Good News

Gonna have to change my blog name next week, cause HH and I are getting married!


Letting go, for good

OK, so this post today is inspired by an article in the NY Times that I came across: A Kite That Couldn’t Be Tied Down.  Go ahead and read that first.  It’s quick and easy and heart-wrenching.  I’ll wait.

See?  Wasn’t it beautiful?  And it got me to thinking a whole lot about this process that all humans go through at some point.  The falling in love for the first time thing.  How crystal clear everything surrounding that time is, how utterly perfect in all it’s hindsight.  And I take it a little further in thinking that a certain aspect of this phenomenon is unique to being gay, because in addition to falling in love for the first time, it’s the ‘who’ we are falling in love with that tells us something entirely new about ourselves.  So not only are we having the butterflies and the swooning, but the whole “Holy shit, I’m in love with a girl” dilemma as well.

But I truly think the thing about this article that struck me the most was that the author, in some way, was looking for some affirmation that she had affected the other person in some way as well.  That what those two people went through together meant something, to both of them.   The fact that her heart skipped a beat when she saw that the object of her affection had felt something on that day, flying a kite in Tienanmen Square, gave meaning to it all.  She had made a difference that had been recognized by someone else.

And of course, all of this, leads to me thinking about my own experiences with my first falling in puppy love episode, which was also my “Oh shit, it’s a girl” moment.   And how I, much like this author, fell hard and fast without much awareness as to what was actually happening to me other than the fleeting thought of  “I wonder why I ONLY want to spend time with L.”  And then she kissed me, and I knew for a concrete fact why I wanted to spend all my time with her.  But again, much like this author, the object of my obsession would inevitably pull away from me and show up with some boyfriend, acting as though what had happened between us was nothing much, when, to me, she was crushing my heart at every turn.

And for the next 3 years, I would remain her “BFF”, while not-so-secretly pining for her, to no avail.  But whenever she would feel me start to slip away, she would have some way to bring me back; brush my hair behind an ear, hold my  hand while we were driving and a few times would even grace me with some kisses and my heart would soar.  But it was always followed by the inevitable drop of my heart, when, if I tried to kiss her again, not on her terms, I would be rejected.  It was the most vicious roller-coaster ride I’ve ever been on.   And eventually, I wizened up enough to make myself get off of this nauseating ride, because no one was keeping me on it but myself.

“The only thing worse than losing her was the realization that I’d never had her.”

And right here, the point that I’ve been trying to get to, is the wondering that has always nagged at me.  The wondering if I had as profound an effect on her life as she had on mine.  And the back of my head knows that the answer has always been No.  That she did love me, in some way, but she was never in love with me.  That yes, I was a good friend with occasional benefits for those few years, but in the end, I was disposable.  And the event that drove us apart for good, was unforgivable to me.  And this is something that I almost never talk about, but I think I have to just write it down, so I can just release it, once and for all.  The thing that drove us apart was that I was raped, in her house, by her brothers best friend, and she did not believe me.  She sided with him, who took something from me that can never be returned, and said that I had lied about it.  And this betrayal, from her, has hurt me more than the actual event that she denied.  There was no going back to her after that.  So I had loved her, and she didn’t even have the courtesy to believe in something that no woman would ever joke about happening.

(*Deep breath*)

He had hurt my body, which is easily healed, and my mind, which took longer, but healed nonetheless.  But she hurt my very heart, which also eventually healed, but not without a reminder in scar form.  And, in a way, these actions on her part caused me to be much more cautious with my heart in the years that would follow.  Almost too cautious, since there was a small period of time where I almost didn’t let HH into my heart.  But I came to realize that everybody wasn’t like L, and that I was worthy of someone who would love me back.

So I guess, in hindsight, she had an effect on the path my life took.  And I’ve always wondered if I had the same affect on her.  But really, it doesn’t matter anymore, so I’m going to let it go.  Yes, it’s part of my past, but it’s also an unchangeable event.  It is what it is and all that jazz.  In some twisted way, it’s led me to my life today and how happy I am with HH and I just have to be grateful for the experience.  But the wondering is stopping today.  It’s over.

I think the author of the article sums things up perfectly with her closing line so I’m going to steal it: “There are so many fruits in the world; we can’t remember exactly who introduced us to what. But we never forget who showed us that there were, indeed, more fruits to discover than we’d ever realized.”

Without Words

Ok, this is just a bit out of my comfort zone, but I’m gonna get over myself and pull on my big girl panties and post it anyway.  It’s another HH drabble from back in the day.  But there’s no shame in my game, because she still makes me feel this way, 8 years later.  This is the one I was talking about in the Words post.  I didn’t end up asking her if I could post it.  I’m just gonna hope that she won’t be mad that I wanted to tell the world what she does to me.  Ok, I’m gonna go hide now.


I’ve just found the proper pen to convey what I need to say.  There’s just a certain something about the way you look at me just then.  A certain something that I cannot place, yet drives me mad.  My handwriting even feels sexier somehow, just thinking about it.  And you’re not even near but I can feel you.  I feel you melt the rest of the world away so quickly.  Your breath floods my senses.  They perceive nothing outside your body.  They have forgotten anything else exists at all.  And I love when your eyes devour me, from across the room.  Like the first night I wore that slinky blue thing, I was so much more nervous than I seemed.  But your eyes calmed me.  So intense.  I had to look away.  Then your shy and quiet grin, as if to ask, “For me?”  Your touch then, even through the silk, was electric.  It sent your current all through me.  The second you touch me, I want you.  And my body knows it.  My awareness of being watched lets me know that you notice.  You notice everything.  My breathing, my movements, how I hold you, how I grab you, how I dig my fingers in your back.  How could you not notice?  Then the torrential downpour of kisses, leaving me breathless and swimming in the puddle of myself.  My neck prickles with even your slightest breath.  And though I’d never say it, I love the torture of it.  To feel myself writhe to escape you and your grip tighten to entrap me further.  I could never stop you.  Or perhaps I just wouldn’t.  And I love when I feel you want me just as bad.  That my body is the only glove suitable for your lovely hand to wear.  Sometimes I see the look in your eyes that tells me you wait, simply to hear me ask and breathe “Please”.  The wicked grin that ensues is maddening.  I feed half off your actions and half off your reactions.  I cannot take my eyes off you.  I feel your hands on my legs, the back of my thighs, slowly.  As you take in the view, I wait for you.  Then there is the something.  The something that makes me mistake your name for God’s and I shake, hold you with all that I have left.  And your devilish smile, not letting me go.  I can’t even see your lips, but I know it’s there.  And the sweet kiss that comes after, as I hold your face, look into your eyes and tell you I love you, without words.

A little more leakage

Today I share 3 poems/writings from the very beginning of my relationship with HH.  I will only preface this by saying that HH and I had a tough beginning, as we started out as friends and were both with other people.  We made some stupid decisions back then, and hurt others and ourselves in the process.  I regret the hurt we caused, but I will never regret the outcome.


1/20/02 – 4:26am

The light seems to have

    lost itself in you.

Your eyes,

    your hair,

        your smile.

It reflects off of everything

    and back to you.

It cannot escape your grasp.

    Like me,

       in a way.

I keep bouncing off,

    yet finding myself returning to you.

Like a boomerang,

    I throw myself away

       and return every time

    like I don’t know how

       to do anything else.

And I don’t know if I


        but I’m inexplicably drawn.

The light is definitely lost in you.

    Perhaps it is that light,

       in you,

           that I search for.


I walked around in the supermarket,


        for an hour,

    wondering what you would want

         if I cooked you dinner,

    in our house,

        somewhere in the future.

Or if I wrote a song,

     what words you would

          want it to have.

I don’t know anything about you,

     but I know enough.



You sleep here,

    cocooned in my bed,

       so peacefully

    as I watch you.

And I am content

     just to hear you breathe.

I want to kiss

    where your hair

       meets your neck

    but I do not.

I do not want to disturb you.

    My love.

Love is admiring from afar

    for now,

       knowing that when you wake,

     it will be in my arms.