I don't like being treated as if I'm broken and in need of repair. The "friends" all seem to be choosing their own approaches to the break-up…some offer pity…some assign blame…and some simply stop talking when I enter a room.
The crazy thing is, most people blame me because I never told him that I loved him. But how can I be the asshole that doesn't show that he loves? In the next breath, they all swear that they know I loved him. Apparently I showed it; If they can see it, why couldn't he? And no one knows what happens behind closed doors, in-private…the quiet times we spent together before, or after, fucking. They've only seen what we let them see. True love cannot be found where it truly does not exist, nor can it be hidden where it truly does.
Mikey deserved the punch…and he knew it. But what he said (in the worst possible way and at the worst possible moment) was simply his way of expressing his love for me. Mikey isn't very bright…he's not very broad or deep…he's not very complicated. But Mikey has been the only source of unconditional love in my life…until Gus came along. When we were younger, he would wrap his bony arms around me and make me feel like a god. He's my only caretaker. When everyone else is pissed at me, Michael will be there. He's like a Labrador Retriever…not too bright…always begging for attention…but even when you ignore him, he's happy when you walk through the door.
Justin, on the other hand, is the only person who truly understands me…even better than I understand myself most of the time. For someone who has prided himself in his self-sufficiency and has cultivated the image of a loner, it's surprising how much I miss him. I miss his smell…his smile…his blend of youth and maturity…and his integrity, even though he broke the rules he made. Even though the loft seems suddenly, startlingly empty,
there are reminders of him everywhere. His food in the refrigerator…his files in the computer…the echoes of his music in the ceiling beams. I expect to see him when I turn around. I expect to hear his voice…his laughter.
I couldn't ask him to put my needs above his…or to be something he's not, just to make me happy. And, likewise, he couldn't expect the same. You find love, not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly. And he was always free to go…and so was I. How does that Chinese saying go?
" If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was."
We do not possess anything in this world, least of all other people. We only imagine that we do. Our friends, our lovers, our spouses, even our children are not ours; they belong only to themselves. Possessive and controlling friendships and relationships can be as harmful as neglect.
Of course, the comedian has added a few sentences to that proverb that aren't relevant in this situation, but could be.
"…But, if it just sits in your living room, messes up your stuff, eats your food, uses your telephone, takes your money and doesn't appear to realize that you had set it free......You either married it or gave birth to it."
Ownership destroys any relationship.
So am I through being the hero for Justin? Have I finished doing all of the things that Jennifer asked me to do…take him in, let him be touched, give him back his life? Has Rage saved J.T. for the last time?
The Justin look-alike hustler was my attempt to bring this chapter of my life to an end. I found him in the Pittsburgh-area chatroom of gay.com; the description sounded familiar… "blonde, long-haired twink with a smooth body and a bubble-butt. Yours for the night. Price negotiable." I didn't negotiate; I accepted his first proposal. Paying for sex means there are no expectations beyond the payment…no strings…no repeats…no entanglements. A
fuck is a fuck. With Justin, things got out-of-hand and went swirling out of control, so I never had a chance to say "goodbye" to him in the only language I know. The resemblance was close enough only to intensify my sadness… his shape, his skin, his hair...almost perfect...especially when I rolled him over… but a surrogate-fuck lacked the intensity to quell my desire for him. He could never "be" Justin. No one could.
I truly wish him well. I hope he gets what he wants. I wasn't being cynical when I said it. He's young…he has plenty of time to look.
"Oh! It were better far to die
Than thus for ever mourn and sigh,
And in death's dreamless sleep to be
Unconscious that none weep for me;
Eased from my weight of heaviness,
Forgetful of forgetfulness,
Resting from pain and care and sorrow
Thro' the long night that knows no morrow;
Living unloved, to die unknown,
Unwept, untended and alone."
(from "Sapho" by Christina Rosetti)
Justin
I woke up in Ethan's bed. It felt so strange. He felt so strange. It's funny how a person becomes accustomed to another person's scent and the texture of their skin. Ethan's is so totally different from Brian's. It was kinda scary waking up so disoriented. So many mornings for so long now, ever since I went to live with Brian after the bashing, the first thing my eyes have seen is the morning light reflecting on Brian's dark blue sheets and the sun streaming across his bedroom. No our bedroom. But it's not ours anymore. I guess it never really was. But god how I wanted it to be. Brian's and mine. I really thought he loved me. But I was just a convenient piece of ass for him. Someone handy to fuck when it suited him. While I was packing up the rest of my stuff from the loft I thought about all the places he'd fucked me. The bed, the shower, the lounge chair. Why were these the only images I could conjur? Why can't I remember the times we just sat quietly by the t.v. with my head resting on his shoulder? Why can't I remember sitting on the floor eating Thai food together? I feel so cheap. Like a piece of ass. Nothing more. I hate feeling that way and I hate HIM for making me feel that way. I saw him at the diner. We just looked at each other. Nothing said. What is there to be said? It was liked being kicked in the stomach. And I hate myself sometimes too. I made the rules and I broke them. But Brian didn't leave me any choice. If only once he had told me he loved me. Just once if I could have heard him say those three words to me. I was so fucking stupid to think he'd ever change for ME.
Then Mikey. I hate him most of all. He's been wanting me gone since the night I met Brian. I told him so when he followed me out back while I was emptying the garbage. Well he got his wish. I'm out of here. I threw off my apron and walked out. Fuck Mikey. Fuck Brian. Fuck the diner. I've got someone who wants to be with me and only me. I don't have to be Brian's boy toy anymore. I've got what I want. Or do I? Why am I so frightened? So unsure about the future? What if I'm wrong? Fuck ME No. I won't let myself think like this. I made my choice. I just couldn't take Brian's bullshit anymore.
Mel and Linds and Deb all told me they still love me. That I'm still apart of their family. They were really nice to Ethan too. But it still feels weird being around them and not being with Brian.
Brian. Everything and everyone revolves around Brian. There seems to be no getting away from him. I saw him at Mel & Lindsey's anniversary party. He came into the bathroom while I was peeing. I could feel my stomach tightening up. I'm so mad at him. I want to be over him. Yet it was all I could do to keep from throwing my arms around him. But I won't let myself think this way. I have a new life with Ethan and Brian Kinney is not going to spoil it for me.
He actually punched Mikey. I couldn't fucking believe it. I heard Mikey whining about something. I couldn't hear what. Next thing I know Brian hauls off and knocks him on his ass. It was weird. Everything was so weird. I just grabbed Ethan and walked out. I couldn't wait to get the fuck away from everyone.
I wonder if I'll ever find any peace here. Maybe I should take Mikey's advice and just disappear. No. I won't. I won't let Mikey or Brian or anyone else spoil my relationship with Ethan. I'll show all of them. We'll be the happiest fucking fag couple in Pittsburgh. Then Brian will be sorry he treated me the way he did.
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