My Own Way

Growing up, I didn’t have the guidance that a lot of people had. I didn’t have a father figure that invested time into the well-being of his son. He and I never saw eye to eye on anything. He didn’t know how to handle a son who couldn’t catch a ball at two years old and I still don’t know how to handle a fuck up of a father. He always preferred my sisters over me and I always wanted to confront him about it, but I never did. I was left to make my own observation and assumptions as to why he never showed any affection.

Growing up, I had a very supportive mom. She’s the most hard-working and loving lady that I’ve met and I’ve tried to base who I am around her. She’s my hero. I have a kindergarten view of my mom: she’s a super hero. She’s my role model. She and I had our arguments, but they were over silly things like dish washing and condoms. I look up to my mom mainly because she almost raised three children by herself, but that’s not all. She raised three children in a country, in a culture, that is completely different than where she grew up. She always had questions about why things were the way they were (or are, as she still has questions). She turned to me to answer any questions she had, and when we couldn’t think of the answer, we at least tried to understand why things were.

Growing up, I didn’t know my grandparents. After the age of five until this point in time, I only saw my grandparents twice, and that’s only from my father’s side. I haven’t seen my mom’s mom since 1995. I always hear friends, classmates, and coworkers talk about how their grandparents are amazing for fighting in wars or for living through unimaginable situations. In contrast, here’s what I know of my grandparents: My mom’s mom is in a constant state of apology with my mom, always saying how she regrets not showing enough affection. My father’s mom has elbows that stick out and she can hardly walk. She also passed down her hair characteristics to me. My father’s dad is dead. I never heard stories of how things were "in the old days" or "back in my day…." I usually just paint a picture of what they could have lived through in my mind, but I never know if it’s right.

Growing up, everyone wanted to hear what I had to say. In first grade I wrote a story about my teddy bear. My teacher published it and had me read it to the school district staff. They ate up my story and even commented on how they wish they had a magical teddy bear like mine. In third grade all my classmates listened to me when I explained my Mexican culture and heritage even though they ended up making fun of me afterward. During middle school my friends listened to me when I struggled with my sexuality. Two in particular craved to know why I had the feelings I did back then. I couldn’t give them a straightforward answer, so I thought of different factors as to why I’m gay (it doesn’t matter what I said, I was probably wrong. I still don’t know).

Growing older taught me that making assumptions, trying to understand the unknown, creating answers in my mind, and expressing myself is crucial for me to live a good life. Even if it’s a lie or a fabrication of my imagination, having something concrete to think and believe in is alright.

Maturing taught me that all of the above is a lie.

I didn’t talk much to LoGan from mid-November up until mid December. He brought it up to me on a car ride once. I told him that I wasn’t purposefully avoiding him. But when he doesn’t like being around people in altered states of mind, I couldn’t ask him to come hang out with me. During this time I bought weed twice and made it as last as possible, which ended up in being about a whole month or so. Instead of having to pretend around him I just didn’t include him. Alternatively, I spent most of my time with people that I could be around without repercussions.  I wasn’t judged for it, and they didn’t mind. It’s something we all enjoyed doing, together or apart.

It’s not like I didn’t want to hang out with LoGan. But I was getting tired of not getting what I wanted, which was ridding myself of any romantic feelings I had for him. And how does a human being forget about things? By getting incredibly drunk or very, very high. I chose the latter. I thought it had worked, and I thought it was safe to start spending time with him again.

He left for a week after school ended to visit his sister. I’m not gonna lie, I missed the guy during that time. The actual day he left I figured I’d ask him to hang out, but the quick realization that he was hours away dissipated that thought. As soon as he came back I tried to hang out with him. We played games, we went out to dinner, and I eventually convinced him to get Mario Kart 7 so that we could play a game together when we’re not… well, together. All was okay with the world.

Kenneth showed up unexpectedly a couple of nights ago to show me his new hair, which, bee tee dubs, is possibly the most atrocious hair I’ve ever seen in my life. I could describe it but I"d be wasting precious character space. Ken and I ended up watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show, as he had never seen it. I think I fell asleep near the end because I woke up to the menu on repeat and Ken tickling my back under my shirt. He was shirtless. He then proceeded to kiss my neck, my back, my obliques. Eventually we both ended up nude on my bed. Ken would press his lips against my chest and then my throat. The thought of Ken eventually reaching my lips kind of grossed me out and I knew he was going to try. I kept turning my head to try and give the hint that I didn’t want him kissing my lips.

He decided to take that hint and completely ignore it as he forcefully grabbed my head and made my lips touch his. But they weren’t his anymore. They were LoGan’s. I found myself with eyes shut tight picturing LoGan on my bed beside me, under me, above me, etc. And Kenneth disappeared. LoGan was kissing me. I was alright with that.

I woke up the next morning and stared at the ceiling. I turned and saw Kenneth sleeping, his really ugly hair falling in all sorts of directions around his face. I stared back at the ceiling. I couldn’t believe what happened. One, I thought I could keep any images or thoughts of and about LoGan to strictly a friend level. Two, I had given in to temptation of a penis. Three, I created a fantasy LoGan and used Kenneth’s body and actions to falsely obtain a reality.

In other words:
-What I once thought is not true.
-I led someone to believe something that’s not true.
-I used someone for my personal benefit… twice.

I fell back asleep and was woken up later in the day by having Ken’s dick digging into my ass. We went at it again, and in the end all I could think of was "… I need to shower." I felt disgusting. I scrubbed and scrubbed everything to get the LoGan/Kenneth off of me. I couldn’t believe it. What happens in movies and television shows just happened to me. Incredible.

I got out of the shower and confronted Kenneth, who was still naked in my covers. I’m sure I made him uncomfortable when I asked him why he comes over. "Umm, I come over to hang out with you! You’re adorable!"

I asked him the s

ame question again. "Oh, you silly."

Eventually I called him out on the fact that he only texts me when he’s horny. I pointed out the fact that not once did he actually take the time to know who I was, where I came from, what I liked, and all the rest. I felt confident enough in pointing out those things because I was in the same position. Ken has really old parents, likes Vanilla Coke, doesn’t do anything to his eyebrows, and has another friend here in town but hasn’t talked to her in a long time. That’s all useless trivia. I couldn’t win The Newlywed Game with that information.

I told Ken that I would be just fine if he didn’t come around for sex anymore, and if there was actually something else that he wanted to get from me he’d have to try much, much harder. I proceeded to say that I didn’t see him as more than an acquaintance, let alone a friend. I told him I don’t find his personality or what he has to say as interesting. And I ended things with "I have to get ready for work." 

I felt horrible. I could tell Ken was a bit taken aback, too. He didn’t say much on his way out, but he did hurry out of here. I sat down to straighten my hair. All I thought of was how Ken probably thought I was a dick that used him. I felt that way. I still feel that way. I feel Ken is very hurt. But I shouldn’t assume. I shouldn’t assume anymore.

An hour after Ken left LoGan asked me if I wanted to go have lunch with him. He initially asked if I wanted to accompany him on his excursion to purchase snowboarding gear. I thought maybe being with a friend would help me feel better. Friends are therapeutic. But not this time.

The first thing LoGan did was ask me about a guy named Kevin that works at my old job. I told him I didn’t know who this Kevin guy is. They’ve been texting each other after someone kind of sort of introduced them to each other-ish. I asked LoGan if he had a picture. I hadn’t seen him before, but he looked young. LoGan told me he was nineteen. I didn’t ask LoGan about it, but I assumed that they would meet eventually by the way he spoke of Kevin. Kevin likes video games. LoGan likes video games. That doesn’t sound familiar at all.

The first mention of Kevin sent a surge of jealousy through my body. It was at that instant moment that I knew, for a fact, that all the illegal consumption of marijuana that I had done three weeks prior did nothing for me. My attraction to LoGan was there, and it was blatantly pointed out by Kenneth that I didn’t miss the body, but rather the person.

During lunch, LoGan stated that I kept staring out into space. I told him that I asked Ken not to come around anymore and that made me feel like shit. It wasn’t until later through a Facebook message that I admitted to LoGan that I thought of him while fucking Kenneth, and then kicking him out. His response was unsettling. I couldn’t tell if he was upset or confused or happy or surprised or disgusted. I figured it could have been all those things, but seeing as how there is no definite answer, I’ll leave it at what he gave me: "Thanks for sharing."

Today I worked while LoGan went snowboarding with a couple of friends. When he came back he asked me to go to Denny’s but quickly canceled when something came up. I knew what that "something" was, and I didn’t assume. I had a gut feeling. So I asked him about it. I asked him if he planned on getting together with Kevin tonight. LO AND BEHOLD, I was correct, but due to conflicting schedules, they chose another time. I then told LoGan that if he still wanted to go to Denny’s I was still down.

We go to Denny’s. Heidi, our server, tells us about the most recent happenings in her life, which was very amusing to hear. During this time, Andrew, an old coworker of mine, walks in. I go up and talk to him about our old workplace, and he mentions Kevin. According to Andrew, Kevin is a drug user, or rather "he shoots up from time to time." He was telling me how this night he had just learned about this and wanted to talk to a couple of other managers to watch out for any strange activity from Kevin.

I relayed this information to LoGan. LoGan got quiet so I played the honesty hour game. LoGan asked me if I told him about Kevin being a druggie because I was jealous.

OF COURSE I’m jealous! Two nights prior I had just thought about the guy while playing with someone else’s dick and the day after that I learned that he’s moving on.

I’m jealous because he’s able to move on and I can’t.
I’m angry because I’ve realized I’m holding a grudge.
I’m upset because I will never have who I want at this moment.
I’m frustrated because I can’t seem to just want friendship from him.
I’m depressed because my emotions (what little I have of them) are getting the best of me.
And most of all, I’m scared because I don’t want to be that ex.

I never knew I was capable of being the "Swimfan." I didn’t know I can potentially be the jealous, begrudging ex-boyfriend. I hate that. I told LoGan that I didn’t tell him about Kevin because I felt jealous, but rather so he had prior knowledge about the guy. I’d like to think that LoGan would do the same thing for me. If he knew something I wouldn’t like about a guy, I’d want him to tell me.

If I was in his position, I’d definitely think there was some sort of prevention going on. In the car on the way home I made sure to tell him that my intentions weren’t malicious. LoGan then ranted about how it seems like all the homosexuals in this town are either flaming gay or drug users, or both. He mentioned not being destined to date in this town. He kept ranting when he grouped the homosexual drug users using the word "heathens" then wondered why he used that word as it was, apparently, a word he didn’t want to use or something. I’m not sure, so I won’t assume.

But…

I assumed with my father. I painted pictures about my grandparents. I answered my mom’s questions. I relayed my thoughts to my friends. LoGan is a friend. So I relayed information. I started giving an explanation as to why he could have potentially and possibly used the word "heathens" to group drug-using gays. He interrupted me.

"Shut the fuck up." 

The rage on his face was intense. I was afraid of him. I wanted to escape that parked car, but I took it. LoGan, in a very stern voice, told me that I put words into his mouth and that I should just shut the fuck up.

The average human being, when something tragic happens, usually feel a large lump in their throat and can’t help it. It’s usually caused by a trauma that’s hard to deal with. It’s a good thing that I’m a strong-willed person because that lump in my throat was the size of the planet Jupiter. LoGan made my eyes tear up. I didn’t cry. I wanted to, but I didn’t cry.

When LoGan was done yelling, he turned away and said he didn’t know where that outburst came from and said it could have possibly been the pain he was feeling in his body from snowboarding. My gut feeling told me that I had this coming. I looked straight ahead and said, "okay." I bit my bottom lip. This was to ke

ep me from saying anything, but more to stop tears.

I had never, ever, in the history of my life, had a friend as close as LoGan yell at me. This was a new experience for me. What was only a few seconds seemed like hours. I felt trapped in the car, as if leaving would be cowardly but staying would be detrimental. I started getting out of the car. LoGan proceeded to give me examples of when I changed his words, whether it was putting in words that he had never said or twisting them from their original meaning.

I apologized and started towards my front door. LoGan drove off as I nearly collapsed into the tree outside. I didn’t know what to think, what to say. I headed upstairs, went into my room, and stared. I stared at the blue ambient light from my alarm clock. I stared at the wall. I stared at the wall some more. An hour later, I finally realized I needed to go to the bathroom.

I’m now here, three hours later, and still feeling hurt. I don’t know what I did. I had only been myself. I had only been doing what I have done my whole entire life. If that’s not what people do, then I don’t know what is. LoGan, in his rant, said that I don’t know him, that I don’t know who he is. That made me feel like a fool. I’ve spent so much time trusting LoGan with my thoughts and my feelings and all this time I thought I was getting the same back. I know LoGan, and I don’t want to assume, but it’s probably what he’s let me know. I feel foolish. I feel stupid. I’m hurt. I’m deeply saddened. And this damn Jupiter lump won’t go away. Is our whole friendship a lie? I don’t know. Who the fuck is LoGan? I don’t know. Who have I been spending my precious time with? Who have I been telling all my words to? Who knows some incredibly deep and intimate things about me? 

I don’t know.

What I do know is that this sucks. This is worse than when he told me he didn’t find me sexually attractive anymore. This is worse than my father telling me I’m worthless. This is much worse than anything I’ve ever felt.

 

 

 

Yesterday at lunch, I got a fortune. My fortune stated something along the lines of:

Be prepared to have a drastic change in your personal life.

 

This is not what I was expecting.
But change is good…
… Right?