“Are you seeing anyone?” My friend asks, I say, “Well I’m kinda with someone.” I always seem to answer that burning question the same. I always find myself in the position of “well, we are talking” or “ we aren’t official.”
In High School I was in love with my best guy friend, he’d come so close to kissing me, and then he’d pull away. We’d cook together, crepes and salsa, but don’t worry, different nights. We’d watch movies and have pillow fights. He’d lean in during the boring parts of the movie, and then pull away, almost like his actions had no affect on me. I went to all his swim meets, and dance events with his family. Neighborhood cookouts were my favorite; old woman would come up to me and say, “ what a cute couple you are!” But, the problem was we were only “kind of together,” for four years.
I thought it was me. Maybe, if my hips were smaller, my butt was bigger, if my laugh wasn’t as loud, if I got better grades, if my hair was blond, then maybe he would love me the way I loved him. But, the thought that never crossed my mind was “maybe we aren’t meant to be.” Because when you’re fifteen and you spend time with a beautiful tan boy, you can’t think straight.
One day him and I were sitting on his couch and he started crying and said, “I need to tell you something… I’m gay.” I instantly hugged him, and told him, “I’m here for you, I love you.” I felt so happy, that he felt comfortable enough to tell me his deepest darkest secret. He trusted me, and I hoped he knew that I loved him regardless of his sexuality.
If I knew before I fell for him that he was gay it would have saved me endless heartache. I wouldn’t have blamed myself for him not loving me. But, it’s not his fault. Fifteen year olds don’t have to know their sexuality. 80 year olds don’t either. Loving him taught me, that no one needs to feel the same way I do, him not being able to physically love me, didn’t change the way I loved him.
So I hugged him, told him I’m here for him whenever he needs me. And I moved on. I’m happy and now in love with another beautiful boy, that I’m “kind of with.”