My Policeman Friend: The Cuffs That Do Not Bind - A Memoir

By D. L. Forbes

My Mr. Policeman friend and I have, as in the line of the old music hall song: 'been together now for forty years, and it don't seem a day too long' – well, except during the times when it did. We loved one another in fits and starts, through ups and downs, and ins and outs. Sometimes we did not meet for months on end, our lives meandering off down different paths and up different slopes; but through the decades the love remained there as our mainstay. There were years when we saw each other daily, sometimes falling in love all over again, and talking again about finally living together. We loved and laughed, argued, occasionally gave pain, cried – then loved and laughed some more. Happily, through the years we remained sexually compatible, fitting like gloves, gloves that actually fit – sometimes rubber, sometimes silk, fur-lined, heavy-duty or metal-studded, depending on the mood and inclination of the moment. Yet we also accepted one another's freedom to come and go without too much sorrow or jealousy. A caring and respectful relationship which we knew would last until the day one of us dropped dead; which it has.
I told my Mr. Policeman friend: "I hope I go first, because I know you won't be able to survive very long without me."
"Yeah, okay, sure," he replied. "Anything you say."
These things are what this diary/poem memoir is about. The joys and pains involved in any lasting love affair and friendship with deep ties that do not bind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798350938074

Book preview

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This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent in any form of binding, cover, or device other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All rights reserved

© D. L. Forbes 2024

ISBN (Print) 979-8-35093-806-7

ISBN (eBook) 979-8-35093-807-4

1. Memoir 2. Biography 3. Journal

In Loving Memory of My Policeman Friend

1944 - 2023

And for all Police Officers

Whether they be In or Out

Straight, Gay, or Assorted

Various poems in this collection were first published in the six volumes of the: ‘One Hundred Poems’ series.

Books by D. L. Forbes

SAXONFORD

VOLUME ONE

WINTER INTO SUMMER

Fiction

SAXONFORD

VOLUME TWO

SUMMER INTO WINTER

Fiction

CHILDREN OF SYCORAX

Fiction/Biography

LIFE THREATENING POETRY ACROSS AMERICA

ONE HUNDRED ONE DOLLAR POEMS

The One Hundred Poetry Series – Number One

UMLUNGU

THE WHITE SCUM THAT FLOATS IN THE SURF

ONE HUNDRED EVERYDAY POEMS

The One Hundred Poetry Series – Number Two

YID UN GOY YINGL

Fiction/Biography/

GENTILE AND JEW BOYS

ONE HUNDRED POEMS FOR SHEM

The One Hundred Poetry Series – Number Three

ROUGH FLUFF

ONE HUNDRED LOVE POEMS

The One Hundred Poetry Series – Number Four

CHARMED, I’M SURE

ONE HUNDRED SEXUAL POEMS

The One Hundred Poetry Series – Number Five

WITTGENSTEIN’S SON

&

U. G. KRISHNAMURTI

DUCKS OR RABBITS

Autobiography/Biography

CAT GOT MY BRAIN

ONE HUNDRED MAD POEMS

The One Hundred Poetry Series – Number Six

THREE PLAYS

BABY

RUNS IN THE FAMILY

LAND’S END

MY POLICEMAN FRIEND

The Cuffs That Do Not Bind

Memoir

Contents

Introduction

1980’s – Mr. Policeman

1990’s – My Policeman

2000’s – My Policeman Friend

2010’s – My Policeman Man

2020-23 – My Police Man

Introduction

Handcuffs That Do Not Bind

My Mr. Policeman friend and I have, as in the line of the old music hall song: ‘been together now for forty years, and it don’t seem a day too long’ – well, except during the times when it did. We loved one another in fits and starts, through ups and downs, and ins and outs. Sometimes we did not meet for months on end, our lives meandering off down different paths and up different slopes; but through the decades the love remained there as our mainstay. There were years when we saw each other daily, sometimes falling in love all over again, and talking again about finally living together. We loved and laughed, argued, occasionally gave pain, cried – then loved and laughed some more. Happily, through the years we remained sexually compatible, fitting like gloves, gloves that actually fit – sometimes rubber, sometimes silk, fur-lined, heavy-duty or metal-studded, depending on the mood and inclination of the moment. Yet we also accepted one another’s freedom to come and go without too much sorrow or jealousy. A caring and respectful relationship which we knew would last until the day one of us dropped dead; which it has.

I told my Mr. Policeman friend: I hope I go first, because I know you won’t be able to survive very long without me.

Yeah, okay, sure, he replied. Anything you say.

These things are what this diary/poem memoir is about. The joys and pains involved in any lasting love affair and friendship with deep ties that do not bind.

Ins and Outs of the Closet

In the Autumn of 1979, I took an unloaded handgun in a brown paper bag with a box of ammunition to a local San Francisco police station to surrender it, and where I first dramatically came across Mr. Policeman.

I walked up to the windowed reception desk and pulled the gun from the bag to show him, but had no time to explain to Mr. Policeman how some man I met a few months previously gave me the gun for protection, and how I took it to be polite but did not really want it, and so was now handing it in; but before I could even open my mouth, hell broke loose and Mr. Policeman was yelling at me to put the gun down and step back. So I did that. He then instructed me, still over aggressively I thought, to push the gun and the paper bag through a side slot in the thick glass window. I did that too. He took them.

Instead of saying thank you as one might expect, he exclaimed at me incongruously and rather crossly, Do you have a death wish or something?

No, I replied a little confused, I don’t think so.

Well, he stated, if you do, the best way to get yourself killed is to pull out a gun in a police station. I got it.

Oh, I said… Did this silly policeman really think I was going to shoot him? Sorry, I added. I didn’t mean to frighten you.

He glared at me.

"You didn’t frighten me," he stated in an almost petulant tone.

Then I explained how I was new to American ways and knew nothing of guns and gun etiquette. He continued to glare, so I told him about the man I met one night, who in the morning gave me two guns, as a gift, from his large collection. I smiled. The policeman continued to glare. I found him very handsome in a muscly morose sort of way.

I wondered for a moment if he might be gay, but thought not for he exuded no gay vibes I could detect, and I was pretty adept at gay vibe detection. Yet there was something in this man’s presence that drew me so completely, and occasioned within some budding intuition strong enough to cause me to believe that someday I would know this man, perhaps to kiss him, and maybe even to delve beneath the surface of his uniform.

You say this man gave you two guns? the policeman asked.

"Yes, he did. The other one is what he called a stocking gun, a gun that ladies use apparently."

Where is it?

At the place I’m staying.

Do you have a license for that gun.

No, I said, but it’s a very small gun.

Size doesn’t matter.

Yes, so I heard. I smiled broadly, just to break the ice.

He gazed at me but the ice cracked not at all.

A gun’s a gun, he snapped crossly, and it’s illegal to possess an unlicensed firearm.

Well, I don’t really want it. I could give it to you as a present, if you would like it?

"I don’t want it, he pouted, but you better hand it in; and leave it in the bag next time."

Mr. Policeman’s police station was near to where I was staying, and the next day I happened to see him in a police patrol car and I waved. He saw me and looked me up and down but did not wave back or respond in any way. Then a week later I saw him riding a bicycle with another policeman down near the Embarcadero. They stopped a way off and looked back at me and then they laughed. I guessed he was telling his colleague about the gun fracas. Although I was not exactly about to stalk him physically, I did in my mind, and a few days later I took the ladies gun to the police station after looking in to make sure he was there.

It was not until the beginning of 1980 that I casually contrived to meet and speak with him again, when I actually managed to make him smile and even laugh.

It turned out that Mr. Policeman was gay, and not so very far back in-the-closet as to be completely invisible or unapproachable, but back then some gay people were a little more circumspect in openly admitting their sexual preferences; particularly when one’s profession was consistently in the public eye.

Fortunately, I never experienced a closet. and this greatly helped in steering or maneuvering Mr. Policeman in the right direction – in my direction, and into correct positions.

We met once more before the first seduction took place, and we were most pleased with ourselves and with each other.

1980’s – Mr. Policeman

Mr. Policeman is 36 and I am 29 when we meet again in early 1980

We had such a lot of exploring to do

Discovering each other back, front, inside and out

"I don’t have to come-out, he stated, because what we do in private is no one else’s damn business."

Acting casual and a little wary of love and of breaking each other’s hearts

Vietnam Veteran damage and denial

Living with death

Friends and others dying all around

Goodbyes and hellos

Tensions and tears

Piss off, and, I really need to see you…

Of the secret love, he said, that dares to love to love to speak its name, just about most of the time. In fact, the love that dares not speak its name, never shuts the hell up about it.

Mr. Policeman - First Date

Mr. Policeman said:

I don’t know. I have to be careful who I go out and have coffee with.

Why, I asked. Are you handcuffed by rules and other professional restraints?

Well, I wouldn’t want to go out for coffee with a wanted felon or some English criminal with an international warrant out for his arrest.

Well, you could, if you liked him enough, I suppose.

Are you telling me you’re a sought-after felon? Do you have any warrants out on you, or any unpaid parking tickets?

No, I said, I have a clean record, being a clean-living, clean-minded, clean-limbed sort of chap.

Well… Mr. Policeman looked at me suspiciously.

I would like to have said: Yes, and a clean-underweared sort of chap too, as clean underwear is so important; if you happen to wear underwear that is; and I would guess at a pinch, you wear tight black French briefs. Instead, I said, You can do a background check on me if you want to.

Yes, he said, I think I will. Can I see your passport and driver’s license, please?

That handsome, sturdy policeman took my U.K passport I and my new California driver’s license, and went off to make a background check. I thought how sexy he looked and my fluttering gut told me we would surely know one another pretty intimately, maybe even before the week was out.

You’re clean, he said officially, handing back my passport and license.

Yes, I know… so will you come out and have coffee with me sometime?

Um, well… do you know Café Greco on Columbus Avenue in Northbeach?

Mr. Policeman - Infringement After Sex

It was just a silly jest, that was all

You would think I robbed a bank

or pulled another gun on him or something.

I did not know he would be there.

I did not know he would be sitting there with a fellow policeman, both in uniform, sipping lattes in that café.

Our eyes met and we said hello, and I said, I do not know why, I put it down to nerves, I said:

Oh, hi. I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I knew straight away that was the most stupid thing I could have ever said.

He gave me such a terribly hurt and angry look.

I could have slunk away and died.

I did slink away but I did not quite die.

I got my coffee