Unless you want me to. Near you I will behave, like a friend. As you preceive this word. A straight friend. It will not be easy, But I'll do my best.
Well. Enough of that subject. It's time to change the music.
I've almost finished the first draft for your boss. After that, I'll start the plates for our animation.
The first check from your firm arrived. Happily. This money arrives just at the right time. It's not that I was completely broke. In fact Cettina found a job. Francesco continues to help us. Even though he is now married. To pay for Ruggiero studies. So we can manage a living.
What did you get for Christmas? I received a leather jacket from Francesco, a nice sweater from Cettina and a LP from Ruggiero. You have to see me with the leather jacket. I am a hunk! I look like an Armani model. No, even more handsome!
Well, I stop here. Take care, my dear friend
Sebastiano
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Wednesday 7 of January
from Salerno
Federico!
I received your letter from Bologna. Just 30 minutes ago. And I answer you at once. I promised you to never again talk of such subjects. But you force me to do it.
How can you write such bullshit? Sorry, but, that's real bullshit. And also all in capital letters.
You went to the park to be groped by faggots. And no hard on. And you are proud. You proved not to be a faggot. For the Holy Virgin of the Carmel, triple hurrah!
But to whom did you prove it? To me? I didn't need it, I don't have this problem. To yourself? But who are you fucking cheating? I too, in those conditions would not get a hard on.. But not because one is not a faggot. Just because you went there scared to death. And because who knows who that guy was! To me, in your place, probably my cock would have fallen down, too!
I feel like saying: do you really want the experience? The real one? I come to touch your basket. To finger your cock. Then, let's see if it doesn't became hard like steel. If it's me that touches it.
And what am I, a girl, perhaps? I really don't think so. I have a cock between my legs. And not a small one. I don't have boobs and on my chest there is hair. I have two balls, very visible and working. I am a man. And for me you got a good hard on. And even several times, as you wrote me. Anyway I can say at least twice. And the first time we didn't even touch.
Do you know what the real difference is between you and I?
You didn't think you could dig a male.
I didn't think I could dig a male.
You discovered that Sebastiano arouses you.
I discovered that Federico arouses me.
You ran, scared, crying to your mum.
I'm happy because I discovered I'm in love with you.
That's the difference.
And so, I'm a faggot but not you. By God!
But you did the experiment!
I don't need it. I'm not scared if one day I get a hard on for another male. If it happens, do you know what I will do? I will ask him to lets fuck together, See? And I remain always the same Sebastiano, as usual. And try to tell me it's not so!
Whoever gives me hard-ons, means they're my type. Male of female it could be. Nothing more, nothing less. It means I feel horny so I can fuck with her or him. Nothing more, nothing less. But if besides that there is love, then yes it is different. Then this is the right person for me. My "her" or my "him". Without tragedies. Without whimpering. Without fears.
You have, instead, the ostrich technique. You hide your head in the sand. And feel quiet. And if there is no sand, you even invent the sand.
But what are you afraid of?
You do prefer your Stefania. Regular as a Swiss watch. Without fantasy and without love. That you feel tight like a new shoe. And even one size under.
But she is a female.
She has this enormous quality.
And then, keep her well tight. Fuck her only on the odd Thursday, between 9 and 10! Only after you put on the condom, and she takes the pill and also the spiral and, be careful, use also the spermicidal and follow Ogino-Knauss and the thermometer system and even the interrupted coitus! And she under, and you on top, or vice versa, you on top and she beneath!
I'm tired of all that.
I don't want to play the "good" friend any more.
I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU. I want to fuck with you. I want to suck your cock and give you my ass. I want you to suck my cock, and I want fuck your ass. But I want to give you my love freely, and not just half of it.
So, you have just two choices. Or you chase me away shouting "faggot!", or... take care. Because as soon as we are alone, I'll jump on you and grope you. And French kiss you. Because I love you. Even if you are so fucking stupid.
If I wanted to just fuck, I have Carla. She is fantastic. I wouldn't need you. But I'm in love with you. You made me fall in love with you.
I didn't want it. I didn't look for it. It just happened.
But I accepted it. With surprise, I didn't expect anything like it. But I took it with joy.
I want to be yours.
So, you accept me, or you throw me away. But all of me. Not just one half. Just the half that suits you.
I swear, as soon as we are alone, I'll open your trousers and start.
Take care, Federico. And think about it.
Sebastiano
P.S. Ruggiero is happy for your gift and thanks you. I'll bring to Rome what you asked. I'm determined. I'm not joking. Be careful!
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Roma, 12/1/87
Dear Sebastiano,
I was waiting for you in Rome, but you didn't show up. What you wrote me is all right, I'll wait for you here at home, let me know by telephone when are you coming.
You really helped me to think, with your thoughts, your ideas and I thank you very much for telling me clearly and straight what you think, what you feel and how you intend to behave. Right for that I hold you in high esteem and admiration, for your sincerity even if it risks being unpleasant, but it really will never be that. Remain always that way, I pray you. I need to have a person like you near me, I feel that more and more strongly.
I really am lucky to have met a person like you.
You say that I never want to talk personally about some subjects, but just in a letter. So now I cut here: I'm waiting for you and we will talk all you want, until we have said all we need to say.
Ciao, my dearest Sebastiano, see you soon
yours F.
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Monday 19 of January
from Roma
Dear Federico,
Federico, forgive me.
Tomorrow I'll came to the office but I'll try not to meet you.
I hope not to meet you.
I will give this letter to the janitor.
I wanted to go back to Salerno. Immediately, this evening, as I left your home. But I cannot. I cannot afford losing the work. So I'm now in a hotel. Not so far from your place.
When I left, slamming the door behind me, I was furious. In the most fucking black mood. At first with you. Then with you and me. Now just with me.
I'll try to explain you, if I'm able.
When you wrote me that letter, 7 days ago, I thought you received mine. The second one, I mean. The one where I wrote you that I was determined to make love with you. So your letter seemed to me that you were at last telling me yes.
That's why today, as soon as we were at your place, I embraced and kissed you. And probably you didn't understand immediately I was embracing a lover, not a friend. And at first you reciprocated, and I was so happy.
And of course I got an hard on, and you too were aroused. And I felt it. And you didn't part from me.
So I groped your basket. I wanted to open your fly. As I did write you. You tried to stop me, but quite without conviction, I felt. Like it was just a game. So at first I thought you wanted to do it in your bed, not there. But I wanted you immediately, there in the entrance. So I insisted. Like an erotic play.
And we fell on the carpet, and we fought. I was playing, you for real. But you were even more excited. And I too. So I continued without worrying. And succeeded in pulling out your hard cock.
And you came, at once, into my hand.
I laughed, happy. I was not mocking you as you thought. I was happy. Because I love you. And I thought you did remember that. You knew that.
But then you told me those evil things. And I suddenly understood you were not joking. I felt hate in your voice. The intention to hurt me. And all crumbled in me.
I could have killed you, at that moment.
And then you started to cry. I was besides myself with rage. Now he's playing the victim, I thought. So I took my luggage and left.
Now the hash is made. If you had received my letter, this wouldn't have happened. Possibly. Perhaps you wouldn't have called me in Rome. Or at least wouldn't have asked me to come to your place. But you didn't receive it, right? No, I think not. I must have guessed right. It is the only possible explanation.
I don't know if we can really manage not to meet again. I'm afraid it will be impossible. But I need this work, I'm sorry. But we will meet just in the office. Formal contacts. Like civilized people.
I would like to apologize. But I can't, and that not for pride. But just because if I was again alone with you, I'll do it again. Because I lost my head for you. It's beautiful to lose one's head, when it's two doing it. But alone, it's horrible. I feel like I'm going crazy.
While we were fighting you said: "But you aren't a woman." No, I'm not a woman. I don't want to be. I'm happy being a male. I'm sorry for you. All would be lot more simple, right? But I'm a male. Like you are.
I don't know if it will happen again any more. To fall in love with a male, I mean. But I hope not, seeing this failure.
And if you were a female? I think I wouldn't like you. Because it is Federico, like he is, that I love. Male included. That I'm madly in love. Just as you are, I like you. Even if you are so full of shit.
Why don't you accept the fact you too want me? Why don't you surrender to your true self?
And possibly now you are even disgusted with me. Because you came as soon as I touched your cock. I'm your bad conscience. I'm sorry. I wanted to make you happy. On the contrary I drowned you in a bad situation..
Because, you see, I could even disappear. But what has happened, will not. I'm sorry. For you, for me, I'm sorry.
But why aren't we both faggots? All would become so simple.
Farewell, Federico. Take care. I love you
Sebastiano
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Roma, 20/1/87
Sebastiano,
This morning I got your letter, and as I don't know how to get this one to you, I made two copies, one I will send to you in Salerno and the other I will leave to with the janitor, hoping he will see you and give it to you.
I'm sorry for what happened and for what I shouted at you, for all I said. I didn't really mean those words that I said to you, and I don't mean them now. But at that moment I was distraught, because, I have to be honest, I was feeling that after all I liked the way you were touching me and I was scared and wanted you to stop.
Yes, you are right, I didn't receive the second letter you are talking about, I received just one letter from you, the other has not yet arrived, perhaps I will find it today going back home and I can understand better what happened and why.
Perhaps we will never again meet, and for that I would be very, very sorry. Our friendship is really important to me. That's why I was crying, and not to play the victim, please believe me. Now I am here in my office writing to you and would like to say to you please come back, to meet again, but after what happened I'm afraid of that.
Yes, it is right, I'm scared, but it is not you that scares me, it is I, in fact I was fighting to make you stop but at the same time I was hoping you didn't stop, I'm honest.
God, what a migraine I'm getting! It is not easy for me to write you these things, to be so honest with you, but I feel I owe you that.
Until things are not as they are, that is until I am no more excited being with you or you fall out of love with me, probably it will be better if we don't meet, our work permitting. We both will feel bad.
But I would like to ask you one thing - let's at least continue to communicate through letters.
When this morning the janitor gave me your envelope, I recognized immediately your writing and felt at the same time happy and distressed. Happy because you did write to me (I didn't yet know what you wrote me, but you wrote!) and distressed because it was the first white envelope I receive from you, not painted. God, how much that white envelop hurt me, all white, so anonymous, impersonal, icy. But I want to keep this also, hoping it will not be the last to put in my album.
I like you, Sebastiano, believe me. I feel a physical attraction towards you and I fight against it because it seems wrong to me. You feel a physical attraction towards me and you accept it and it seems beautiful to you. I don't know which of us is right, but this is the situation. I would like to be able to give you what you ask of me, but I'm not able.
I feel terribly sad.
Why can't we be two friends like many others? Or two gay men like many others? It would be really so simple one way or the other!
If at least one of us could change, would all go as it should? It would be enough if I learned to feel like you, or you like me... Or it would be enough if that obsession that pushes one towards the other could stop.
Write me, Sebastiano, I beseech you; if you don't want to meet me any more, at least write me.
Waiting
Federico
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