I Don't Want to be a Masochist Anymore

Today, I finished a novel called Call Me by Your Name by Andre Aciman. It made me realize something... I no longer wish to be a masochist.

When did I become a masochist? I don't know. Perhaps when I first fell in love and got hurt. After that, I probably started to believe that by being hurt I would be loved. I assumed that the person the people men who would hurt me would consequently nurse my wounds as well. Ultimately, I want to be loved. However, I thought being hurt was a primary requirement.

Even when I knew that being hurt was wrong I still chased after those that hurt me. I thought that if they could hurt me, they might also be strong enough to protect me. To love me. I wanted them to take responsibility for me.

I stayed passive. I kept myself weak and compliant. It was what they expected of me. No one else wanted me. They at least agreed to pay attention if I became what they wanted me to be. I was alone. I lost myself. I didn't want to be alone anymore. I was willing to be anything just so I wouldn't be alone.

I convinced myself that I was weak. I told myself countless times that I am worthless, unwanted, and hopeless. I rhetorically asked myself, "For all those that die unjustly, get raped, and beaten, what makes you think God would cater to your desires? Why would God give you someone to love and love you in return?" I would respond to myself and say that I deserve to be loved. But didn't the others deserve to be loved as well? I had no more answers. My mind grows tired every time I ask myself such questions.

I merely saw myself as an instrument for other people's desires. Yes, use me. Yes, abuse me. Just, please, give me time to be desired. I came to see abuse towards myself as sexually arousing. To be dominated over, isn't it exciting? To be pinned to a bed and ravaged by a man stronger than me? For a man to do what he pleases with me, cast me away when he's done, and return only when he wants more? At one point, I thought so... But I know it is wrong. I know that such thoughts were doing nothing more than hurt me. No pleasure. No ultimate benefit. Just hurt.

I made myself worthless.

Perhaps it was inevitable for me to realize that I was irrationally hurting myself. Maybe it was unavoidable for me to accept that I don't want to be hurt by my own self or by anyone else. I learned how to say no to those that only wanted to take advantage of me. I came to acknowledge that I do have worth. I've yet to fully grasp the true breadth of my worth as a person. A person who deserves to be loved. I'm working on it.

Maybe I won't find that one person for me to love and to love me in return. Perhaps we'll find each other too late. It's possible that he may not exist for me. It's a horrible possibility, but it's true. Nonetheless, I still deserve to be loved without hurt. I want to be loved without hurt.

I want a man to be gentle with me. To be passionate with me. To have no intention of hurting me. I want us to be honest with one another in body, heart, and mind. To trust each other with our naked, vulnerable selves and trust that we wouldn't hurt each other. I want to be able to look into his eyes and not see eyes of contempt or cold, heartless, animalistic desire. I want to see the eyes of someone who sees me, acknowledges me, desires me to be a part of him and him a part me, and to experience the highest point of pleasure we could reach together.

I want a man to think of me as his equal. I want him to love me. I want him to allow me to love him. I want someone who sees me as worth protecting as I do him. I want him to help me heal old wounds. I want him to desire me as an intellectual counterpart, an emotional lover, and as a sexual being--as a whole being. I want him to respect me. I want him to be able to say no to me when he knows I'm wrong. I want him to help me learn what is right. I want us to help each other.

I want us to think of each other as equals. I want us to love one another. I want us to desire one another as an intellectual counterpart, an emotional lover, and as a sexual being--as a whole being. I want us to respect each other. I want us to be individuals and not be afraid to say no to one another when we know the other is wrong. I want us to help each other learn what is right. I want us to live, love, and grow alongside one another.

It may be too much of me to ask, but I deserve to at least give myself a chance. 

Perhaps Men Aren't Necessary

Since I came to Italy, I've increasingly realized that perhaps I don't need a man to be happy... ever. Sure, it would be great to have someone to come home to, to be intimate with, to help validate our worth, to support us, and to have sex with. However, are those things necessary to be happy? Do I necessarily need to attain these things from a man or various men? Maybe not.

Yesterday was Valentine's Day. Valentine's Day is my favorite holiday out of the whole year. I like it more than Halloween, New Year's, my birthday, and Christmas. I know people, who are single or perhaps even in relationships, that dislike this holiday. I love it not only because it shows me how happy people are in reaffirming their love for each other, but it also allows me to contemplate the self-respect and self love I should have for myself.

This past Valentine's Day, I realized that I'm happy. I'm happy to be surrounded by the friends and acquaintances I have come to possess. I don't really know if I will ever have that one person who would exceptionally love me. I'm fine with that uncertainty because the friends I have right now give me the certainty I need to know that someone will be there, around me, to love and support me.

Last night, my friend and I stayed in instead of going out to the bars. I've always been single and she recently broke up with her boyfriend a few weeks ago (he broke up with her via Skype, which is a shitty move considering that he's back in the U.S. and we're in Italy), so we thought it'd be nice to stay in and watch a movie. We chose to watch Halloween (yes, very fitting, right?) while eating whatever we could find out of the fridge. Yes, imagining it, the latter act seems like something someone would do to compensate for their emotional distress. However, for us, I think we just didn't give a fuck and wanted to indulge ourselves and enjoy each others company. I loved it. Certainly, the fact that it was Valentine's Day was mentioned once or twice between us, but we didn't make a big deal of it. What mattered to us was the company of the other and having a good time no matter the situation.

Sexually, I haven't had sex or been physically intimate with another guy for the past two months. I haven't even jacked off in the past three days (which is notable considering that I usually jack off five times a day, everyday). I'm still a sexual person and I do have a sexual attraction towards men, but I feel more in control of it. Maybe it's the fact that the men here are beautiful by any standards and they can keep entertained amongst themselves, but at the moment I feel that I have greater control of my sexual drive. When the time comes that a man actually shows interest in me, I believe that I'll have the will and power to decide as to whether it would be a worthwhile encounter that would benefit me overall (and not pounce on him because he's the first guy to show interest).

In two weeks and two days, I will be leaving for Morocco and traveling around the country for ten days, on my own. People I've mentioned this to are surprised, perhaps even concerned, that I've decided to travel on my own in a foreign country, especially one like Morocco. I think that it's a trip and journey I need and want to take for myself. I want to actually be alone with my thoughts and emotions in a place that holds no memory of me and perhaps come to a realization of self. Three nights in Marrakesh, two nights in the Sahara Desert, two nights in Fez, one night in Tangier three nights of wherever the wind (and trains) may take me, and back to Marrakech on my last day for my flight back to Rome. Wouldn't it be lovely to say that I traveled to such an exotic place by myself for such a length of time? This is one of those rare moments in which I can say that I'm proud of myself and happy.

Mother.

My mother just sent me an e-mail saying that she was recently released from the hospital after experiencing a mild stroke. I never realized how close Death and how real mortality is until an encounter is experienced by a loved one. It's a strange feeling when one realizes the inevitable transience of life... For a moment, my head felt high. My mind felt numb. My body tingled as if it had fallen asleep. Is it what they call disbelief? Doubt?

After the initial shock, my mind goes back to doubting death. It goes back to hoping, perhaps even silently pleading. It's not a sharp pain or even excruciating. It's a dull, mind grinding pain. It's like a sort of pain that one should get used to and be able to ignore after some time... but one never does. It feels as if you're on the cliffhanger waiting for impending doom to occur. Yet you still hope for the best. Even pessimists hope.

After the doubt, my mind cycles back to the reality of the matter. What will happen next? What if something much worse happens? Who will take care of my family? Who will take care of my little sister? I'm in a totally different country, a totally different continent. What can I do? Why am I so helpless? Who will hold the family together? My mother was the one that held us together even when she wasn't physically there. Yes, at times we dreaded the gravitational pull she had on us, but subconsciously I knew... I knew that it was home. Where my heart was, where she was, it was home. No matter how much I wanted to prove my independence, to show that I could survive without her, without any of my family, I still wish for them to be by my side nonetheless.

I'm not emotionally close to my mother. I love her and respect her, but I stopped telling her I loved her when I was around 11 years old. At that point, I thought that sort of love was implied. I believed that it didn't need to be said. In the past I've thought of how my parents' passing is inevitable. I thought of how I should, how I must, savor every moment I have left with them. My mother's face will be preserved in pictures, but her voice, her warmth, her presence will certainly fade. Once my parents are gone, the world will truly be uncertain as my generation, as I, will have to completely reign over life and guide it with the voice left by what will soon pass.

Love Thyself

I need time to discover myself. I've spent so much time trying to find people to attach myself to that I lost my senses in all the chaos. I forgot that I could be a stand alone person that others could gravitate to. A person others can identify with instead of identifying myself in relation to others. I allowed myself to be blown  here and there, back and forth by the opinions and criticisms of others. I lost myself, my sense of pride and respect for the person that I am... Whoever that may be.

I tried to find love in others without realizing that I couldn't love them. In my eyes, showing that I needed them was love. I honestly didn't know what love was. Perhaps I still don't. I told men that I wanted them, desired them, needed them. Is that love? To want and desire for the sole sake of having, but have nothing to offer? No. It can't be. It no longer makes sense to me.

I need to love myself in order to know what I can offer. In order to know what I'm worth. I'm still learning. It's a path I've rarely taken, if at all. Sure, I've avoided harm, pain, and heartache, but is that love? Could I call it love when all that has driven me are my superficial desires directed towards another and the avoidance of harm? Did I ever think to offer myself to myself? Did I ever think to give myself the pleasures that I wanted from others? How foolish was I to not look to myself for the simplest yet most enigmatic of things? Love.

I am capable of love. Everyone is. I think so, at least. However, I never asked myself if I could be capable of loving myself. To love oneself. It sounds good, doesn't it? A perpetuating cycle of confidence, validation, strength, happiness, and hope. Could that be right? Can I define self-love as that? The will to give oneself undeterred hope for the future, validation of worth, and all-encompassing happiness? Who would get in my way? It would be a relationship between me... and me. It's beautiful. I want it for myself.

To want such beautiful things for myself. That's the first step right?

Story About a Boy

His name is Dirk (yes, that's him in the picture). He went to high school with me. He was two years ahead of me. During my freshman year (2005), around the time Facebook was gaining popularity with high school students, I was the first one (in my school) to publicly display my sexual orientation on my profile. I was the one that guys from school, who were still in the closet, would privately message to confide in and ask questions about "being gay".

I helped him ease his nerves and talk him through his first few dates with a guy. We would chat online way past 2-3am on weeknights; we'd talk about love, life, stories of ourselves, anything that came to mind.

This whole friendship of ours only existed online. He never spoke to me when we passed one another in the hallways. We looked at one another, but our eyes never met. He was the gorgeous in-the-closet upperclassman and I was merely a freshman that nobody knew and everyone ostracized for being gay. Nonetheless, I was satisfied with the secret late conversations we had.

One day, he asked me to meet up, in person. I didn't know what to say. It was so unexpected. Was it a date or us just hanging out? I was afraid. I was ashamed of myself. To be in real, personal contact with a guy I admired from afar and realized I was finally growing feelings for. I was afraid of expecting something from it and being let down in the end. I made up some excuse as to why I couldn't and he said okay.

Our late night conversations continued until finally he said, "Ich liebe dich. Sie machen mich glücklich." I asked him what it meant and he said, "It means 'I love you. You make me happy' in German. :)" At that point, I felt encouraged to perhaps take him up on his offer to meet up, even if it would only come out to be casual meet up rather than a date.

Weeks passed by the time I had gained the courage to ask him. When I did, he asked me for my advice on a guy he really wanted to take out on a date. Night after night I would advise him on how to keep his cool and whether his intended actions were cheesy or romantic. He would tell me about his date ideas such as taking the guy to dinner on top of the John Hancock building, saving up money for each excursion he planned, taking the guy to concerts, etc. I pushed my feelings aside to give him the advice he wanted, but what I felt couldn't be left unnoticed.

Finally, one night, I told him how I felt. I told him that I had grown fond of him. That I wanted to get to know him in person, and perhaps continue our friendship or whatever we had face to face. He told me that he was sorry. He told me that he didn't really know what he was saying back then when he said he loved me because I made him happy. 

I asked him, "What changed?" He said, "I realized I'm only attracted to white guys. Sorry."

Finding my Center... All Over Again

It's been a while since my last legitimate post. After my last blog entry (not including the second part of my story about Dylan), which was about Brandon, I felt like I needed some time away. Writing these blog entries mandates me to put my emotions and thoughts to the forefront of my consciousness. Writing prohibits me from suppressing the resulting affects of day to day events in my life, which can be too much to handle at times. . I thought about writing each and every day since my last entry last March, but I felt like I still needed time to just let my mind rest. For the past few weeks, I've felt like I was overstimulated by everything around me: the end of a friendship/relationship, financial pressures, academic deadlines, etc. I just needed time to let things be without having to dwell on them or analyze them, which is what writing inclines me to do. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but it was too much for me to handle.

In any case, here's an update on my life...

Brandon
Brandon (a.k.a B) is out of my life for good. A day or so after my last entry in early March, I had to finally stand up for myself. I was being pushed around by his uncertainty and fickleness. One day he would tell me he loved me, then the next day he would try to change the subject when I would bring up the topic. When he tried to communicate with me after a three-week silence, which he imposed (blocking me from any way of contacting him), he told me that he wanted me to forgive him and that he still loved me. The next day, when I told him that I still had feelings for him, he couldn't/wouldn't respond; I knew that something was wrong at that point. He then retracted what he said the previous night and showed no remorse for it. The next few days, I still felt like I was chasing after him just to have him pay attention to me. It was a ridiculous situation since it was he that begged for my forgiveness a few days earlier.

I knew that things would never progress between us, so I let out all my frustrations. I told him that he was fickle and didn't know what he wanted. That he had no reason to tell his friends and his mother that I broke his heart by not accepting his professed feelings for me (i.e. he told me he loved me) a mere two weeks of knowing one another. Whether it was his intention or not, he defamed me to his friends even though at the end of the day, I made the right choice. He had no right to say anything about me, whatsoever, since I was right from the very beginning: he did not know what he wanted. To his friends, he portrayed himself as someone who wanted true love and as if it was me who deprived him of such an opportunity.  However, when I was finally willing to give him my heart, it was he who stated, "I don't know what I want. I'm sorry." It was also frustrating and upsetting for him to tell me that his mother hated me because I had hurt him for not accepting his affection, which were in retrospect, apocryphal. I felt as if complete blame was unreasonably put on me, when I made the right choice to tell him the truth: I did not have feelings for him when he told me he loved me after only knowing me for two weeks. Yes, my feelings for him did develop after that point, yet he still couldn't let go of his past resentment for me.

In the end, he continued to firmly hold onto his beliefs. He continued to believe that he was in the right and that I was the enemy. He rejected any form of reason other than his own. He felt hurt, therefore whoever hurt him was universally bad. On the other hand, any transgressions of his own were to be left unacknowledged or completely denied. Total bullshit. That's when I knew he was delusional and psychologically maladaptive. It bothers me that he will continue to say bad things about me to his friends and they will actually believe him, and they're actually not bad people... However, if they would unconditionally believe what he says without personally getting to know me, then that's bad on their part.

Academic
 Since my last blog entry, I actually dropped my Italian minor and took on a second major. I think that having two major degrees is better than having one major and one minor degree. Also, the latter option would have required me to take summer classes to finish on time (i.e. graduate with the class of 2013), whereas the former can be completed on time without having to take summer classes. So now, I am a Psychology and Advertisement/PR double major. I decided that I could pursue foreign language studies independently. Nonetheless, I have enjoyed the Italian class I am currently in and my peers have acknowledged my abilities (as they've often come to me for help)... I guess being raised bilingual, then taking French for seven years helps. Hah! I guess you can say that I'm working on being quadrilingual? 

I am also glad to say that I've been accepted into my school's study abroad program in Rome, Italy, which will allow me to study at my university's own Rome campus. I'll be studying there from January 2012 up til May 2012. My mother is also excited and is surprisingly more supportive than I thought she would be. I actually thought she'd be against the idea since I would be more than the ~10 mile distance I currently am from her and the rest of my family (try thousands). With my family's support, it has made me more excited about studying abroad and it makes this prospective experience seem more of a reality to me. 

Family
My family has been surprisingly more supportive than I would have ever expected. My previous conversations with my mother have been quite relaxed. At one point, she caught me off guard when she mentioned me possibly finding an Italian lover and getting excited about. I would have never expected her to initiate such a topic or mention something so... explicitly gay? Hah! I must say though, it's a relief to hear that my mother has completely accepted me for who and what I am. Of course, it will take some time to completely open up to her; it'll take some time to unravel a decade's effort of trying to hide facet(s) of my identity.

Recently, I've also felt a personal desire to spend more time with my family. Along with feeling that I can show them more of my "true" self, I no longer feel like I have to keep my distance. Also, I've realized that my baby sister is growing up and I want to be there for her. This point in her life is quite vital in her personal development and as her older sibling I do have the personal desire to help guide her. I know that it kind of sounds sappy and it's a sentiment that I would have never expected to come from me, but it's true. Perhaps I'm growing as a person and caring for those other than myself? That's a good thing, right? Doesn't that fit into one of Erikson's psychodevelopmental stages? 

Work
At the end of March, I got hired as a retail associate at a clothing store. I was very excited considering that I finally got a job in fashion retail and will (hopefully) no longer work in the food industry. Of course, on my first day, I already felt like quitting. I was afraid that my new coworkers would already have high expectations of me and consider me a failure for not knowing what to do. I feared that even if I would explain to them that it was my first retail job, they'd still consider me incompetent and a bother. Luckily, before coming in to work, I went to get some coffee with Dylan, who eased my first day jitters on the job.


Fortunately, my expectations for my first day were completely wrong. Everyone was very friendly and went out of their way to introduce themselves to me. Whenever an associate was close by, he/she would come up to me and ask if I was doing all right and if I had any questions. It was overwhelming to try and take in everything while also trying to provide assistance to customers (i.e. doing my job), but I couldn't have asked for a better first day.

I've been working at the clothing store for 3-4 weeks now. I'm still trying to take things in, but for the most part, I feel myself more at ease. Of course, I do find myself feeling mentally and physically exhausted at the end of the day for pay that really isn't up to par with the work being done. Also, with any job in fashion retail, I've found myself crossing paths with coworkers that believe themselves to be superior, therefore they don't feel it necessary to make eye contact when I speak to them. It's funny because I'm doing the same job as them, at the same place, and probably for similar pay. The customers can be assholes too, but what can you expect? Many of them never worked a minimum wage job, therefore they probably don't even see associates as people. Nonetheless, I tell myself that whatever I'm not receiving in monetary gain, I'm attaining through work experience. My current job is a mere stepping stone for what I want to go into as a career. God forbid, I wouldn't want to be a sales associate working minimum wage after the age of 25.


What do I want to for a career exactly? Well, the dream would be to find a starting position in an advertisement/PR firm or something relating to fashion, advertisement, and travel. Perhaps I can use my multilingual abilities to good use. No matter what though, I don't want to be working in minimum wage sales, whether it be in the food or fashion retail industry, five years from now. 


Love
At the present moment, I am single. I'm all right with being single. I actually prefer to be single for the time being. My thought is that since I'm leaving for Rome in about 7 months, it would be unwise to seek/start a relationship. When I leave for Rome, I want self discovery to be the center of my trip/adventure. Sure, a relationship wouldn't necessarily hinder me from achieving that goal. However, realistically, starting a relationship then turning it into a long-distance relationship within the first year would be detrimental. I'd rather wait, but who knows? If I do find a potential lover and we hit it off this summer, it's something I'll definitely allow to run its course, but I wouldn't seek it out. Love is something you should never prevent or intentionally seek out. If it happens, it happens.

Currently, I do have my eyes set on a guy. He's sweet, intelligent, cute, and has a good head on his shoulders. I'll keep specific details under wraps for now, but if my interest in him does develop further and it becomes a mutual interest, then I'll let you all know. 


Overall
My life is moving forward at a tolerable and satisfactory pace. Things are going the way they should. Although, I know that I can and should put more effort towards my academic endeavors, which I will. At this point, the best I can do is enjoy life and live it.

Almost Lover (Part 2)

It was dusk when we decided to ride the train back to the neighboring suburb, where we had met up and left his car. I was so nervous about what my parents would say, but each time I looked into his eyes, I knew that the decision I had made was the right one. It was the right one for me, at that very moment, and that was all that mattered. I texted my father and quickly turned off my phone soon after.

We were able to get out of the city center pretty quickly, but once it got dark and we were at the outskirts of the city, we got lost. Every mile or so that we would drive, we would be uncertain as to where we were going and where we had been. We stopped at every gas station that we passed by to ask for directions. However, each time we got out of his car to ask for directions, it was quite a terrifying experience. Imagine being lost on the outskirts of the city, where the surrounding neighborhood looked so dark (there were no street lights), dangerous, unwelcoming, where we felt eyes were on us whenever we got out of the car. Now, imagine a 17 yr. old gay Asian male and a 16 yr. old gay white male with bleach blond hair, both of about the same height of 5 foot and 8 inches, looking lost and out of place.

I could feel him getting nervous after our fifth or sixth stop to a gas station, so I gently put my left hand on his as it nervously, but firmly held onto his gear shift. I continued to tell him that everything would be all right; we would find our way. I wanted to comfort him, to protect him, and to let him know that I was right there beside him, holding his hand, riding through that dark, scary adventure with him. He accepted my gesture and intertwined his fingers in mine. His hands were so soft and supple. His touch was so gentle and comforting... Luckily, after that point, we were able to find our way. We drove on with our fingers intertwined all the way to our destination.

When we got to his place, we quickly ran to his room. It had stark white walls, a bed at the corner with a window above it, a table, and a framed display hanging on one of his walls. At some point, we found ourselves sitting on his carpet, his back resting on the edge of his bed as I sat facing him. We looked silently into each others eyes as we both felt a sort of magnetism bring our our faces and bodies closer together. I pressed my lips onto his and he accepted them. I gently held his face in my hands as we proceeded to deepen our kiss.

We were alone in his room with the light on, which was intensified by the stark white color of his walls. I didn't care. Everything felt so right. We sat there on his floor, his head laying on the edge of his bed as I held it and caressed his face, with my body pressed onto his. Only he mattered at that point: the softness and fullness of lips, his quiet and delicate movements, the smooth softness of his hair, and the way his body perfectly fit into my embrace. After a night of feeling our attraction to one another develop as we roamed the city, then to have our fears and anxiety of being lost with no one but one another to depend on bring us even closer, that moment when our lips connected was perfect.

What my Man Will Someday be Like

Having this whole night all to myself, I had time to think, which led to thoughts about my future. Specifically, I started to think about my ideal guy... So here's what I came up with.

- He'll be all right spending a whole Sunday morning and afternoon just lying on the couch with me, while the sun warms our cheeks.

- He'll notice me crying when a movie gets really dramatic and/or romantic, but he won't tease me for it. Instead, he'd unwittingly pull me closer to him.

- When I try to grab hold of his hand in public, he won't pull away; he'll look at me, smile, and grab hold of mine.

- He might think that the things I say or do are kind of weird, but he'll laugh along with me anyways and realize that only those special to me can get close enough to see my quirks.

- He'll surprise me by remembering the things I say when I don't think he's listening (e.g., what I'm afraid of, my favorite movie, my favorite colors, my favorite places to go, the secrets I share with him.)

- He'll snuggle up right behind me, put his arm around me, and pull me close to him before we both doze off to sleep.

- He will sometimes call or text me just to tell me he was thinking of me just a few seconds before he called/texted.

- When we can't be together, he would make sure that we both have at least a few minutes to talk every night before we head off to sleep.

- He wouldn't mind letting me sleep in the passenger seat during long drives with him.

- He would trust me driving his car while he sleeps in the passenger seat.

- He'd be happy to take late summer afternoon walks with me while he puts his arm around my waist and hold me close to him.

- He'd be happy to take lots of pictures with me and wouldn't mind me taking lots of pictures of him to remember our special moments together.

- When I'm feeling down and upset, he'd be there to hold me close and tight, no questions asked, to let me know that I'm safe in his arms.

- He'll challenge me as a person, but never make me feel inferior.

- When we're mad at each other and saying things we don't mean, he'd lean in and kiss me to make me shut up.

- He would want to introduce me to all his friends and he would be proud to call me his.

- He wouldn't be afraid or too embarrassed to tell me he loves me whenever it crosses his mind.

To Forgive and/or to Trust

B. messaged me last night saying that he's finally willing to talk.

We stopped talking about three weeks ago after he blocked me from every possible way I could reach him. He blocked me from Twitter, Facebook, and he even went as far as blocking our mutual friends (that he met through me). Sure, I could still text and call him, but for the three weeks before he re-initiated contact with me, I resisted calling and texting him. Sure, I thought of him everyday and wondered if it was really that easy to forget me, to suppress every thought pertaining to me, and whether I even crossed his mind anymore. However, I respected and loved myself enough not to degrade myself so far as begging him to speak to me. I took his act of blocking any possible communication between us as his way of permanently cutting ties with me.

It did hurt to have someone I trusted and cared for as a close friend for 7+ months totally cut me out of their lives. However, I was fine. I surrounded myself with friends that cared for me and showed me that I still have my own life to look forward to. I think that the experience, through and through, made me a stronger person.

I was planning on texting him on his birthday (March 3rd) with the simple message "Happy Birthday B." and leaving it at that. Frankly, in my mind, the best case scenario would be him saying, "Thank you," and leaving it at that and worst case scenario would be him saying, "Fuck you. Don't ever contact me again." I was honestly prepared to receive either response. Surprisingly, he beat me to the punch and he texted me last night saying he's sorry that he hurt me and he can no longer go on living without talking to me. He then told me he loved me.

Frankly, I don't know how to feel. I'm glad that he's willing to talk again, but I don't know how I feel about him saying that he loves me. Yes, the feelings I professed for/to him a few weeks ago were genuine, but considering how he has treated me since, I don't really know whether I want to offer my heart again. Yes, I still have feelings for him and I potentially love him, but I love myself more. I love myself more than I love him and I love myself enough not to put myself (and my heart) in harm's way. I have learned to live and be happy without him in the past three weeks, therefore what would be the reason for including him back into my life? Will he bring more love into my life or will he just bring back the possibility of me being hurt by him again?

Like I said, I now know how to live on without him; I've experienced it, I've lived it, and I've enjoyed it. If anything ever does happen between us, I know that no matter what happens, I will still have myself. I never have to fear the possibility of ever losing him because it has already happened and the experience wasn't horrible. It's the uncertainty of how we would react to future events/possibilities that scare us. However, once we've come to experience it and realize that it wasn't as scary as previously thought, any similar experience/event following it will be taken with ease.

Yes, I forgive him for how he treated me. Do I trust him? I don't know. My trust is something that he has to earn and prove to me that it's something he deserves. What does he have to do to prove himself? I don't know. Just like love, it's something I cannot predict; I'll know it once the thought, "Wow. He's someone I can trust (again)," hits me. Meanwhile, I think it's my friends that he will have the hardest time convincing. Each and everyone of my friends who I have told that B. re-initiated contact, apologized, and is telling me he loves me again were quite skeptical. Some even told me not to buy it and just move on. Perhaps I'm an emotional masochist or perhaps I'm just too forgiving, but I can't stay mad at someone who apologizes... especially someone I still have feelings for.

Sure, I can't trust those that have hurt me as easily, but I will often forgive even the undeserving.

I Still Believe in Love

So here it is, Valentine's Day... Is it odd that it's my favorite day of the year, more so than my own birthday? Considering my history with "Love" and the men that followed, most would expect me to have become jaded, cynical, and/or repulsed by the though of love or Valentine's Day. The surprising part is that I, myself, thought that I would turn into that person... but I didn't. Just like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City, no matter how many times I have been hurt, I still believe and wait for what Carrie described as, "Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love."

Some of my friends and a few others have expressed their opposition towards Valentine's Day. They say that it's a Hallmark holiday, where corporate America feeds on love-struck, perhaps even dumb-struck, people. I don't agree, of course. Personally, it really depends on the individuals and/or couples as to whether Valentine's Day has any value to them. It's like someone's birthday; it's like any other day of the year, yet it is significant to many because they believe it to be their day. Sure, many out of the six billion or so people in the world were also born on that particular day, yet it's still special to many of us because we want it to be. It gives us a sense of meaning and identity. It's a day we subjectively give significance to and basically tell those within our own little microsystem of the world that we are here, we exist, we grow, and we live.  

No matter what, I still believe in love. Romantic, shameless, unreasonable, intensely dizzying love. 


Anyways, here I am, writing a blog post in a Starbucks in the middle of the "gayborhood" in Chicago. It has gotten relatively warmer, the snow is melting, the sky has cleared with a hue of robin's egg blue, and the sun is shining. It's quite unusual for a February day in Chicago. Nonetheless, it makes me happy. Even though it's Valentine's Day and I don't have a Valentine, I think it would've been unwise to stay at my apartment and hide from the good weather in an attempt to avoid being the single individual in public. In a sense, I should embrace this day. I should take my individuality, hold it in front of me, and love it. Basically, I should be my own Valentine and embrace it. I love Valentine's Day because it reminds me of who I am and what I believe to be the core of all my convictions: Love.


No matter what I've been through in the (recent) past concerning love and men, I haven't given up. I still believe in love. I still write love letters in order to convey my feelings for another. I still believe in doing special things whenever I get the chance (however big or small the deed may be) for that one special person. I believe that love would/should never make one feel limited, constricted, or deprived of the live he/she dreamed of. I believe that love should complement one's individual life, not replace it. Sure, I've become more cautious when falling love, but that hopeless-romantic part of me still thrives... I'm just patiently waiting for that one special individual I can present it to.


We meet three loves in the world: ourselves, the world, and that one person who can love us just as much as we love ourselves. We must love ourselves enough to never lose hope.

You Don't Deserve Me.

You are beautiful to me. You were once kind, gentle, and caring. You comforted me when I felt alone. You gave me affection when no one else could or would... But you don't deserve me.

Here I am, offering myself to you, but you don't want to listen. I've traveled into unknown territory just to hand you my love. You didn't seem to care. You couldn't understand how much you meant to me then and you still don't comprehend. In words and in actions I tried to give you my love and affection. I made myself vulnerable to you... I degraded myself and offered you my dignity.

I once hurt you because I told you the truth. I did not love you when you first professed love and I told you. It hurt you to hear the truth. You cried because I was honest. You wanted me to lie. You wanted me to give you what I did not have. You despise me, you hate me, you hold a grudge against me because I told you what I knew then as the truth. I did not lie to you. I did not deceive you. I told you the truth and for that you see me as your enemy... For that, you don't deserve me.

I love you. You don't seem to care. You believe that I deserve to suffer like you did. You want to hurt me like how you hurt. Please remember, it was the situation that hurt you, not me. Here we are, here I am, professing my love to you. All you can think about is how to serve me what you think I deserve. You cried, but not for me. You cried because you could not get what I could not give. You did not love me, you loved the thought of being loved by me.

One thing is certain, dear, you don't deserve any part of me.

Love knows no hate. Love does not associate with Regret. Love hopes, but never expects. I know that I love you. Even though you deny me, I hold no grudge. I don't regret anything I've done to show you my love. I don't expect you to still feel the same for me, all I can do is hope for the best.

I wish I could make the world a better place for you. I wish I could fix all of your problems. I wish I could take every blow the world has given you, but all that I can offer is myself. It seems as if it's no longer good enough... If you think I'm not good enough for you, then you don't deserve me... I deserve better. I deserve to be loved as much as I loved you.

You may be better looking than me. Everyone may not notice me like they do you. Some days I feel lonely. Some moments I feel inferior. But I know that I deserve more than what you've given me. I don't deserve to be put on my knees to beg, but you let me. You don't deserve me or the love I can give, but I still offer it to you.

Every moment at the moment is occupied by you. I showed you the secrets to my heart, but you didn't understand. You want me to feel the pain and jealousy you felt. That will never happen. You hold a grudge against me because you regret the love you professed for me. I don't regret what I've done to prove myself to you. I don't feel deceived, tricked, or swindled. I don't have the desire to make you suffer what you're doing to me. All I offer is my love and I don't expect anything from you.

I willingly give you my love and only that. From me, that is all you will ever receive. You don't deserve my love, but it's something I'm willing to give. Just please remember dear, you never deserved me.

A Love Letter I Cannot Send

Dear B.,

I know that you don't want to speak to me right now, but I really wish I could. I feel as if you are purposely avoiding me... Perhaps you are, I don't know, but I know that it was never like this between us. Even when things got rough, we always returned to the way we were. We were always able to move on... together.

I know that I have hurt you and it seemed as if I was never there for you; I'm sorry. I want you to know that you have always been special to me. I never realized how special, but now that I have to resist the temptation to contact you, it has become more evident how much you have always meant to me. I felt secure and safe just knowing that you were always there for me. I felt happy to simply know that you were there, thinking of me, even when words did not pass between us.

I don't know where things went wrong. I know that in the past few weeks ever since the last time I saw you in person things have become strained between us. I picked fights with you. I antagonized you. I honestly didn't know how to approach you and tell you how I felt. For me, to show affection, to tell someone you love them and care for them, is a frightening experience because I lose a sense of control. I know it's no excuse, but when I picked petty fights with you I was trying to let you know, "Hey, I'm right here. Please, pay attention to me because all my attention has been on you...I need you." I once indirectly told you how little boys pick on the girls they had crushes on; it was my indirect confession to you that I finally started to realize my feelings for you.

I don't know what happened or when it started, but it seems as if everything happened all too quickly. A few weeks ago, we laughed, we joked, we planned to see each other again. I didn't want to tell you, and now I regret not telling you before all this had happened, but I planned to reintroduce you to all my friends the next time you would have to visited. I didn't want to introduce you as just another friend, but someone much more special. I wanted it to be a beginning for us. I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to expect or to hope for too much... but I still did hope.

I wish you would give me a chance. I wish you would talk to me. Hear me out. I want to know what's happening on your side of the world and what's happening between us. I want to understand you. I don't understand why we can't speak to one another. So many things have happened in the past seven to eight months since we've known each other, but it never broke us. It seems as if something unknown to me, something that I am not aware of, happened suddenly. I want to know what it was. I want to help fix whatever it is that has broken between us.

You said that there's another boy. You said that you two started dating within the past two weeks. Why didn't you tell me? Were you aware or even suspect my feelings for you? Did you ever feel my growing need for your attention and affection? I want you to give me another chance. If not a chance to see what can grow between us, at least a chance for us to talk things through and close things with the least heartache for both of us. God, if I could just have one thing, I just want to be in your embrace again. You said that I should just blame you for everything and/or that you hurt me. The thing is, no matter how much you may have truly hurt me or caused me discomfort, it doesn't matter to me, I just want you to be by my side again.

I know that at this point you may look down upon me or no longer hold me to a high-esteem... I know that it's not good form to show such a weakness, for me to be at the point of almost begging. This is what I always feared, to lose myself to my emotions. But I don't regret it. As much as it may hurt or frustrate me, I am thankful to have these feelings for you. It has reminded me that I can still love and cherish the presence of another. I made a mistake and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't mean to or want to. I was scared. But here I am, opening myself up to you, willing to show you all my secrets, my vulnerabilities, and myself... 

I want to believe that you really did love me. I want to believe that all those times you came to city to see me meant something. I want to believe that you walked that whole night with me because you cared for me. I want to believe that when you reached for my hand that summer day it meant something. I want to believe that you felt something for me whenever I pulled your arm around me, when I fell asleep on your lap or shoulder, and when we kissed. When you sat there with me outside of my classroom, I felt happy. I felt content just sitting right beside you, as my equal, as my companion, as someone I could potentially be with.

Perhaps you're avoiding me because you don't want to deal with the emotions within yourself that are associated with me. Perhaps you don't want to face them because you don't know how it would affect what you're currently developing with the other guy, but can you deny it... can you deny that there is something still there for me, within your heart? If there is still love or affection for me still lingering in your heart, please don't deny it or disregard it. I know that it hurt to love me and not receive the same from me. I was scared and not ready at that point in my life, but I am ready. I am ready, willing, and wanting to see where things could go with you. I want to believe that things could still work between us. Perhaps I cause(d) you discontent and heartache... Whatever it may be, I want to quell your fears.

I want to be here for you. I want to be with you.
I miss you. Please, can we please see things through?
Kenneth C.

Eros and Mnemosyne

I told myself that I wouldn't let it happen again, but I unknowingly did. I didn't realize it until it had already happened and it was suddenly out of my hands. Now, I find myself in the same situation with B. In the recent past, I had the chance to be with someone, someone who could have been special, but a part of me didn't feel ready at that point... Now, when I am emotionally ready to commit myself and see where a relationship could go, B. seems to have started moving on. After things started falling through, B. expressed his fear and uncertainty with seeing me again. He expressed fear towards how he would emotionally respond to being physically near me. In a sense, I believe that he fears the possibility that the feelings he still holds for me would resurface.

It hurts to have someone that you've come to care for suddenly disappear. It's difficult to cope with the idea that you loved and cared for someone, but it wasn't clear until they were gone. In a sense, it's kind of like death; you take for granted the presence of an individual in your life, but once they're gone you realize how much more you love(d) and cherish(ed) them. At times, we are so selfish and we become so frustrated because we want that person to acknowledge how we feel... perhaps to even reciprocate how we feel for them. We fail to realize that they are their own person and we can only do so much. We can love someone so much, but when we don't receive the same sort or amount of love we can feel cheated, used, or unwanted. That's the thing about love though, you only have control over how much love you want to give to those around you, but you have no say or control over how much love you would receive in return. We have to keep in mind that to love someone is to care for a person without expecting anything in return. Nonetheless, even though I am cognizant of how to logically approach love, there is still a tinge of pain when I realize how lonely I am.

I talked to my friend Jamie about my situation with B. and something she said struck me. She said, "...when you let go of someone you know isn't right for you, it's often easy to feel regretful when you see them moving forward and things haven't necessarily changed for you." Did I truly believe that B. wasn't the right one for me? I often said how he was too nice, too naive, too passive, yet I know for a fact that whenever I did verbalize such thoughts, it seemed as if I was just making excuses. When I would exclaim how he was too nice or too passive for me, at that same moment I knew that I didn't believe what had just come out of my mouth. Instead, it seemed as if I repeatedly verbalized such thoughts in an attempt to convince myself of what I was saying. I couldn't convince myself. I knew myself too well to even deceive my own heart. The truth is, the things I saw as faults in him were a reflection of me. I kept saying that I couldn't let myself fall in love or enter a relationship because I wanted to seem independent, strong-willed, ambitious. On the contrary, I've realized that the things I wanted to convince myself as being his faults were traits that we shared, traits that I saw to be my own weaknesses, not his.

At this point, I don't really think there is anything else I can do. The only thing I can do at the moment is sit tight and hope for the best.

It's interesting though how today reminds me of a day he and I shared. Currently, as the sunlight filters through the venetian blinds and a slightly crisp Winter breeze comes through my window, it reminds me of that summer afternoon when B. first told me he loved me. I took him to the one place where I always went to think. We sat under the shade of two trees; the sky was clear, and a slight summer breeze flowed along the lake. The breeze sifted through the branches and leaves making the sunlight that filtered through almost twinkle, fade, and glow in a sense. I sat there looking at his hand as he confessed his feelings to me. All along, I knew that it was the purpose of his visit, but when I was finally confronted by this man's feelings toward me, it was such an intense, raw, and unexpected feeling. I told him that I didn't want to enter into a relationship because I wanted to stand on my own two feet and see the world as an independent individual. However, deep inside I knew that I didn't completely believe what I was saying. I didn't know what to say. I never had anyone profess love to me before him. Ever.

Once he said his piece and I said mine, I suggested that he should take a look at what I called the "love rocks" that lined the lake and lagoon. He got up and he walked to the edge of the lagoon and walked amongst the rocks I often sat on to secretly cry, think, and reflect many times before. I watched him as he stood there looking towards the indistinguishable horizon, where the cerulean blue lake and azure sky blurred into one. He stood there facing away from me and I watched him. I silently sat under the shade of the tree and watched him standing so tall, quiet, and serene. There was a specific moment when I just looked at the leaves rustling and scattering the rays of light that could reach me and simply thinking, "I'll always remember this day. I'll always remember this moment."

At that point in time, I did not feel the same way or love him the way he had professed to me, but at that same moment, as I watched him standing where I used to spend several sunrises sitting and wondering when love would come for me, my own feelings for him unknowingly came to be.

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.

My ticket home.

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.

Do You Know that Feeling?

Do you know that feeling? When your palms start sweating, yet a cold sensation begins to creep from your fingertips? Do you feel it as every joint on every limb quiver in weakness and anxiety? It slowly creeps and caresses, silently crawling on your skin. It creeps further, its hold grows stronger, colder, relentless; its claim on your sorrows begin. Your mind wanders from one thing to the next as it tries to flee the very thought and emotion resting in your chest...

Yes, right there, in there, in that deep cavern of flesh and bone, do you feel its weight? Do you feel your heart trembling in pain as some mysterious, unknown hand reaches in, grabs hold, and impales the very organ with its intangible fingertips? Yes, it has its grasp on you and it slowly, excruciatingly pulls the organ of your soul lower and deeper until it snaps separate and free from your chest into the depths of your bowels.

Do you feel it? Your spine aches and tenses as your body fears what it cannot face. Behind you, always behind you, it hides and feasts. With one hand it claimed your heart, with the other it possesses your soul. Do you feel the emptiness, the emotionless, guiltless grip it has on you? Every vertebrae grinds on the other as you feel your every position in discontent. Bone clashes and grinds on bone, the sound of it grumbling dully and horrifically.

Do you feel fear? The fear of the open space, the darkness, the loneliness that surrounds you? Your skin trembles as it feels Nothing. Your heart aches as it feels Nothing. Your mind falters and falls into entropy as it succumbs to Nothing. You see Nothing. Darkness can no longer be differentiated from Light. Nothing becomes something, as it is the only existence you know and can find solace in. Can you stop it? Can you stop what you feel, but cannot reach? What is this malady whose symptoms you feel?

Your head grows heavy, yet your body refuses to retire. It hangs low and defeated as the willow that weeps. Your neck, weighted and shackled to the earth, subjugating you, forcing you to bow down to it as subject to Master. Your body fails to hold you any longer as your weight simply becomes a burden from God. Do you feel it? Do you feel what I feel? Do you feel the wet, sharp, blistering burns that sears my eyes shut?

Do you feel my sorrows? Can you hear my lament?
Do you feel it?

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.

Stepping Away from the Past

I'm done with my third semester of college and I'm back at my parents' house for winter break. As my grades are coming in one by one, I come to realize that I've actually made some progress. Not just academically, but at a personal level as well. I believe that I'm actually starting to regain the momentum I lost almost five years ago.

I've told this story of the First so many times, to myself and to others, in an attempt to make sense of all that had happened. A part of me blamed myself as I accused myself of being too foolish or too naive. Another part of me blamed him for he knew that I wanted a love. Every failure and every regret I've come across I have blamed on the First and his mistreatment. I blamed him for breaking me, for stealing from me, and ultimately for fooling me. I was a freshman in high school and he was a senior from a different school. He seemed perfect. He was a gentleman. I felt as if my fantasies of being swept away by some prince came true. I was happy and did not question it. I associated being gay with finding a man, and I believed he was that man. I gave myself to him because I couldn't fathom future harm, especially being inflicted by him who I thought to be perfect. I thought it to be absolutely unlikely that the first man I'd allow to touch me would actually be the one that could hurt me; no man, no person, has ever hurt me as much.

For a few years I just coasted through life. I refused to seek life as I was too afraid of possibly being hurt again. For a long time, I thought that I'd never gain closure. I never saw him after that time and I thought that the only way I could move on was to see him face-to-face. For years I imagined seeing him in person and the things I would say to him. Being a psychology student, I was always tempted to diagnose him with some sort of psychological disorder to explain his behavior towards me. I realized that I would be giving him too much credit as a person; the First was nothing more than a jackass sans the disorder.

I kept myself from moving on with my life because I wanted to believe that the same man may change his mind someday. I kept one foot in the past because I wanted to believe that all my bad experiences would amount to something of worth. Ironically, by keeping myself stagnant, I was subjecting myself to more hurt and sacrifice. Yes, sometimes to reminisce for a few short moments means to feel a small tinge of pain from my past, but it's just enough to keep me from going back.

I'm moving on and the sense of self I've recently gained is liberating. There were times that I feared acceptance of my past, believing that it would lead me to become jaded, hopeless, and defeatist. It's the other way around, actually. The past has happened and the events are rigid and limited. I cannot change the past even if I try to find a different, more ideal answer from what is certain and absolute. The future, on the other hand, is still uncertain. Scary and mysterious, yes, but full of possibilities and hope for sure. I have a new found hunger and curiosity for life and possibilities. I want to live and feel again.

I still believe in love and I know I'm still capable of love. I was badly hurt once and it's one of the deepest of the pains I've experienced because he was my first, but I can't let my past demons control me or it will become a cycle of pain that finds legitimacy in itself. Tomorrow will be the five-year anniversary of when I lost my virginity, when my expectations of life, love, and men seemed to have shattered and fallen apart. But I refuse to let regret keep its hold on me any longer. From all the broken pieces I can make a beautiful mosaic.

No matter what, even if the fallen and shattered pieces don't fit perfectly together, somehow I can make something beautiful from them.

Proclamation of a Single Gay Man

Yesterday evening, B. came over to visit overnight. This time, contrary to previous times he has visited, it was just the two of us: no ex-boyfriends or groups of friends tagging along. It was a very nice night actually. He came over, we hung around my place for a bit with my roommate and his friend, we cuddled for about an hour or so, then we got sushi for dinner. As I stated in one of my previous posts, things never really aligned for B. and me, due to situational causes that would arise when he would visit. This time, things worked out well as we were able to focus on one another and enjoy each others company.

A momentous point during his whole visit was when we were cuddling. He asked me if I wanted to try out a relationship with him. My reply to him was, "No." I felt guilty for giving him the answer I knew he didn't want. I felt as if I was driven to try and explain my response in every way I could hoping that at some point I'd no longer feel guilty. I told him that I don't want to enter into a relationship because (1) I don't have the same feelings for him as he has for me and (2) I honestly can't see myself entering into a relationship anytime soon.

The first reason was the hardest for me to explain and was the major source of my guilt. I told him that I don't feel the same way for him as he feels for me and if we're not on the same page, I honestly don't see it working out. I believe that it would be unfair to the both of us if I decide to go into a relationship and bet on the possibility that I would reciprocate his love for me someday; the contrary is also a possibility. Also, to do so feels like I would only be forcing myself into a situation that should naturally fall into place. I know that he and I believe that love should never be forced; to enter into a relationship I don't have an independent desire for, in hopes of "possibly" aligning our perception of one another, would contradict our mutual philosophy on love.

The agreement to enter into an intimate, exclusive relationship should spring from the present desires, relevant ideologies, and intimate emotions that both parties should already mutually share. Entrance into a relationship shouldn't precede the elements that construct and support it (i.e. intimate desire, mutual desire to enter an intimate relationship, etc.). I feel as if to enter into a relationship with B. would have been a contradiction of the former statement that I hold as a philosophy on relationships. I don't believe in entering an intimate relationship to develop love; it should be love that develops an intimate relationship.

I tried to articulate to him all that I have just written in order to explain why I said no, but a part of me still felt guilty. A part of me still felt unconvinced that he understood my refusal to enter into a relationship with him was not a willful decision. It was a decision based on the idea that as the elements that would constitute a desire for an intimate relationship was not in the present situation for me, it would not be beneficial, perhaps even detrimental to our relationship as friends.

During my whole conversation with him, I realized that I never really desired a relationship. Even from the moment I realized my homosexuality, being in a relationship with another man was something I came to idealize. My homosexuality became a central focal point of my identity. As a result, anything that would be associated with expressing my identity as a homosexual became a central focal point of my attention and desires (e.g., my self-portrayal and attaining a boyfriend, respectively).

In a way, I surrendered control over myself from the very beginning, which made it easier for others to take advantage of me. For so many years until recently, my desire for a significant other enabled other men to easily exploit me. I let others use and abuse me because I thought it'd help me get closer to attaining a boyfriend. My self-worth and my motivation for life became contingent on other men. Perhaps the events of the past have made me cynical and/or jaded; I don't know if there's anything I can do to undo that, unfortunately.

On a more positive note, I believe I've regained control of myself. I've become consciously aware of the fact that my reason to live, my motivation to move through the world, shouldn't be dependent on men and how they perceive me, whatsoever. Yes, I still believe in love, but to let my actions be directed by my ideals, isn't beneficial. Sure, I'm not necessarily fond of hooking up and/or one-night stands, but the ones I've recently had have taught me something. In the past, I hooked up with guys who promised me love and relationships, which they obviously never fulfilled. Recently, I have hooked up with men fully knowing and accepting what the act would entail, the consequence, and what I would realistically receive from it. I feel more in control and aware of my environment and the things that happen to and around me.

I'm not saying that I'll be hooking up with men more frequently, but I've become more realistic of the world we live in. I've just become more cognizant of my agency and I want to exercise my agency as a single individual. I have not lived life with the awareness of a single man, therefore how can I successfully be in a relationship and live intimately with another if I have not lived for myself?

I am a single gay man, but first and foremost I am simply an individual with agency.

Holding Out for the Hero

We are all aware of a common occurrence where an eligible bachelor(ette) has to choose between the good guy and the bad boy/rebel. In movies we find the bachelor(ette) choosing the bad boy for the good guy, often after realizing that the bad boy is actually the more virtuous of the two. When this isn't the case and the characters are far more black and white, we find the good guy winning in the end of the story.

Realistically, though, we know this isn't how the story unfolds. Often, if not always, it's the good guy that gets left behind. A friend of mine once mentioned a movie called The Last American Virgin, which I believe sums up the more realistic good guy/bad boy dilemma. In the movie, the bad boy character (Rick) gets a girl pregnant and leaves her. The good guy (Gary) voluntarily takes care of the girl and actually endures through certain struggles in order to express his love for her, which she apparently reciprocates. In the end, she goes back to Rick, the guy that got her pregnant and left her, while the Gary, good guy, is left heartbroken.

Why do we (voluntarily) fall prey to the person/people that hurt us, manipulate us, and take advantage of us? In turn, why do we disregard the person that shows us genuine love, consideration, and kindness? Is it due the thrill and sense of adventure that we may possibly feel when we're with the "bad boy"? Are we such masochists that we sacrifice what we always professed as our desire for true love in order to be subjugated to emotional and physical distress? If so, why? How did things get so twisted?

Personally, there were three men that came into my life, who I now consider to have been "good guys". The first one was when I was sixteen, the other when I was eighteen, and B. is someone I am currently in a situation with. I tried to push them all away. I always rationalized my actions by telling myself that it was for the best, that I was consciously testing them; if they didn't rise to the occasion, then they weren't the one for me. Was this true though? Was I really attempting to push them away in order to see whether they'd actually stay? Or was just lying to myself?

It was not until B. confronted me with something that I had always known, but never truly acknowledged. His exact words were:

It seems to me that you're so used to being treated like shit, that when someone finally treats you the way a person should be treated, you don't know how to react and you push people away. That's one of your flaws; you attract poisonous people that take advantage of you, get what they want and then toss you in the trash. That's all you've ever known and probably all you ever will know unless you get your shit together. Yes, I have a lot of flaws... god knows I do. Sure, I might be a doormat or passive, but in all honesty, you're the only one that seems to have a problem with it.

He was right. I had become so accustomed to being treated badly, starting from the very first boy I fell in love with when I was fourteen, that I came to associate "love" with maltreatment. When a man would push me around (jokingly one guy would say), act cold towards me, or only call me for his benefit, it attracted me. Somehow, I perceived their behavior and attitude towards me as an expression of love, which I now realize is just so wrong. I've fallen for cheaters, abusers, flakes, and sociopaths (yes, I did date a real sociopath once), whereas "the gentleman", that guy that treats me fairly and as an equal person, was never given a chance.

I know, it's stupid of me as I would always tell myself that the good guy will just turn out like the rest after getting what he wants from me, yet none of my conclusions were supported by facts. On the contrary, it's actually the men that I did fall for that treated me badly, while the men I should have given a chance to simply walked away, were pushed away by me, or couldn't do anything else but watch on the sidelines as I would get myself hurt, over and over again.


Frankly, it scares me. As I've always associated my ideal for love with maltreatment, I don't really know how to react when a guy finally does offer me true, genuine love. As abuse and distress were the only things I've ever received, love outside of movies, love that I could actually feel without having to imagine is a foreign concept to me. It scares me as it always had, but if I don't heed B.'s words, which I know are true, I'll only further subjugate myself to more pain and never realize what it truly means to be loved. Now, here's my chance to turn things around.

Family: What it Means to Me as a Gay Teen

So it's Thanksgiving tomorrow, I have the rest of the week off from school. Both of my roommates left yesterday afternoon after their last class. I, on the other hand, am staying at the dorms, which is what I did last year.

My family was never really the type that celebrated the holidays. It's not necessarily something that we decide not to do, but something that just comes to be. My mother is a nurse, therefore she's often at work on the holidays (Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc.). I would say that mother is the center figure, the anchor of our family and for her not to be present, it just wouldn't have made sense for my siblings and I to do something without her. In any case, in previous years my older siblings were often with their friends during the holidays and I would be at home with my younger sister and father. Often, we would be in our rooms watching television and treating it like any other day.

If I were to go home for Thanksgiving, the lack of a celebration would be more evident, more upsetting. For me to go home and see my family and me proceed with the day as if it was any other day, knowing how it would differ with what my friends are doing, it's too upsetting, it makes me envious of my friends. I don't like that feeling. Sitting here, thinking about it, and writing about it, it's much more upsetting than I realized. It's upsetting to bring to the foreground the feeling of how my family seems so cold, distant, and depressing, especially during this time of the year.

Yes, the holidays are about being with family and loved ones, but I feel more upset, depressed, and frustrated when I am at my parents'. Yes, they are my family, but I do not feel at home when I am there. I feel a mere obligation to be present when I am with family. It saddens me because when I think of my family, I think of my little sister and how this could all be affecting her. I remember being in first grade when one of my older sisters stopped walking me to school; I felt so sad. The fact that I remember that moment to this day, it makes me realize how intense the feeling of sadness really was. So I wonder how my little sister feels when her siblings have fled the nest, with parents that would rather have her cooped up at home than to have her running around outside because of the small risk of falling and getting a scratch or bruise.

I know that I could go home for my little sister, that it is a reason to return. I know that I could be there for her, considering how the feeling of concern is present. Nonetheless, I've decided to keep my distance, for my sake. I do not feel at home in that house anymore. I do not feel the desire to be there. Yes, I love my family, but I never found the connection I always yearned to have with them without risking my freedom as an individual. I don't think I ever will.

My parents had always been the type that would rather have their children at home than to explore the world. My parents believed in being home with the family and taking care of the household rather than to be in extracurricular activities. Due to this, I never joined a club at school. I was always too afraid to defy my parents, to feel like I was neglecting my duties at home. Of course, I could have defied my parents at any given time, but I knew that the best I could do was to be obedient until I could leave of my own accord. In my mind I believed that obeying my parents' every whim would be better for me than to defy them. I had known that I am gay since I was twelve or thirteen years old, so to defy them meant putting myself at odds with them even more.

I guess my homosexuality did play a big part in how my connection with my family poorly developed. I kept to myself thinking that it would be easier for me to be hurt if I tried to get close to them. For the whole duration of my time living in that house from the time I realized I was gay to when I finally left for college and had yet to come out to them, I felt it would be best to keep my distance. I never told them of my hopes and dreams, what made me happy, what made me sad, or anything. My parents were the type that imposed their identity, their desires, and themselves on us. There have been times that I was emotionally hurt by them and with me keeping my sexuality as a secret from them, it amplified the pain even more. I believed that if I got too close and they found out about my sexuality, they'd use it against me, the way they used it against my older sister (who currently has a live-in girlfriend). I did not want to go through what my older sister went through, so I bet my tongue and kept quiet.

It was not until I had left for college that they realized how much distance I wanted from them. For the first few months I ignored all phone calls and the sort from them. I wanted to establish my independence and individuality, but with them always calling me, asking me when I would come home just to be home, I started to resent them. I started to hate them for trying to hold me back, to keep me in a place I did not want to be or have a purpose being in. It was not until I kept myself away for so long that they realized that I could survive without them. It was not until I separated myself from them that they realized how I was not afraid to leave of my own accord. I was the first one of all my siblings to move out. It was not until I had moved out that one of my older sisters moved out to live with her girlfriend; I was proud of her when she finally did it. My father was a hypocrite, always threatening to kick us out or that we could leave if we wanted to. When I finally left to challenge his threat and moved out, he was the one that protested. So hypocritical, so pathetic.

I don't know. At this point, I wonder, perhaps it would have been better to defy them sooner. To this day, even though I have distanced myself from them, I still feel as if I have yet to allow myself to truly live. I feel as if I've locked myself in my own cage and I don't know where I've placed the key. I want to change that, I want to be completely free from their superimposing influence and I'm trying.

I will end this post right here since I don't really think such a discussion has an ending. It is what it is and we must live with the thoughts and decisions that come with it.