davidology: (emo)
Walking down the street, I ran into him—my first love. Of course, this wasn't the the first time our paths crossed. The last couple times I ran into him, I found myself alarmed that I felt nothing.

Yes, it was so long ago. But, I can still imagine the pain as if it were last week: doubled over in my parents' bathtub, water splashing all around me, in a pain I'd never felt before in my life—a pain so deep that despite my eyes being swollen and my mouth agape, tears and sound wouldn't come out.

How could I have no feelings at all about running into the person for whom I at one time had felt so much that it took years to recover?

There he stood in the center of the intersection as he gave me his new 323 number.

"I moved back," he said.

"Oh, I didn't know you moved away again," I replied matter-of-factly.

Then he whispered in my ear, "I want to take you on that date I should have taken you on 10 years ago."

A chill ran down my spine as I was surprised to feel a tear want to come out. I felt something, and I knew it. In a strange way, I felt relieved that I finally did feel something.

It was disconcerting nonetheless. It was more than 10 years, but who's counting? It's a chapter closed so long ago it's in another volume (but yet still so nearby). It was from a time in my life when love was still innocent. There's a part of me that longs so much to feel that innocence again, yet knowing that was probably the only time it would feel that way.

I smiled, somewhat relieved yet simultaneously disturbed by feelings—unable at the time to fathom what they meant. I saved his number, knowing I couldn't use it, and told him bye.

I've grown so much since we first met. But, for a fleeting moment, to reconnect with that more innocent time and think it possible, even if for just a moment, was something I wish I could find a way to put into words or just into a cogent thought.

With that, I pulled in the tear that wanted to be released, shrouded my torment, and caught up with my friends.

It's unsettling in that I know extinguishing the ghost doesn't end what's been stirred up inside. At first I wished I hadn't seen him, but I know I somehow need to confront my ghosts or they'll haunt me forever.

"Well, this is incredible! Starving! Insatiable!
Yes, this is love for the first time!
Well, you'd like to think that you are invincible.

Yeah, well. Weren't we all once?
...before we felt loss for the first time.

Well, this is the last time."

-Dashboard Confessional



Jan. 5th, 2004 10:26 pm
davidology: (love innocent)
We had less than 24 hours left before we'd have to leave for home on our respective flights. Now stuck out near the Dulles airport (the last stop on our journey), we were hungry, and there wasn't much nearby. We decided to venture out one last time, thinking that we might also have a chance at meeting some girls if we did. We hadn't had any luck the rest of the week, but then I'm not sure how hard either of us was really looking.

It was an early spring evening when the shuttle driver dropped us off at a nearby strip mall. Most everything was closed, so we goofed off a little, running around the mall biding our time — but mostly enjoying each other's company.

Still hungry, we walked into an open drug store. After playing with some of the toys, laughing at each other's antics, we found our sustenance for the evening: Ritz crackers and cans of spray cheese. For variety, I grabbed the can of cheddar, and he the bacon cheddar. It was dusk as we called for the hotel shuttle and sat on the steps in front of the store to wait.

We opened the cans of cheese and talked about how much fun the week had been and how sad we were to see it come to an end. We so wanted this week to last forever, and somehow in the future, we were going to make that happen. We sat close, but not too close. Much like during the week, as we talked we'd find ourselves suddenly lost, staring into each other's eyes, occasionally breaking the glance we both knew lasted too long. Amazingly, we still hadn't run out of things to talk about. We were giddy, enjoying the boredom, and more than content in each other's company as we sprayed cheese in each others' mouths.

Occasionally our hands or knees would briefly touch — pulled away before it got too weird, but long enough to send a shock wave up my spine. We'd catch each other staring, and look away when caught. Ignoring the unanswered tension building, we were both amazed at how our friendship had grown in such a short period of time, despite living over 1,000 miles apart.

We hopped in the shuttle van and back at the hotel, we chatted into the night before finally falling asleep as close to the edges of our two beds as we could be, our arms dangling wishing to touch.

It was early in the morning, and his plane left earlier than mine, so we hopped off at his concourse. For seven days, we'd spent every moment awake and asleep together. But our time together was quickly coming to an end as he delayed boarding as long as he could.

At last call, we got up and looked at each other. We hugged each other very tightly, but not too long as our hug morphed into pats on the back. We made our plans to hang out after the semester was over. We waved goodbye one last time, and I watched him walk down the jetway until I could no longer see any part of him. For the first time in a week, I was alone. I grabbed my backpack and began the long walk to my concourse. I wasn't prepared for how much I'd miss him, mere moments after we parted. The longing was almost unbearable when I was suddenly self conscious and aware that there were other people were around. For the first time in a week, it was more than the two of us. Suddenly back in reality, I couldn't remember ever having had that much fun with anyone in my life. And I haven't let myself since.


Jul. 11th, 2003 12:24 am
davidology: (Default)
Here it is only 11:20, and I'm already tired and lying in bed. This week has just has felt crazy busy at work, but I've gotten a lot done. I'm so ready for the weekend though.

So the first love of my life found me Sunday evening as I was perusing one of those nefarious gay personals site (I was just browsing, I swear... right) Anyway, I haven't spoken to or seen him in a couple years. Yet, there it was: an email from him. He was blunt. He wanted to hook up. I guess in the grand scheme of gaydom, hooking up with an ex isn't out of the realm of plausibility. But he's not an ex. He and I have never hooked up. We never even kissed, despite the number of times I'd imagined it my mind so long ago.

We met in Boulder, where he lived. We were both str8, in so much as either of us knew. It was a long distance relationship of sorts. We saw each other only periodically over those few months, and I fell madly, deeply in love with him. It was an amazing, wonderful, powerful feeling that conquered everything including the fear of realizing I was possibly gay. It was an intensity matched only by the earth shattering, stabbing pain that came when he broke my heart when he couldn't deal with it. Without a doubt they were both the greatest and worst experiences of my life. Unfortunately the aftermath and pain lasted much longer than the relationship.

I thought I'd never see him again, until one fateful night in, of all places, the bathroom of a gay club here in L.A. We met for coffee. He told me he'd never ever clicked with anyone like he'd clicked with me. Of course neither had I, but mostly because it's hard to let yourself get that close again. I didn't feel anything when I saw him. It's not that I can say I had no feelings for him — I literally felt nothing. I was just numb. We said we'd keep in touch, but didn't really.

A couple years later, and there he was again in my inbox. We've exchanged a few emails over this week. He wants to see me. I don't know what I want. I think I wanted my ghosts to stay ghosts.


davidology: (Default)

July 2013

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