This Is How You Lose Her Him

Other than writing, my other therapeutic past time is reading.  Three years ago I became a fan of Junot Diaz after reading “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao” and read each of his books subsequently after. His latest novel, “This is How You Lose Her” took a candid look at mistakes the main character made in past relationships, from cheating to being emotionally absent, that led to him losing the one he loved.

I’m going to add my own chapters to it, telling my own gospel like a missing bible verse. They’re going to be my very own “Dead Sea Scrolls”, documenting the times I not only had random hookups; but got close to that thing called “love”.  This first one is dedicated to someone that starting as a friend, almost became a lover and today remains dear to my heart.

I’m going to call this one, “This is How You Lose Him”.

I met “him” two years ago to be exact. It was in some time in the early fall of 2011 when I was looking at facebook friend’s page and came across his profile picture in her friends list. 

“Oooo he’s cute, I thought,” so I clicked his page and bam, the guy had his privacy settings on lockdown. (Isn’t that irritating when you want to fb stalk or see some eye candy).

Anyway, too nervous to add him as a friend, I googled him, found him on linkedin and added him that way. I then struck up a conversation about “professional advice” as an “in” to getting to know him. To my surprise, he responded and was very open about helping me draw out my career plans. He even extended an offer to discuss my concerns over the phone. 

And so it began.

You’re probably wondering how I knew he was gay, but the truth is I wasn’t sure and I didn’t have to ask to confirm it; he asked me in our first conversation. I hesitantly told him, “sort of” and we talked about me opening up and meeting quality people in the DC area that were like minded. 

“Ummm ok, but I want to know YOU,” I thought. So we set a “date” to grab some food and talk. From the second I hopped out my car in Adams Morgan to let him park it in one of those dumbass reverse spots in front of the Diner, I knew he was special. 

I get vibes from people and he was sending me all the right ones, and I don’t mean the kind where I was going to get lucky on the first night. He was warm, friendly and open; words I rarely used when describing people, let alone a man. We talked for about two hours over dinner and decided to meet up again. Little did he know that encounter, that didn’t lead to sex, caused my brain to derive with an error message. 

Was he not into me? I didn’t meet him with intentions of hooking up, but after talking to him I damn sure wasn’t opposed to it; after all he was really cute.  The truth is I just didn’t know how to handle a casual friendship with a gay guy because I honestly had never had one.  Every encounter I had in the past led to me fucking some guy and not much more.

The more time we spent together, I became oddly comfortable with him. I felt some sort of tension between us, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. We were getting to know one another and spending time together, but it seemed to be going nowhere.

Then it me, I liked him. 

Not only did I like him, it was the first time I had “feelings” for someone and there was some evidence they were being reciprocated.  That was paralyzing to me, so my natural defense mechanisms started to kick in. 

Just like a cat when its backed into a corner or the turtle was going back in its shell, the hairs were raising off of my back as a red flag to stay back, but he kept coming.

I would call him and tell him about my problems and instead of attacking me he listened.  I would tell him about my strangest sexual exploits and instead of getting offended, he’d laugh it off and change the subject.

What is he doing to me? In hindsight, I realize that he cared, but at the time I was afraid.

I was afraid of letting him in because I’d never done that before. I was afraid of hurting him because I wasn’t in a place where I could be loved with causing someone else heartache. I was afraid of having sex with him to the point that when we finally did the did, it was awkward; I didn't want him to end up like everyone else I'd met in the past. I was afraid of someone accepting my flaws and rolling with the punches, when I couldn’t do the same for myself.

It was like that scene in the Color Purple when Suge Avery told Ms. Celie to look in the mirror and appreciate herself; I just wasn’t ready. I kept my hands over my face and my shoulders locked in place, not because I didn’t want to be held, but because I didn’t know how to hug back.

I wasn’t ready because I didn’t know what the possibility of me opening my arms could have brought. I fairly calculated and the unknown is some scary shit.

I’m writing this to tell all the guys out there that hurt people intentionally to keep them away and the ones that put up facades to draw people in, that if you ever find yourself conflicted about a person reaching out, you’re not ready for love.

You have to find love for yourself first, and I don’t mean loving things about yourself, but all of the things inside yourself that make you who you are. The things that make you an individual: your scars, open wounds and the skeletons that make the shelves in your closet.

Learning to love isn’t about learning to let go out past experiences and let someone in, but learning how to find the strength to hold onto someone when they extend a hand. 

This is for “you”, Mr. Right, that extended your hand and got it slapped away, I’m sorry about that.  Maybe in another life or another world I would’ve made it work.

But its this life, in this world and two years later and I appreciate that you were strong enough to still be my friend through my craziness.  You taught me something about love that I’ll never forget.

So the next time someone holds my hand, I won’t skip off to the edge of a cliff and jump to see if they try to pull me up like I did with “him”.  In the end, I don’t if he got tired of holding on or if unclenched my fist to let go, and hell I may never know. Maybe at some point down the line we could try it again; if not no hard feelings.

I learned something and the lesson was, that is how you lose “him”.

-CGN