If only I had a hamburger. This is what I think to myself when I get into a sticky situation, and not the good kind of sticky situation (I'm referring to candy, of course). I admit, it's an odd knee-jerk reaction to have after being royally screwed over... at least for someone who is a vegetarian. If only I had a hamburger - not to eat, but to throw at the wall in total disdain and heartbreak.
I have that episode of Sex and the City to blame. The S+M one. "La Douleur Exquise" The one where Big doesn't consider Carrie before he leaves to go to Paris. And she gets him Le Filet de Fish and le French Fry to apologize for being a possessive girlfriend, and then she throws le burger against the wall? Yeah, I had that moment a few days ago.
My gay love life has always looked something like this: boy meets boy. Boy likes other boy. Boy really likes other boy. Other boy is unattainable in some way. Boy really likes other boy even more now. Unattainable other boy does something douchey. Boy contemplates why he likes unattainable, douchey boys. Boy concludes its because of his childhood, probably. Boy no longer likes other boy. Boy is single again. Lather, rinse, repeat, with another other, unattainable, douchey boy.
Don't get me wrong - I like nice boys. I've even dated a few. Okay, like two. But I don't like them as much as the other boys. It's just that familiar, tired, perpetual tale of liking what one can't have. We've all been there. At least, I hope we have because I gain lots of comfort from repeating such adages.
It got really bad with me for a minute when I dated and fell in love with the most unattainable of boys. We played the "I love you, I love you not" game for almost three years, pulling the petals off until nothing was left save for a stem. A lonely, prickly stem (it was a rose, clearly) that had almost zero self-esteem. It wasn't his fault and it wasn't my fault. It wasn't the flower's fault. I'm not a big fan of fault. I believe it takes two to play a game, and I was a willing contestant.
It's been a while since then, and bad analogies aside, I've come a long way in seeing situations for what they are and not what I want them to be. I think they call it self-awareness or something. I also have weeded through a lot of guys I would have previously wasted my time on with this other thing that I've heard people talk about called self-confidence. Crazy, it took me 24 years to learn it but I'm starting to get it right.
And then I want a hamburger.
Recently, I was casually seeing a guy in the most casualest of terms. And I know 'casualest' is not a word. I just wanted to use it because I've been reminiscing lately on Kurt Loder's douchey interviewing techniques. We did things casual guys who are seeing each other casually do. Hang out, get bad chinese food, watch True Blood, the occasional BJ. I knew this guy was seeing other guys, and I was totally cool with it, and not in the I'm-cool-with-it-but-seriously-I'm-really-not way. We were not even at the point to discuss exclusivity and I'm not sure I would have even wanted it had it been offered.
So, being all casual, I asked him to join me for a movie night at Bryant Park. Seriously - if you're in New York you should check it out. Every Monday, they do movie nights with classic movies for free and you can come and be all cute and romantic and watch a movie. And you can drink wine. In public. Without concern for law enforcement. It's kind of amazing. This night, they were showing Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
I was looking forward to this above all the other movies, and not just because of the boy, but because hello - Monty Python. "I fart in your general direction!" Homeboy wasn't sure if he could make it, so I made plans anyway with some other friends that I knew I could count on. We all gathered, drank wine without concern for law enforcement, ate delicious homemade vegetarian dishes, and complained about how crowded it was. It was fabulous. Then, I find out he's coming. Not gonna lie - I felt the rush of excitement one feels when the one he's been giving casual BJs to is coming to join for Monty Python at Bryant Park. He arrived, informed us that his friend would be joining and it was one big, casual, happy party.
His friend shows up and they are doing friend things - listening to each other's iPods, chattin', the yoush. Suddenly, they are somewhat cuddling. Granted, it wasn't overt cuddling. It could have been cuddling born out of uncomfortable blanket-on-gravel seating arrangements. I looked at my friend Rachel and mouthed "are they cuddling?" She seemed to be on the same page as me.
You know when you smell something rank and then it goes away and you're not sure if it still smells, so you have to leave for a minute and return to find out if the rankness is still fresh? I decided I had to go to the bathroom. I didn't realize, I didn't feel my bladder about to explode, I just decided. I was like "this is uncomfortable; I'm gonna pee about it." So, I went pee and I came back and yep - it still smelled rank up in Bryant Park. As the movie played, and I spiraled downward and downward into disbelief, I tried to make concessions with myself - perhaps I was just drunk. Perhaps they've been friends since pre-school and boy/boy touching is perfectly normal for their friendship. Perhaps I slipped on my invisibility cloak that morning and totally forgot that I was fucking invisible. Perhaps he was just an inconsiderate asshole.
As Monty played on, I moved to a more comfortable spot - one with grass under my ass and farther away from the boy that I invited cuddling with another boy he invited. We're talking full on head-rubbing at this point. He was essentially farting in my general direction. Rachel joined me and could tell that I was not enjoying myself and began desperately whispering sweet nothings in my ear:
"Just leave, I'll handle the mess and clean up and get all of your stuff."
"If I were you, I would just ask him to leave. Easier said than done, I know."
"What an asshole."
She seriously suggested about 13 times that I should just leave quietly and that she would handle all of the rest. I thought at that moment two things: 1) Wow, she really knows me and that I like to make a scene and 2) what a nice friend for offering to make a scene on my behalf. As I sat and watched the big screen and all of the folks in front of me laughing and having a great time, it just hit me. I had my hamburger moment.
I stood up, moved back over to his area of the blanket and quietly told him that I thought he should go. He put up the weakest of protests and left immediately.
I felt a rush. If standing up for one's self feels that good, I'm addicted. Quickly, that feeling faded and I couldn't help but replay it all over and over again in my mind. Sure, it felt great to take a stand for myself and not let someone walk over me but why was I wasting my time on someone like that in the first place? Or was I making a mountain out of a molehill? Was it really that serious? Should he be quickly forgiven and have that be forgotten? I never anticipated that throwing a proverbial hamburger would raise so many doubts.
I was really hurt and I wasn't quite sure where it was coming from. Was I more mad at him for being so inconsiderate or myself for knowing better all along and being a little self-destructive? It's a fine line to walk, I'm realizing now more than ever - between giving guys the benefit of the doubt and giving them enough rope to hang you with.
I try not to be dramatic, but the guy was fucking cuddling up with another guy on my blanket, at the movie I invited him to, like I wasn't even there, and like he hadn't told me how amazing I was at giving him casual BJs. I feel like it warrants a dramatic response. And herein lies the rub, and clearly, my insecurity:
What's worse: to be the dramatic "crazy bitch" who throws a hamburger in exasperation, or the inconsiderate asshole who just didn't think enough to know better? In my experience, I've always been targeted for supposedly overreacting AKA being the "crazy bitch," which I will gladly attribute to my hyper sensitivity. I do have a tendency to overreact, trust and believe. But if there's one thing I hate more than anything, it's having the validity of one's feelings nixed completely. I absolutely hate a lack of consideration, I hate a dismissal of genuine hurt, and I very much dislike folks who live their lives without consideration and who dole out these dismissals freely. I'm a sensitive dude, and I appreciate the acknowledgment of my feelings before you totally rip into my craziness.
But these seem to be the guys I'm attracted to time and time again. Any other person in my life I will never make excuses for - in fact, I can be a pretty demanding and tough friend. With boys, I'm willing to make concessions and often let go of my own dignity in order to accomodate their selfishness. I wonder where it went wrong, and I wonder when I'll get it back. I keep thinking I've regained my self-empowerment and then I wander into the land of self-doubt.
I think those hamburger moments can be incredibly important in shaping one's self-worth, if one lets them. Sometimes, it's absolutely worth taking the dramatic stand for yourself. For me, it was as simple as feeling something and instantly reacting - not second-guessing, not doubting, not even allowing a moment for me to make excuses for him - instead, just doing. If I'm going to let it actually mean something to me, I need to continue that supposed dramatic stand for myself and stop wondering if it was acceptable for him to be inconsiderate.
I need to trust myself and my feelings, and throw a fucking hamburger every now and then.
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