HARD TRUTHS
It was a given.
When I first went to college at Arkansas State University. I hoped that I would meet other gay people. Of course, it was college with a mix of different people. It was a given that perhaps I would meet other gay people.
I remembered that first meeting of the straight/gay alliance group that was there. It was in the lower section of the library. I passed the small room twice, feeling nervous. Finally, I built up the courage and heading in. My mind wondered what it would be like.
After a few years...and many misadventures, I became a pretty bitter gay man at 21. In Arkansas, a gay black man had to learn several hard truths.
After these years in California, I could say that those hard truths were still the same. So was there a way to get around those hard truths and be happy?
HARD TRUTH # 1
'Gay black men are only good for one thing...'
While I had the occasional interest in black men (that fine ass chocolate guy from my swimming class came to mind) I found myself interested in other races. Normally, that race was white. And hat feeling was not in 'The Bible Belt.' Their actions betrayed one thing about me and other blacks: gay black men were only good for sex....even then as a last resort. Black men and white men in a relationship however...big no-no.
I used to think...after a few years...that it would be better in Little Rock...a bigger city. Then it became that maybe it would be different if I wasn't in the Bible Belt. I was not an ugly man so maybe in Cali I would have to beat them off with a stick.
The only difference between Cali and Arkansas I've found was that there was Mexicans and Asians to deal with.
I headed down the street. I was either heading to the gym or home from Postal Place. I looked good...only to ignore by a hot passerby. I kept looking to see him actually look at someone else. Both were white.
It figured, I thought.
But why should it figure? There were so many different gay men out there. Big. Small. Thin. Fat. Drop dead gorgeous. Butt ugly.
It was obvious gay men thought that way a little. All a person had to do was walk around gay ole Hillcrest and look at the mix-match pairings. Most of the couples could be described like I mentioned above. Rarely however were the couples black/white.
Latino/white. A trio of Latinos. An asian and a white place. All were as commonplace as a tattoo on anyone in Cali.
But a black/white couple?
As rare as rain during a very hot summer in Cali.
Which brings me to:
HARD TRUTH # 2
'There was no such thing as a relationship.'
For a gay black man dating outside his race that is.
With the exception of Kos, what have I gotten to show here in San Diego?
Brazil? Nah. That was so friends with benefits. Or just twisted. Depended on how people saw it.
Frenchman? Nope.
I remembered the whole drama with John back in Arkansas. It had really boiled down to what I saw in other relationships. It was okay to have a one night stand with a black man. Heaven forbid if you wanted to date one.
Which was why it always shocked me when John called that day. It was weeks after our fun one night stand. Those days found a frown on my face often. Most white boys ran from me, lied to me, or purposely hurt me. Here was one wanting to be around me.
Why? Was it a game?
My second guessing, fed by all the years of being screwed, ended what could have been a decent relationship. On John's end, once I realized what I messed up, John could never believe that a one night stand could turn into a boyfriend. While we both went on to different people, we always kept close.
Hmmm...
Depeche Mode played in the background. I had been in the mood for their song 'Precious.' It had been a love of mine since I heard it on an episode of CHARMED.
Then it hit me. For the first time in five days, my mind thought it. I hated that I thought it, but the thought was there never the less.
I missed Frenchman.
Like John, Frenchman and I had our time. There was such a vibe between us that everyone picked up on it long before either of us did. I could not embrace what was going on. Neither did he.
Frenchman could never be that open. His culture was against it. And a big thing with Frenchman was his culture. even when he would push it aside and be open with me and wanting me to be there, it was my ability to not deal with relationship stuff that messed it up.
And still...I missed him. I missed him so much.
The closest thing I had to a relationship...was THAT kind of relationship. Meanwhile, I woke up every day, went to Postal Place, saw way too many couples, went to Hotel S. Then I headed home...alone.
I saw couples every day. And...I was not in any of them. And that brings me to...
HARD TRUTH # 3
'You're always be alone.'
I reviewed the facts...
John was in New Orleans. He had a boyfriend who surprisingly could be my twin brother. John also had a decent chef job.
Kos was back in Nashville. He was there to finish his Master's degree. He should have already met somebody since he now had gay friends to take him out. He also said he wanted to sow his oats for a year. People in Nashville appeared to be a great bunch so I'm sure he was quite busy with that.
Frenchman traveled around a bit before settling into his birth town of Mexico City. He had a job at a call center...which was the excellent paying job he had before he came to the United States. He also had a lovely girlfriend...or so I've heard.
And me?
I had two jobs and no life. I squeezed in writing when I could. I was a black gay man who loved other races mostly so I was alone.
It was funny really. That no matter how advanced his world grew, people were so close-minded. And that close-mindedness would keep me alone.
I hated them for it. I hated myself for letting it bother me. I hated.
All it made me want to do was self-destruct. If no one wanted me, then who would miss me? Since the answer was NO ONE, I had nothing to lose. And those kind of people were the most dangerous in the world.
In my life, I have had to deal with people walking up to meet to say I was cute. I knew it was code for 'no one of my race wants me. You'll do...for a night.' I did not hope for anything more. I learned young...not going to happen for Blackie.
Also in my life, I had to deal with people who said they wanted a relationship. I saw what they wanted was the idea of love. They couldn't work for it. It hurt, but I could get through. Sometimes a person had to.
But aloneness?
It was one thing when I was alone. However to be alone while all my exes had met someone? Could you say 'difficult cross to bear?'
Did I mean so little? I took big periods of time to get over breakups. Meanwhile they could just lalala. I wished I knew their secrets.
But I didn't. All I could do was be alone in the town made for couples. God, I hated San Diego.
DAY NUMBER BLAH, BLAH, BLAH
I wanted to see 500 DAYS OF SUMMER. I had seen hints of it here and there. Then there was the review in Entertainment Weekly. It was getting buzz everywhere.
Have you ever had that moment? That moment where you saw an object...an article of clothing, a book, a cd...and you knew you had to have it...that it would change you. You were drawn to it. That was how I felt about this movie.
Two weeks after finding time, I finally saw 500 DAYS OF SUMMER.
I made it to the bar. The sign of a good movie was when a person still thought about it after the lights came on. The sign of a GREAT movie was when it resonated with the viewer, resulting in some change.
At the end of the bar was another of the regular...this loud mouth Harvey Fierstein voice having guy. As usual he had his little entourage, laughing at his latest story. I snipped my Corona.
Sometimes...a guy just wanted silence when he drank his beer. Or at least no unnecessary noises. It was these type of things that annoyed me since I've begun going to dive bars.
Tonight though, I decided to let it go. I decided...like the movie mentioned...just to be open. To be open to anything...or anyone.
Someone sat next to me. The barback was off work. He was also killing time.
Boy was he drunk! The picture of a hot mess, the barback hanged around me and several of the other people around me.
An hour later...
Laughs filled the bar. The Latino I dubbed Mexican Oprah stared at the barback.
"So let me get this straight," Mexican Oprah started, "you have pics of your ex-boyfriend, but no pics of your current boyfriend?" He looked back at the barback. "There's something up with that."
The old timer nodded. The Latino sidekick drank to that. I, as token black man, did a nah uh and drank. We all laughed. We had so much fun that another guy sat down and joined us. We played chorus and counsel to Barback's romantic trouble.
It was good to meet new people. Mitch, the bartender, kept me well drunk. I looked at him, staring at his bubble butt. I threw in a line here and there with the group. I looked at Daniel, the other bartender, taking his muscular Latino body in. The movie was still on my mind, making me think I should do what I wanted to do.
Barback held off to meet his boyfriend. Mexican Oprah and his sidekick headed out to dance. I chatted with the other two guys left. Daniel came and sat by me, his vibe kinda flirty.
But...finally...I got what I actually wanted. The front of the bar had emptied out. So Mitch sat by me.
He teased me a bit. I warned him not to. And most people know who honest I was when I'm asked a question. Mitch wanted to know what I would like to do with him.
So...in the empty front of the bar, I showed him. Making out ensued. To be interrupted...by Daniel.
I headed home. I felt like how Joseph Gordon-Levitt's character in 500 DAYS OF SUMMER felt after he made love to Summer for the first time. There was a song in my heart. There was a smile on my face. I did not want the good feeling to end.
***
I hurried into my apartment. I took a moment to look in the mirror. My gym workout showed that day.
My shoulders had gotten broader. My back was muscular again. And my stomach muscles were more defined.
Every week I did it. I found little things to make me happy. Working out at the gym. Dancing to my own beat at Postal Place. Showing off my chest and getting eyeprints.
Most importantly was two things. I was writing again, resetting the old discipline I used to have before drama hit. And the other thing was that I had hope again.
500 DAYS OF SUMMER had changed me back into a bit of the dreamer that San Diego, Frenchman, and Kos had beaten out of me. I still had my Arkansan's heart, along with my doubts and hard truths. While I had my dreams, would I be able to get over the hard truths gay life I put in me?
Honestly? I did not know. Looking at my life versus my exes, I knew those hard truths were not just in my head if they all could move on so easily with their white and Mexican tails. There was truth in them to any gay black man looking for anything outside his race.
However...I was open again. Open to anything. Open to anyone who wanted or had the guts to prove them...or me...wrong.
Diego
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