Apr. 26th, 2022 05:29 pm
This story is old, I know, but it goes on
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muckefuckAs I've done before, I began a full write-up of my much-anticipated conversation with BB but petered out before I got it into a shareable form and never came back to it. At this point, I doubt I ever will so the tl;dr is: It went well and we decided we'd try to continue being friends.
How's that going? Pretty well, actually, except when it's not. Which is basically what I expected. A breakup is a grieving process and grieving processes are nonlinear. That is, seen from afar, there may be a discernible trend away from sorrow and into acceptance but from day to day, the swings can be wild. You can have a smooth couple weeks or even months and then something comes along that completely throws you for a loop.
Which is basically what I think happened to me last weekend. Since our Valentine's Day weekend conversation (don't think for a moment the irony isn't lost on me), we've gotten together at least every other weekend. Mostly it's been hitting the bars, though for his birthday I took him out for brunch at a place called Superkhana International, which is easily the best dining experience I've had all year. There have been pangs, but nothing crazy. So when we made plans to attend a queer desi dance party hosted by Trikone Chicago, I wasn't expecting it would be much different than the last several times we went out together.
But there was something about that night. First off, it was a great event. The venue was subpar, mostly on account of terrible bar service. But it was a nice space, the music was excellent, and the crowd were all-in--including BB. I was concerned he might consider it all a bit cheesy, but no, he was so into it he was absolutely radiating happiness like I'd never seen before. At one point he shot a video to send to his sister, who was also "doing gay Indian shit" that weekend, he informed me with an enormous grin.
And as a result, he looked beautiful. More beautiful than I think he ever has before. And of course my stubborn-ass brain had to point out, "This would be a perfect night if only we were here as a couple." At the time though, I was able to wash the thought away with gin. The event came to a close, BB suggested moving on to Touché, and I found someone to mess around with in the backroom. Sunday I was too tired and emotionally drained to process much so it was Monday that my anxieties really struck.
Analysing it for the benefit ofclintswan, I said my brain was fixating on the fact that all I wanted was to see him that happy forever but that I knew I was never going to be the person to make that happen. That, in turn, set off the fear that I would never be able to make anyone that happy ever again, that it's just going to be random tricks and occasional sex with friends until my body gives out and I eventually die alone. That's probably too neat an explanation, but all those things were mixed up in why I couldn't drag myself out of bed until an hour after I was supposed to have been at work.
The other thing I've been pondering is a conversation I had with JB about five years ago. It was a heart-to-heart after a breakdown in our gaming group and at one point he told me, "I love you, I think part of me is still in love with you." JB and I have known each other for at least 25 years; I don't know when he fell in love, but 1999 is when he told me.
In considering what would finally get me over this guy, I first thought I could achieve that by willpower alone. Then I thought, okay, it'll take falling for someone else. Now I'm forced to confront the possibility that I will always be in love with him, at least a little bit. Like my grief formonshu, this won't be something that I'll ever "get over", it'll just be something I manage. And some days will just be better than others.
How's that going? Pretty well, actually, except when it's not. Which is basically what I expected. A breakup is a grieving process and grieving processes are nonlinear. That is, seen from afar, there may be a discernible trend away from sorrow and into acceptance but from day to day, the swings can be wild. You can have a smooth couple weeks or even months and then something comes along that completely throws you for a loop.
Which is basically what I think happened to me last weekend. Since our Valentine's Day weekend conversation (don't think for a moment the irony isn't lost on me), we've gotten together at least every other weekend. Mostly it's been hitting the bars, though for his birthday I took him out for brunch at a place called Superkhana International, which is easily the best dining experience I've had all year. There have been pangs, but nothing crazy. So when we made plans to attend a queer desi dance party hosted by Trikone Chicago, I wasn't expecting it would be much different than the last several times we went out together.
But there was something about that night. First off, it was a great event. The venue was subpar, mostly on account of terrible bar service. But it was a nice space, the music was excellent, and the crowd were all-in--including BB. I was concerned he might consider it all a bit cheesy, but no, he was so into it he was absolutely radiating happiness like I'd never seen before. At one point he shot a video to send to his sister, who was also "doing gay Indian shit" that weekend, he informed me with an enormous grin.
And as a result, he looked beautiful. More beautiful than I think he ever has before. And of course my stubborn-ass brain had to point out, "This would be a perfect night if only we were here as a couple." At the time though, I was able to wash the thought away with gin. The event came to a close, BB suggested moving on to Touché, and I found someone to mess around with in the backroom. Sunday I was too tired and emotionally drained to process much so it was Monday that my anxieties really struck.
Analysing it for the benefit of
clintswan, I said my brain was fixating on the fact that all I wanted was to see him that happy forever but that I knew I was never going to be the person to make that happen. That, in turn, set off the fear that I would never be able to make anyone that happy ever again, that it's just going to be random tricks and occasional sex with friends until my body gives out and I eventually die alone. That's probably too neat an explanation, but all those things were mixed up in why I couldn't drag myself out of bed until an hour after I was supposed to have been at work.The other thing I've been pondering is a conversation I had with JB about five years ago. It was a heart-to-heart after a breakdown in our gaming group and at one point he told me, "I love you, I think part of me is still in love with you." JB and I have known each other for at least 25 years; I don't know when he fell in love, but 1999 is when he told me.
In considering what would finally get me over this guy, I first thought I could achieve that by willpower alone. Then I thought, okay, it'll take falling for someone else. Now I'm forced to confront the possibility that I will always be in love with him, at least a little bit. Like my grief for
monshu, this won't be something that I'll ever "get over", it'll just be something I manage. And some days will just be better than others.