Am I? Life of a man (1/3)

7-14yo

Am I? Life of a happy gay man. But then it would probably clash with the way I want it to end. So I changed the title.

The words that will follow on the next three posts are not for the faint-hearted. It’s also not a shout for help. It’s the story that made me who I am today, and something that I have been sharing with people around me on the last few years, as I felt that this one part of the circle has completed its trajectory.

It starts when I was about 7 years old. People sometimes asked me (or maybe even ask the walls or maybe just keep the questions inside their brains): when did you find out you were gay? I’ve never “find out”. I maybe ignored the signs or tried to fight it, just to avoid putting on my forehead a label hat I knew the society I was born into would be against it.

I was put on a fight with one of my dad’s friend’s son, just to measure who was more macho. I hadn’t asked for it. I didn’t want to prove it. I didn’t want to move my skinny arms to hit somebody. I’ve never, and will never, believe that violence proves anything. I’ve always been better that. And I definitely did not ask for a bleeding nose. But it was fun, to be the clown for those straight married guys watching it and for the stupid of the boy who hit me.

There, or roundabout there it started. Mostly sure I did not want to marry, have kids and ask my kids to be hitting their friends in order for them to become someone accepted in their group of friends. And I also did not want to become one of those dads. Society for me, in that way, was not welcoming. So I secluded myself in my bedroom, never really trusted anyone with any secrets, as they could be the next one to hit me on the nose when needed. My best friend, and the one who would hear all my prays and histories was an imaginary one. I called him Jesus. He was there for me every 5:40am in the morning when I religiously used to wake up to be the first one in the queue at 6:15am at school (and later in the years also for escaping from the bullies who would turn up at 6:50am). He would also be there when I used to run to be one of the first to leave school, so again, I could avoid all the bullying. I had no idea, for most of those years, what sex was. And how was I supposed to know or label myself straight or gay or whatever when I hadn’t even tried?

The same bullies used to date some of my girl friends. And, again, I did not want to become one of them. And, to be fair girls, I’m apologise in advance for what I will write now: from my point of view, my girl friends used to fall in love only with the pricks. So, in my head, if I want to be loved by a female, I would need to be a prick. I had made a decision I didn’t want to be a prick (not at that age at least, but that will come). So, if I can’t be a prick, I can’t be loved by a female, but I want to be loved.

On the same subject of analysing male-female relationships, OMG. I have seen and heard so much about cheating, domestic violence, divorce etc etc. And if that is “love” in the straight world, would you really chose that? (If that was a choice, of course). And then nowadays I still hear people saying “gay are so promiscuous”. Are we? Or have we just have the guts to not hide what we feel/live?

And that’s when I say: I didn’t choose to be gay(and to be fair I can’t say I won’t ever marry a woman). Circumstances of when I was growing up might have helped me have a preference for having a relationship with men and, also, being rude and crude with the length of my possible relationships if I see any early signs of cheating, lying, violence, lack of attention & commitment.

In that stage of my life, I turned myself to my studies. 99% of right answers would make me cry because I was 1% less than perfection. During those years, I’ve also fallen in love a few times: Elvira (?), Sabrina, Francielly, Fernanda and…. I also started playing volleyball for the city, after a friend of mine forced me to go to the last day of trials. I must admit I was quite chuffed from entering a “all positions filled” team, to leave 2 hours after as the captain of the same team. I was not sorry for that who lost his position with me coming in… and “P”. No, “P” was not the one who lost the position. He was the first guy that I felt something close to “love”…

 

 

Advertisements