After several cross-country relocations, and once I got settled in New York and was placed in Mr. Goldman's 5th Grade class, I befriended Sung. He and I were inseperable. He was, to me, more like a brother than a friend. Sung stayed friends with me, though I once swung a bat at him with a murderous intent; even when he pounded my face repeatly with his fists, my ties to Sung remained. Well, not at first, of course, but we've always found ways to straighten whatever seemed wayward with some jokes and laughter. He brought me porn with snatches *shudder* and, to tease me, he'd hit my jewels, cooing, "you hard?" We even grabbed each other's dicks, as pubescent boys are known to do.
But maybe it was my strict adherence to the "Out of Sight, Out of Mind" philosophy. We both went to different high schools; me, to one in Manhattan, and him, to one in the Bronx. As the school year progressed, Sung and I saw less of each other, though we lived in the same neighborhood. By the time the holiday season rolled around, we've not seen nor talked to each other for a long while. But that was okay. I had my Church Youth Group and the Worship Band.
My devotion to God, I believe, came, of course, from my conviction that God--the Father created me; the Son died for my salvation; the Spirit guides me to bear Fruit, to manifest the Light, the Living Word--that God is the reason I live. But the devotion also came from an unattained desire for companionship, for friendship. The Youth Group, sensing my lack of charisma, or rather, my lack of cool quotient, only embraced me so far. No one asked for my number; no one told me to call them. 'Perhaps my love for God is insufficient, so very insufficient that I am not experiencing God's love expressed through God's own people,' I thought, and I prayed, 'help me Dear Lord to love you more.'
Rather than leave those who haven't fully accepted me, I sought to infiltrate further into the Youth Group. I've even joined the Worship Band. It meant that four hours each Saturday were devoted to rehearsals and Bible studies. It meant, for those four hours, they would have to deal with me, to acknowledge that I was a part of them, even though it meant that I had to start "low." How funny, looking back, it wasn't, or rather, it didn't seem like I was being.., but I think it was then I started to forget how to say "no." And for each "no" I didn't say, for each time I didn't assert my own opinion or will, I started to forget my own worth. So, in a word, I became a doormat, a nice doormat for people, knowingly or unknowingly, to step on me.
Eddie was the leader of the band. He had a lame name, but he was cool. I felt cool just hanging out with him, so I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. He even called me a friend. But to him, everyone was his friend, and his friendship to me was as deep as spilled water on a table. He'd suggest that we go see a movie, that we go to the park, that we go hang out. Yet more often than not, when next Saturday rolled around, I'd hear how Eddie and his other friends saw a movie, how they went to the park to play Ultimate Frisbee, how they hung out, without me, without me, without me. Still, when he wanted my undivided attention, when he wanted something from me, more often than not, he had me, the nice doormat.
Looking back, it's all petty and insignificant, and I tell myself that I've outgrown it and I've learned the lessons. In college, I was friends with those who wanted to be my friend. Some of these friendships were shallow and some were deep. Some friendships died off, some grew. Yet, still, I didn't find a friend who I'd consider a best friend, a brother. And admittedly, it's because there was a part of me I was hiding from myself. If I couldn't be myself completely, how could I expect anyone to be involved in my life. There would always be a wall that I built. Besides, the "Out of Sight, Out of Mind" is still in play.
However, now, I've accept the deepest secret that I kept, and claimed it as a part of my identity. Yet I find the wall I've erected... well, let's just say that the Berlin Wall might have been easier to tear down than my wall. Also, "Out of Sight, Out of Mind" is... well, it's laziness and cowardice having a night of drunken and forgetable romp, and then them giving birth to the bullshit that is "Out of Sight, Out of Mind." I realize it.
Though, still, I'm prone to repeat history's mistakes. M is someone who has called me his friend. And M is the first gay man I met outside of blogosphere, a non-virtual gay man, if you will, to whom I've told that I'm gay. But over the past year of interacting with him, I've learned that he is more like Eddie than all the Eddies I've met over the years. He'd suggest that we do things, but he'd never follow through. He would snap his fingers to beckon me, and like a needy puppy, I'd go running. But last night, the camel's back broke, and I sent M a text message:
U know what? Im gonna care. U asked me if i thought most gay friendship is shallow. Even tho i said yes i'm 2 lonely n alone 2 abandon my hope of finding one, just one, deep friendship. I'm that pathetic n stupid. Well, good nite. N i blame myself 4 waiting by the phone. Happy Thanksgiving n have a great trip.I did get a reply back. But it was from Verizon informing me that the message was too long. Soon after, another reply came, and this time it was from M, and he wrote: "Huh?"
An unsatisfactory and quiet end.
As I'm searching for a conclusion to this post, I think, I don't know. Where is it? Where does the shallow meet the deep? And when?
I'm hopeful, though. I have to be.
So be thankful for your friends. Be thankful that you don't struggle like I do. And know that I'm thankful too, because I'm carrying hope. That's what I got, and I'm gonna work it!
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