Pillows and I had our 4 year thing last week. It’s hard to believe it’s been a whole 4 years since I first met him. I remember that day like it was.. well 4 years ago. But I have good memory.
We had agreed to meet at the Tinseltown entrance across from Wild Rice, the restaurant that we were going to have dinner in. I was running late, and thought I’d call to let him know. His answering machine picked up. He had given me his home number. And that was the first time I heard his voice.
We talked about movies over a mediocre Asian fusion dinner.
After dinner, we went to Tinseltown to watch The Aristocrats. It was one of the worst docu-movies I’ve ever watched.
The date ended pretty abruptly when the movie was over. I offered to drive him home, but he declined.
And that was my very ordinary first date.
We never did go to that corn maze or go sailing for our supposed “more exciting second date.” Thinking back, we never tried very hard. We never had to.
Filed under: Family Ties, My Weekend Pillows, Triumphs & Heartbreaks | Tags: coming out, gay, love
I really wish I would have a better relationship with my mother. Besides her being quite typically Chinese, she is a nice person. And I want her to be happy. Or at least not unhappy on my account. But she is.
Last night, my mom asked me if I hated her.
My answer to her was that it might not seem like it, but I don’t hate her. She asked me why I don’t talk to her, and she felt she didn’t know me anymore. I told her that we tend to argue a lot of the times we talk, and I would rather avoid the conflicts. While that’s partly true, what I really wanted to tell her was that I haven’t figured out a way to include her in my life without being completely honest with her.
And for that I’m sorry.
Maybe one day I can tell you why I don’t come home on Saturday nights. And when that day comes, all I can hope for is that you won’t hate me.
Filed under: Glitter & Sparkles, My Weekend Pillows | Tags: gay, love, nostalgia, online dating
Every once in a while, Pillows and I have a conversation where we trade in our usual sarcasm and witty banter for something more revealing, something more vulnerable. Tonight was one of those times.
For no particular reason other than random nostalgia, I was going through my past e-mails tonight. I remember the reason for creating this e-mail account, which I’m currently still using, for one reason: to meet guys.
And did I ever.
Pages among pages of e-mails detailing where to meet for coffee, what movie to watch, where each other lived, and how long it would take for me to drive over. I was 19 and confused and excited at the same time, even though I tried my hardest not to let on.
Then there were the intermittent e-mails from Steven, whose alliance I’ve had the utmost pleasure of having since elementary school. They were e-mails of forwarded dating profiles, pictures, and messages of guys that he was talking to, lusting after, or laughing at. But I digress.
All those e-mails, the earliest ones dating back to 2004, seemed like a lifetime ago. It was amusing reading some of the e-mails I wrote, to see how hard I tried to relate, and how desperately I wanted to belong.
It probably took about 6 months and 20 guys before I had myself convinced that I would have to settle for a lifetime of superficial guys and mediocre sexual activities.
And then, bear with me as I say this, Pillows came along. And to be honest, I didn’t peg him to be the love of my life. We had several e-mail exchanges before we met. I didn’t detect much other than a connection that felt a little bit more natural and a little bit more genuine than the others.
We finally met for the first time, and I was surprised, and a little bit offended, when he didn’t ask me to go home with him.
About 3 months in, when I had developed strange and wonderful feelings I had never felt before, I dropped the “L” word on him. And even then, at 20 and less cynical, I felt unnatural uttering that word. And ever since, I’ve only used that word sparingly, because when I say “I love you,” I don’t mean “see ya.” I don’t mean “do you love me too?”
When I say “I love you,” what I’m really saying is, “sorry, I failed to find better words to describe my tremendous affection, respect, admiration, care, and borderline unhealthy passion for you.”
Filed under: Doses of Cynicism, My Friends | Tags: cynic, imperfection, Jem, love, They, zombie
Humans are extremely unintelligent beings. We are so often governed by pretty much anything/anyone but ourselves. We are only too eager to give up the control, and therefore the responsibility, of making our own decisions, and being our own individual persons. Why are we so driven by outward approval? Why do we let other people define who we are? Are we all just zombies?
Some of the most amazing individuals I know turn into what I call “halflings” when they are dating or seeing somebody. Suddenly they are incapable of regular operations when they are by themselves. They have to eat together. They have to sleep together. And they have to spend every second away from each other on the phone with each other.
I see these people all too often, and I think to myself, “what a pity.” People say “love can make you blind,” but I think we are all too willing to gouge out our own eyes when any semblance of “love” is directed at us. I don’t believe there is a universal happy ending, so why is it that everyone is striving for the same cookie cutter ideals such as: marriage, offspring, pet, dinner parties, and game nights?
Who made up all the rules
We follow them like fools
Believe them to be true
Don’t care to think them throughÂ
Are we really that unimaginative? Or are we just lazy?
At this point, I should probably stress that I’m not an unhappy, bitter, lonely person. Well, the bitter part is perhaps up for further consideration, but I consider myself a very lucky person to have someone imperfect who loves me even for all my imperfections. I have imperfect parents who, after much trial and experimentation, still love me unconditionally. I have imperfect, impermanent, but consistent friendships with various different people at different moments in my life. I believe that these people have genuinely loved me when I needed love the most, and I’d like to believe that I loved them the best way I could when they needed me.
Sometimes I wish I could rise above it all, but I can’t.
