The moment I laid eyes on him I knew we were meant to be together, but not in the way you might think. It's somewhat unexplainable, but I just knew that I had to be his friend, and have him be mine.
So of course some friends and I turned our "stalker mode" on to full power, found out his name, called campus directory, and took him to the mall with us. Immediately I knew my "feeling" had been right and that I had stumbled upon another lifelong friend.
But the surprises didn't stop with how comfortable and easy the friendship almost instantly was, because then The Boy With The Shoes took me to meet his family. Again the feeling is almost unexplainable except to say it felt like I was coming home. From the first night of meeting his parents, I had received a whole new family made up entirely with grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and siblings.
Eventually it was The Boy With The Shoes who sat with me as I dealt with my first heartbreak, while simultaneously dealing with my first case of mono. During this time I opened up and came out to him, which in turn led to him to come out to me. Of course this brought us even closer together as friends as stepped out of the closet together, figuring out who we were, and realizing we had each other even if no one else accepted us.
But of course most everyone accepted us, and our house turned into a huge party house for all the repressed Baptist college students. The Boy With The Shoes and I discovered we were amazing hosts together, knowing exactly what to do to feed off the other and get everyone at our parties comfortable and having fun.
Alcohol = Another bonding element of our friendship.
As years went by The Boy With The Shoes proved over and over again just how great of a friend he was, doing anything in his power to help a friend in need. I like to think I'm a nice person, but there were moments I was shocked at how far he would go to help his friends.
We obsessed over the same tv shows and movies, swapped stories about the boys we'd been with, walked around the house wearing heels being completely ridiculous, and held each other when we needed.
I got to go on his family vacations, they'd get me birthday presents, and the year of the blizzard I even got to spend Christmas with them all where they greatly eased the pain of being apart from my own family.
The Boy With The Shoes is the only person I know who knows exactly the right way to approach a subject that I try shutting off from the world and get me to discuss it and feel the emotions I try holding in. He is also the only person I know who knows exactly when to pour me another glass of gin and Diet Dr. Pepper rather than try talking about a subject that I'm not ready to discuss.
With The Boy With The Shoes I learned that a soul mate isn't necessarily someone that you are meant to be romantically involved with. A soul mate is a person that your entire being realizes is someone you want beside you for every moment of your life, sharing all the ups and downs and in-between. From that first moment I have never doubted that The Boy With The Shoes is one of my soul mates, and I'm so lucky to be someone that found him so easily.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
The Girl On The Bus
I sat on the bus next to the boy that I remember looking like the kid from "Problem Child" on our way to another day in the second grade. I'm unclear on what happened, pretty sure it was just that this kid was annoying and hadn't learned the concept of personal space, but somehow I ended up on the floor of the bus with him on top of me. He wasn't hitting me or anything, so I can only assume it was some sexual gesture, but either way I was not pleased. I couldn't fight him off of me and so yelled out for help when suddenly The Girl On The Bus appeared. She pulled the boy off of me, and then pulled me over to her seat and into her life.
In a small town it wasn't hard for us to know each other and about each other without ever really being friends that spent a lot of time together. It wasn't until high school that The Girl On The Bus and I truly reunited and became best friends, and then there was no stopping us.
Throughout the school year we hung out every day, and during the summer we went to a summer program where we lived on a college campus and took classes. Pretty much The Girl On The Bus and I spent almost an entire three years with each other with no more than a week being apart.
Some people assumed we were a couple, or at least in love and afraid to admit it to each other. They couldn't understand how a boy and girl could be so close with nothing romantic going on.
Before I came out, The Girl On The Bus would defend me to no end when people would be mean, calling me gay and making fun of me. She never once doubted anything I told her and to this day has never repeated a single thing I confided in her.
The Girl On The Bus ended up being my travel buddy, I've still not been on vacations with anyone more than her. What better person to be with than one of your best friends when skiing (or in our case, walking) down the side of a snowy mountain in Colorado for the first time? Or how about walking across the Brooklyn Bridge in NYC. Or maybe standing in freezing weather at three in the morning to make an appearance on the "Today Show."
We were camp counselors together. We returned to that summer college program as RAs together. She held my hand as I got my first tattoo, and then I held hers as she got a matching one.
My family loves her and constantly asks about her, and she'd even go visit them when I wasn't even there. The Girl On The Bus was the first person I called as soon as I heard The Woman Who Shaped Me had died, and she cried over the phone with me. She met me the day of the funeral and walked me inside, supporting me more than she even knew.
There are very few people in my life I would be 100% confident in saying they'd do absolutely anything I asked of them, and The Girl On The Bus is definitely one of them.
In a previous post I said how the Boy With My Blood is a friend that would always be there loving me unconditionally. The same can be said for The Girl On The Bus, and it's that assurance of never having to go through anything alone that makes this sometimes rough life so bearable.
In a small town it wasn't hard for us to know each other and about each other without ever really being friends that spent a lot of time together. It wasn't until high school that The Girl On The Bus and I truly reunited and became best friends, and then there was no stopping us.
Throughout the school year we hung out every day, and during the summer we went to a summer program where we lived on a college campus and took classes. Pretty much The Girl On The Bus and I spent almost an entire three years with each other with no more than a week being apart.
Some people assumed we were a couple, or at least in love and afraid to admit it to each other. They couldn't understand how a boy and girl could be so close with nothing romantic going on.
Before I came out, The Girl On The Bus would defend me to no end when people would be mean, calling me gay and making fun of me. She never once doubted anything I told her and to this day has never repeated a single thing I confided in her.
The Girl On The Bus ended up being my travel buddy, I've still not been on vacations with anyone more than her. What better person to be with than one of your best friends when skiing (or in our case, walking) down the side of a snowy mountain in Colorado for the first time? Or how about walking across the Brooklyn Bridge in NYC. Or maybe standing in freezing weather at three in the morning to make an appearance on the "Today Show."
We were camp counselors together. We returned to that summer college program as RAs together. She held my hand as I got my first tattoo, and then I held hers as she got a matching one.
My family loves her and constantly asks about her, and she'd even go visit them when I wasn't even there. The Girl On The Bus was the first person I called as soon as I heard The Woman Who Shaped Me had died, and she cried over the phone with me. She met me the day of the funeral and walked me inside, supporting me more than she even knew.
There are very few people in my life I would be 100% confident in saying they'd do absolutely anything I asked of them, and The Girl On The Bus is definitely one of them.
In a previous post I said how the Boy With My Blood is a friend that would always be there loving me unconditionally. The same can be said for The Girl On The Bus, and it's that assurance of never having to go through anything alone that makes this sometimes rough life so bearable.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
The Woman Who Hurt Me
The Woman Who Hurt Me gave up on this accident too easily. I mean, she had just turned 16 and so I can't blame her for not wanting a baby yet, but still. Honestly I'm happy she gave me up so easily, I can't imagine what my life would have been like otherwise. But her giving me up isn't how she hurt me the most.
The Woman Who Hurt Me was always in and out of my life, so I can't say she was a completely absent mother. There were the times she would take me to her friends house, like the time I discovered the marijuana plant growing under one of their couches. Or sometimes I'd spend the night at her house where she would lock The Boy With My Blood and I in the bedroom while she and her company would do drugs. But it wasn't her drug use that hurt me the most.
I can remember the exact moment as a child when I realized I could never count on The Woman Who Hurt Me to be a real mother to me. She had promised to take me to see a movie and I was so excited to get to spend time with her, but once again she called and cancelled. I stood in the kitchen crying as The Woman Who Shaped Me tried to make me feel better when I vowed to never believe in The Woman Who Hurt Me again. But not being able to ever believe or trust in her isn't how she hurt me the most.
All the important moments she missed, all the letdowns, all the embarrassment she caused, all of these things hurt me, but none of them was how The Woman Who Hurt Me hurt me the most. What hurt the most was witnessing again and again how The Woman Who Hurt Me hurt The Woman Who Shaped Me and The Boy With My Blood. Unlike me, they always believed in her, always thought that maybe this time she would be different. Each time she would put on a good show, and maybe even put forth a real effort, but in the end they were always left heartbroken and angry, and I was powerless to protect them from that.
Making the decision to never believe in The Woman Who Hurt Me so early on in life helped me not carry around the anger and disappointment that would prevent me from having somewhat of a relationship with her. The Woman Who Hurt Me was the first person in my family I came out to and talked openly with when I started partying. When she has a phone we will text or chat almost everyday, even if it is just to say "I love you." At the funeral for The Woman Who Shaped Me I sat and held the hand of The Woman Who Hurt Me and tried to comfort her. No matter what, I can always say I do love her.
Sometimes I wish The Woman Who Hurt Me could have been a real mother, or that The Man With The Sperm could have been a real father, but what better people to learn from their mistakes and strive to be a better person and parent myself. And with people like my Aunt and The Woman Who Shaped Me raising me, it's almost like a blessing that I ended up with the parents I did.
The Woman Who Hurt Me was always in and out of my life, so I can't say she was a completely absent mother. There were the times she would take me to her friends house, like the time I discovered the marijuana plant growing under one of their couches. Or sometimes I'd spend the night at her house where she would lock The Boy With My Blood and I in the bedroom while she and her company would do drugs. But it wasn't her drug use that hurt me the most.
I can remember the exact moment as a child when I realized I could never count on The Woman Who Hurt Me to be a real mother to me. She had promised to take me to see a movie and I was so excited to get to spend time with her, but once again she called and cancelled. I stood in the kitchen crying as The Woman Who Shaped Me tried to make me feel better when I vowed to never believe in The Woman Who Hurt Me again. But not being able to ever believe or trust in her isn't how she hurt me the most.
All the important moments she missed, all the letdowns, all the embarrassment she caused, all of these things hurt me, but none of them was how The Woman Who Hurt Me hurt me the most. What hurt the most was witnessing again and again how The Woman Who Hurt Me hurt The Woman Who Shaped Me and The Boy With My Blood. Unlike me, they always believed in her, always thought that maybe this time she would be different. Each time she would put on a good show, and maybe even put forth a real effort, but in the end they were always left heartbroken and angry, and I was powerless to protect them from that.
Making the decision to never believe in The Woman Who Hurt Me so early on in life helped me not carry around the anger and disappointment that would prevent me from having somewhat of a relationship with her. The Woman Who Hurt Me was the first person in my family I came out to and talked openly with when I started partying. When she has a phone we will text or chat almost everyday, even if it is just to say "I love you." At the funeral for The Woman Who Shaped Me I sat and held the hand of The Woman Who Hurt Me and tried to comfort her. No matter what, I can always say I do love her.
Sometimes I wish The Woman Who Hurt Me could have been a real mother, or that The Man With The Sperm could have been a real father, but what better people to learn from their mistakes and strive to be a better person and parent myself. And with people like my Aunt and The Woman Who Shaped Me raising me, it's almost like a blessing that I ended up with the parents I did.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The Man With The Sperm
He zipped up his pants and walked away from the girl thinking how easy that had been. Then again, high school hormones can make almost any sexual situation easy to pull off.
A few months went by and he began to notice that the girl seemed to be getting fatter, but he wasn't for sure, she was a big girl to start out with. "No reason to freak yourself out," he thought.
A few more months passed and The Man With The Sperm, along with everyone else in school, knew the girl was pregnant. But she was known for getting around, so how could he be sure it was his? Besides, he'd definitely pulled out in time.
The girl eventually left school and never came back, but in a small town The Man With The Sperm saw her baby in different places. The girl's sister would bring the baby to some school functions, or he'd run into the family out at the grocery store or other places around town. The Man With The Sperm had made up his mind that the baby was definitely not his, and the girl's family didn't seem too intent on finding the father anyhow.
As years went on The Man With The Sperm met a girl he thought he could love and they were married and had children of their own. With each new child he'd think back to the girl from high school and her baby, but always pushed the thought to the back of his mind.
He'd see newspaper stories about the girl's baby as the baby grew from a child to a teenager, winning various awards in school, or being part of some community activity. The Man With The Sperm begin to notice how the kid in the pictures had his nose, or his youngest daughter's smile. His denial of the situation slowly crumbled away.
The Man With The Sperm couldn't come forward now though, how could he explain the kid to his wife and children? How could he approach the kid or the girl from high school now after so many years? They had never sought him out, so maybe they didn't want him to be a part of the kid's life. Plus, what if he was wrong and the kid wasn't his? Just having similar physical traits doesn't make you someone's father.
The Man With The Sperm decided again to let the issue slide and continue on with his life. The kid eventually graduated from high school and left town, taking his appearances in the local newspaper with him. The kid's family eventually moved as well, leaving The Man With The Sperm alone with his questions, his interest, his guilt.
The Man With The Sperm missed out on so much with the decisions he'd made. Never did The Man get to know the joy of being proud of the kid as he did well all through school and got that acceptance letter to college. The Man never got to experience that feeling of hugging the kid, knowing he was part of this human's biological makeup. Maybe he would have felt shame or anger, or maybe even love, when he found out the kid was gay. No birthdays, no Christmas mornings, no eventually getting to be a grandfather to the boy's own children. So much life and love that The Man With The Sperm let his fear or disinterest rob him of.
But The Man With The Sperm keeps on living his life, the kid keeps on living his, both perfectly fine without the other, both not knowing exactly what it is they could be missing out on.
A few months went by and he began to notice that the girl seemed to be getting fatter, but he wasn't for sure, she was a big girl to start out with. "No reason to freak yourself out," he thought.
A few more months passed and The Man With The Sperm, along with everyone else in school, knew the girl was pregnant. But she was known for getting around, so how could he be sure it was his? Besides, he'd definitely pulled out in time.
The girl eventually left school and never came back, but in a small town The Man With The Sperm saw her baby in different places. The girl's sister would bring the baby to some school functions, or he'd run into the family out at the grocery store or other places around town. The Man With The Sperm had made up his mind that the baby was definitely not his, and the girl's family didn't seem too intent on finding the father anyhow.
As years went on The Man With The Sperm met a girl he thought he could love and they were married and had children of their own. With each new child he'd think back to the girl from high school and her baby, but always pushed the thought to the back of his mind.
He'd see newspaper stories about the girl's baby as the baby grew from a child to a teenager, winning various awards in school, or being part of some community activity. The Man With The Sperm begin to notice how the kid in the pictures had his nose, or his youngest daughter's smile. His denial of the situation slowly crumbled away.
The Man With The Sperm couldn't come forward now though, how could he explain the kid to his wife and children? How could he approach the kid or the girl from high school now after so many years? They had never sought him out, so maybe they didn't want him to be a part of the kid's life. Plus, what if he was wrong and the kid wasn't his? Just having similar physical traits doesn't make you someone's father.
The Man With The Sperm decided again to let the issue slide and continue on with his life. The kid eventually graduated from high school and left town, taking his appearances in the local newspaper with him. The kid's family eventually moved as well, leaving The Man With The Sperm alone with his questions, his interest, his guilt.
The Man With The Sperm missed out on so much with the decisions he'd made. Never did The Man get to know the joy of being proud of the kid as he did well all through school and got that acceptance letter to college. The Man never got to experience that feeling of hugging the kid, knowing he was part of this human's biological makeup. Maybe he would have felt shame or anger, or maybe even love, when he found out the kid was gay. No birthdays, no Christmas mornings, no eventually getting to be a grandfather to the boy's own children. So much life and love that The Man With The Sperm let his fear or disinterest rob him of.
But The Man With The Sperm keeps on living his life, the kid keeps on living his, both perfectly fine without the other, both not knowing exactly what it is they could be missing out on.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)