Learning to Love Again

Well, I feel like this is something of a streak, here... two posts in six months :) This post is gonna be a three part novel.

Part 1: Just a follow-up on the last guy.

Total cluster f*ck. I don't like to use that word, but there is no other phrase to describe it. In case you're wondering, putting together two guys with commitment issues is a terrible idea. I'd get serious, and he'd pull away... then he'd get serious, and I'd pull away. Finally walked away from that. I think some people are better off as friends. As handsome as the guy is, that was arguably the most dysfunctional thing I've ever experienced.

Part 2: Speaking of commitment issues...

It turns out that I have commitment issues. Depending on how you look at this last "relationship," I've either bolted on every single guy in my life, or I've bolted on all but one. I don't want this to be the focus of my post, but it was the impetus (sadly, as you'll see there's more in life to talk about).

I just had a date today with this guy... a year older than me, attractive enough, taller than me (that's hard to come by), driven, successful (doing residency program right now), considerate, attentive... seems way into me. And as I'm dropping him off, I've got this neon "RUN!" sign flashing in my head. Met up with college track kid a few times - Run! Pilot - Run! Research guy - Run! Construction guy - Run! Sports writer, announcer, rugby player, choir teacher, lawyer - Run!

Every time. And it kills me. It kills me because these seem like legitimately good guys. To be honest, the guy I was complaining about in my last post? I know, deep down, that I would've bolted if he had pushed for things to be more serious.

But I got to thinking about it harder today after dropping off this perfectly nice guy. He's just looking for someone to connect with... someone he can take care of, and who can take care of him. There's nothing wrong with that - it sounds perfect to me... in theory... so why do I bolt every time someone gets close? Why do I close off?

On one hand, I think I'm scared. Honestly, on some level, I think I truly believe that all guys will eventually hurt me. And I can trace that idea back to its roots, but it doesn't help much. On the other hand, I feel like these guys are out of my league - I wonder why they don't try for someone better? But on the third hand (lots of radiation where I come from), I don't necessarily know that I'm interested in them. I think I push myself into something because I should be interested in the guy... not necessarily because I am interested. I'm at a loss here. And I'm tired of hurting people. I'm thinking I should jump out of the pool for a while.

Part 3: I came out.

I'm ashamed that this wasn't my impetus. I told my mom and brother that I'm gay. I told my brother first to use him as a litmus paper of sorts... I figured if he fell out of his chair, I'd know to be a little more delicate with others, since I'm not exactly known for delicacy with my family. Then, I told my mom. She's been trying to push me for a while into going back to church. I didn't want to, and she was doing dumb stuff like giving the missionaries my new address to visit me so that everyone else in the damn ward knows where I live now, too.

But mostly, I didn't like feeling like I was withholding a part of myself... I didn't feel like I was being honest, and that made my relationships feel disingenuous. And then I read this quote on my Bloomberg one morning--it always has a quote of the day when you log in. I usually find that stuff to be hokey. But this one was by Andre Gide (who knows who that is?):

It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.

Genius, right? And it made me realize that I valued sincere relationships to the extent that I was willing to disclose that part of my life and risk ruining my "relationships" with people. So I called my mom... I got far enough into the conversation as, "Give me a minute to get everything out and explain it. Mom, I'm sorry... I'm gay-"

She promptly interrupted me. "What? What are you sorry for? You have nothing to be sorry for. Honey, how long have you known? I feel so bad that you've been carrying this all by yourself for so long..."

I can think of five times that I've cried in the past five years. I just never do it. I don't get emotional. But this was one of those times. Hearing her say that made me break down. I'm not sure I've ever cried that hard before. We hashed it out a little more later when I was up to visit. I told her I wasn't angry at God or the Church, that I didn't feel abandoned or alone. She confessed that she struggled with feeling angry at God after I had told her - she said she was angry because she felt like I've had to fight so much in my life that she thought I didn't deserve to have this placed on me, too.

I've known for so long, and I've tried so hard to make it go away. I felt ashamed, felt like I just needed to be more faithful... and I was convinced it would do irreparable damage to my mom if she ever found out. Until that day, I've never been completely honest with someone I love. I turned being gay into a monster. It lurked behind every interaction, it isolated and consumed me. 

But to hear her react like that... It floored me. I was letting her down! She didn't miss a beat. 

I feel underserving of having people that good in my life. I'm skeptical of unconditional love- I was skeptical of unconditional love... I took my deep, dark, evil secret and drug it out into the light of day to face judgment... but she never took her eyes off me. I'm so thankful. I've told her over and over how thankful I am. For the first time in my life, I felt ok--truly ok--with all of me.

I haven't told my dad and stepmom yet, but I'm not so concerned about that. One of my best friends from school invited me out for his sealing, so I told him, too. His response? "I kinda suspected for a while, but I didn't think it was my place to say. I love you, and you'll always be one of my best friends." I ended up coming for the reception.

I know some people will have problems with it. But the people I love? It turns out they didn't love me because they thought I was straight. It turns out I should've given them more credit. And me? When I look at myself in the mirror, I don't see a guy holding pieces together and trying to save face.

I see me.

Save the World

I can't believe this blog is still in existence...

I'm not sure where to start or what to say. To be honest, I've logged on here with a purpose, and that purpose isn't to shoot the breeze.

La Senda Ardua - didn't realize that was going to be the understatement of my life. It's been two years, and as I've skimmed through some of the posts I last wrote on this blog, I've taken a little comfort in knowing that my life has always been dysfunctional.

But the purpose. And then, maybe, we'll get to shooting some shit, OK?

We'll call him T. He's not out (like me... not that I really care... although it is about time, though I won't address it right now, as we're wayyyy too early in the story for that kinda digression), which is fine. Older than me. Handsome, chiseled, muscular, blue eyes, kinda rugged/outdoorsy... this guy is nearly the absolute most deadly combination of physical characteristics I could ask for in a guy.

But that part I can handle. I can keep my heart locked up. Insert weak moment, sweet guy, defenses down. The guy treated me like the center of his universe... like I was the most important thing in his life at any given time. I was melted.

THEN there was this tire-screeching, no-signal-U-turn, the-house-suddenly-lost-power kinda change that left me flat on my ass. I had fallen for a guy who was gone and replaced by a distant, fickle impostor. The worst thing is that you can't just flip a switch once you fall like that... I was left feeling like I was fighting a losing battle, salvaging something that only I was interested in.

It made me think back on the time I spent with the original THE guy... almost three years ago in March was the first time we met. Oddly enough, our interaction was almost the same, same outcome, same broken heart, same resolution that I would lock my heart away forever.

Same problem... but different guys... what's the common denominator? Oh yeah- me. What gets me? The thing is, I try to imagine a world in which things were different, in which the guy, or T (doesn't really matter) was actually into me still- was there and interested and still treated me like the center of their world. To be honest, I'm not sure how long I'd stay interested for? I mean, maybe it was just a matter of time before I arrived at the same conclusion? And maybe that's just me being pessimistic. But the thing is, I'm plagued by this intense desire to please the people around me... blaming my upbringing on that one... and so maybe the issue here is not so much that I was in love with these guys, but that I couldn't stand the feeling of not being good enough for them... of not doing or saying the right things to make them stick around...

So the problem (for simplicity's sake, really) rests on me, rests on my inability to be independently happy with who I am. Granted, it's not like I'm wandering around, trying to make random people happy... but there are people, on occasion, who manage to pry their way into my feelings, and then, suddenly, what they think of me becomes painfully intertwined with what I think of me...

But people are fickle (I don't exclude myself from this), and, on top of that, I have a hard time trusting guys in the first place, which I think sets myself up for some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy- going into these situations with the foundational belief that this is temporary, that it's only a matter of time before something better comes along for them.

So, as I was laying on my yoga mat in my loft and trying to avoid the inevitable, these thoughts were fighting for air time... and a conversation ensued:

Gotta work out.

Why?

Get back in better shape. At the very least, maybe T will see you and feel like a dumbass for letting you go.

What's going to be good enough shape?

Summer before senior year... when THE guy was still around. You were in good enough shape.

What did I look like? What did he look like?

Hooold up... on a completely skin-deep comparison, you were wayyy better looking than he was.

Then why didn't I feel like it?

No answer. Dammit. I kept thinking. Came up with an answer. Didn't like it. And I didn't know where to go to sort things out... for catharsis... then, I remembered this blog. Please don't think that I'm a complete douche for what I'm about to say - hopefully it's taken in the spirit I've written it.

I was in really good shape back then- got hit on a surprising amount by strangers (always girls, of course... was never that lucky), had a good job, did well in school, worked hard to make sure I had a decent future. I was a pretty damn good catch, yet I never felt like it with this guy... I spent most of my time wondering how I got so lucky as to snag him... what he could possibly be seeing in me. Why didn't I see that stuff in myself? Why do I have such a hard time seeing it now?

At the end of the day, I know I'm doomed to a repeat of this current situation, these terrible feelings if I can't find a way to love myself unconditionally, to be happy with who I am and where I'm at. We're coming full circle here- don't you worry

You should tell your mom you're gay. Yeah, I definitely think I should. I need to let go of this feeling that I have to make everyone else in my life happy. It's an honorable desire, I know... but I truly think it will drive me crazy if I keep this up without being willing to portray myself honestly to them. I have to be willing to disappoint them for the sake of being real with myself, or I'm going to perpetually feel like a shell in my interactions... like I'm never fully present, or that I'm constantly holding some part of myself back. Truth be told, I doubt anyone will actually care... it's more of a pride thing at the end of the day... and I need to get over it.

Aren't you glad I didn't digress?

That's enough damage for one day.