On my last post, I wrote about my fears of having contracted HIV. I acted irresponsibly during two occasions and linked an event that followed as a consequence. It was the uncertainty that scared me and having to wait a whole week before getting tested in order to improve the accuracy of the test(s).
Last Friday, I changed doctors from the one my parents had me signed up for (a pediatrician) to someone that dealt more with adults (an internist). When I got to the doctor's office they actually told me that the doctor I had switched to was an "attending", which meant she supervised new doctors doing their residency. For me, this meant that I would be seen by someone recently just got their medical degree. She was a this petite Asian doctor. I felt at ease at first, but once I started talking about my reasons for being there things got pretty ridiculous.
I am the type of person who won't keep things from my doctor. It may be uncomfortable to disclose certain things to complete strangers (even a doctor), but I know that in order to get the best service, I had to be honest. I flat out told her that I am sexually active with men and that the reason for my visit was a routine physical along with HIV and STD tests. She asked me questions and I would answer them completely and honestly. However, it seemed to make her feel uncomfortable how honest I was, which made me somewhat uncomfortable. The whole time she was asking me her set list of questions she was looking at the computer screen; no eye contact whatsoever. She seemed more preoccupied with reading me her list of questions rather than my actual well-being.
Then came the time for her to do the physical. She told me to get undressed. I asked her if she wanted me to completely undress or just down to my underwear. She said whatever I felt like, if I wanted to get checked down there then to completely undress. If not, then just to my underwear. In the back of my mind I'm thinking, "Um, I want a complete physical, what do you think? You're the doctor, you should know what I need to be checked for and how to do it." She then basically dashed out of the room seeming somewhat flustered and not completely shutting the door. Hmmm. Yea, okay. Fucking prude. I just started laughing to myself. When she came back she said, "Oh," with a high intonation as if she's surprised that I'm laying down on the examining table completely naked. I don't think she really knew what she was doing. After less than a minute, she told me I could get dressed again and we'll start talking about the HIV and STD tests when I'm ready.
When she came back, she told me to just go downstairs to get the tests done. And that was it. She didn't tell me anything else about what sort of tests they were and what sort of STDs I was getting tested for or any other supplementary information I should have/know. So I looked her straight in the face and asked her, "What sort of HIV test is it? Which generation? Is it ELISA or the 4th generation PCR test?" Her flustered response was, "Oh, I don't know. I think we have ELISA. Let me check with the attending doctor." Then I rebutted, "I mean, is it the rapid antibody test or is it the 4th generation test that actually detects the virus itself?" She left for what seemed like 5 minutes and came back saying, "It's a blood test. And yes, it's the latest generation of HIV test." She said the last statement triumphantly (with a slight smile on her face) and slightly defensively as if she proved herself to me that she knew what she was talking about and still had a credible opinion. I could tell that she was somewhat unnerved that I made her seem uninformed with my questions. I called my insurance the next day and asked them to change my primary care physician.
Two days after my encounter with Dr. Prude, she called me back to tell me that I didn't have HIV or any of the other STDS I got tested for.
After this whole ordeal, I think I'm going to be celibate for a while.
Showing posts with label gay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gay. Show all posts
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Après une Semaine
It has been a week since my last post. As many of you all know, I started at my new retail job a week ago. It has been quite interesting...
Le Premier Jour
My first day was somewhat discouraging. I had an interesting haircut, I was one of the only people not wearing plaid and non-prescriptive, thick-rimmed, Buddy Holly-esque glasses. I honestly didn't know what to wear, so I went with a warm red sweater, a robin's egg colored button-up underneath, and a pair of slacks. I wanted to try my hand at color-blocking. Unfortunately, I felt a little overdressed as everyone were basically in plaid shirts and denim cut offs. Perhaps that was their interpretation of the company's unique current trend? It seemed more like a general interpretation of a current American trend.
Generally, when put into a room full of strangers, I'm the type that likes to "get a feel" for the rest of those in the room before interacting with them. Due to this I did get the sense that the people sitting at the same table as me considered me to be a bit odd. Perhaps even a bit stupid. I came in an hour early and my first workshop wasn't suppose to start until 10am, but they mistook me as a part of the 9am group, so it seemed like I was relatively late (I truly wasn't). I just went along with it. Unfortunately, it meant having to sit right next to the projector screen way up front.
One interesting bit of the day was when I finally faced everyone in my group and realized something... Sitting right across the table from me was a guy I had an OKCupid crush on. We made eye contact a few times where he would swiftly look away. It was obvious that he recognized me and he knew that I recognized him. I sent him an "eye candy" award on OKC for Christ's sake. At the end of the workshop he took the stairs instead of getting in the elevator with me. Perhaps he was trying to avoid me? We were just on the second floor anyways, so he might've just wanted the bit of exercise? Who knows?
Le Deuxième Jour
The second day of workshops was a little less nerve wracking. I connected quickly with a girl that was in the same group as me. Of course, it was somewhat expected that of all the people I would get along with it would be the only sassy black girl in the room. We talked a bit about the group's social dynamics; people were starting to form cliques. It was expected, however I personally didn't expect them to start forming so soon. It wouldn't be surprising if social hierarchies start to form. The sassy black girl, or I should say woman, was in her thirties and seemed like she didn't give a fuck. I quote, "I honestly could care less. If these people want to start closing themselves off to other people, that's on them. I'm here to do a job, not to one up anybody."
She gave me hope that perhaps there are other people like her and me. People that are there to be vain, look pretty while making money, but without the intent of proving superiority over anyone else. I took this job for that reason in the first place. It's a new store, therefore everyone is starting on the same level with basically the same amount of pay, so no one should feel much more or less than anyone else. Or perhaps it's my own defense mechanism(s) coming into play? Perhaps everyone isn't that bad and I'm the one who might be closing himself off?
Le Troisième Jour
I've noticed that for every day that passes, I become a little more open. Even though I have a different set of strangers in my group every day. I felt that the people who would get along with one another the best seemed to gravitate to one another. Whether it be their body language, their explicit expression of self, or whatnot. I felt that the people I was sitting with this time around were people I could freely speak to. I laughed with them, joked with them, and yes, worked with them during the group exercises. Meanwhile, it's not surprising that some people still stood out as the obnoxious overachievers. I understand if people want to stand out and show their worth, but a few of these people didn't even allow others to contribute. It was their way or no way. It annoyed me a bit, but I thought to myself, "Fuck it," and went along with it.
At the end of the day, the workshop leaders gave people the chance to give their two cents on the workshop experience. Of course, some people felt it necessary to say something even if it meant saying the same thing as those that went before them. The was the most tedious half hour of the whole session. Everyone liked the workshop, the fact that everyone got to interact with one another, that it wasn't dull, and everyone had fun. Try to spin that in every way possible for thirty minutes. Yea, it gets dull after five, doesn't it?
Market Days
The weekend following my first week of workshops was Boystown's Market Days weekend celebration. Basically, it's like Pride, but consisting of the whole weekend full of live concerts, outdoor vendors of various kinds, drinking in the streets, gay go-go dancers advertising the bars they work for, and checking who's on Grindr locally and from out of town. It was a nice way to end the weekend. I got to see Shiny Toy Guns while dancing in the rain, and I got a kiss from a guy (a friend of a friend) that I think was cute. (Who knows, I was tipsy at that point). When I told him I had to get going since I lived in the suburbs, he asked me for my number. He then texted me right then and there so I could get his number. His text read, "You're hot." Of course, at that point I considered it the right time to make my move. We kissed, but then some drunk asshole tried to lunge at the both of us to get in on the action, which kind of ended the moment.
We texted a few more times throughout the night during my train ride home. We promised one another that we'd see each other again. Blah blah blah. It's been two days, I haven't heard from him since. I don't feel like starting the conversation with him. I don't feel like initiating anything with anyone at the moment anyways. I get attached to people too easily and I'm not looking for any sort of casual encounter, so it might be best to just keep my distance until we come across one another again serendipitously.
Le Premier Jour
My first day was somewhat discouraging. I had an interesting haircut, I was one of the only people not wearing plaid and non-prescriptive, thick-rimmed, Buddy Holly-esque glasses. I honestly didn't know what to wear, so I went with a warm red sweater, a robin's egg colored button-up underneath, and a pair of slacks. I wanted to try my hand at color-blocking. Unfortunately, I felt a little overdressed as everyone were basically in plaid shirts and denim cut offs. Perhaps that was their interpretation of the company's unique current trend? It seemed more like a general interpretation of a current American trend.
Generally, when put into a room full of strangers, I'm the type that likes to "get a feel" for the rest of those in the room before interacting with them. Due to this I did get the sense that the people sitting at the same table as me considered me to be a bit odd. Perhaps even a bit stupid. I came in an hour early and my first workshop wasn't suppose to start until 10am, but they mistook me as a part of the 9am group, so it seemed like I was relatively late (I truly wasn't). I just went along with it. Unfortunately, it meant having to sit right next to the projector screen way up front.
One interesting bit of the day was when I finally faced everyone in my group and realized something... Sitting right across the table from me was a guy I had an OKCupid crush on. We made eye contact a few times where he would swiftly look away. It was obvious that he recognized me and he knew that I recognized him. I sent him an "eye candy" award on OKC for Christ's sake. At the end of the workshop he took the stairs instead of getting in the elevator with me. Perhaps he was trying to avoid me? We were just on the second floor anyways, so he might've just wanted the bit of exercise? Who knows?
Le Deuxième Jour
The second day of workshops was a little less nerve wracking. I connected quickly with a girl that was in the same group as me. Of course, it was somewhat expected that of all the people I would get along with it would be the only sassy black girl in the room. We talked a bit about the group's social dynamics; people were starting to form cliques. It was expected, however I personally didn't expect them to start forming so soon. It wouldn't be surprising if social hierarchies start to form. The sassy black girl, or I should say woman, was in her thirties and seemed like she didn't give a fuck. I quote, "I honestly could care less. If these people want to start closing themselves off to other people, that's on them. I'm here to do a job, not to one up anybody."
She gave me hope that perhaps there are other people like her and me. People that are there to be vain, look pretty while making money, but without the intent of proving superiority over anyone else. I took this job for that reason in the first place. It's a new store, therefore everyone is starting on the same level with basically the same amount of pay, so no one should feel much more or less than anyone else. Or perhaps it's my own defense mechanism(s) coming into play? Perhaps everyone isn't that bad and I'm the one who might be closing himself off?
Le Troisième Jour
I've noticed that for every day that passes, I become a little more open. Even though I have a different set of strangers in my group every day. I felt that the people who would get along with one another the best seemed to gravitate to one another. Whether it be their body language, their explicit expression of self, or whatnot. I felt that the people I was sitting with this time around were people I could freely speak to. I laughed with them, joked with them, and yes, worked with them during the group exercises. Meanwhile, it's not surprising that some people still stood out as the obnoxious overachievers. I understand if people want to stand out and show their worth, but a few of these people didn't even allow others to contribute. It was their way or no way. It annoyed me a bit, but I thought to myself, "Fuck it," and went along with it.
At the end of the day, the workshop leaders gave people the chance to give their two cents on the workshop experience. Of course, some people felt it necessary to say something even if it meant saying the same thing as those that went before them. The was the most tedious half hour of the whole session. Everyone liked the workshop, the fact that everyone got to interact with one another, that it wasn't dull, and everyone had fun. Try to spin that in every way possible for thirty minutes. Yea, it gets dull after five, doesn't it?
Market Days
The weekend following my first week of workshops was Boystown's Market Days weekend celebration. Basically, it's like Pride, but consisting of the whole weekend full of live concerts, outdoor vendors of various kinds, drinking in the streets, gay go-go dancers advertising the bars they work for, and checking who's on Grindr locally and from out of town. It was a nice way to end the weekend. I got to see Shiny Toy Guns while dancing in the rain, and I got a kiss from a guy (a friend of a friend) that I think was cute. (Who knows, I was tipsy at that point). When I told him I had to get going since I lived in the suburbs, he asked me for my number. He then texted me right then and there so I could get his number. His text read, "You're hot." Of course, at that point I considered it the right time to make my move. We kissed, but then some drunk asshole tried to lunge at the both of us to get in on the action, which kind of ended the moment.
We texted a few more times throughout the night during my train ride home. We promised one another that we'd see each other again. Blah blah blah. It's been two days, I haven't heard from him since. I don't feel like starting the conversation with him. I don't feel like initiating anything with anyone at the moment anyways. I get attached to people too easily and I'm not looking for any sort of casual encounter, so it might be best to just keep my distance until we come across one another again serendipitously.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Going the Distance
This morning, I got up at 6am to get ready for the long journey ahead of me. I got onto the CTA train at 7:30am and got to the city at 8am. I got off of the wrong stop, unfortunately, so I had to hail a cab to take me to Ogilvie Station. Fortunately, I made it in time with ten minutes to spare in order to catch the Metra train.
Where was I going so early in the morning? I was going to see B.
In the past few days things have gotten quite tense between us. A week ago, I realized my own feelings for him. Suddenly, I found myself thinking of him and imagining myself with him. I realized that I had been thinking of him more and more since the last time I had seen him in person. I suddenly realized that I have unknowingly been harboring strong feelings for him. The next day, I told him how I felt about him. He responded by telling me that he had found someone else and that he needed to deal with a lot of things before he can talk to me about what was happening between us. Ever since then and up til a few nights ago, things had gotten worse. I started to feel antsy and restless with my feelings. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted him to completely understand how I felt. I wanted him to give me a chance.
He told me that he doesn't really know what he meant when he told me countless times that he loved me. At the same time, he told me that he just had to move on after spending countless months enduring unrequited love for me. I was confused at this point. What did he really feel? On one hand, he tells me that he spent months enduring love for me that I could not reciprocate. He told me that he didn't want to see me in person because he didn't trust himself with me (meaning he still had feelings for me and he was suppressing them). On the other hand, he tells me that he's unsure as to what he felt for me for the past five to six months; he doesn't know if it was love. I couldn't get a clear answer from him. Did he love me or did he not? I cannot move on without getting the answers I need. I felt disregarded, lied to, fooled. Things got so tense that he told me that he needed to be left alone because he was about to lose his temper.
A day passed and he never got back to me. Another day passed and still no word from him. Last night, I decided that I would go visit him. What brought this on? I'm not quite sure. I just knew that for me to find the answers I needed or to find some sort of closure, I had to do something. I couldn't just wait and let things happen without doing something, anything. I wanted the chance for him to look me in the eye and tell me the truth as to how he felt about me. Seeing him in person meant that he wouldn't be able to simplya disregard my questions, my desire for clarity, and perhaps his own feelings.
I got to his town around 10am. Once I got off the train, I called him. He didn't answer, so I left a message saying, "Hey it's Kenny... I was wondering if we could talk. I know that you're probably still sleeping, but I was wondering if we could talk even for just a little bit... Anyways, I'm in town right now, so if you're willing to, I'd like to see you in person and talk. My train back to the city won't arrive til 11am, so I hope to hear from you before then..." He called back sounding upset. He was upset about the fact that I came all the way from the city to talk to him. He kept asking me why I had come to his hometown, how I shouldn't have done it, there's nothing for us to talk about, he has nothing to say to me, and he has to deal with some things at the moment and he can't deal with me until then. At that point, I felt stupid, weak, and silly for going so far as landing myself in the middle of an unfamiliar town. I didn't know how to respond. I thought it was clear that I came to see him to talk and to just see him (I missed him), yet he kept on repeating, "Why are you here? Why did you come? You can't just come to my hometown." All I could really say was, "Ok. I understand. Ok. I'm sorry. I understand. I'll talk to you when you're ready."
Afterwards, I just sat for an hour in the Starbucks across the street from the Metra station waiting for the next train back to the city. Surprisingly, I wasn't distraught about how things ensued. I also didn't regret traveling all the way out there only for him to not be able to see me. I expected for him to not be able to meet up with me as the worst case scenario, so in a sense I was prepared for it. In a sense, I felt more at ease at that point than I had in the past few days. The fact that I actually did something, however absurd it may have been, gave me a sense of control over the things that were happening around me. Sure, things didn't go how I would've wanted them to, but I took solace in the fact that I did all that I could and left no uncertainties unturned.
What's going to happen next? I honestly don't know. An optimistic perspective would be that he'd hear me out and give me a chance. On the contrary, he can tell me that I no longer have a chance with him and it's best if we go our completely separate ways. I do have genuine feelings for him. I don't hold anything against him. In the beginning of this situation, I tried to be mad at him, blame him, even see the faults in him in order to make myself get over him. Frankly, I can't get mad at him, I can't blame him, and whatever his faults may be it doesn't matter to me. I love him. If it's unrequited, then there's nothing else I can do.
All I know is that I'll be all right. No matter what happens, I'll live. All I can be certain of is myself and my ability to love.
Where was I going so early in the morning? I was going to see B.
In the past few days things have gotten quite tense between us. A week ago, I realized my own feelings for him. Suddenly, I found myself thinking of him and imagining myself with him. I realized that I had been thinking of him more and more since the last time I had seen him in person. I suddenly realized that I have unknowingly been harboring strong feelings for him. The next day, I told him how I felt about him. He responded by telling me that he had found someone else and that he needed to deal with a lot of things before he can talk to me about what was happening between us. Ever since then and up til a few nights ago, things had gotten worse. I started to feel antsy and restless with my feelings. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted him to completely understand how I felt. I wanted him to give me a chance.
He told me that he doesn't really know what he meant when he told me countless times that he loved me. At the same time, he told me that he just had to move on after spending countless months enduring unrequited love for me. I was confused at this point. What did he really feel? On one hand, he tells me that he spent months enduring love for me that I could not reciprocate. He told me that he didn't want to see me in person because he didn't trust himself with me (meaning he still had feelings for me and he was suppressing them). On the other hand, he tells me that he's unsure as to what he felt for me for the past five to six months; he doesn't know if it was love. I couldn't get a clear answer from him. Did he love me or did he not? I cannot move on without getting the answers I need. I felt disregarded, lied to, fooled. Things got so tense that he told me that he needed to be left alone because he was about to lose his temper.
A day passed and he never got back to me. Another day passed and still no word from him. Last night, I decided that I would go visit him. What brought this on? I'm not quite sure. I just knew that for me to find the answers I needed or to find some sort of closure, I had to do something. I couldn't just wait and let things happen without doing something, anything. I wanted the chance for him to look me in the eye and tell me the truth as to how he felt about me. Seeing him in person meant that he wouldn't be able to simplya disregard my questions, my desire for clarity, and perhaps his own feelings.
 |
| My ticket home. |
Afterwards, I just sat for an hour in the Starbucks across the street from the Metra station waiting for the next train back to the city. Surprisingly, I wasn't distraught about how things ensued. I also didn't regret traveling all the way out there only for him to not be able to see me. I expected for him to not be able to meet up with me as the worst case scenario, so in a sense I was prepared for it. In a sense, I felt more at ease at that point than I had in the past few days. The fact that I actually did something, however absurd it may have been, gave me a sense of control over the things that were happening around me. Sure, things didn't go how I would've wanted them to, but I took solace in the fact that I did all that I could and left no uncertainties unturned.
What's going to happen next? I honestly don't know. An optimistic perspective would be that he'd hear me out and give me a chance. On the contrary, he can tell me that I no longer have a chance with him and it's best if we go our completely separate ways. I do have genuine feelings for him. I don't hold anything against him. In the beginning of this situation, I tried to be mad at him, blame him, even see the faults in him in order to make myself get over him. Frankly, I can't get mad at him, I can't blame him, and whatever his faults may be it doesn't matter to me. I love him. If it's unrequited, then there's nothing else I can do.
All I know is that I'll be all right. No matter what happens, I'll live. All I can be certain of is myself and my ability to love.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Searching for Mr. Stranger
I found the guy I met on the train on Facebook. Yes, I know it sounds kind of creepy that I was able to find him just by his first name and where we he mentioned he worked. I want to assure you that I'm not a creeper or a stalker at all, this is the first time I've ever done something close to "Googling" a stranger. If you knew that you could possibly find the guy you believe you made a connection with, wouldn't you? Considering the whole scenario: he started the conversation with a mere stranger (me) in the dead of winter for no apparent cause or benefit to him, he continued a conversation with me even after we got on the train (there were empty seats, yet he chose to stand across the aisle from me near the doors), and a stop before I got to my train stop he suddenly decided to tell me that he was seeing Black Swan at 7:45pm. Who tells a random stranger that they're going to see a specific movie at a specific time, when no preceding statements from either persons related to cinema, entertainment, etc.? Is it reasonable for me to believe that he told me that specific information for some reason other than to tell me he's going to see a movie?
In any case, before I decided to message the guy on Facebook, I asked a few of my friends (heterosexual females, one homosexual male, and my heterosexual male roommates) if I was just imagining the connection I thought I felt and if it would be too creepy to pursue/message him. Also, keep in mind that when I tell stories, I try to be as elaborate as I can in recalling situational details and dialogue in order to keep the story as objective as I can. So after telling each of my friends the whole situation, they all believe that I wasn't imagining the possibility that he was hitting on me and that I should message him. The overall belief amongst my friends was the fact that I have nothing to lose. Sure, perhaps it will result in this stranger thinking that I'm a fucking creep or I may befriend a really great guy. Either way, I at least would have found certainty.
So the following excerpt is the message I sent him via Facebook after getting a few tips on how to write it from my roommate Gabe.
Hey Dan, it's Kenny, I don't know if you remembered, but we met on the train this past weekend. What's up?
I know this might be kind of weird, but I remembered you telling me that you worked at ****** ****** Dance Company, so I thought I might try and hit you up. I enjoyed our conversation on the train and I thought that perhaps you might want to get some coffee the next time you're in the city?
In any case, before I decided to message the guy on Facebook, I asked a few of my friends (heterosexual females, one homosexual male, and my heterosexual male roommates) if I was just imagining the connection I thought I felt and if it would be too creepy to pursue/message him. Also, keep in mind that when I tell stories, I try to be as elaborate as I can in recalling situational details and dialogue in order to keep the story as objective as I can. So after telling each of my friends the whole situation, they all believe that I wasn't imagining the possibility that he was hitting on me and that I should message him. The overall belief amongst my friends was the fact that I have nothing to lose. Sure, perhaps it will result in this stranger thinking that I'm a fucking creep or I may befriend a really great guy. Either way, I at least would have found certainty.
So the following excerpt is the message I sent him via Facebook after getting a few tips on how to write it from my roommate Gabe.
Hey Dan, it's Kenny, I don't know if you remembered, but we met on the train this past weekend. What's up?
I know this might be kind of weird, but I remembered you telling me that you worked at ****** ****** Dance Company, so I thought I might try and hit you up. I enjoyed our conversation on the train and I thought that perhaps you might want to get some coffee the next time you're in the city?
Monday, January 24, 2011
Hello Stranger, are You my Lover?
Earlier this evening, I met a guy.
I was standing on the train platform zipping up my coat when I quickly glanced to the left me to see if the train was coming. At that point, I realized that a guy standing in the direction I was facing, was looking at me. When I realized that we were making eye contact, he smiled. I looked away then looked towards his direction and smiled as well. After I glanced at him the second time and smiled at him, he pointed out the book I was holding; I had bought Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom an hour or so earlier. He told me how he had read the book a few years back and how it was really inspirational. I didn't really know how to respond since a stranger has never struck a conversation with me before (unless they obviously were insane), especially a cute guy. For the most part, before the train arrived, I asked him what I could expect from the book and if I would like it; he said I would.
When we got on the train, he kept standing and so did I. We stood two to three feet away from one another. After we passed a train stop, he asked me if the train we were on was going to stop at a certain train stop. I said it would. I took a small leap of faith and introduced myself; his name is Dan. We then started talking about school, a little more about the book, where he's from, where I'm from, and those sort of things. I learned that he's a ballroom dance teacher in the suburb where he lived, he studied communications, he has two brothers, and he studied abroad in Australia. The whole time he was talking, I couldn't stop looking into his eyes. He had this chestnut brown eyes that we dark, but light enough where I could still see his pupils. He also had this smile that was sincere and sweet. I thought to myself whether he noticed me looking at him more intimately than just a stranger casually talking to another; I definitely felt myself attracted to him.
He told me that he was in the city for the weekend and stay at one of his girlfriends'. The first time he mentioned the word girlfriend, I thought, "He's straight and he has a girlfriend." It didn't get me down or anything. A part of me held onto his exact words, "... one of my girlfriends," meaning that it wasn't a girlfriend as in an intimate, sexually committed partner. The second time that he mentioned that he was in the city and staying with one of his girlfriends, he caught himself and clarified that it was just a friend that was a girl; I was relieved not just because of the fact that he possibly didn't have a girlfriend (meaning he was possibly single and attracted to men), but I also tried to interpret why he tried to clarify that his "girlfriend" was just a friend that was a girl.
Anyways, when we got closer to my stop he mentioned that he was going to see Black Swan at 7:45pm later that night. I said that I've never seen it before and how I really wanted to see it. I kept on repeating how I'd love to see it, hoping that he would get the hint that I'd want to see it with him, but I guess he never got the hint or he wasn't attracted to begin with. When the train pulled up to my stop and I was motioning to get off, he said, "Oh, is this your stop?" I said it was, I shook his hand, told him that it was a pleasure meeting him and that I hope to see him around the city again.
When I got off the platform, I started to think how stupid I was. I should have just taken a chance and asked for his number, but my nerves got the best of me. I never really got rejected before. Usually, I just let guys pursue me, which has perhaps led to many chances passing me by. So, I got back on the platform hoping to catch him at the stop he mentioned earlier and perhaps ask him for his number or ask him if he needed company for the movie. Whatever the case may be, even if I would get rejected, I would have at least tried.
Unfortunately, the train that would take me to where I expected him to be was ten minutes late, so I expected him to no longer be at the train station he was heading towards, and he would have caught the other train he was supposed to take. Even so, I hoped that Fate would be so kind and give me another chance. When I got there, as expected, he was no longer there. I kept hope in the possibility that he would possibly be at the closest major theater that he could possibly see Black Swan, considering that the area where he was heading towards only has one major theater. When I got there, the marquee didn't have a showing at 7:45pm, so it was quite likely he went to a different movie theater in the suburb where he lived.
I tried to make the best of it and bought a ticket for Black Swan anyways. The movie was good, but I definitely couldn't wait to get home. When I got home, I quickly got on the computer and wrote an ad on Missed Connections, where I described our meeting, him, and how I'd love to see him again. I do hope that he knows of missed connections and somehow he finds my ad.
This whole experience just proved to me how beautiful Serendipity unknowingly works. I do believe that my serendipitous meeting with Dan was magical, perhaps just a stroke of chance. Nonetheless, it has made me remember the great, beautiful mysteries that one can come across in the world.
I do hope I see him again.
I was standing on the train platform zipping up my coat when I quickly glanced to the left me to see if the train was coming. At that point, I realized that a guy standing in the direction I was facing, was looking at me. When I realized that we were making eye contact, he smiled. I looked away then looked towards his direction and smiled as well. After I glanced at him the second time and smiled at him, he pointed out the book I was holding; I had bought Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom an hour or so earlier. He told me how he had read the book a few years back and how it was really inspirational. I didn't really know how to respond since a stranger has never struck a conversation with me before (unless they obviously were insane), especially a cute guy. For the most part, before the train arrived, I asked him what I could expect from the book and if I would like it; he said I would.
When we got on the train, he kept standing and so did I. We stood two to three feet away from one another. After we passed a train stop, he asked me if the train we were on was going to stop at a certain train stop. I said it would. I took a small leap of faith and introduced myself; his name is Dan. We then started talking about school, a little more about the book, where he's from, where I'm from, and those sort of things. I learned that he's a ballroom dance teacher in the suburb where he lived, he studied communications, he has two brothers, and he studied abroad in Australia. The whole time he was talking, I couldn't stop looking into his eyes. He had this chestnut brown eyes that we dark, but light enough where I could still see his pupils. He also had this smile that was sincere and sweet. I thought to myself whether he noticed me looking at him more intimately than just a stranger casually talking to another; I definitely felt myself attracted to him.
He told me that he was in the city for the weekend and stay at one of his girlfriends'. The first time he mentioned the word girlfriend, I thought, "He's straight and he has a girlfriend." It didn't get me down or anything. A part of me held onto his exact words, "... one of my girlfriends," meaning that it wasn't a girlfriend as in an intimate, sexually committed partner. The second time that he mentioned that he was in the city and staying with one of his girlfriends, he caught himself and clarified that it was just a friend that was a girl; I was relieved not just because of the fact that he possibly didn't have a girlfriend (meaning he was possibly single and attracted to men), but I also tried to interpret why he tried to clarify that his "girlfriend" was just a friend that was a girl.
Anyways, when we got closer to my stop he mentioned that he was going to see Black Swan at 7:45pm later that night. I said that I've never seen it before and how I really wanted to see it. I kept on repeating how I'd love to see it, hoping that he would get the hint that I'd want to see it with him, but I guess he never got the hint or he wasn't attracted to begin with. When the train pulled up to my stop and I was motioning to get off, he said, "Oh, is this your stop?" I said it was, I shook his hand, told him that it was a pleasure meeting him and that I hope to see him around the city again.
When I got off the platform, I started to think how stupid I was. I should have just taken a chance and asked for his number, but my nerves got the best of me. I never really got rejected before. Usually, I just let guys pursue me, which has perhaps led to many chances passing me by. So, I got back on the platform hoping to catch him at the stop he mentioned earlier and perhaps ask him for his number or ask him if he needed company for the movie. Whatever the case may be, even if I would get rejected, I would have at least tried.
Unfortunately, the train that would take me to where I expected him to be was ten minutes late, so I expected him to no longer be at the train station he was heading towards, and he would have caught the other train he was supposed to take. Even so, I hoped that Fate would be so kind and give me another chance. When I got there, as expected, he was no longer there. I kept hope in the possibility that he would possibly be at the closest major theater that he could possibly see Black Swan, considering that the area where he was heading towards only has one major theater. When I got there, the marquee didn't have a showing at 7:45pm, so it was quite likely he went to a different movie theater in the suburb where he lived.
I tried to make the best of it and bought a ticket for Black Swan anyways. The movie was good, but I definitely couldn't wait to get home. When I got home, I quickly got on the computer and wrote an ad on Missed Connections, where I described our meeting, him, and how I'd love to see him again. I do hope that he knows of missed connections and somehow he finds my ad.
This whole experience just proved to me how beautiful Serendipity unknowingly works. I do believe that my serendipitous meeting with Dan was magical, perhaps just a stroke of chance. Nonetheless, it has made me remember the great, beautiful mysteries that one can come across in the world.
I do hope I see him again.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
What's a Fag to a Fag Hag?
During the welcome week of freshman year, I was a total social butterfly. Once I had all my stuff in my dorm, I kept the door open greeting anyone that would pass by. I made so many friends and I would often hear my name being called left and right. I had people constantly calling my phone asking me to come join them in whatever it was they were doing. I honestly thought that everything would be different compared to high school; it was a new school, a new opportunity to be what I wanted to be without the limits set by reputation and parental control. From the moment I would wake up, I felt like I had something to look forward to, people I couldn't wait to see.
This school year is/was different. The people I called my dearest friends from last year are no longer around. A few of them, I haven't seen or heard from in the past 4-5 months, yet they live less than two blocks away. Is it because I no longer wish to go out to the bars and drink every weekend like they do? Was I truly even a friend to them as they are to one another?
I often blame myself for what has happened. I expected all of us to be a family of some sort, but I guess it wasn't the sort of friendship they were looking for. The close intimate relationship I wanted with them wasn't the sort they wanted from me. Why would they? The whole group consisted of girls, where I was the only guy. They were ignorant to the instances where I was left out because I was the one that was different, not them. No matter how I put it, I am a guy and I was hanging out with a bunch of girls. Yes, I am gay, the diplomatic bridge between men and women, but I still have a penis hanging between both my legs and certainly a full-fledged man. Whether they were conscious of it or not, it was a common trait between them (i.e. their femaleness) that provided a deeper connection for them to share.
Yes, a gay is a girl's best friend, but at what point is a girl a best friend to the gay as much as he is to her? The television show Sex & the City comes to mind. One scene in particular, Carrie, Charlotte, Samantha, Miranda, and Stanford were watching a fashion show when Stanford overheard Carrie talking about going out later that night. Stanford enthusiastically asked Carrie, "Where are we going?" Carrie hesitantly responded, "Oh, I thought it would be just a girl's night out, is that okay?" Often, those were the sort of situations I'd find myself in. I found myself investing so much time and effort in maintaining friendships with these girls that I came to think of them as my central group of friends. But when I realized that the feeling wasn't mutual, I found myself at a loss. Gays were always too nasty and unjustifiably competitive with one another, I was socially conditioned to stay away from heterosexual boys, and the girls I spent so much time with didn't see me as an equal, whether they were cognizant of it or not...
To try an put it in clearer terms... I accepted the fact that I was gay at a very early age, at an age where I was the only gay person I knew; I was 11 years old. At that point, guys made fun of me and they often ostracized me. If one guy showed any sympathy for me or try to befriend me, other guys would ridicule him, so I basically became a social leper to the guys of my school. At that point, girls were the only friends I could turn to. As far as I knew, they were the only ones willing to interact with me. As time went on and the guys continued to share their apprehension towards me, I never really got the chance to develop my social interaction skills with other guys. They feared that I would perhaps turn them gay or try to make a move on them. I knew that this would never happen because I was never attracted to straight guys. Nonetheless, I habitually learned to stay away from them. It was ingrained into me that me being gay scared guys and I didn't want to bother them or get myself rejected and be humiliated, so I stayed away. In the end, girls were the only people I came to depend on.
Unfortunately, as the years went on, I came to realize how gendered society was depending on age groups. Now in my early adulthood, it seems clearer to me that girls have their solid group of female friends as their central group, men have their solid group of male friends as their central group (which I never felt welcome to join), and I'm stuck in the empty space between these two spheres of gendered society.
Is there something wrong with me? Am I that much of a social failure?
This school year is/was different. The people I called my dearest friends from last year are no longer around. A few of them, I haven't seen or heard from in the past 4-5 months, yet they live less than two blocks away. Is it because I no longer wish to go out to the bars and drink every weekend like they do? Was I truly even a friend to them as they are to one another?
I often blame myself for what has happened. I expected all of us to be a family of some sort, but I guess it wasn't the sort of friendship they were looking for. The close intimate relationship I wanted with them wasn't the sort they wanted from me. Why would they? The whole group consisted of girls, where I was the only guy. They were ignorant to the instances where I was left out because I was the one that was different, not them. No matter how I put it, I am a guy and I was hanging out with a bunch of girls. Yes, I am gay, the diplomatic bridge between men and women, but I still have a penis hanging between both my legs and certainly a full-fledged man. Whether they were conscious of it or not, it was a common trait between them (i.e. their femaleness) that provided a deeper connection for them to share.
Yes, a gay is a girl's best friend, but at what point is a girl a best friend to the gay as much as he is to her? The television show Sex & the City comes to mind. One scene in particular, Carrie, Charlotte, Samantha, Miranda, and Stanford were watching a fashion show when Stanford overheard Carrie talking about going out later that night. Stanford enthusiastically asked Carrie, "Where are we going?" Carrie hesitantly responded, "Oh, I thought it would be just a girl's night out, is that okay?" Often, those were the sort of situations I'd find myself in. I found myself investing so much time and effort in maintaining friendships with these girls that I came to think of them as my central group of friends. But when I realized that the feeling wasn't mutual, I found myself at a loss. Gays were always too nasty and unjustifiably competitive with one another, I was socially conditioned to stay away from heterosexual boys, and the girls I spent so much time with didn't see me as an equal, whether they were cognizant of it or not...
To try an put it in clearer terms... I accepted the fact that I was gay at a very early age, at an age where I was the only gay person I knew; I was 11 years old. At that point, guys made fun of me and they often ostracized me. If one guy showed any sympathy for me or try to befriend me, other guys would ridicule him, so I basically became a social leper to the guys of my school. At that point, girls were the only friends I could turn to. As far as I knew, they were the only ones willing to interact with me. As time went on and the guys continued to share their apprehension towards me, I never really got the chance to develop my social interaction skills with other guys. They feared that I would perhaps turn them gay or try to make a move on them. I knew that this would never happen because I was never attracted to straight guys. Nonetheless, I habitually learned to stay away from them. It was ingrained into me that me being gay scared guys and I didn't want to bother them or get myself rejected and be humiliated, so I stayed away. In the end, girls were the only people I came to depend on.
Unfortunately, as the years went on, I came to realize how gendered society was depending on age groups. Now in my early adulthood, it seems clearer to me that girls have their solid group of female friends as their central group, men have their solid group of male friends as their central group (which I never felt welcome to join), and I'm stuck in the empty space between these two spheres of gendered society.
Is there something wrong with me? Am I that much of a social failure?
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Am I Going Insane?
Ever since my recent panic/anxiety attack while taking an afternoon nap, it has been somewhat difficult for me to get a good night's sleep (or even falling asleep for that matter). I'm afraid of experiencing another attack. I'm afraid of laying myself down in bed and having those few minutes to think before actually falling asleep. I'm afraid of relaxing and actually letting my mind wander since it could possibly lead to me thinking about death, therefore another attack.
Like I've said before, I'm not afraid of death itself. What I'm afraid of is the idea of the unknown and its uncertain arrival. In truth, I am just as afraid of consciously living for an eternity as I am dying unexpectedly (whether it be tomorrow, in a few years, or a few decades). I don't know how to explain it; the concept of being eternally conscious or unexpectedly just going black makes my stomach sink. I tried to Google what I am experiencing and the closest thing I could find was something called "thanatophobia," the fear of death.
"People who are highly intelligent and inquisitive are often at greater risk for this type of thanatophobia, as are those who are questioning their own philosophical or religious beliefs."
Could that be true? Am I developing some sort of phobia or am I just having the occasional panic attacks? Could being quite intelligent and so desiring of uncovering the unknown cause such a problem? Sure, I would say that I've been questioning my religious and philosophical beliefs, but what gay young adult/teen isn't? I am concerned that I'm either going insane or I'm overreacting. Nonetheless, my recent experience(s) has led to my insomnia.
I need someone to talk to, not a professional, just an ordinary person. I don't need some individual shoving the DSM-V down my throat along with a few prescriptions. I just want someone to talk things through with. I want to be reassured that I'm not the only one in this world that has experienced these sort of thoughts. Whatever "this" may be, I don't want it to progress any further.
I guess one must also consider the fact that I've been cooped up in my parents' house all alone for the past week or so. I have only left the house two or three times in the past week, could that possibly have something to do with it? Perhaps I've just had too much time to think.
Like I've said before, I'm not afraid of death itself. What I'm afraid of is the idea of the unknown and its uncertain arrival. In truth, I am just as afraid of consciously living for an eternity as I am dying unexpectedly (whether it be tomorrow, in a few years, or a few decades). I don't know how to explain it; the concept of being eternally conscious or unexpectedly just going black makes my stomach sink. I tried to Google what I am experiencing and the closest thing I could find was something called "thanatophobia," the fear of death.
"People who are highly intelligent and inquisitive are often at greater risk for this type of thanatophobia, as are those who are questioning their own philosophical or religious beliefs."
Could that be true? Am I developing some sort of phobia or am I just having the occasional panic attacks? Could being quite intelligent and so desiring of uncovering the unknown cause such a problem? Sure, I would say that I've been questioning my religious and philosophical beliefs, but what gay young adult/teen isn't? I am concerned that I'm either going insane or I'm overreacting. Nonetheless, my recent experience(s) has led to my insomnia.
I need someone to talk to, not a professional, just an ordinary person. I don't need some individual shoving the DSM-V down my throat along with a few prescriptions. I just want someone to talk things through with. I want to be reassured that I'm not the only one in this world that has experienced these sort of thoughts. Whatever "this" may be, I don't want it to progress any further.
I guess one must also consider the fact that I've been cooped up in my parents' house all alone for the past week or so. I have only left the house two or three times in the past week, could that possibly have something to do with it? Perhaps I've just had too much time to think.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Familial Homophobia
Earlier tonight I was watching Glee with my eight year old sister. At some point, a scene came on where Kurt (the gay guy) was interacting with Finn (the sensitive jock). After seeing Kurt make a few comments to Finn, she randomly commented, "Eww, did you know he's gay (referring to Kurt)? He moves like a girl." I simply gave her an affirmative response, which she responded to by asking, "Are you gay?" Again, I gave her a simple answer, "Yes." Her response should have been obvious to me, but for some reason I was taken aback when she responded with, "Ew." The most salient thoughts I had in mind at that point was, "Oh God, is she going to tell my parents that I told her I was gay? Where is this going to lead? Did she seriously respond in revulsion to me being gay?"
Sure, children around the age of my sister are repulsed by the very idea of attraction between two people, but this was different. My sister's reaction was not a response to the idea of two people being attracted to one another and contracting cooties, but to the particular concept of two men having mutual interest in each other. How can a child react with such disapproval and/or disgust? As the concepts of dichotomous systems of sex and gender are social constructs, I can confidently say that her response was not an inherent reaction, but something socially learned. Who could she have learned such a response from?
One person came to mind as to who my little could have learned modeled her response from: our father. Throughout my childhood, and even to this day, my father refers to people (whether they be acquaintances or strangers) that seem effeminate or who are confirmed homosexuals as "bakla." In my native language, "bakla" means gay or homosexual, but it holds a more negative connotation in comparison to the English word "gay" or "homosexual." Frankly, there is no word in our native language that objectively means to be individuals (specifically men) that are attracted to the same sex/gender. Bakla doesn't just hold this definition, but is also followed by the implication of weakness, femininity, and perhaps even sexual deviance.
My parents have never directly expressed to my little sister their disapproval of homosexuality, but nonetheless, I know that my sister has picked up on their attitudes towards homosexuals. Children are easily influenced by the social microsystem they inhabit; as they perceive how those closest to them react to certain individuals and situations, they interpret those reactionary behaviors as relative social norms or even as the "correct" response.
It's interesting and disappointing at the same time as my family knows (whether we speak of it or not) that I am gay. Even with this in mind, my parents' homophobic attitude has not changed even when confronted by their son's homosexual identity. I am gay, but to them I am not a part of such a group identity, but an exception. They accept me as their son, but they do not accept a facet of my identity that has a salient presence in my life. Therefore, conceptually, for them, gay people are still repulsive and I am just an exception to such a judgment.
From time to time I hear would my father exclaim how a person on the television is "bakla," expressing a negative opinion of the person through the word's negative implications rather than the latter's alleged sexuality. It hurts to hear him make these statements even though he's talking about me. It hurts because in a sense he is indirectly expressing an opinion of me. If a gay person that is not me is as repulsive as he claims or acts towards them, then without the condition of being his son, does he not hold the same opinion of me? For I am also gay?
I truly do believe that it is too late to change and/or improve my father's opinion of homosexuality. He is a bigot, a sexist, and a racist, traits he is not ashamed to display. I just hope that it is not too late for my sister; I am her older brother and it would be heartbreaking if my little sister came to hold the same opinions as my father, considering that I basically raised her from when she was an infant.
Sure, children around the age of my sister are repulsed by the very idea of attraction between two people, but this was different. My sister's reaction was not a response to the idea of two people being attracted to one another and contracting cooties, but to the particular concept of two men having mutual interest in each other. How can a child react with such disapproval and/or disgust? As the concepts of dichotomous systems of sex and gender are social constructs, I can confidently say that her response was not an inherent reaction, but something socially learned. Who could she have learned such a response from?
One person came to mind as to who my little could have learned modeled her response from: our father. Throughout my childhood, and even to this day, my father refers to people (whether they be acquaintances or strangers) that seem effeminate or who are confirmed homosexuals as "bakla." In my native language, "bakla" means gay or homosexual, but it holds a more negative connotation in comparison to the English word "gay" or "homosexual." Frankly, there is no word in our native language that objectively means to be individuals (specifically men) that are attracted to the same sex/gender. Bakla doesn't just hold this definition, but is also followed by the implication of weakness, femininity, and perhaps even sexual deviance.
My parents have never directly expressed to my little sister their disapproval of homosexuality, but nonetheless, I know that my sister has picked up on their attitudes towards homosexuals. Children are easily influenced by the social microsystem they inhabit; as they perceive how those closest to them react to certain individuals and situations, they interpret those reactionary behaviors as relative social norms or even as the "correct" response.
It's interesting and disappointing at the same time as my family knows (whether we speak of it or not) that I am gay. Even with this in mind, my parents' homophobic attitude has not changed even when confronted by their son's homosexual identity. I am gay, but to them I am not a part of such a group identity, but an exception. They accept me as their son, but they do not accept a facet of my identity that has a salient presence in my life. Therefore, conceptually, for them, gay people are still repulsive and I am just an exception to such a judgment.
From time to time I hear would my father exclaim how a person on the television is "bakla," expressing a negative opinion of the person through the word's negative implications rather than the latter's alleged sexuality. It hurts to hear him make these statements even though he's talking about me. It hurts because in a sense he is indirectly expressing an opinion of me. If a gay person that is not me is as repulsive as he claims or acts towards them, then without the condition of being his son, does he not hold the same opinion of me? For I am also gay?
I truly do believe that it is too late to change and/or improve my father's opinion of homosexuality. He is a bigot, a sexist, and a racist, traits he is not ashamed to display. I just hope that it is not too late for my sister; I am her older brother and it would be heartbreaking if my little sister came to hold the same opinions as my father, considering that I basically raised her from when she was an infant.
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