From a Phone Call...

You know, you never quite know what you think of someone until they call you and you don't really feel like being bothered. That tends to really give you a bit of insight into where they sit with you. Actually, rather than talking broadly and posing a theory, I'm just going to talk personally.

There's been times where I was at my wit's end with life, been down in the dumps, swamped by school, or whatever else, and my phone will ring. I look at the display and see [x person]'s name and I pick up. Though I am not in the mood to talk, hearing from them makes me feel slightly better and my day is improved. That shows me how much I care about and like these people. However, my revelations in this circumstance aren't always so beaming or positive.

So I dated this one kid when I was a senior in high school. He was a cute ass kid. All the way real, I was really feeling the dude and he was nice to have around. He came from a well-to-do family and seemed to have at least a rudimentary appreciation for hard work and intelligence. He was extremely feminine, something that I didn't at the time find attractive, but he grew on me quickly. So yeah, it worked out fine for a while. Then I graduated, left for Princeton, and we broke up. We continued to deal with one another off and on for the next year or two and then just fell off.

Now, I always held this kid in fairly high esteem, because of what he meant to me back then and the (seemingly) genuine love he always showed me. Though we effectively lost touch, I was able to catch up with him once in the spring of my senior year in college. We only talked briefly, but it was clear that he no longer held me in the place he had previously. That made me a little sad, but it was ultimately inconsequential, because I wasn't interested in rekindling anything.

So fast-forward to today. He calls my house on some faggot shit, like, "I heard you were talking about us in front of some fish." First off, niggas who say "fish" are a turn-off. Secondly, don't call me with bullshit out of the blue. So I quickly dismantle the lie his friend told him and then he goes into this "Oh, well, I just called to check on you" shit. I hung the phone up and the fact that I had just talked to him kinda made my stomach hurt. My first thought was "That's not the kid I fell for 5 years ago." Then I rethought it and said, "I'm so glad I'm not the same guy who fell for this kid 5 years ago."

Survivor's Guilt

Interestingly enough, I always find myself dreading the mention of molestation when it comes to homosexuals, especially ones who I respect as strong men. So many in the heterosexist machine insist that homosexuals are simply sexually confused due to the intervention of older homosexual men during their youth. And every time I hear strong gay brotha mention that he was molested, I feel like that reinforces this idea and calls the validity of my sexuality into question. I can't say that I'm a rape victim or that I was molested as a child. There weren't any gay men around me when I was a child, especially not in my family. There was this guy that I think is bi, but he knew my fam would've skinned him if he even thought about it. So yeah, some of us are fresh from the womb. No creepy old man touched me when I was six, therefore sending me into this life. Hell, whereas most people figure out their sexuality in college, I was working through this shit in elementary. I spent third and fourth grade trying to convince myself that I wasn't bi, but was just curious about seeing other cat's meat. LOL. Now that I'm grown, I know MUCH better. But I can't help but have a little survivor's guilt tho, so to speak.