New directions. Diego Uribe
“I'm good, thanks...”
“Oh, you two know each other?” I interrupted.
“Oh, hi. I'm Fran” he introduced himself, kissing me on the cheek.
“I'm Dante... pleased to meet you” I said.
“Dante... What a lovely name, like the writer*...” he pointed out.
“Exactly!” I said with a stupid laugh.
“Yeah, my dad teaches literature” he clarified.
I had nothing to say about that, so I didn't. He kept talking to Male for a while and I left them alone and stepped aside. He left, quickly saying goodbye and Male came back.
“Why were you asking me about the guys?”
“Oh, because the one that just came to talk to you looks like someone I know...” I lied.
“Hm, that's weird” said Male surprised.
“And what is this guy's last name?”
“Stegman”
“Oh, then it's not him...” I lied again.
I said goodbye to Male and the rest of my classmates and everyone went home. When I got to my apartment, I turned on the laptop, opened Facebook, and wrote his name: Francisco Stegman. There he was... I hesitated for a few minutes before finally sending him a friend request. Clearly, I had no idea what I was getting into...
* Referring to Dante Alighieri, the Italian poet who wrote the Divine Comedy.
Chapter 3: Can't fight this feeling
Once he accepted my friend request, I had to do some stalking. Not with bad intentions or anything, I just wanted to know more about him. I looked at all of his photos and went through his entire profile. I was surprised to find out that he had taken part in many theatrical plays; most of them were musicals that I only dreamed of doing. He had experience, he had talent... and there was something else, there was something about him. He looked like a good person, he seemed nice... even sweet. There was a glow in his eyes, those coffee-brown eyes. He had this perfect smile that radiated happiness, a seemingly contagious happiness. I stood there looking at one particular photo of him for hours, gazing at a computer screen. I had a good feeling about him, even without really knowing him. Haven't you felt that way about someone? I think it has to do with chemistry. I had a feeling that something really good was about to happen between us, but there was something else. I think that... I guess... maybe I liked Fran. And I mean like “like”, not just the fact that I liked him because I felt that way since the moment I met him... I mean the other way of liking someone: in a shallow, trivial, physical way; I found Fran, in a certain way, attractive (you could easily see why). Even beyond the physical looks, I also liked his personality, his wholeness, even though I had just met him. I don't know if you get me... it's hard to explain. Don't ask me why or how it happened... you don't get the chance to choose in all of this. That's why they say love is blind, and it totally is. What I'm trying to say with all of this is that, I guess, it was love at first sight. Well, maybe I shouldn't call it “love” precisely because that would be too soon and, anyway, I don't know what love is. I guess this was “something” at first sight, whatever “something” means. And even if that were true, what would happen now? What are you supposed to do in situations like this? Life doesn't come with an instruction manual that says, “Chapter 122: How to realize if you are gay and what to do...” No, there's no such thing. I spent the night lying in bed, crying on my pillow. I didn't know what to do... I was overwhelmed by so many changes. I finally fell asleep, which may have lasted 4 hours at the most... although I'm not sure how I came to that. I guess I had already used my daily limit of tears or something like that...
I think I always knew, or at least I have known for a while... What I don't know is if you're born like that, with that, or if it is something that you develop as you grow up. It's not a disease or a condition, it is a choice. So, my thought is that it is something you eventually develop or at least I feel that's my case. It's complicated, delicate to talk about, to bring up in a conversation. I knew I was special, that I wasn't a “regular” kid; even in high school I was different than the rest of the boys. I had more girl friends than boy friends because I felt more comfortable around women. To me, boys would only talk about cars, girls, and football, and I knew very little of those three (except girls maybe). It's not that girls would talk about Barbies, clothes, and make-up. It's not like that at all, but I've always felt more confident around girls, I felt as if they didn't judge me. In gym class, I always got picked last when we had to make a team and, when we had to choose a sport, I chose volleyball. I also played hockey for some time. In addition to that, there's my obsession with clothes, being a shopaholic, needing my clothes to match, to be well dressed, to look good and neat. Men in general aren't concerned about that, they just don't care, and I do. I remember going to the magazine stand, being all shy and even feeling guilty for buying those teen fashion magazines like Seventeen, Vogue, or Vanity Fair. I would read them at night when everyone was asleep, and later I would hide them under the mattress or somewhere in my room where no one could find them. Even if I go way back to my childhood, I have a funny memory. We were at a record store with my parents and my sister. My parents told my sister and I that we could get any record or album we wanted, as a present from them. I don't remember my sister's choice exactly... probably one by the Backstreet Boys... but I chose Music by Madonna. There was a lot of this stuff going on in my life. My favorite singer is Katy Perry, I used to love The Jonas Brothers, I never watched Dragon Ball Z or Supercampeones. I'd rather watched Floricienta or Rebelde Way with my sister. I also watched Patito Feo when I was older and series like Glee or the reality show where Paris Hilton was looking for a new BFF. In the movie Troy, I had feelings for Brad Pitt, for example. It's not that these are the terms and conditions to be gay, there are no requirements, no secret formula. I do not mean that you're gay because you listen to Madonna, watch Glee, or have certain tastes or hobbies. No sir! Those are things that make you different, that pull you apart from everyone else. As I grew up, I found out that I don't like Madonna that much or I also have these gay friends who don't dress up so well, and it's okay! We are all different, you don't have to be a fan of Lady Gaga, you don't have to wear skinny-fit jeans every day. Your favorite color may not be pink. Even being different, I try to stay true to myself and be original, not a cliché. It's not that Lady Gaga is a cliché, but it is something massive, one of the most representative icons (although not for everyone). You can be gay and wear whatever clothes you want to wear, listen to the music that you feel like listening to, watch any TV series you want, read every book and magazine that you like, be with whomever you want to be with. What matters is that you know you are special, different, in a good way; acknowledge it and make everyone do so as well, make them respect that, respect you. Because it is a decision you are making and you may be criticized for that, but you must always stay true to yourself.
Chapter 4: With a little help from my friends
Sleeping helped me think about a lot of things... or not to think, it has always helped me forget everything for a while. But it was hard not to think about Fran, especially given the fact that I think a lot about everything, all the time. And Fran was recently added to the list of things that wouldn't leave my mind and things I would think about, which wasn't helpful at all. During the three nights that followed, after the institute I would come home sobbing and would cry until I fell asleep. Thank God the weekend arrived and, for the first time, not going to the institute seemed like an excellent idea. Besides, right after the weekend came the winter holidays, which only lasted five days, but at least it was something... I had some time to rest for a bit and think some more. Or think a lot actually... which people say can never be good, but whatever. I let the days pass by and I tried to keep my head busy. However, I slightly confirmed what I feared the most: I was falling in love again, the symptoms were there, the diagnosis was the