We volunteered at a soup kitchen on Thanksgiving at a new place that had just purchased their property—so they really needed the help. We stayed for the dedication—it was very touching.
I met some new folks through my friends although no one I think I’ll be in touch with afterwards.
I wanted to focus in particular on being grateful this time around. The soup kitchen sucked in a lot of ways—it was dilapidated. The people were not pro’s and inefficient. The heat wasn’t on yet, and the supplies were beyond basic—even for a soup kitchen. It was almost third worldish.
I didn’t like it that much—so the other side of me loved it. I kept reminding myself why I was doing this. I hate narcissism, and I want to work my way out of it.
Two of my friends really enjoyed it. One sort of didn’t. Although I hated it, I still kept a chipper expression and attitude—for real too.
Friday was spent chilling with old close friends—these were conversations that needed to take place and they unfortunately were not at clubs or watering holes. I haven’t talked in person with most of them since coming out and I needed to adjust the relationships so things could be normal but different.
Saturday I shopped till there was not a stone left unturned. My friend with whom I stayed is a small town girl, who’s in a serious relationship with a big city super rich guy. Describing her as “awkward” is a compliment. She desperately needed an orientation to the city as well as a make over. Her guy is awesome and is with her for the right reasons as opposed to superficial ones. However, he has expressed reservations about how she would fit in if she were to join him for more public events. I decided to do some extra community service and introduced her to all the major department stores—figured out which make up lines would work for her, got her the right products she needed to make her skin flawless perpetually, and picked out for her several pieces including a gown.
I was sort of shocked at how clueless she was. I didn’t think girls came out that way any more. She didn’t know what it meant to “complement” colors that “accentuate”. She literally thought colors were meant to “match” as in “exact” terms. This maxim explained her crazy wardrobe.
I drew up her blueprint—the basic fundamentals about herself that would allow her to learn more about her features and figure out how to look stunning effortlessly. I never really realize just how crazy I am at doing so until I compare notes with someone else. I sort of do this type of thing in the back of my head constantly and unconsciously. She was very pleased with the results.
We went clubbing that evening and it sucked so bad. I guess we hit all the wrong spots or something but we tried three different places with ridiculous covers. The last one was still bad. We hit the dance floor and she said—this is soo weird. We had just talked about this so I was wondering why she was bringing this up again. No she said, everyone is staring at you. Oh—shit. I sort of hate when that happens and I am not staring at others to the point where I notice what’s going on.
Yea I wasn’t really interested in anyone. I didn’t understand why since the town was a big one. I should’ve found at least a few. The dance floor was large, and there were multiple bars. I noticed I had an attitude, so I got drunk and tried to drop it. It sort of worked.
Right when I was going to make a move on this guy, someone reaches around me and grabs me by the waist. He whispers into my ear, his warm breath and firm but gentle grasp immediately softens me up. The alcohol was kicking in too. “You remind of the guy I first fell in love with,”—a great line if you want to appeal to someone’s narcissism without being shallow. I didn’t reply but didn’t break away. “Not because of the way you look he says but because of the way you move and dress—you are gay right?” The question sort of dumb struck me. “Of course,” he quipped. I still hadn’t seen this guy’s face I just knew he was really tall.
“From where was he?” I asked and finally turned to him. He named the area—haha. That’s where I was from. So then I asked him where he was from. Near by place. He asked me where I was from—I told him. “Oh that’s why you dress that way” he said.
Where did you go to hs he asked. I told him. He went to one of our rival schools. I asked if he wanted to go sit on one of the couches. I just wanted to make out with somebody. He said he had to go soon. I was soo drunk. I said that I had a friend with whom I had to leave. He said, lets go outside and smoke. We did. He was a dork. He couldn’t converse really well. He asked why I had to go back with my friend. I said she’s been really nice to me the whole weekend. He said, by brining you here? I said, she’s a good person—they are hard to find. Shit I was drunk.
I wasn’t very interested in him. I said I was going back in side. He said good luck.
I got back inside and the dude I wanted to hit on was no where in sight. I looked and looked, but he was no where to be found. I also noticed that about 2/3’s of the club had left since going out to smoke.
Shit there was apparently this 10min window when everyone found someone and left. The club wasn’t closing though for a while. I kept looking for my dude. Instead, I got randomly fondled by these roaming guys. It was sick—I was about to knock a few out—they were fucken insane as they kept feeling me up despite me repelling their hands the first time around.
I grabbed my friend and left. The next morning I was sooo bummed out. I really wanted to find someone to crush on and end the whole Asian boy foolishness. No such fucken luck. Gawd—I wanted it soo bad too. Someone normal and gay who I could be really into.
The next day I finally met up with my female Asian best friend. She took me to a reading that she was really into—however, I wasn’t. She asked me what I thought afterwards. We were invited to chill with the speaker. I obliged but then the speaker ditched us in a very clever way.
We went and had dinner alone. She inquired my opinion about the reading again. I felt bad but I was just honest. She was scared. I tore the thing to shreds very quickly. I however picked out two essential pieces I felt were crucial for the world and noted that the author’s mission was vital. She was pleased and said that’s why she was into it.
I could’ve skipped the whole bull shit part—but I knew that she knew that I was assessing everything. She would know if I omitted shit. Plus, I thought she would get something out of my criticism. I was too harsh though. Too unforgiving. I regret that in writing now. I should be more compassionate for the emotions of others.
We sat down for dinner and discussed love and my decision regarding coming out. We talked about her recent visit with her ex and all that it meant to her. He wasn’t Asian—that was keeping her from being with him. I said—it wasn’t her parents? She said she had made that up. I said, well, you fooled the world and me. She said that she fooled her self as well.
She said that he had asked about me. She said that he had liked me. I said, I thought he was cool too—as in like for real. She made the mistake of mentioning that he asked why she never talked about me that much anymore.
I had stopped talking to her after she slandered me to a mutual friend – ending that friendship for me. She had done so b/c she had been threatened by the fact that he and I would hit it off. The whole debacle was mysterious. Only two reasons could make sense. Nevertheless, I forgave her and started calling her again after I got over it.
I said, did you tell your ex why I stopped calling. She had lied to him. Aaah. Okay. She said how he saw through her often and helped her become a better person. She was right. He was a great guy who emotionally spoiled her and she is a bitch to him. It’s good she admits it nonetheless—she’s good therefore.
I brought up Asian Boy. She hesitated. She tried to convince me that he wasn’t into me—but her attempts were too desperate to prove worthwhile. I said, he asks about me, and notices when I’m not around. She sort of freaked at that one.
I said she must have issues about me hitting on one of her own. She didn’t reply right away. I said, come out with it now. You are in love with a non-Asian but want to marry an Asian. I am hitting on one of your own who is seemingly and convincingly confused. I know you disapprove and have feelings with regards to it. She conceded to my statements.
So—??? She described to me how she evades attention from people she doesn’t like, and she thinks Asian boy has been trying to do that with me. A cop out. She gave me an example of someone she lied to in order to terminate a conversation. I said okay—why did you so? She said for stupid reasons. I said clearly but what were the stupid reasons? He was white. Oh shit I thought. We’ve been over this before—I can see why she had resisted bringing this up the whole dinner.
Yea—she’s racist—towards anyone who’s not Asian. I don’t know how she deals with me. She conceded.
Still, it didn’t quite answer the question of her annoyance with me and Asian boy. I queried. She said—you’re killing him with kindness. So—what of it?, I said. That might get to him she replied.
I queried some more—so? That might burst his bubble she said. OH—? Why’s this a big deal?
I don’t want you to burst his bubble as much as I don’t want anyone to burst my own bubble about the things I don’t like about myself and am recalcitrant to change, she finally said. Aaah.
I said I was a great person to burst someone’s bubble. I would endeavor to not be caustic. I wouldn’t fuck him without regard. I wouldn’t break his heart, but I’d let him break mine because I think I could take it. Most of all, I said—there is a near fool proof certainty that nothing will happen as a result of my interactions with him. He is locked in
She said that everything I had just said meant so much—more than I knew.
Finally, I drove to my point. I said—I want to understand what it means to be a man. You see I said—this kid does not have many of the things I always thought fucked me up. He has a stable and small family. His parents are of the same background. There are no clear marks of volatile change in his upbringing. Still he seems to battle many of the same issues with which I wrestle. He is like my previous “Billy Budd”—ideal in many ways and yet apparently equally tragically flawed as rest of us on the inside.
Cleary being a man does not mean being attracted to a woman. That took a fucken long while to figure out. So what is it? Clearly certain “backgrounds” do not bestow relational health. So—from where do these gender and relational insecurities spring such that they plague not only me but others who are vastly different from me as well?
I am basically attempting to answer these question both directly and indirectly by pursuing these petty endeavors with confused and fence-sitting boys. I doubt I can succeed much. This ineffective modus operandi will soon have to change and I am proceeding with those steps currently. But I wanted her to know my intentions. She felt relieved and my summary sufficed for her. It was all in her facial expression. We flipped the channel on our conversation a few more times before concluding.
We parted with a hug, and she said she wanted to see me again soon.
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