Community Interviews 3: Gimwinkle© 27 March 2019 Marthijn Uittenbogaard
In this series I have interviewed two people so far. The first two, were already known to me because of their television appearances. This time I interview Gimwinkle. Gimwinkle is someone's nickname that sounds familiar to me, like many other nicknames I've come across on Boy Chat or Girl Chat over the years. But mostly, I don't have a clear picture in my head who is behind a nickname. Even if have read personal things about him in previous posts, I still mix all nicknames up. Now, after the interview I had with him, I always will know who Gimwinkle is. An American Canadian, 66 years old, married three times, and unfortunately he was also imprisoned for many years. But his time served was not as bad as you might think. Here's the interview.
Gimwinkle, how did you come up with this nickname?
I came up with it about 15 years ago, thereabouts. It was my first exposure to Girl Chat and I saw that everyone else had interesting pen-names. This is one that just hit me, I suppose. I've stuck with it all this time. Some people have multiple nicknames but I identify with just this one. I had an email under this nickname at Yahoo when I first started but somebody managed to crack it and I ended up deleting the account. My email, thus, is under Gimwinkle2.
Girl lovers of today can find on-line communities to interact with. You are 66 years old. When you were a young adult, internet wasn't around yet. When did you find out your feelings towards little girls and how was it in the old days?
I was about 14, I think, when puberty hit me. That's when I realized what my sexual orientation was, although I didn't really call it that. I just knew that my heart rate went critical whenever I was near little girls. I also knew it was wrong and not to tell anyone what I wanted to do. This was back in the late 1960s when most news was either by the news broadcasts of the evenings or by word-of-mouth. Even then, everyone was distracted from sexual things in the news by the Vietnam War, anti-government demonstrations, or civil rights stuff. The word molestation wasn't even known. Someone involved with a very little girl would just be called a dirty old man, and that was it. Someone involved with a girl in her late teens was just guilty of statutory rape. More commonly known would be when someone was involved with a little boy; he would be called a "bugger". I'm not sure you can print that, but that's the term we kids all knew. Nobody ever heard of lesbians but everyone knew of the "queers". Again, sorry for the use of the term. But that was life back then.
You served in the US military. A girl lover in the military? Isn't girl love that you like cuteness, instead of tanks and machine guns? How was your time in the military?
Yes. I was involved in Naval Aviation. As such, I was single and my sexuality was pretty much dormant. I was so involved with my work that I completely forgot about little girls. Big girls were plentiful so I dated some of them. Nothing ever became of any of it until I met my first wife. As for my work, well, it wasn't so much that I was fascinated with tanks and machine guns but, rather, go-fast airplanes, aircraft carrier operations, and the technical things that goes with all that. That can be very absorbing for a young adult. Eventually, one of my squadron buddies got married and we three became great friends. My buddy was not a good husband and ended up alienating his wife, me, the Navy, and went AWOL [absent without leave]. My closeness with his wife turned into my losing my virginity to her in a small stand of woods on base. Later, I also exited the Navy and began a long, tortuous civilian life with the first Mrs. Gimwinkle. We had a son, then a daughter, then a third son who died very young.
How did he die?
The birth of my second son was a wonderful event in my life. My other two kids didn't understand much of what was happening, but my wife and I did. I was pretty much unemployed at the time and we all were struggling with the limited finances. One day, my youngest son, my wife, and the other two kids were all in the car and the youngest began crying. It sounded funny but he seemed fine. A few moments later, his cry began getting softer and more of a squeak. This scared his Mom and me so we drove directly to a free clinic near our home. The doctor there said that I had to get him to the emergency room immediately. To this day, I don't understand why an ambulance wasn't called. Nevertheless, my driving got us to the ER faster anyway. In the ER, they took him into a treatment stall where he died. Because there was the nagging question of what had happened, we began to pester the doctors and, then later, the hospital administration. Nobody knew why my son's heart just stopped. Because it was in a hospital, no autopsy was done. To this day, if I hear a weak cry, say from a kitten or a child, I am instantly terrified and need... intensely... to see what the problem is. My son was a couple days short of 3 months old.
You lived both in the USA as in Canada. What country do you like more? And why?
Well, my Mom, Dad, sister and brother all live in the States. That's one good reason to like the U.S. But due to my legal issues, I have been deported and may never go back. If I could, most definitely I would just to be close to them. But, comparing country to country, Canada vs the U.S., I have no real preference. I know more about the U.S. because I spent most of my young life there; here, I still occasionally call the Prime Minister the "President" of Canada. I don't know anything about Canadian politics. Well, I guess the one thing I hated about the U.S. was that, in the "South", it was oppressively hot. I did spend a few years in Washington State which I loved because summers were awesome. And there was snow in the winters. I love that about Canada. Cold winters are great. Mild summers are a joy to live in!
Boy lovers had an organization like NAMBLA. It still exists but is almost inactive. Girl lovers never had many organizations. But I know there were some magazines published for girl lovers, like the magazine Uncommon Desires. Did you ever buy magazines like that?
Actually, while I was in prison, I managed to get a couple issues of Uncommon Desires. Wow, that brought back memories. And, also strange for a prison, I managed to buy a copy of David Hamilton's book. I don't think the prison administration ever looked carefully at them. Uncommon Desires did give me a feeling of not being so alone in my passions. Hamilton's book was just a victory I felt by getting it past the prison authorities. The images in his book did nothing for me. I think I even gave it away. I forget what happened to it. One thing I did have for several wonderful years in prison was a full subscription to Vogue Bambini. Every two months, I would count down the days until it was delivered. I would spend a day studying it then share with my buddies. I eventually cut out the little girl images that I liked, put them under page-protectors and began a huge collection. I gave the little boy pictures to my "boy-oriented" buddy. But, before prison, no. I never had any kind of magazines or books. I never needed imagery to focus on. I had the real thing.
You were married three times. How did you meet up with these women and why did you divorce two times?
Mrs. G. the First and I met when a squadron buddy of mine introduced me to his new wife. They moved off base and I visited them often. I never saw him abuse Mrs. G. when they were married to each other but I do know they had problems. When he went AWOL, I began to get more and more friendly with her. Eventually, it became, well, more than friendly. I eventually married her and we lived together for about 11 years. I went to prison for (more than 10, less than 20) years which eventually lead to a divorce which I did not (nor could not, actually) contest. My son stayed with his mother and new stepfather while my daughter eventually moved in with my own parents.
Once out of prison, I moved to Toronto and met a 20 year old Jamaican/Canadian girl who really needed a father in her life. I was it. I was 48 at the time but she was about 6 years old emotionally. Don't get me wrong: she was taking college courses and getting straight A's. But she was scared of her own shadow, refusing to walk outside in the dark, never even answering the telephone, and shaking horribly at the thought of being on her own. When we were becoming more than friends, I told her where I had spent the previous (more than 10) years, why I had been there, and gave her the easy out of leaving me and going back to her mother. She chose to stay with me. Sexually, we experimented with each other and got along well enough. But, about 10 years later, she out-grew me sexually and moved on. Today, her now husband, herself and I are all pretty good friends. We occasionally go sailing together.
About 10 years ago, I had made some Chinese friends who introduced me to a girl who wanted to date a Canadian. I happened to be a Canadian. I was comfortably employed, spoke zero Mandarin, and dressed like I was still in prison. When I saw the girl, I was instantly paralyzed because she was so beautiful. I started to walk out but decided to jump back into the meeting with both feet. Mrs. Gimwinkle the Third spoke enough English to say that she didn't speak English but the two of us somehow managed to communicate enough to smile at each other, learn each other's names, and smile some more. My Chinese buddy and his wife left the two of us to stare at each other. Eventually, we began studying English together and Mrs. G. wanted to know if I was serious about her. Long story short, I explained that, if all she wanted was a way into Canada as a refugee and marry me, I would be okay with that and we could divorce once she became legally established. She grew angry at me saying that she was looking for a real, honest to goodness marriage because her last marriage, in China, had been difficult for her. The two of us eventually agreed on having a real marriage. To this day, we are still married. In fact, she is in the other room watching one of her Chinese soap operas as I type this. And, no, sexually we don't. We tried, but for me, it was all just a fizzle... a husbandly duty that I could not perform very well. She tried to give me what I wanted sexually, but it just didn't work. Nevertheless, we still love each other.
You also have children. And you were convicted of sexual activity with on of them. Your daughter. Can you tell something about this relationship? And do you, considering what happened afterwards, regret that you had sex with her?
Wow, you're asking for a lot in a short interview. Well, I'll try to keep it short. Yes, I was sort of sexual with my daughter from when She was 6 until my arrest when She was 10. I never forced myself on Her in a sexual way. I just wanted Her to do something that I found incredibly intense in excitement. Even at 6 years old, She knew what I was asking was wrong but She did as I asked. Again, I never forced Her to do anything. Occasionally, when the mood did not suit Her, She would refuse and I instantly accepted Her decision. Later, when She was about 9 or so, I began pleasuring Her by performing oral sex on Her. She never touched me nor even saw me inappropriately dressed except when we took sensual showers together. And, in spite of what most other people would say, little girls can have orgasms.
Once in prison, She would write me and, on several occasions, traveled across country to visit me. This went on for several years until, one day, She was taken to a psychologist to make sure She was not troubled about what had happened. She was not. However, apparently society's pressures and judgments made their way into Her own philosophy. I had sent a drawing of a little girl sitting in the grass to my parents. They shared it with Her and She saw that I was still sexually oriented towards little girls and that I would always be so. In our phone conversation, She made it clear that She no longer wanted to communicate with me. That was the last I ever spoke to Her. My parents took good care of Her and, occasionally will tell me how She and Her own kids are doing. I've never contacted Her, not Her kids, but I have tracked Her via Google and a website She had. I feel bad about how She now views Her past. How She now feels that She was a victim. Well, technically, She is. But I don't think She felt that way until the psychologists and the rest of society convinced Her that She is. I definitely feel guilty about being a corrupt, deviated father for Her and asking Her to do something silly that fathers (or anyone, for that matter) would ask of anyone. But I do not feel guilty about pleasuring Her.
Do you still love your daughter, when you think about her? Do you hope she will contact you someday and that you two can be friends?
Yes, I still love and care about Her. There is nothing I can do ever. But I still wish that She has a good life in spite of whatever bad memories She harbours. I have zero hope that She would ever contact me. Could we be friends? Sure. If She wanted it. But, like I said, that will never happen.
Should incest be legal? And if so, what should the conditions be? And what about the age of the child involved?
Incest, by the full biological definition, should be illegal because of the high risk of genetic mishaps. Should there be no procreation involved, then sex is sex. It doesn't matter with whom it is with, as long as both parties are happily in agreement with each other. Incest, by the legal definition, is none of society's business. If me and my sister, brother, mother, father, daughter, son, granddaughter, grandson, etc., wanted to be in a private encounter with each other, so long as it was consensual, then society should just butt out. Of course, this brings the definition of "consent" into the discussion and that would be a very lengthy and controversial dialogue.
Before my prison experience, I was wrong for what I was doing. It was selfish. Pleasure for just me, at first. Later, I included Her in the pleasure experience. That, I don't think was directly wrong. But, today, my philosophy is different because, now, I know so much more. For me, conditions, relationships and ages are irrelevant. If I thought for one moment my dreamed of lover would never get hurt by loving me, I would love Her. To hell with any boundaries except Hers. Because those other boundaries that are NOT Hers, are not only fickle but, rather, based on things such as the Earth being flat and the center of the universe, tomatoes as vegetables, Santa Claus being buddies with elves and the Easter Bunny lays eggs. Dominus vobiscum, eh?
If I am in a relationship with a little girl, I don't want to hug Her, kiss Her, or find sexual gratification from an encounter with Her. If I hug Her, it's because I want Her to feel the warmth and pressure that "love" uses to share by. If I kiss Her, it's because I want Her to be focused on the intense tactile experience that lips convey. If She and I enter into a loving sexual encounter, my only desire is to bring Her to the Mt. Everest of human emotion. If She hugs me, I will feel that warmth and pressure of love but I will want to make sure She feels it as well. If She kisses me back, my only thought it is to memorize the event so I can recall it for the rest of my life. I'm not sure if anyone else is like me, but I would derive no sexual pleasure from any such encounter with Her: rather, feeling Her direct sexual response from my kissing of Her entire anatomy is what I exist for. This sexual encounter... Her sexual pleasure... is more important to me than life itself. My sexual pleasure is in creating Hers only. What conditions would you want to put on all that? At what age should it be permitted? Why should my daughter be exempt from such experience? Or my son?
Did you as a young boy dreamed of becoming a military? Or a pilot maybe.
Yes, and yes. I dreamt of a helicopter crash in my back yard when I was 7 or 8, probably a nightmare from some movie I had seen. I can even tell you that it was a Bell 47 although I didn't know the version at that time. To this day, I love to fly the Huey occasionally but it's not my profession nor do I hold a ticket to do so. I had always been attracted to the sea and flight. I had been around military aircraft most of my life because my father was U.S. Air Force. When the U.S. military began sniffing around my young self, I jumped at the chance to join in. I eventually joined the U.S. Navy and began a convoluted career around Naval Aviation. The best of both worlds.
Times are tough for so called pedophiles. At the same time, maybe, there is also progress in society. Adult homosexuality and maybe child homosexuality is more and more becoming accepted. Adult pornography has become legal. Anti-conception is more accepted. Women's rights, the rights of black people are slightly increasing. How do you see this?
I guess I am a pessimist. Or a realist. Illegal things are illegal because they are illegal. (Semantically null, but you get the point.) I could discuss "malum in se", meaning wrong or evil in itself, inherently wrong by nature, independent of regulations governing conduct. Or I could discuss "malum prohibitum", which is wrong only because it is prohibited. Heinlein wrote, "I am free, no matter what rules surround me. If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; if I find them too obnoxious, I break them. I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do." My reply to malum prohibitum.
Morally responsible for what I do? Morals are what I say they are. Killing and eating cattle may be immoral in some places in the world, but not immoral to me. Cutting little girls' clitorises off may not be immoral in some places in the world, but it is immoral to me. What are morals? Anything that is harmful, in my view, is wrong. Stepping on an ant on the sidewalk is wrong for me to do. I've done it, but I know, for me, it is wrong. As the doctors would say, "Above all, do not harm." Now to the point. Intergenerational taboo relations. I know it is taboo, illegal, and considered morally wrong as well as harmful. I only care, however, about the last part. Harmful. Above all, I do not wish to do harm. Even indirectly. Such as was with my daughter. She was eventually (indirectly) harmed by me.
But, as you pointed out, there are many taboos that are sliding into the history books of obscurity. Just last year, Kathleen Wynne stepped out of the office of Ontario's Premier. She was the first female premier of Ontario and the first openly LGBT premier in Canada. Things change. But, I would ask, can you ever imagine some Mommy and Daddy answering the doorbell only to see me asking to pull their 6 year old daughter's pants down to kiss Her there? Pessimism is justified, here, don't you think? Realistically? Even though the little 6 year old would love it. Society simply will never accept that. Society eventually saw LGBT encounters as personal, not involving them. But, to go near their loved one? Never. Even if She desperately wanted it.
The USA has so many prisoners. More than one percent is being locked up. Even many more have a criminal record and are free on parole or have to live with some sort of restrictions, because of their 'crime'. You served in prison. In what prison did you stay and how was that like and what about the Justice system?
I was in an un-named State prison for a great many years on what I called my "extended vacation." I am probably the only man in the world who actually enjoyed time in prison. True, there were a few incidents that were distressing, but, for the most part, I was comfortable and accepted where I was for my own reasons. Of the incidents that were distressing, only one was violent enough that one fellow that crossed me may not have survived. I was told by a sort of reliable source that the individual lived through the encounter. There were many colorful characters there with me, many silly events, many sad ones, and many strange ones. What I did learn was how to stop fussing with my poor self-esteem and start enjoying life. I knew I was going to be "old" when I got out and the vanishing minutes of my life would never be able to be re-lived. I had but one life to live and I was going to make sure I put something good in it.
The "justice" system. Several years ago, a young man was driving home from a local bar; yes, he was drunk. Yes, something bad happened; he crashed into a woman's car and killed her. He was arrested, charged and convicted of killing the woman. He was sentenced to 5 years in prison. In the same city, an older man was in his apartment arguing with his wife and sister-in-law. He grew extremely angry, went upstairs to the bedroom, fetched a hunting rifle, loaded it, returned downstairs, pointed the gun at his wife and fired it. However, his aim was off and his sister-in-law was hit by the blast. The sister-in-law died. The old man was arrested, charged and convicted of killing the sister-in-law. Because he was not trying to kill her, he too, was sentenced to 5 years in prison. The legal system in that state moves very slowly. Because of their time already in jail awaiting trials, both the young man and the old man were released within weeks after all the justice was concluded, having been behind bars less than a year.
There was, as the story goes, a third man in jail. He killed no one. He kissed a little girl in a most private part of Her anatomy not once, but several times. The little girl liked the sensations and the resulting new and intense emotion, sharing the new experiences with Her little neighbor friends. One of Her friends shared the story with Her own mother. The mother informed the police that something unusual was going on between the neighbor man and the now sexually aware little girl. The man was arrested, charged and convicted of kissing the little girl. The man was sentenced to over 20 years in prison. More than ten years later, the man was finally released from prison and was deported to Canada. How is it that killing someone isn't nearly as bad as kissing a little girl? Well, it turns out that there are many contributing factors in this odd, society response. It takes over 10 years to understand how it all works and why. Yet, it is still odd. It is what it is.
When was the last time you enjoyed listening to a free bird singing? Birds in cages don't count. Do you like nature?
I own a small sailboat. It is one of my passions that I had fantasized about during my entire prison experience. While inside, I studied navigation, boat costs, travel destinations, sailing techniques, marlin spike seamanship, weather, and the Colregs (rules of the road for boats.) The very year I was released, I managed to purchase a small sailboat and begin sailing around Lake Ontario. I've been sailing every summer since. Here, in a few weeks, I plan to put my sailboat back in the water after its winter storage. There are very few people that go boating in the summer (compared to those who simply sit at home in their air conditioning and watch Reality Shows.) Of those boaters, there are even fewer that get on the water in sailboats. Of those who do have sailboats, very few will go out and just sit, alone, miles from shore, and watch the clouds distort into various shapes, listen to the slap of water against the boat's hull, and just stare at society off in the distance. I can't count the number of night I've spent drifting about the Lake because I had fallen asleep on the lightly swaying deck. The birds who sing near me when at home port include, of course, seagulls, but there are also Arctic Terns, fork tailed swallows, two types of ducks, cormorants, Canadian geese, swans, the occasional lost pigeon, and even a sparrow or two here and there. I've been on Lake Ontario where the waves were two meters high, the winds were at highway speeds, and my boat was almost jumping out of the water. So, too, I've been on Lake Ontario at 3 o'clock in the morning simply to be far enough away from the shore to watch a pristine sunrise out of the east. I've taken several friends out on Lake Ontario to just watch a sunset, all of us in absolute quiet as the sun sang ever so slowly into oranges, reds, indigo, and then black. While on land, I have skipped driving to work only to take the trip on foot, some two hour's journey simply to walk through an empty park trail. I have sat at the edge of a local fish pond and just stared at it for hours. I have driven 3 hours to visit a sunflower farm to take some photos only to end up having to leave because the place closed for the night. I left with not one photo being taken because I was so luxuriating in the experience there. Yeah, you could say that I like nature.
You are 66. Maybe one, or both of your parents are still living. Do you still see them? If they are not with us anymore, do you like to share some information about them? Did you have great parents?
Both my parents are living in a house way too big for them. They live in a southern state near an Air Force base where he retired at. They are advanced in age, of course, so they have many medical issues to deal with. My Dad is a workaholic and refuses to completely pass the family business to my brother. But, as his medical condition deteriorates, he usually just goes to the office to sleep of an hour or so and get driven back home. My Mom is so entangled with her church friends that she has trouble trying to pack so many things into her life. I telephone my Mom every day, sometimes yammering over an hour, sometimes just for a few minutes. We don't email or Skype much because she can't get her computer to obey her and she refuses to cuss at it. My Dad won't touch a computer. If he needs a price on something that he doesn't have memorized, he has someone google it for him. My Mom was the best thing that ever happened to me. She still is the love of my life. My Dad and I were pretty much estranged while I was growing up. I get my hatred of authority from him and his attempts of authority over me. Yet, the day he walked into the jail visiting room to see what had happened to me, I asked if he had seen the charges. Then, I told him, point blank, that I was guilty of what they had charged me with. I figured that my descent into hell could not get any deeper so why not tell him the ugly truth about me. He just asked me if I wanted him to get a good lawyer for me. I thanked him and told him no. From that day to this, I have nothing but deep respect for how my Dad loves me. In his way.
Would you like to be twenty again? Or maybe even younger?
No, not really. I just want to stop getting older. There is so much I didn't know when I was twenty and younger. Today, I know why it isn't a good idea to smoke cigarettes. I know what snot-slinging drunk is. I know how Society is, how it is good in some ways, bad in some ways, and atrocious in some ways. Today, I am one of the richest men in the world even though my bank account contains only a couple dollars. When I was twenty, I didn't know what the meaning of life was. Today, I do.