I finally managed to grab drinks with “Seth” the other day. Remember him? First love, high school sweetheart, happens also to now be gay. (Okay, he was probably gay in high school too, but neither of US knew that.) It’s always lively when we get together. (He works in hotel management, and we usually meet at the bar of whatever hotel he happens to be working for [read: he comps the drinks].) Even if it weren’t—lively, that is—it’s in the bloggers’ handbook: get-togethers with exes of yore (mandatory post).
As I got ready the morning we’d planned to meet, I realized I hadn’t even seen him yet and I already had promising stuffs for a post … namely, that I spent FAR more time preparing to see Seth than I would/have to see any other ex-boyfriend. And this is the thing with an ex who’s gay … I mean, worst-case scenario with a straight guy he’s totally oblivious to the freak of nature that is you getting hotter with every passing day. Best case, he’s eating his heart out, and by that I mean his wanting of you is *palpable*.
When your ex is a gay man … or, to be less stereotypical about it, when your ex is Seth, best case is a “you look stunning.” Sure, it’s said with feeling, but there’s no palpable wanting. No eating out. (Hearts. HEARTS, people.) Worst case, your ensemble is deemed unworthy of your stature and a date for drinks turns into a shopping excursion. (True story.)
This is what was running through my head as I got dressed (in my entirely new outfit) and ran to catch the T (in 3-inch heels). Uh, yeah. HOWEVER, the day took some weird turns, and what began as a simple “my ex is gay, how hard for me, haha” post has become one of those rambling, searching-for-a-point things that I’m afeered are becoming my trademark.
Weird Turn Number 1: My uncanny ability to avoid all human contact at business conferences was on the fritz. Everyone and their uncle wanted to talk to me. Well, I’ll put it to you this way: Who, other than myself, can go to a developers conference (read: geeks as far as the eye can see) fully intending to talk to NO ONE and end up chatting with a stranger about a) my divorce, b) the nature of regret and redemption, and c) a swinger party/orgy? (You might think, based on my relative candor here on CMG Unite, that such things are de rigueur. Think again.) All this is to say, there was something in the air that day. By the time I left to meet Seth, I was SO working off-script.
Weird Turn Number 2: As much as I still care for Seth, I usually come away from our evenings together wondering if we ever truly knew each other. What I mean is, it can feel kind of forced and, well, shallow … like the person I remember either never existed or is hidden beneath an impenetrable layer of easy charm and free drinks. I admit, this is probably to be expected after *gulp* 17 years. Still, it strikes me as sad.
Anyway, the weird part came about an hour in, when Seth tossed out a joke about his personal life. It was the same in delivery and tone as a dozen other things he’d said at that point:
I … blah dah dee blah blah. Haha. Just kidding.
You know the way in dreams you sometimes *know* things you have no way of knowing? That’s how it was. I can’t say why, but it was clear to me that he wasn’t joking. Of course, I called him on it, and, of course, he denied it. The thing is, in the denials I saw a couple of things with a clarity that, for me, is rare. First, the thing he’d told me was absolutely true. Second, even though I let it go, he knew he wasn’t fooling me. The man sitting across from me—laughing nervously and fidgeting—was the same person, the same boy who wanted to be known and yet somehow couldn’t bear it. And I was the same person, the same girl who’d hoped against hope for a glimpse of something real.
When it was time to go, it felt different than before. We hugged and I said, “Tell me the truth. I feel like I’ve changed so much, but you seem exactly the same to me …”
He didn’t miss a beat. “You’re exactly the same too.”
