The Heat
Tuesday June 13th 12:30pm
Well there we were... It seemed that the gods had finally put us out of 3 days of pure misery as we had been struggling to survive with a broken AC unit. Cause: no idea. This means sweaty nights, blurry vision, an incredible amount of discomfort, and perhaps a tear or two. I will also add that the super of our building was not very happy about the whole ordeal and greeted me with some very unpleasant words when he came to fix it. Looks like the start to a great summer, friends!
But nonetheless, we continued on with our lives as we all must.
Later that afternoon and in my state of excitement, I decided to invite some good company over. From which a conversation feathered between the two of us over a $6 cardboard box flavored pizza and Arizona iced tea. Now we may have been a bit overwhelmed by the humidity and our current lack of resources needed to cook ourselves a substantial meal...(You can imagine the drama that occurs when two broke gay boys are forced into complete exhaustion just to find affordable food in NYC's summer heat). But Kevin and I proceeded with sharing the juicy details about our most recent debauchery...aka Grindr hookups. Our harmless gossiping hit an emotional peak when words like loneliness and self worth flew out of our mouths.
Why do we continue to put ourselves through such ridiculous circumstances? Literally travel the distance for a single moment of feeling desired and accepted. Only to wake the next morning, just to be dismissed like a bag of left open chips on the counter. The ones from the deli too that only cost $1, not even like a cute regular brand bag of chips. Getting lost from hopping on the wrong train, being in an unfamiliar neighborhood with 2% phone battery, sitting on those uncomfortable musty seats contemplating the meaning of life, and don't forget...wondering what the hell the point of all this is. This endless cycle of self doubt right after the hustle and bustle just to meet up with some guy who you expected to be shall we say...different. Hoping that maybe you would be that one person to change his scandalous ways, show him what something real feels like. Or damn, AT LEAST earn your actual name saved into his phone instead of continuing on as a pathetic ten digits. To be used up, told all the right lies and reminded how beautiful you are naked and in the dark against his skin. And let's face it...we know better, we really know better. But as much as we might bewail, sometimes it just feels good tasting that tall glass of bitter disappointment. Because naturally, we gravitate towards situations that we know won't do us any good.
Call us crazy. Or whatever you'd like. But at least we're honest. We know what it's like to patiently wait for the right guy to waltz into your life on every perfect beat. What it feels like thinking something is real, realizing only when you look back on it, that it wasn't real at all. Then again what is real?
We know what it's like to give chances. To search and search for something memorable. And to want to just give up on finding connections all together. To be tricked, played with, forgotten. When he pretends he really wants to get to know you. When he says you're "special" without hesitation. We see the fraudulence and deception. We've made that trek to the clinic, wait there horrified of the potential threat to our health as gay men. How it feels to be unappreciated and disrespected when you don't put out. Blocked, sent unsolicited dick pics, kink shamed, body shamed, and slammed because of your ethnicity. All that good stuff. Yet we continue to try, we run right back full throttle. Continue to throw self worth out the window, look loneliness in the eye and say: "maybe tonight's my night." Only it's never your night.
And sure...maybe we could choose better guys to talk to and refrain from limiting our love lives to the bottom feeders on these ridiculous apps. But it's not like meeting our Mr. Forever at a random coffee shop on the lower east side is very likely for us.
My point is that sometimes being gay really fucking sucks. Lately I've felt like I've been doing it all wrong. I mean, I enjoy going out and making new friends, but I find myself embittered by the way there is a certain standard to be a part of your own culture. And yet I still go... So there is no right or wrong way. There is no rule book. No one can teach you how to do it. You are just told you're different and then expected to figure it out from there. Kevin and I finished our discussion with a couple rambunctious laughs and an acceptance of our emotional masochism. But more importantly, we recognized how lucky we are. Because there really is a light at the end of the tunnel...A very colorful and sweltering one, pointing you in every direction your 17 year old self said you'd never go in. And thats alright.
To my readers: On nights when you are preoccupied with the doubt, loneliness, and questioning your worth, just remember why these shitty little inconvenient moments really matter. You realize how strong you become when you go through them alone. How much stronger you have yet to become. And heads up, you were special before he told you so. In fact, you are a special hot god damn mess, live in it. Think about how fortunate you are to have woken up for another day in the gayborhood. We are beautiful creatures designed to keep learning, growing, and dancing through our misfortunes. Cheers to a summer of poor decisions, getting lost, and continued fabulosity!
And hopefully your AC stays on.
Keep it moving,
NPR