I couldn’t sleep. I heard someone was moving around in the kitchen downstairs. Being tired of laying in bed checking the news and my e-mail, I donned on some shorts and ran downstairs.
My mom was awake and sitting in the den, petting our cat, Mz. Bojangles’ fur. My mother was dressed up to go to the gym. My mom has this ridiculous ritual to go to the gym at four in the morning and function through the day. Sometimes, I have to remind my mother that although she is not superwoman by depriving herself of sleep and working herself to the bone. I am already proud of her.
My mom questions why I’m up so early in the morning. I was frustrated that I couldn’t sleep. I tried to eat some foods that would calm my body down. Maybe it was the caffeine I ingested when I closed last night. I thought to myself as I ate a yogurt.
I tried to go back to sleep. But my body only teased me by keeping my in and out of consciousness.
10 A.M. I woke up nervous. The beginning of my roller-coaster of emotions had finally arrived. I rolled over to look at my phone. No missed calls nor text messages. Allowing myself to welcome the First Horseman of Apocalypse: the reminder of absence and the side of Jeff I didn’t like: the “I’m too independent to remain in contact with someone because I have to save minutes on my phone” side.
I waited until noon to finally get myself ready for the day. I took a shower. I had made a list of things I had to get done for the day. Go to the gym, pay my student loans, pay my cell phone bill, and send out some mail. I had finished my errands and was feeling pretty accomplished. But there was one errand I still had to accomplish before my day was complete: the gym.
I had avoided the gym for a specific reason: Jeff might be there right now. I don’t plan on running into Jeff at the gym. That is not what I had planned in my head. But I was going to suck it down and improvise. I quickly slammed down a Rockstar and stormed into the gym.
For some reason, my emotions are ignited into anger. I was no longer nervous but just frustrated that it is two-thirty in the afternoon and he has made no contact at all today. Maybe he got cold feet and he knows that I might yell at him. Like a dog that knows that he should not have peed on that dress that was laying out to dry. Then comes the Second Horseman of the Apocalypse: what he did when we were dating. His disappearance.
He disappeared with friends days before our five month anniversary. We were supposed to go to San Diego and go to the Foam Party. I called off work just so I can spend time with him. No one had heard from him, he wasn’t at his work, I was panicking. Days later, he returned and broke up with me; all of this was done right before finals, the most stressing part of the year.
I am not saying he is disappearing for that reason. But his problem is he never follows through with things. He would rather be spontaneous, because it gives him control. Realizing this made me angry, I amped the treadmill to a faster speed as I cranked the volume to a song with enraged-embedded lyrics.
Then suddenly, came the arrival of yet another emotion. As I was sprinting while listening to some Orgy. A hot guy from the basketball court passed behind me and threw his towel over his shoulder. The towel hit my shin which made me turn to look at the person passing behind me.
Time had suddenly slowed down as my gaze panned from watching the hot guy showering near the pool, to the guy behind me. For around two milli-seconds, the guy looked like Jeff. He smiled at me just like he used to. Reasons why I liked him number 6,394: his ever-welcoming gaze.
Time sped up again to reveal it wasn’t Jeff but someone else. Someone not nearly as attractive and had a tattoo of Jesus, Mary, and his baby’s mama on his right shoulder. My heart dropped. Images of his smiling face still flooded my mind, smiling not in deception, but with kindness. I try to shake my head away from it all, I even cranked up the music volume so that the lyrics would avert my attention to the lyrics instead of my wild imagination. As I am running, I decide to give him a deadline: If he doesn’t call by nine o’clock p.m., then I am going to never speak to him again.
I couldn’t believe that sentence came out of my head. I am making a deadline for someone. How sad is that? And yet arrives the Third Horseman: the War. A time for war is now underway. But will there be a time for peace? I sincerely hope so.
Four o’clock. Each minute that passes, my heart grows more heavy with despair. Is he going to call me? Or are we going to be parting ways once and for all? A part of me did not care either way, but that small shard part of me still held onto what solace I had left.
It was when the clock struck five that I was starting to feel the heavy effects of the Final Horseman: Death. Death was looming near and I had no way to stop nor a way to prevent it. Death comes for us all. Even in relationships. And this finally introduced me into my second to final emotion: sadness.
I sat in my car. Preparing myself for the end of my friendship with the man that had changed my entire outlook on things. So this is how the world (as I knew it) ends. I thought to myself. The man that had introduced me to a world where even ugly ducklings like myself can become swans too. Since coming out of the closet, I have a stronger sense of who I am and feel very comfortable with myself.
I stared at my phone, praying for a text message, phone call, anything to get the assurance that I needed to keep holding onto whatever solace I might have left for Jeff..
I decided to leave the gym and go to Starbucks to get some writing done. But I stared at the screen and nothing else came to mind but him. It has never occurred to me just how much I truly still care about this guy, even after all the adversities we have experienced and put on each other these three years that I have known him. Enduring through them have brought us so close to each other, I thought I had nothing to worry about.
I went to Barnes and Noble because my sister was studying and wanted someone to keep her company. By this time I was feeling like I was calling it in early. I had finally just leave it be and just let it die. My heart was slowly decelerating it’s pace. Soon it will stop beating and I can just move on. I mean, if Tin Man can live without a heart, then certainly I would be able to as well.
I sat down reading. My legs sitting crosslegged on a chair that barely has enough for my ass let alone my legs. I was hunched over a copy of The Hours, a book that Riddick had let me borrow that has recently become my obsession. Since reading this book, I have noticed a completely different writing style that absolutely intruiges me.
Virginia Woolf, as morbid as this sounds, had a very poetic suicide. She felt like she was starting to become out of reach and was starting to lose touch with reality. I feel like if I was going to wait on Jeff like I do every single time, that I might do the same. Why invest time on someone when they don’t have time to…
The phone rings.
My heart jumps like it was just jumped with an automatic external defibulator (AED). I came back to life. I looked down to see the same area code. I look up to my sister. She and I exchange glances.
“It’s him.”
I wanted to answer the phone, but while it was ringing, a small part of me had already given into the hoax of an Apocalyptic event. I continued staring at the screen, listening to the cute xylophone ringtone resound in my ears, as well as nearby students studying tfor their AP World History exam. It’s the noise I wanted to wake me up in the morning, but I waited nearly sixteen hours for this phone call. And now I am not even sure I know what to do.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Friday, May 1, 2009
...when the world ends...(part one)
I sit in the car outside of the gym, understanding that the end of my life and the world as I knew it was drawing ever closer. I prepared myself for it all. What would be the most memorable way to call a time of death? Should it be memorable like Virginia Woolf in The Hours? Will there be an afterlife? Will I go to Heaven or Hell?
My heartrate keeps dropping as I watch with a haunting gaze at the clock. It is five o’clock in the evening. Four more hours and it all ends…my heart will finally stop annoying me with its incessant beating. I have done everything to prevent the end of the world, but it’s out of my hands. I may wait in hope that there will arrive a cure; but with the arrival of yet another minute—five-oh-one—my heart gives up.
Forty-eight hours earlier…
Jesus once said that the world will know the signs of the End Times by “Labor Pains.” Tragedies that will occur that will only remind us that the end of the world is near. I got my first labor pain of the End on Friday, April 24th 2009.
DING! DING! My iPhone chimes as I am about to leave the break room and back to work. Text Message! Curious, I return to my phone to check out the text message I had received. I hit the home button and my phone came to life to reveal a number that I had not expected to read.
Jeff had texted me. I may have deleted his phone number, but it has been forever engraved into my head.
My heart dropped. I couldn’t believe the fucker had the nerve to write me on such a bad day to want to talk to me. I was already having a bad day with not only being called into work on my day off, but also to be dealing with complete idiots and their ridiculous drink orders. The fact that Jeff had the nerve to write me just drove me out of my mind with anger.
“I’m back!” the message heralded in all caps. So annoying. “I just added minutes on my phone! I have Monday and Tuesday off this week if you want to hang out.”
I simply did not have any time to deal with this at this time. I groaned as I angrily bit back. “Wow. You exist.” As I threw my phone back into my locker and back to work.
For the entire rest of the day, I was already fighting several emotions. I did not want nor expect to hear from Jeff again. Over the past month or two, he has abandoned me and left me to fight my own battles. Granted, it was something that I might have needed, but to have my best friend betray my trust, miss his birthday, and leave me in the dark was downright mean. And unfortunately, I got over his immaturity of not wanting to talk to me and simply tried everything I could to move on.
Later that day, I texted him and told him that I was going to be off Monday. He told me that he was going to be hanging out with his former roommate in my town for the day and wanted to meet up with me then. I agreed.
Once I agreed to meet up with Jeff, I was overcome with anxiety. I had no idea what to expect, how I was going to react, or how to even approach him. I couldn’t really trust my body and my emotions at the moment. To be honest? I want to lunge at Jeff and sock him for abandoning me and going back on his promise he made to me. But at the same time, I wanted to have a decent conversation and try to let it slide.
Saturday and Sunday moved like sands escaping the broken hourglass that crashed on the floor. I became very reserved as I asked close friends and gay men for honest advice that can either relate or have talked to Jeff. Usually, I am the one person giving advice, but this time, I had to seek people wiser or more perceptive than I into resolving this situation. After much conversing with my friend. I had come up with a plan when Jeff calls to meet the next day.
Three A.M. I woke up. The sound of my snoring brother in the opposite corner of the room echoes into my ears. I shuffle around in bed praying for a quick arrival of another REM cycle. Then I felt my heart and realized what was going on. It was Monday morning and my heart was pounding like a bass speaker at a hip-hop club. My body is nervous. Although I didn’t feel nervous in my emotions, my body was reminding me that my instincts were not ready. After trying to distract my mind with fantasies of hot men or stories I am creating for my screenplays, my emotions were shook up too. Today is the arrival of Judgement Day in my Showdown with Jeff.
My heartrate keeps dropping as I watch with a haunting gaze at the clock. It is five o’clock in the evening. Four more hours and it all ends…my heart will finally stop annoying me with its incessant beating. I have done everything to prevent the end of the world, but it’s out of my hands. I may wait in hope that there will arrive a cure; but with the arrival of yet another minute—five-oh-one—my heart gives up.
Forty-eight hours earlier…
Jesus once said that the world will know the signs of the End Times by “Labor Pains.” Tragedies that will occur that will only remind us that the end of the world is near. I got my first labor pain of the End on Friday, April 24th 2009.
DING! DING! My iPhone chimes as I am about to leave the break room and back to work. Text Message! Curious, I return to my phone to check out the text message I had received. I hit the home button and my phone came to life to reveal a number that I had not expected to read.
Jeff had texted me. I may have deleted his phone number, but it has been forever engraved into my head.
My heart dropped. I couldn’t believe the fucker had the nerve to write me on such a bad day to want to talk to me. I was already having a bad day with not only being called into work on my day off, but also to be dealing with complete idiots and their ridiculous drink orders. The fact that Jeff had the nerve to write me just drove me out of my mind with anger.
“I’m back!” the message heralded in all caps. So annoying. “I just added minutes on my phone! I have Monday and Tuesday off this week if you want to hang out.”
I simply did not have any time to deal with this at this time. I groaned as I angrily bit back. “Wow. You exist.” As I threw my phone back into my locker and back to work.
For the entire rest of the day, I was already fighting several emotions. I did not want nor expect to hear from Jeff again. Over the past month or two, he has abandoned me and left me to fight my own battles. Granted, it was something that I might have needed, but to have my best friend betray my trust, miss his birthday, and leave me in the dark was downright mean. And unfortunately, I got over his immaturity of not wanting to talk to me and simply tried everything I could to move on.
Later that day, I texted him and told him that I was going to be off Monday. He told me that he was going to be hanging out with his former roommate in my town for the day and wanted to meet up with me then. I agreed.
Once I agreed to meet up with Jeff, I was overcome with anxiety. I had no idea what to expect, how I was going to react, or how to even approach him. I couldn’t really trust my body and my emotions at the moment. To be honest? I want to lunge at Jeff and sock him for abandoning me and going back on his promise he made to me. But at the same time, I wanted to have a decent conversation and try to let it slide.
Saturday and Sunday moved like sands escaping the broken hourglass that crashed on the floor. I became very reserved as I asked close friends and gay men for honest advice that can either relate or have talked to Jeff. Usually, I am the one person giving advice, but this time, I had to seek people wiser or more perceptive than I into resolving this situation. After much conversing with my friend. I had come up with a plan when Jeff calls to meet the next day.
Three A.M. I woke up. The sound of my snoring brother in the opposite corner of the room echoes into my ears. I shuffle around in bed praying for a quick arrival of another REM cycle. Then I felt my heart and realized what was going on. It was Monday morning and my heart was pounding like a bass speaker at a hip-hop club. My body is nervous. Although I didn’t feel nervous in my emotions, my body was reminding me that my instincts were not ready. After trying to distract my mind with fantasies of hot men or stories I am creating for my screenplays, my emotions were shook up too. Today is the arrival of Judgement Day in my Showdown with Jeff.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Still Understanding
I miss Jeff. There is nothing else to write about involving him. It sucks that I lose my best friend because he was the closest thing that I had to trusting someone. Now I lost him and I feel like I am falling apart. I am trying so hard to stay strong, but at the same time, I feel like I should just give up. This is the last chapter to the Jeff story: the pain in letting someone I still love go his separate way.
Jeff gave me encouragement. He was always there to lend an ear to time when all I wanted to do was bitch about the problems in my life. I felt like I didn’t have to do anything to impress him, because he was already in awe of my drive and personality. He would tell me this whenever I had an emotional breakdown….kinda what I am doing right now.
The sucky part is that I don’t have that gay male best friend to help me through it this time. I have to face it alone. I am determined that I am going to make it, but I just really wish that he was here to help me through this hard time right now.
None of this is my fault. It is all Joel…at least I think it is. He sees me as a threat and wants to do whatever it takes to keep his man by his side and to stop siding on me (even though, I am right). I really have no idea what I did to lose my best friend; nor do I know what I did to anger Joel to the point that he would forbid Jeff from hanging out with me. But in any case, the fucker has stopped contacting me.
I am a very analytical person. I observe all the possible flaws in my environment and try to fix it. When I feel like something is my fault, my mind goes back to the scene of the crime and try to decipher whatever I did to make the situation difficult.
My mind keeps going back to that day at the bar. What I said to Joel; what I did to Jeff; what happened that night that ruined it all….
March 8th. I got a ride with my girl Sam to watch the series finale to our favorite show, The L Word. While I was at the bar, I was drinking and enjoying myself when I see Jeff and Joel walk into the bar.
“Jeff!” I yelled amidst the loud drunk lesbians around me as I fight my way to welcome Jeff and Joel with a hug.
I hug Jeff, my heart jumping at the sight of seeing my best friend and his boyfriend. Once I let go of Jeff, I hug Joel and smile warmly.
It is very funny how I have gone from hating the bitch, into adopting him into my Family. Joel is a great guy and he is very cool to talk to. After tonight though, he will stop being nice to me.
I ask Joel how everything was going with him. He smirks and assures me everything’s okay. Jeff grabs Joel’s hand and they make their way into the courtyard. Sam and I follow them while all four of us were still talking.
Sam decides to hang out with her friends. I join them while standing around older lesbians that were sneering at me because of the fact that I have a penis and more testosterone than they could inject into their menopausal bodies. I was feeling uncomfortable, but I was not going to let a couple pairs of sagging boobs scare me. My eyes began to wander, doing a scan of potential hotties in the courtyard. As I am looking around my environment. I see Jeff and Joel sitting in the distance, his body resting against Jeff slouching pose.
Granted, I haven’t talked to Jeff in two weeks, so I missed talking to him and wanted to make sure the two of them were doing all right. I walk away from the angry old lesbians that were sitting next to Sam and migrate over to where Jeff and Joel are sitting.
I began to make small talk with them as the show had started to play on multiple screens decorated around the bar. Joel and Jeff make room for me as I sit next to the couple. While there was a slow point in the show, I decided I should ask to see how Joel was doing. I reach across Jeff to Joel. Joel turns to make eye contact with me.
“So Joel,” I asked genuinely while touching his shoulder with concern, “how is everything going with you healthwise?”
He gave me a very quizzical look. “Everything is fine. I’m not dying anytime soon. Why do you ask?”
Time out. What is this guy’s problem? I am simply asking a question. Why is it that he is getting defensive with me? Retract claws, Catwoman. I am asking you a fucking simple question. The kind that is asked from one friend to another.
Obviously this guy has issues. And obviously something is going on that I don’t know about, but I was not going to let his short-temper get to me. I faked some laughter and smiled at Mister Mid-Life Crisis. “I’m just asking.” I jested but changed into sounding serious. “Jeff told me that you were HIV positive and I just want to make sure everything is going all right with you and if there is any way I can help.”
“I’m fine.” He bit back.
What a bitch. Why do I even fucking care about his fuck up?
He then decided to ask me a question in return. “So how are things going with you and Riddick? You guys still dating?”
I had forgotten about the time I told Joel that I was dating someone. But I simply replied back laughing. “Fuck Riddick. We were just fooling around.”
No response. He simply returned to watching the screen.
Towards the end of the episode, I turn to Jeff and ask him how everything was going at his new job. At this point Joel and Jeff had broken their little embrace and were sitting apart from each other—for once. He was telling me how he is doing what he can to settle in but assured me that everything was going all right. Then I asked him about how things were going on overall. This included life, relationship, money and his health. He was telling me how things are going so-so.
One of the things that reigns true within a deep relationship like the one we have—or should I say…had, the more you spend time with people, the more perceptive to understanding their emotions. When Jeff and I were talking, he started to give off an expression like he needed to talk to me.
“What’s going on honey?” I ask him, giving him my undivided attention.
“I can’t talk about it. Because of…” His voice trailed off as he was directing my eyes to Joel with his gaze.
Joel had his back turned. Possibly pissed off at the both of us talking.
“We’ll talk some other time.” I promised as we both looked up to the screen to see one of our favorite characters appear on the screen.
“Oh My GOD!” I exclaim as I am tapping Jeff’s knee with excitement. He sits up and presses his back against my chest. Um, why don’t you get close to Joel instead of me? Something truly is going on. I became suddenly very uncomfortable with it all, but I was not going to turn him away.
As the episode ends, I hug Jeff and tell him to call me. I hug Joel. He gives me a brief hug, obviously giving me the impression that I really pissed him off.
It has been a month and six days, and there has been no form of contact…at all. I was not able to call him and wish him happy birthday. I was not able to tell him that I got my car back and things are getting better for me. I have never missed anyone this much in my life. I didn’t deserve to lose Jeff. But someone else considered me as a threat in their relationship. And that dumb fuck’s name is Joel.
Joel may have won this war, but I was not really going to fight someone that my best friend is dating. If my best friend thinks that Joel is a great guy, I am going to do whatever I can to be Joel’s friend and fully support his decision. But Joel decided to ruin my friendship with him by disconnecting me. And I couldn’t be more angrier to want to get in a girlfight with the bitch.
He is like the doctor that finds a cure to a disease by murdering the patient and hiding the body. Eventually, someone is going to find out of this crime. And soon eventually, the doctor is going to feel the weight of justice on his shoulders by having a big fat sentence as well as losing his license. He may have killed off my friendship and connection to Jeff, but karma is going to bite him in the ass one day. He is going to crash and burn as he loses Jeff…again….
I am not entirely certain that Joel is the person responsible for ruining my friendship with Jeff, but he is the only suspect. I have done nothing wrong and I have definitely not done anything but be what I promised what I would be if we ever broke up: Jeff’s friend.
Not having Jeff in my life hurts. It hurts like someone ripped out my heart and I am forced to live on blood transfusions and bypasses. I know eventually, I am going to evolve into a person that is not dependent on Jeff. Eventually, we all find a way to quit the drugs that give us a sense of security. I just want him back so I can have a gay man in my life that has a brain that is easy to talk to. Someone that I trust.
I’m afraid I will never know what I did that night to ruin my relationship with Joel and possibly Jeff. But in either case, we are not talking. And that is a pain that I am still understanding. Understanding that people will disappoint you and hurt you. I know I gotta brush myself off and quit getting down about this, but it's hard to do, especially when I really cared about him.
Jeff gave me encouragement. He was always there to lend an ear to time when all I wanted to do was bitch about the problems in my life. I felt like I didn’t have to do anything to impress him, because he was already in awe of my drive and personality. He would tell me this whenever I had an emotional breakdown….kinda what I am doing right now.
The sucky part is that I don’t have that gay male best friend to help me through it this time. I have to face it alone. I am determined that I am going to make it, but I just really wish that he was here to help me through this hard time right now.
None of this is my fault. It is all Joel…at least I think it is. He sees me as a threat and wants to do whatever it takes to keep his man by his side and to stop siding on me (even though, I am right). I really have no idea what I did to lose my best friend; nor do I know what I did to anger Joel to the point that he would forbid Jeff from hanging out with me. But in any case, the fucker has stopped contacting me.
I am a very analytical person. I observe all the possible flaws in my environment and try to fix it. When I feel like something is my fault, my mind goes back to the scene of the crime and try to decipher whatever I did to make the situation difficult.
My mind keeps going back to that day at the bar. What I said to Joel; what I did to Jeff; what happened that night that ruined it all….
March 8th. I got a ride with my girl Sam to watch the series finale to our favorite show, The L Word. While I was at the bar, I was drinking and enjoying myself when I see Jeff and Joel walk into the bar.
“Jeff!” I yelled amidst the loud drunk lesbians around me as I fight my way to welcome Jeff and Joel with a hug.
I hug Jeff, my heart jumping at the sight of seeing my best friend and his boyfriend. Once I let go of Jeff, I hug Joel and smile warmly.
It is very funny how I have gone from hating the bitch, into adopting him into my Family. Joel is a great guy and he is very cool to talk to. After tonight though, he will stop being nice to me.
I ask Joel how everything was going with him. He smirks and assures me everything’s okay. Jeff grabs Joel’s hand and they make their way into the courtyard. Sam and I follow them while all four of us were still talking.
Sam decides to hang out with her friends. I join them while standing around older lesbians that were sneering at me because of the fact that I have a penis and more testosterone than they could inject into their menopausal bodies. I was feeling uncomfortable, but I was not going to let a couple pairs of sagging boobs scare me. My eyes began to wander, doing a scan of potential hotties in the courtyard. As I am looking around my environment. I see Jeff and Joel sitting in the distance, his body resting against Jeff slouching pose.
Granted, I haven’t talked to Jeff in two weeks, so I missed talking to him and wanted to make sure the two of them were doing all right. I walk away from the angry old lesbians that were sitting next to Sam and migrate over to where Jeff and Joel are sitting.
I began to make small talk with them as the show had started to play on multiple screens decorated around the bar. Joel and Jeff make room for me as I sit next to the couple. While there was a slow point in the show, I decided I should ask to see how Joel was doing. I reach across Jeff to Joel. Joel turns to make eye contact with me.
“So Joel,” I asked genuinely while touching his shoulder with concern, “how is everything going with you healthwise?”
He gave me a very quizzical look. “Everything is fine. I’m not dying anytime soon. Why do you ask?”
Time out. What is this guy’s problem? I am simply asking a question. Why is it that he is getting defensive with me? Retract claws, Catwoman. I am asking you a fucking simple question. The kind that is asked from one friend to another.
Obviously this guy has issues. And obviously something is going on that I don’t know about, but I was not going to let his short-temper get to me. I faked some laughter and smiled at Mister Mid-Life Crisis. “I’m just asking.” I jested but changed into sounding serious. “Jeff told me that you were HIV positive and I just want to make sure everything is going all right with you and if there is any way I can help.”
“I’m fine.” He bit back.
What a bitch. Why do I even fucking care about his fuck up?
He then decided to ask me a question in return. “So how are things going with you and Riddick? You guys still dating?”
I had forgotten about the time I told Joel that I was dating someone. But I simply replied back laughing. “Fuck Riddick. We were just fooling around.”
No response. He simply returned to watching the screen.
Towards the end of the episode, I turn to Jeff and ask him how everything was going at his new job. At this point Joel and Jeff had broken their little embrace and were sitting apart from each other—for once. He was telling me how he is doing what he can to settle in but assured me that everything was going all right. Then I asked him about how things were going on overall. This included life, relationship, money and his health. He was telling me how things are going so-so.
One of the things that reigns true within a deep relationship like the one we have—or should I say…had, the more you spend time with people, the more perceptive to understanding their emotions. When Jeff and I were talking, he started to give off an expression like he needed to talk to me.
“What’s going on honey?” I ask him, giving him my undivided attention.
“I can’t talk about it. Because of…” His voice trailed off as he was directing my eyes to Joel with his gaze.
Joel had his back turned. Possibly pissed off at the both of us talking.
“We’ll talk some other time.” I promised as we both looked up to the screen to see one of our favorite characters appear on the screen.
“Oh My GOD!” I exclaim as I am tapping Jeff’s knee with excitement. He sits up and presses his back against my chest. Um, why don’t you get close to Joel instead of me? Something truly is going on. I became suddenly very uncomfortable with it all, but I was not going to turn him away.
As the episode ends, I hug Jeff and tell him to call me. I hug Joel. He gives me a brief hug, obviously giving me the impression that I really pissed him off.
It has been a month and six days, and there has been no form of contact…at all. I was not able to call him and wish him happy birthday. I was not able to tell him that I got my car back and things are getting better for me. I have never missed anyone this much in my life. I didn’t deserve to lose Jeff. But someone else considered me as a threat in their relationship. And that dumb fuck’s name is Joel.
Joel may have won this war, but I was not really going to fight someone that my best friend is dating. If my best friend thinks that Joel is a great guy, I am going to do whatever I can to be Joel’s friend and fully support his decision. But Joel decided to ruin my friendship with him by disconnecting me. And I couldn’t be more angrier to want to get in a girlfight with the bitch.
He is like the doctor that finds a cure to a disease by murdering the patient and hiding the body. Eventually, someone is going to find out of this crime. And soon eventually, the doctor is going to feel the weight of justice on his shoulders by having a big fat sentence as well as losing his license. He may have killed off my friendship and connection to Jeff, but karma is going to bite him in the ass one day. He is going to crash and burn as he loses Jeff…again….
I am not entirely certain that Joel is the person responsible for ruining my friendship with Jeff, but he is the only suspect. I have done nothing wrong and I have definitely not done anything but be what I promised what I would be if we ever broke up: Jeff’s friend.
Not having Jeff in my life hurts. It hurts like someone ripped out my heart and I am forced to live on blood transfusions and bypasses. I know eventually, I am going to evolve into a person that is not dependent on Jeff. Eventually, we all find a way to quit the drugs that give us a sense of security. I just want him back so I can have a gay man in my life that has a brain that is easy to talk to. Someone that I trust.
I’m afraid I will never know what I did that night to ruin my relationship with Joel and possibly Jeff. But in either case, we are not talking. And that is a pain that I am still understanding. Understanding that people will disappoint you and hurt you. I know I gotta brush myself off and quit getting down about this, but it's hard to do, especially when I really cared about him.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Bed of Spikes. Level One: Goomba
WARNING: YOU ARE ABOUT TO SEE WHAT IT’S LIKE INSIDE MY HEAD.
When I was a kid, I was crazy about video games. It got so bad that my parents took it away and ruined my fourth year on earth. I would always run up to my parents when they would get home. Instead of telling them that I ate two clods of Play-Doh, I would explain just how far I would get in Super Mario Bros..
In this game, there is two things that you must remember to go far in the game: bed of spikes and lava always equal death. Who cares if you run into a koopa or a goomba, you will shrink but you can always get big again by eating shrooms. I am still clueless as to what compelled the creators to create such a double-entendre.
Like life, we all must avoid falling into the bed of spikes in our lives. Sure, a goomba can be tossed at us and it can have the capability of making us small, but we just gotta shroom up and keep on going.
It is 65 days into the new year, and all the events that have occurred in this year have led up to this: the point in my life when I finally snapped and became very close to having my fat ass land in the bed of spikes. And for the first time, I became very scared that my life was in danger. But it was the discovery of what was going on internally that I was finally able to get the courage to fight back.
I was given three levels. It was when I reached the Final Boss to this nerd-resounding blog, that I finally snapped and almost had a major “Game Over.”
LEVEL ONE: GOOMBA
I start off the new level…I mean year…with dating Riddick. When he told me that he was only looking for friends, I began to experience the pain of another heartbreak; except this time, I knew what I needed to do to move on.
In that time with Riddick, he and I got tested for HIV. I volunteered to put myself through the syphilis test to get that checked as well. The next week, my life changes forever when I get a phone call from the San Diego Center for Disease Control gives me a call with some rather “unsettling news.” I was crossing the street when Tom, the doctor, informs me that I have tested “positive…
Time stops. The wind dies down. The people move in extreme slow motion. I am not breathing. My scarf dances in the wind as it comes falling down to my sides. My environment like The Cell when the helicopter is landing and everything is being shot at 1000 frames per second.
…for syphilis.”
Normal time returns and I stop in midst of a busy intersection, allowing myself to integrate the news. I began to cry. To this day, I cannot tell you if they were tears of joy or if they were tears of sadness; even though I knew for a fact that my disease inside me is treatable.
I continue crying as I go into the entrance of an abandoned building. The doctor gives me time to let it out. He was assuring me that it’s treatable but needs to see me as soon as I can.
So I arrange an appointment with him later that day. I went in and gave Riddick’s number. When Riddick and I went out for the first time, we fucked on the floor of his apartment. One of the things that we did that I now regret is not using a condom because I was a stupid idiot. While sitting and getting talked to about this disease I have, I slowly began to realize how much self-worth I had: none. How God spared me from having HIV but gave me syphilis instead to help me learn a lesson in being safe and to realize my self-worth.
In real life, I am a happy go-lucky gay guy that likes to crack some sarcasm and maybe a joke or two. Deep down, I am feeling self-hatred and beat myself up constantly. Because since my dad can’t do it anymore, I am only left with myself. Since the breakup with Jeff, I have never really let myself experience rest with realizing how pathetic I am. As the needles were being inserted into me, the nurse felt compelled to say this that only attacked my spirit and self-worth all the more.
“So are you going to let guys fuck you without a condom again?” Interrogated the nurse from hell.
“No!” I was yelling back as I was fighting back the pain. The pain of my own mistakes were almost emotionally killing me and the pain of a big needle being inserted into my supposedly hot ass.
When the nurse from hell inserted the next needle into my ass was when I broke down to nothing. This one hurt more than the other because she totally sucks at giving it right.
This is when you can tell that this straight bitch has never had anal. I thought to myself while trying not to focus on the pain. You are supposed to go slow and not get so rough on me unless I give you permission. It was when she pushed it in deeper that every bad feeling, memory, or emotion ever felt had risen up and overwhelmed me to the point of tears. I began to groan loudly as it turned to a yell, which turned into me sobbing uncontrollably. The nurse from hell patted my back while cooing me with her Spanish accent. “Es okay Pa’lo.” She cooed while rubbing my back. “It’s over.”
But I was still crying. So she whipped out another one of her infamous one liners. “Oh com’ on. You’re a man. Es okay! We’re done.” She tried to end those last two sentences with enough enthusiasm to make me stop, but she might not realize I am gay. I am a man, but I am not afraid to show my emotions.
Okay if I cry at the end of the movie Mask, then I can cry in public too damnit.
Being in that room was like being in a nightmare. Fighting off two nurses while being jabbed with muthafuckin’ needles, having a doctor stab me with other things. I think the one emotion that was true throughout was realizing how close I was to contracting HIV. I was almost like Joel. How would Jeff be able to handle when both his lover as well as his best friend both have HIV at the same time?
I was starting to wonder what was wrong with me before I tested positive. I exhibitied the signs of having syphilis a month before Every single day, I would wake up with a massive headache. I thought it was a bunch of things, but they all tested negative. Once I was given the shots, I didn’t spend another day in pain from the headaches. The syphilis had spread to my organs and it had infected my brain. It was getting to the danger point because I was starting to have massive headaches everyday, as well as forgetting things. The day before I had tested positive, I asked a lady four times if she wanted whip cream on her drink. I was forgetting almost everything. If I didn’t treat it in time, the doctors told me that I would have died.
Then I had to meet the boss of this level. Understanding that I had brought someone into my nightmare due to my foolishness. It was at this time that I stopped talking to Riddick because I was still mad at him. The next day, he called me to tell me that he got tested positive for syphilis. He began to accuse me and point fingers. I mean he was right, but I was not going to admit it to someone I don’t really care about anymore. So I lied to him. Inside, I was being injured because I began to fear that he will have to face the needles like I did. Riddick is terrified of needles and faints. Now I just involved someone, someone innocent, in a nightmare that was my fault. I made up another lie to cover the other lie and said that the doctor did a rapid test and I tested positive. I told him to fuck off and stopped contact with him once again. This boss was too hard. I think I used a cheat code to get past him. But I either case, I passed the first level.
When I was a kid, I was crazy about video games. It got so bad that my parents took it away and ruined my fourth year on earth. I would always run up to my parents when they would get home. Instead of telling them that I ate two clods of Play-Doh, I would explain just how far I would get in Super Mario Bros..
In this game, there is two things that you must remember to go far in the game: bed of spikes and lava always equal death. Who cares if you run into a koopa or a goomba, you will shrink but you can always get big again by eating shrooms. I am still clueless as to what compelled the creators to create such a double-entendre.
Like life, we all must avoid falling into the bed of spikes in our lives. Sure, a goomba can be tossed at us and it can have the capability of making us small, but we just gotta shroom up and keep on going.
It is 65 days into the new year, and all the events that have occurred in this year have led up to this: the point in my life when I finally snapped and became very close to having my fat ass land in the bed of spikes. And for the first time, I became very scared that my life was in danger. But it was the discovery of what was going on internally that I was finally able to get the courage to fight back.
I was given three levels. It was when I reached the Final Boss to this nerd-resounding blog, that I finally snapped and almost had a major “Game Over.”
LEVEL ONE: GOOMBA
I start off the new level…I mean year…with dating Riddick. When he told me that he was only looking for friends, I began to experience the pain of another heartbreak; except this time, I knew what I needed to do to move on.
In that time with Riddick, he and I got tested for HIV. I volunteered to put myself through the syphilis test to get that checked as well. The next week, my life changes forever when I get a phone call from the San Diego Center for Disease Control gives me a call with some rather “unsettling news.” I was crossing the street when Tom, the doctor, informs me that I have tested “positive…
Time stops. The wind dies down. The people move in extreme slow motion. I am not breathing. My scarf dances in the wind as it comes falling down to my sides. My environment like The Cell when the helicopter is landing and everything is being shot at 1000 frames per second.
…for syphilis.”
Normal time returns and I stop in midst of a busy intersection, allowing myself to integrate the news. I began to cry. To this day, I cannot tell you if they were tears of joy or if they were tears of sadness; even though I knew for a fact that my disease inside me is treatable.
I continue crying as I go into the entrance of an abandoned building. The doctor gives me time to let it out. He was assuring me that it’s treatable but needs to see me as soon as I can.
So I arrange an appointment with him later that day. I went in and gave Riddick’s number. When Riddick and I went out for the first time, we fucked on the floor of his apartment. One of the things that we did that I now regret is not using a condom because I was a stupid idiot. While sitting and getting talked to about this disease I have, I slowly began to realize how much self-worth I had: none. How God spared me from having HIV but gave me syphilis instead to help me learn a lesson in being safe and to realize my self-worth.
In real life, I am a happy go-lucky gay guy that likes to crack some sarcasm and maybe a joke or two. Deep down, I am feeling self-hatred and beat myself up constantly. Because since my dad can’t do it anymore, I am only left with myself. Since the breakup with Jeff, I have never really let myself experience rest with realizing how pathetic I am. As the needles were being inserted into me, the nurse felt compelled to say this that only attacked my spirit and self-worth all the more.
“So are you going to let guys fuck you without a condom again?” Interrogated the nurse from hell.
“No!” I was yelling back as I was fighting back the pain. The pain of my own mistakes were almost emotionally killing me and the pain of a big needle being inserted into my supposedly hot ass.
When the nurse from hell inserted the next needle into my ass was when I broke down to nothing. This one hurt more than the other because she totally sucks at giving it right.
This is when you can tell that this straight bitch has never had anal. I thought to myself while trying not to focus on the pain. You are supposed to go slow and not get so rough on me unless I give you permission. It was when she pushed it in deeper that every bad feeling, memory, or emotion ever felt had risen up and overwhelmed me to the point of tears. I began to groan loudly as it turned to a yell, which turned into me sobbing uncontrollably. The nurse from hell patted my back while cooing me with her Spanish accent. “Es okay Pa’lo.” She cooed while rubbing my back. “It’s over.”
But I was still crying. So she whipped out another one of her infamous one liners. “Oh com’ on. You’re a man. Es okay! We’re done.” She tried to end those last two sentences with enough enthusiasm to make me stop, but she might not realize I am gay. I am a man, but I am not afraid to show my emotions.
Okay if I cry at the end of the movie Mask, then I can cry in public too damnit.
Being in that room was like being in a nightmare. Fighting off two nurses while being jabbed with muthafuckin’ needles, having a doctor stab me with other things. I think the one emotion that was true throughout was realizing how close I was to contracting HIV. I was almost like Joel. How would Jeff be able to handle when both his lover as well as his best friend both have HIV at the same time?
I was starting to wonder what was wrong with me before I tested positive. I exhibitied the signs of having syphilis a month before Every single day, I would wake up with a massive headache. I thought it was a bunch of things, but they all tested negative. Once I was given the shots, I didn’t spend another day in pain from the headaches. The syphilis had spread to my organs and it had infected my brain. It was getting to the danger point because I was starting to have massive headaches everyday, as well as forgetting things. The day before I had tested positive, I asked a lady four times if she wanted whip cream on her drink. I was forgetting almost everything. If I didn’t treat it in time, the doctors told me that I would have died.
Then I had to meet the boss of this level. Understanding that I had brought someone into my nightmare due to my foolishness. It was at this time that I stopped talking to Riddick because I was still mad at him. The next day, he called me to tell me that he got tested positive for syphilis. He began to accuse me and point fingers. I mean he was right, but I was not going to admit it to someone I don’t really care about anymore. So I lied to him. Inside, I was being injured because I began to fear that he will have to face the needles like I did. Riddick is terrified of needles and faints. Now I just involved someone, someone innocent, in a nightmare that was my fault. I made up another lie to cover the other lie and said that the doctor did a rapid test and I tested positive. I told him to fuck off and stopped contact with him once again. This boss was too hard. I think I used a cheat code to get past him. But I either case, I passed the first level.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Confessionals and Sanctuaries
Confessionals. Those places where you could say your dirty little deeds in the prescence between the Big Man Upstairs and his other right-hand man: the Priest. It is a really easy process, being able to vent about your day and your transgressions, then close the door behind you, say some Hail Mary’s, and carry about your day. I am not sure if it is the relief that you get with releasing those deeds off your chest, or if you have made yourself better by talking to the mortal mediator on the other side of the confessional. But either way, you feel the compelling relief of emotions and have the ability to put it all behind you as you start it all over again.
Instead of trekking my way to the nearest Catholic Church to making myself feel better, why not make my peace in the best way that I know how: writing.
I want to confess something, because I have spent a major part of my life being angry because no one can follow through with things and keep promises like I can. I hate saying that, bragging about the one thing that I am good at, but I always expect certain people to meet me halfway, and it is in times when they fail do I realize this harsh truth: to err is human.
Previously on EVOLutions:
I told Riddick I never wanted to talk to him again because he only wanted to be friends when I wanted something more.
It’s funny how God will allow me to be angry for a while then tell me to calm the fuck down and get over it, because within the past 24 hours, I have been experiencing signs. I was given three signals to get over my horrible end with Riddick. To finally right my wrongs and stop being bitter just because I fell for my own trap.
The first sign took place as I was leaving the car the night before. Perhaps it was the mixture between coffee smell, my sweat, and the grapefruits and avocadoes I left in my car while I was working out; but in any case, I got a familiar smell. The smell that took me back to Riddick’s apartment. Sitting on his amazingly comfortable couch and watching a two-hour marathon of Family Guy while ridiculing each other about our musical mishaps; eating Chipotle while sitting on his cat-fur-laden carpet and talking about our day; and accidentally getting cum on his couch. It was that smell that brought me back to times when I could finally give a genuine smile after all the heartbreak that I had endured. I was finally able to forget about the incredibly bad day at work and just go to my Happy Place. But only when the smell went away did those flood of memories escape me.
It was on my way to work when I witnessed my second sign. I was driving in the early morning. My exhalations emitting a morning-breath condensation as I was driving in the cold. It was two seconds after I glanced at my clock, noticing I was going to be three minutes late to work, that I encountered it. I was driving behind an elderly couple going twenty-five miles on a forty-five mile zone—I still have yet to find out why they drive so damn slow. Moments before realizing that driving behind them at fifty miles an hour was not a good idea, I noticed they had Ohio license plates. This ejected me from my current state of mind into becoming pensive about the times I had with Riddick once again. The time that he would annihilate me at pool while drunk; then to the time when he introduced me to a So Co with lime and gin tonics, then to texting him at the club and leaving to go to his place only minutes after paying full cover and waiting fifteen minutes in line to get in at my favorite club. I sped past this elderly couple as I noticed they had a McCain sticker on their bumper.
I was talking to my friend Sam about my day I was having so far. Discussing the signs I was seeing around me and wondering if I should text Riddick when that final sign came, almost prompting my cue to text him at that moment. A BMW pulled out of its parking spot to reveal a Mazda Miata staring me back at me. Chris drove a Miata. I wonder how he’s doing. I thought to myself.
It was at this moment that I felt like God had bitch-slapped the anger that I was holding inside me to realize that I was indeed hurt, but that should be no excuse to be a bitch and classify our friendship as being second-place.
Yes, I can admit that realizing a man’s feelings for me were not as much as I had anticipated. But then I had an epiphany: why should I always turn into a bitter black woman when someone does not meet my expectations? Looking back at the blogs that I would write after I broke it off with Riddick, I felt like I was starting to give up on everything. Because I really want my life to move forward like everyone else.
Jeff has his boyfriend Joel. Sam is developing a relationship with a girl that lives miles away. My graduating class is making three times the amount that I do. Watching everyone’s life progress forward while I am still stuck in the Molasses Swamp is painful to endure; but every person I have conversed with on this matter has given me this exact same form of encouragement. I am a young guy that is still growing up and learning how, as my friend David put so adamantly: “[to] walk on my own two feet. Whether it be emotional or psychological.”
So after sitting outside of my gym and slamming down an energy drink, did I finally go through the contents of my old phone and find Riddick’s number. My palms got all sweaty as my fat thumbs typed in the letters: “Hey Riddick. It’s Pablo. How have you been?” I felt like it was taking five minutes just to write a couple sentences. But only when I sent the text message did I wonder if he was going to write back or not. I tabled that thought as I entered the gym, put on some Madonna, ran four and a half miles, lifted some weights, and checked out some hot straight guys.
Although I have never been inside a confessional, I am positive that they do amazing things. They give you a place of solitude to truly express yourself, a place to be able to take off the mask you are showing everyone to reveal the true battle scars of life. In a way, I feel like writing on a blank page is my own sanctuary. It gives me the opportunity to write something new on a blank piece of white. To make a wrong a right and to give penance where penance is due.
Sure, we have to pay penance for some of the deeds that we have done; in a way, we all say our Hail Mary’s at some point. Whether it be in a church, or to someone that we have wronged. But once we feel like we have gained their trust back—which I am skeptical I can do at this point with Riddick—do we understand that we can finally repair the damaged that we have caused.
It was not until after I got back home did I receive a reply. Just the simple: “Great! How are you?” gave me chance to put away my rosary, and continue my day. Because quite honestly? God was right. I did need to fucking get over it.
Instead of trekking my way to the nearest Catholic Church to making myself feel better, why not make my peace in the best way that I know how: writing.
I want to confess something, because I have spent a major part of my life being angry because no one can follow through with things and keep promises like I can. I hate saying that, bragging about the one thing that I am good at, but I always expect certain people to meet me halfway, and it is in times when they fail do I realize this harsh truth: to err is human.
Previously on EVOLutions:
I told Riddick I never wanted to talk to him again because he only wanted to be friends when I wanted something more.
It’s funny how God will allow me to be angry for a while then tell me to calm the fuck down and get over it, because within the past 24 hours, I have been experiencing signs. I was given three signals to get over my horrible end with Riddick. To finally right my wrongs and stop being bitter just because I fell for my own trap.
The first sign took place as I was leaving the car the night before. Perhaps it was the mixture between coffee smell, my sweat, and the grapefruits and avocadoes I left in my car while I was working out; but in any case, I got a familiar smell. The smell that took me back to Riddick’s apartment. Sitting on his amazingly comfortable couch and watching a two-hour marathon of Family Guy while ridiculing each other about our musical mishaps; eating Chipotle while sitting on his cat-fur-laden carpet and talking about our day; and accidentally getting cum on his couch. It was that smell that brought me back to times when I could finally give a genuine smile after all the heartbreak that I had endured. I was finally able to forget about the incredibly bad day at work and just go to my Happy Place. But only when the smell went away did those flood of memories escape me.
It was on my way to work when I witnessed my second sign. I was driving in the early morning. My exhalations emitting a morning-breath condensation as I was driving in the cold. It was two seconds after I glanced at my clock, noticing I was going to be three minutes late to work, that I encountered it. I was driving behind an elderly couple going twenty-five miles on a forty-five mile zone—I still have yet to find out why they drive so damn slow. Moments before realizing that driving behind them at fifty miles an hour was not a good idea, I noticed they had Ohio license plates. This ejected me from my current state of mind into becoming pensive about the times I had with Riddick once again. The time that he would annihilate me at pool while drunk; then to the time when he introduced me to a So Co with lime and gin tonics, then to texting him at the club and leaving to go to his place only minutes after paying full cover and waiting fifteen minutes in line to get in at my favorite club. I sped past this elderly couple as I noticed they had a McCain sticker on their bumper.
I was talking to my friend Sam about my day I was having so far. Discussing the signs I was seeing around me and wondering if I should text Riddick when that final sign came, almost prompting my cue to text him at that moment. A BMW pulled out of its parking spot to reveal a Mazda Miata staring me back at me. Chris drove a Miata. I wonder how he’s doing. I thought to myself.
It was at this moment that I felt like God had bitch-slapped the anger that I was holding inside me to realize that I was indeed hurt, but that should be no excuse to be a bitch and classify our friendship as being second-place.
Yes, I can admit that realizing a man’s feelings for me were not as much as I had anticipated. But then I had an epiphany: why should I always turn into a bitter black woman when someone does not meet my expectations? Looking back at the blogs that I would write after I broke it off with Riddick, I felt like I was starting to give up on everything. Because I really want my life to move forward like everyone else.
Jeff has his boyfriend Joel. Sam is developing a relationship with a girl that lives miles away. My graduating class is making three times the amount that I do. Watching everyone’s life progress forward while I am still stuck in the Molasses Swamp is painful to endure; but every person I have conversed with on this matter has given me this exact same form of encouragement. I am a young guy that is still growing up and learning how, as my friend David put so adamantly: “[to] walk on my own two feet. Whether it be emotional or psychological.”
So after sitting outside of my gym and slamming down an energy drink, did I finally go through the contents of my old phone and find Riddick’s number. My palms got all sweaty as my fat thumbs typed in the letters: “Hey Riddick. It’s Pablo. How have you been?” I felt like it was taking five minutes just to write a couple sentences. But only when I sent the text message did I wonder if he was going to write back or not. I tabled that thought as I entered the gym, put on some Madonna, ran four and a half miles, lifted some weights, and checked out some hot straight guys.
Although I have never been inside a confessional, I am positive that they do amazing things. They give you a place of solitude to truly express yourself, a place to be able to take off the mask you are showing everyone to reveal the true battle scars of life. In a way, I feel like writing on a blank page is my own sanctuary. It gives me the opportunity to write something new on a blank piece of white. To make a wrong a right and to give penance where penance is due.
Sure, we have to pay penance for some of the deeds that we have done; in a way, we all say our Hail Mary’s at some point. Whether it be in a church, or to someone that we have wronged. But once we feel like we have gained their trust back—which I am skeptical I can do at this point with Riddick—do we understand that we can finally repair the damaged that we have caused.
It was not until after I got back home did I receive a reply. Just the simple: “Great! How are you?” gave me chance to put away my rosary, and continue my day. Because quite honestly? God was right. I did need to fucking get over it.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Evolution's a Bitch
We can never be fully accustomed to our bodies as we age. We begin this life not understanding that the pain going on inside of our mouth is teething as an infant. Then later on in life, just when we get used to our youth do we begin to experience the dropping of our voice, or the sudden growth of those D cups you always dreamed of in your adolescent years. Then we have a mid-life crisis. Bringing us to understand that our penis doesn’t get as hard as it used to, or that we aren’t getting any younger and think to ourselves: why not do that secretary? Or in the woman’s case: am I really ever going to be attractive to find the One?
The same can be said to our emotions. As our sex hormones kick in the moment we get into Junior High (a.k.a. The Dark Ages), we begin to understand the Laws of Attraction, then we begin to realize that someone can actually like us and that we can find a way to commit ourselves to someone. We can never become fully comfortable with ourselves until it’s too late.
I feel like I date guys that are emotionally retarded. They really don’t know what they want in life but will fuck something until that opportunity arrives. Let’s look at example Riddick, the last month-long trick. Using those excuses like: “I am only looking for friends”; however, he will fuck my ass and my emotions anytime.
Then we have Mike, a guy that was definetly not a boyfriend because was too emotionally unstable to be around. It was like he made every opportunity to cry so he could feel better about himself. I will admit, I do have my emotionally weak moments, but I pick myself up and am strong again. This guy had the tearing-up stability of a waterfall. The tears were almost always flowing. He would spread it to me and started to hurt me and would often try to break down my emotional wall by saying really sensitive things, but I just deflected them and moved on.
Finally, let’s take a gander at Jeff, my best, my first, my favorite, and my always-question relationship. It seemed like I was so immersed in my own love for this guy, I did not see that he really didn’t love me as much in return. He was not really knowing what he wanted in life, but fucked me and told me sweet-nothings to keep me beside him.
But then again, maybe I can maybe just be in a really bad mood at the moment?
I don’t know, but I am not liking the guys around my age. They are still trying to understand who they are as they are fucking away brain cells. They really aren’t used to adulthood but enjoy exploring this new territory. Granted, I am not innocent either, but at least I know who I am, I have that advantage. I feel like I can never relate to people around my age, because I got used to talking to adults when I was homeschooled. One of the very few advantages to homeschooling. Now that I am surrounded by people my age, I feel like I can never be fully understood because some of them haven’t dealt with the shit I deal with on a regular basis.
Growing up, there always seemed to be some major drama going on in the spiritual and emotional challenges in my life. It was hard, but God would always grant me wisdom and the strength to kep going. It is obvious that God has a major plan for me, I just really wished He would hurry up and start making me amazing or into a superhero. Because I could really use a my force field ability right about now….
But seriously, I am not enjoying this evolution of my emotions. They are sometimes really painful and can slow everything else down. I am still hurt by the events in this past month. Realizing that I am making stupid mistakes and beating myself up over them. Sure, they are going to make me stronger, but can I at least have a break like everyone else?
The same can be said to our emotions. As our sex hormones kick in the moment we get into Junior High (a.k.a. The Dark Ages), we begin to understand the Laws of Attraction, then we begin to realize that someone can actually like us and that we can find a way to commit ourselves to someone. We can never become fully comfortable with ourselves until it’s too late.
I feel like I date guys that are emotionally retarded. They really don’t know what they want in life but will fuck something until that opportunity arrives. Let’s look at example Riddick, the last month-long trick. Using those excuses like: “I am only looking for friends”; however, he will fuck my ass and my emotions anytime.
Then we have Mike, a guy that was definetly not a boyfriend because was too emotionally unstable to be around. It was like he made every opportunity to cry so he could feel better about himself. I will admit, I do have my emotionally weak moments, but I pick myself up and am strong again. This guy had the tearing-up stability of a waterfall. The tears were almost always flowing. He would spread it to me and started to hurt me and would often try to break down my emotional wall by saying really sensitive things, but I just deflected them and moved on.
Finally, let’s take a gander at Jeff, my best, my first, my favorite, and my always-question relationship. It seemed like I was so immersed in my own love for this guy, I did not see that he really didn’t love me as much in return. He was not really knowing what he wanted in life, but fucked me and told me sweet-nothings to keep me beside him.
But then again, maybe I can maybe just be in a really bad mood at the moment?
I don’t know, but I am not liking the guys around my age. They are still trying to understand who they are as they are fucking away brain cells. They really aren’t used to adulthood but enjoy exploring this new territory. Granted, I am not innocent either, but at least I know who I am, I have that advantage. I feel like I can never relate to people around my age, because I got used to talking to adults when I was homeschooled. One of the very few advantages to homeschooling. Now that I am surrounded by people my age, I feel like I can never be fully understood because some of them haven’t dealt with the shit I deal with on a regular basis.
Growing up, there always seemed to be some major drama going on in the spiritual and emotional challenges in my life. It was hard, but God would always grant me wisdom and the strength to kep going. It is obvious that God has a major plan for me, I just really wished He would hurry up and start making me amazing or into a superhero. Because I could really use a my force field ability right about now….
But seriously, I am not enjoying this evolution of my emotions. They are sometimes really painful and can slow everything else down. I am still hurt by the events in this past month. Realizing that I am making stupid mistakes and beating myself up over them. Sure, they are going to make me stronger, but can I at least have a break like everyone else?
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Not the Way I Wanted
Endings. Everyone loves a great ending. The kind that grips you at the heart and will not let go until you squeeze out a couple of tears of heartbreak as you see your favorite character die in the arms of someone they loved. Or the endings that allows the audience to witness the end of tyranny of an evil antagonist. Whatever the ending may be, watching something draw to a close can sometimes be a relief.
I thought I was going to be fine after I broke it off with Riddick. Cutting him off from being able to toy with my emotions was supposed to be a good thing and quite a relief to watch him be the one that was being played. However, in the process, watching him go and talking to him was the hardest thing I had to do.
I park my car next to his apartment complex. I arrive promptly at nine o'clock and make my way into his apartment, up the stairs, and into his apartment. Now at this time, I had already had it prepared. I was going to get a couple of drinks into my system enough to give myself the self-esteem needed to talk to him about not only my feelings, but uncovering the mystery behind our relationship. As he came out of his bedroom to greet me, he began to ask me how my day was. He has no idea what is going to hit him when I get the courage to talk to him. I thought to myself as I returned his greeting with a smile.
We made our way to Bourbon Street and began to sit down and talk while we ordered our drinks. He began to propose that we watch a TV show together. I told him I would be down with watching something on a regular basis with him. Giving him the false hope he needed to keep the conversation going.
We began to play pool in midst of our buzzed stupor, watching bad eighties music videos that were playing on the TV screens set up throughout the bar. We played two games. He began to flirt with me by complimenting my nose as well as smacking my ass occasionally when I was bent over the table setting up a shot.
After I won the second game, he was telling me how he had to be up early and that we might need to go so he can get some sleep. We drove back to his apartment and as we were saying our goodbyes, I decided to let it out.
“I need to ask you something.”
“What?” He asked with a concerned look on his face.
“What are you looking for?” I interrogated.
“I am looking for friends.” He replied with subtlety.
“Cool. Thanks. That’s all I needed to know.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I am looking for something more than just a friend.” I replied with a hint of disappointment in my voice. “I can’t be friends with someone that I care about.”
“Isn’t that what friends do?” He asked. “Don’t they care about each other? I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”
Well, you are. “You’re right. Friends do care about each other. But I can guarantee that you will meet someone else, and I will be left still caring about you. I have been down that road where I care about the person more than they care about me, and it’s not fun.”
He remained silent as he listened to me.
“I just got tired of the mind games you would play with me. At first, I was a ‘cutie’ then you would call me ‘buddy.’ I am sorry, I call my six-year-olds at camp ‘buddy.’ For me, being a friend when I care about you is like making second place in a race when I know for a fact I deserve first. I deserve the best in life, and right now. Being your friend is not apart of it.”
“Well, I am disappointed that you feel that way. Because I am going to miss having you in my life. But if you ever feel like you can be friends, please let me know.”
We hugged one more time as we parted ways. With every step he made away from me, a heartstring was breaking inside me. Please don’t leave me at square one. I pleaded inside my head. I wanted him to stay and admit that he has the same feelings for me. But none of that happened. I was left….once again…alone.
It sucked leaving. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. But I knew that if I stayed silent, I would burst at an inappropriate time and I would regret it. If I was just honest, maybe things could change. They changed, but not in the way that I wanted.
I drove home alone. Texting anyone awake. Feeling like I will always make second-place in everyone’s life. I know someone better will come along, but I want to feel like I have chance to move on. Like I can migrate my feelings I have towards Jeff and move it towards someone else. Hanging out with Chris, I felt like I actually had a chance. I felt renewed. But he failed me. You can never depend on humanity to help you with your problems. Because they are just as faulted and fucked up like everyone else.
Am I always going to be everyone’s friend? Am I ever going to be good enough for anyone?
I thought I was going to be fine after I broke it off with Riddick. Cutting him off from being able to toy with my emotions was supposed to be a good thing and quite a relief to watch him be the one that was being played. However, in the process, watching him go and talking to him was the hardest thing I had to do.
I park my car next to his apartment complex. I arrive promptly at nine o'clock and make my way into his apartment, up the stairs, and into his apartment. Now at this time, I had already had it prepared. I was going to get a couple of drinks into my system enough to give myself the self-esteem needed to talk to him about not only my feelings, but uncovering the mystery behind our relationship. As he came out of his bedroom to greet me, he began to ask me how my day was. He has no idea what is going to hit him when I get the courage to talk to him. I thought to myself as I returned his greeting with a smile.
We made our way to Bourbon Street and began to sit down and talk while we ordered our drinks. He began to propose that we watch a TV show together. I told him I would be down with watching something on a regular basis with him. Giving him the false hope he needed to keep the conversation going.
We began to play pool in midst of our buzzed stupor, watching bad eighties music videos that were playing on the TV screens set up throughout the bar. We played two games. He began to flirt with me by complimenting my nose as well as smacking my ass occasionally when I was bent over the table setting up a shot.
After I won the second game, he was telling me how he had to be up early and that we might need to go so he can get some sleep. We drove back to his apartment and as we were saying our goodbyes, I decided to let it out.
“I need to ask you something.”
“What?” He asked with a concerned look on his face.
“What are you looking for?” I interrogated.
“I am looking for friends.” He replied with subtlety.
“Cool. Thanks. That’s all I needed to know.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I am looking for something more than just a friend.” I replied with a hint of disappointment in my voice. “I can’t be friends with someone that I care about.”
“Isn’t that what friends do?” He asked. “Don’t they care about each other? I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”
Well, you are. “You’re right. Friends do care about each other. But I can guarantee that you will meet someone else, and I will be left still caring about you. I have been down that road where I care about the person more than they care about me, and it’s not fun.”
He remained silent as he listened to me.
“I just got tired of the mind games you would play with me. At first, I was a ‘cutie’ then you would call me ‘buddy.’ I am sorry, I call my six-year-olds at camp ‘buddy.’ For me, being a friend when I care about you is like making second place in a race when I know for a fact I deserve first. I deserve the best in life, and right now. Being your friend is not apart of it.”
“Well, I am disappointed that you feel that way. Because I am going to miss having you in my life. But if you ever feel like you can be friends, please let me know.”
We hugged one more time as we parted ways. With every step he made away from me, a heartstring was breaking inside me. Please don’t leave me at square one. I pleaded inside my head. I wanted him to stay and admit that he has the same feelings for me. But none of that happened. I was left….once again…alone.
It sucked leaving. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. But I knew that if I stayed silent, I would burst at an inappropriate time and I would regret it. If I was just honest, maybe things could change. They changed, but not in the way that I wanted.
I drove home alone. Texting anyone awake. Feeling like I will always make second-place in everyone’s life. I know someone better will come along, but I want to feel like I have chance to move on. Like I can migrate my feelings I have towards Jeff and move it towards someone else. Hanging out with Chris, I felt like I actually had a chance. I felt renewed. But he failed me. You can never depend on humanity to help you with your problems. Because they are just as faulted and fucked up like everyone else.
Am I always going to be everyone’s friend? Am I ever going to be good enough for anyone?
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