Bleeding In Love

Oh, how quickly the tides change...

My life it seems has always transpired along a series of highs and lows. Either is everything going wonderfully or I’m in the midst of some calamity, be it physically, mentally, financially or emotionally. There’s never a middle ground.

 Thirty days ago I had a boyfriend, a disposable income, a hoppin’ social life, tons of friends I spent time with on the regular and a job I was increasingly falling in love with. Now I no longer have a boyfriend, I’m facing eviction, an emptied checking account due to a massive decrease in hours at both my jobs, a dwindling list of companions I see every couple of months, the threat of unemployment every week because I happen to be trained in a disappearing craft and I now seem to harbor an overall since of defeat.

You begin to notice the signs of depression when you alone have eaten an entire cheesecake in less then a week.

Though my situation may be bleak I still recognize that it could always be worse. I, at least for the moment, still have a job, unlike many others. (Shout out to Julia. I know you’ll land on your feet soon hon! You’re too brilliant not too.) So, I won’t bore you with the details of the list above, except for the continuing disaster that has become my love life, for which this blog has specifically become a sounding board for.

As many of you know I’ve been dating someone pretty seriously for the past two months. (We’ll simply refer to him as Mr. J.). J. is a 24-year-old recent OSU grad currently working as a telephone receptionist for a major banking conglomerate. He’s a bit of a Jesus freak (attending church every Sunday, and often tried to “lead me back to the alter,” as he’d call it), however, I must admit his conviction was more attractive then annoying, and his sassy attitude and confident demeanor tempered his church boy persona. He’s tall, he’s gorgeous. He was perfect.

We met online, per usual, right before New Year’s and hit it off right away. A few dates later we were cuddling on my couch on the regular and planning vacations to Atlanta’s Pride celebrations this summer, and making reservations for Valentine’s Day. However there was one problem. Though, I was indeed falling for Mr. J., he had already fell for me, and hard, or so he’d say.

Only two weeks after our first in-person date J. had already said those three precious words. I was taken utterly aback. Could you really be in love with someone after a couple weeks? I told him I cared for him deeply but I wasn’t ready to take that next step. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to love him I just didn’t know how to. J. is the 11th guy I’ve dated, but the first person I’ve ever saw myself being with for the long run, more then a man-of-the-moment.

After two more weeks of dating bliss, late nights out, later mornings in, cuddling, passionate kisses and intimate embraces, one night while spooning to a movie that was watching us more then we were watching it, he said those three words again and I hesitated. Next thing I know the he turns cold and we end up sleeping in different rooms. The next morning I was accused of “playing with his feelings” and he decided that it be better off if we ended things. Just as I was falling for him, I was dumped.

So, I did what any (wo)man scorned would do, I cried into the shoulders of my best friends and went on a weekend drinking spree (one of the most fun weekends of my life, btw, lol). Anywho, the next day J. came to his senses and begged me to come back, claiming he knew he’d made a mistake the minute he got out of the car. And against my better judgment I took him back, but warned him that he was on probation.

So, a few more weeks pass and we become closer then ever, I start to believe that this is it, it’s finally happening, I’ve found him. Stupid me.

The night before Valentine’s Day he brings me a huge homemade cheesecake he’s made himself, a stuffed animal and chocolates, and for my gift I’m planning to take him to Brio, his favorite restaurant, the next day. I’ve made reservations and everything. This is also the night were I finally get up the nerve to say those three words. And I actually meant them. I had fallen, even harder then he had, now that I think about it. We then spend all night in each others embrace. (I’ll spare you the details.) Though picturesque, my fairytale came crashing to a burning halt less then 24 hours later.

The next day J. calls and cancels dinner, saying he’s too tired from our all-night romp and wanted to just catch a late movie and do another night in, which I’m actually totally cool with. It was my first time having a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day, we could’ve spent it with my parents, at church and I would’ve been thrilled. Anywho, J. never shows. No call. Nothing. I begin blowing up his phone, hysterical, thinking he’s dead. A week goes by, he still hasn’t even as much as Myspaced me. I’ve become resigned to fact that my heart has been broken, but still need some sort of closure. What did I do wrong for him to disappear on me? So, I get up the nerve to call him. The conversation has been dictated below:

“Ring”

“Hello,” he says.

“Hello?” I reply in a bit of shock.

Long pause. I panic. I wasn’t expecting him to answer. I had my speech written out and everything. Yes, it’s pathetic, I know.

“You there?” He asked.

“Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting you to answer.”

Longer, more awkward pause.

“So, do you want to explain why I haven’t heard from you in a week, and why you stood me up on Valentine’s Day?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really have an explanation, no one deserves to have that happen to them,” he says in a complete deadpanned tone, with the TV droning in the background. “I knew what I did was awful and I was scared to call you the next day and then after a while realized you’d probably not want to be with me anymore anyway so…” He trails off.

“I see,” is all I can muster. This conversation isn’t going at all liked I planned. “You do realize that I can no longer be with someone who is capable of doing what you did.”

“Yeah, I know, I wouldn’t want to be with me either.”

“So, I guess this is goodbye then.” I stutter. “I guess all there’s left to say is that I’m sorry it’s ending this way. I thought we really had something special.”

“It’s a lot deeper then you think.”

“Okay? Well, you said you didn’t want to explain, so I really don’t have much to go off of. What does ‘a lot deeper’ mean?”

“It has a lot to do with the way we were each raised,” he begins. “We just come from very different backgrounds.”

“What does that mean? You mean our church backgrounds?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you stopped talking to me because I don’t go to church?” My voice raises a bit as I finally find my backbone.

“No, it’s has nothing to do with you, it’s all me,” he counters.

“Oh I see, you stopped talking to me because you were in a gay relationship while in the church.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This dude is breaking up with me because he thinks he isn’t gay!? Bullshit! (If you met him you’d agree)

“So, are you saying you really didn’t love me?”

“You didn’t really love me either.”

This answer pushes me over the edge.

“Uh, yes I did,” I said raising my voice.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I’m not going to argue with you J,” I practically yell. “I loved you. Very much, I might add. But if it makes you sleep better at night, please, be my guest and believe that lie.”

“Whatever.”

“‘Whatever,’” I say holding back tears. “After all this, all I get is a ‘whatever.’ That’s fine. Well, like I said, this is goodbye. Goodbye J.”

He begins to stutter a response but I hang up the phone.

Once again I find myself in emotional ruin over a guy I’ve only been with a few months. Eleven strike outs in three years is a bit much. It’s time something changed. It’s time everything changed. It’s time I stop trying to find fulfillment in men and start finding fulfillment within myself, in every aspect of my life. It’s time I stop eating like I’m 12 and dating like I’m 16. It’s time I grew up.

Instead of spending another weekend crying I decided to enact these changes right away. I called up the local LGBT center, Stonewall Columbus, and submitted a volunteer application. They are responsible for the enormous Pride Festival here every summer and are offer a ton of AIDS awareness and youth mentoring programs. Surrounding myself in a more positive and selfless LGBT atmosphere sounded like a good first step.

I’m also changing my diet and…wait for it…staring to work out. Ahh! Lol. As many of you know my fridge is usually filled with frozen pizzas, bologna and microwavable buffalo wings. I started this low-fat diet thingy, ordered some cookbooks off Amazon.com, and bought some Tae Bo DVDs. Though every muscle in my body is aching, they’re actually pretty fun.

I’ve also jumped on the self-help band wagon (I know, I know). I purchased a few gay-specific self-help books. Maybe some new-fangled psychiatrist will have a better approach to the gay love life. (You’re also welcome to supply your own psychiatric evaluations in the comments section below, lol.)

Yes, I know this all sounds a bit over-ambitious, but I’m going for it. Maybe if it works I can be on one of those Tae Bo infomercials with my “before” and “after” photos or get a book deal and start a spinoff franchise called “Dude, He’s Just Not That Into You,” with LGBT-speciftic diet and love advice. The possibilities are endless! Lol. (Please note the sarcasm in that last statement.) I’ll be sure to keep you all posted on my progress. I’m sure you’ll be dying to see those sexy “after” photos, lol.

Anywho, here’s to a life changed for the better. Hopefully.

Until next time,

~D.A. Steward