"PASSION"
By
Bill Olson
Copyright 1995 by Bill Olson
From childhood, I knew I was different. When I was a teenager and the other guys became interested in girls, I became interested in men's wristwatches. This were my passion, and I can't even count the number of watches I've worn.
I remember numerous early-evening liaisons in the woods near my house when another boy would meet me. We both knew what I wanted. He'd strip off his wristwatch and put it on me. Before I was 15, there were days when I'd worn a dozen different watches -- sometimes two or more at one time.
One day, when I was 20 and going to college, my mom came up to my room unexpected. There I was with another guy, his watch, big and powerful, gleaming brightly from my wrist. She fainted. The next day, my parents sat me down and demanded I seek therapy. I was frightened; I was happy in my special life because I felt free, enriched, and I always knew what time it was. Now what would happen? Would I be told I was sick, perverse, sinful? Would I be locked away where time didn't matter?
Later that month I dropped out of college and went to San Francisco where I had heard there were others like me. And when I arrived, I found this to be true; men of all ages were coming up to me . . . and asking for the time.
-- Minneapolis, Minnesota
July 6, 1995