This is my life (currently) in a rant:
I'm currently going to school for psychology and advertisement/PR. I also currently work in retail. In the past week, I've realized how much of a slacker/failure I've been. Sure, I have a job and school on my plate, which can be overwhelming, but at the same time I feel as if I've been pretty relaxed about everything; I don't believe that I've stayed ahead of the game. I'm falling behind in certain things, but staying afloat has kept me ignorant of how much I'm struggling to do so. There's still so much space for effort, yet I've not applied myself. I'm coming to this realization and it makes me feel ashamed of myself a little. This isn't necessarily a bad thing since it has made me realize that I do care. I just have to act upon that concern.
I love my retail job. The people I work with (for the most part) are very friendly and welcoming. Sure, there are those that are pretentious and could not be bothered to even say hello or give a cordial smile, whatever. That's their problem. As long as they're satisfied with their lives and personality, that's cool. I'll stick with the people who I can smile and laugh with. The job can get overwhelming at times since it's technically my first serious retail job and basically everyone I work with has had a few months to a few years of retail experience. Whatever, I got the job for some reason, right? I deserved it. I think I'm getting the hang of it.
There's a boy at work that I've become close with. I think he's someone I can call a friend. The first time I ever met him, I knew that I was attracted to him. Sexually? Perhaps a bit. Although, I think that my attraction leans more towards wanting to get to know him, an intimate attraction per se. He has these beautiful azure eyes speckled with hints of green and hazel. He's good looking and everyone knows it. The first time we ever met, he opened up to me. It caught me off guard, but in a good way. Yes, I'm attracted to him and he has been very open to being my friend. However, he's straight. I can't act upon my attraction. It hurts a bit to know that I want something I cannot have and it's right in front of me. Perhaps it's obvious, to him or to anyone else, that I am attracted to him. But it's something I can never admit outside of myself. I don't want to ruin what he and I possibly have. If things go well, he'll be the closest thing I'll have to a straight male friend.
Working in retail has made me realize my dissatisfaction with my body. Sure, I always said that I want to be more fit and physically attractive, but nothing really pushed me forward other than some hopeful fantasy of having flat abs. Not even a six pack, I just want a flat stomach. Working in retail, especially in the city, I work alongside some of the best looking people. I think I look fat. I think that I am fat. It's not even just that... Compared to the others I work with, I just feel quite unattractive.
Brandon has a new boyfriend now as of yesterday. Good for him. I'm happy for him. How am I comparing it to my own single status? Let's admit it, we always compare our status to those of our past when things change for the better for them. Anyways, I'm satisfied with being single. Is it ideal? I honestly don't know, but it currently works for me. Perhaps I'm not ready for a relationship or perhaps no one has found me to be a good catch. Whatever the reason(s) may be, I'm single and I have myself to live for.
I can't believe that I'll be in Rome in just a little over three months. I don't think it will hit me until I've actually slept a night there and wake up the next morning; in a new place, new city, a new country. I account to the fact that I've been disappointed throughout my life for the things I always felt passionate about. For some reason, there's still this doubt in the back of my head that I'll be living in Rome, Italy in just three months. At the same time, though, I am excited. Who knows what sort of transformations I will go through while I'm there. Perhaps I'll truly find myself in the midst of a foreign world.
Showing posts with label teen love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teen love. Show all posts
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Story About a Boy
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."
Sunday, April 10, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
About a Boy (Part 1)
This is a true story of a boy that placidly came into my life and enabled me to feel love. It'll take a few posts for me to complete the story from the beginning to the present. Bear with me and I hope you, dear reader, can take something from this story of mine.
His name is Dylan. A year and a half ago (April 2008) I met Dylan in person for the first time. Where or how we initially met, neither of us remember. All that we can agree upon is that somehow we became acquainted.
He called me as I was lying in bed doing nothing. At first, I didn't recognize the number, it had been a while since we had spoken. After we had been talking for a few minutes I finally recognized the boy on the other side. We talked about how it had been a long time since we've talked and that perhaps we should meet up since we were both free. I worked in food service at the time, it was my day off work, so we decided to meet up there.
Before meeting Dylan in person I only knew him by how he expressed himself over internet conversations. In a way, I was intimidated by him, but I never kept myself from opening up to him. He seemed so sophisticated, so cultured and intelligent, yet he was humble and kind. He knew so much about culture, food, and music; I felt as if I wanted this person, this boy, to show me the world as he had experienced it. At that point, I believed that he was out of my league, but he never made me feel inferior to him as a person. I felt that a friendship could develop at the least.
He walked in after half an hour or so of being lost on the road. Dylan had medium length, bleach blond hair with bangs swept to his right. He had deep, bright blue eyes that slightly squinted as he smiled. He was shorter than me by a few inches, wearing a button-up shirt, jeans, and a vest. I teased him about looking like a cute Dutch boy, that's what he looked like to me, at least. He was adorable to me. His smile, his voice, and the very way he walked expressed a certain gentleness and elegance. When he smiled, he smiled cautiously. In his smile and behavior he exemplified the same careful curiosity one finds when interacting with innocent small creatures. He was incredibly intelligent and breathtaking, yet he had an innocence to him that I instantly fell for. Even his hands had a softness and smoothness to them. I felt as if it was my duty, I also willfully desired it, to protect him and care for him.
Hanging out that day became an adventure. We ate and walked throughout the city. He showed me his favorite music and told me about his previous outings into the city. He told me about Modest Mouse, the Decemberists, and so much more. We went to every record store we came across and a book store we could barely walk through that we had to stand so intimately close to one another. I didn't mind.
After a few hours, I felt that we became really comfortable with one another. No second passed without either of us telling one another about ourselves. I wanted him to get to know every single part of me, but most of all I wanted him to like me. I took as many pictures as I could of him. I definitely wanted to remember that day and the face of the boy that could make me smile.
After a while, I felt that we really did start to become fond of another. Then he asked me if I wanted to sleep over his place. I had literally never slept over a another person's house before that point. My parents would definitely say no, I knew this, but I didn't want this chance to pass me by. I liked him so much, I didn't want the day to end, I wanted to tell him more about me, to learn more about him, to just be with him. I looked into his eyes, slightly smiled and said yes. Inside, I was afraid of what my parents would say. I knew that they would object and I didn't bother to tell them. All I knew was that I refused to prematurely end what I was feeling for this boy.
[to be continued]
His name is Dylan. A year and a half ago (April 2008) I met Dylan in person for the first time. Where or how we initially met, neither of us remember. All that we can agree upon is that somehow we became acquainted.
He called me as I was lying in bed doing nothing. At first, I didn't recognize the number, it had been a while since we had spoken. After we had been talking for a few minutes I finally recognized the boy on the other side. We talked about how it had been a long time since we've talked and that perhaps we should meet up since we were both free. I worked in food service at the time, it was my day off work, so we decided to meet up there.
Before meeting Dylan in person I only knew him by how he expressed himself over internet conversations. In a way, I was intimidated by him, but I never kept myself from opening up to him. He seemed so sophisticated, so cultured and intelligent, yet he was humble and kind. He knew so much about culture, food, and music; I felt as if I wanted this person, this boy, to show me the world as he had experienced it. At that point, I believed that he was out of my league, but he never made me feel inferior to him as a person. I felt that a friendship could develop at the least.
He walked in after half an hour or so of being lost on the road. Dylan had medium length, bleach blond hair with bangs swept to his right. He had deep, bright blue eyes that slightly squinted as he smiled. He was shorter than me by a few inches, wearing a button-up shirt, jeans, and a vest. I teased him about looking like a cute Dutch boy, that's what he looked like to me, at least. He was adorable to me. His smile, his voice, and the very way he walked expressed a certain gentleness and elegance. When he smiled, he smiled cautiously. In his smile and behavior he exemplified the same careful curiosity one finds when interacting with innocent small creatures. He was incredibly intelligent and breathtaking, yet he had an innocence to him that I instantly fell for. Even his hands had a softness and smoothness to them. I felt as if it was my duty, I also willfully desired it, to protect him and care for him.
Hanging out that day became an adventure. We ate and walked throughout the city. He showed me his favorite music and told me about his previous outings into the city. He told me about Modest Mouse, the Decemberists, and so much more. We went to every record store we came across and a book store we could barely walk through that we had to stand so intimately close to one another. I didn't mind.
After a few hours, I felt that we became really comfortable with one another. No second passed without either of us telling one another about ourselves. I wanted him to get to know every single part of me, but most of all I wanted him to like me. I took as many pictures as I could of him. I definitely wanted to remember that day and the face of the boy that could make me smile.
After a while, I felt that we really did start to become fond of another. Then he asked me if I wanted to sleep over his place. I had literally never slept over a another person's house before that point. My parents would definitely say no, I knew this, but I didn't want this chance to pass me by. I liked him so much, I didn't want the day to end, I wanted to tell him more about me, to learn more about him, to just be with him. I looked into his eyes, slightly smiled and said yes. Inside, I was afraid of what my parents would say. I knew that they would object and I didn't bother to tell them. All I knew was that I refused to prematurely end what I was feeling for this boy.
[to be continued]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)