Darkside Rainbow

Last night, while stripping Linux off my new Eee PC and loading Windows XP from an ISO (as much as it hurt, I love open source but the portable apps I need only run under Windows and don’t like Wine), for some reason my thoughts started straying towards my ex, Arturo - likely because of amusing memories of how completely technologically illiterate he is, and how he’d be horrified that I wiped the OS from a machine right out of the box without even hesitating. He and I were close friends in art school before we ever started dating; we lost everything for a while after he cheated, but after a few years slowly started rebuilding our friendship.

He’s in New York now, trying to finally make good on his graphic design degree, and I admit: I miss him. I don’t miss the man I used to date, but I do miss one of my best friends. It’s a rather odd sentiment for me. I don’t really keep in touch with my exes, though I’m still on friendly terms with some of them. Patrick, my first, is still a good friend that I don’t talk to often enough. I avoid Dave like the plague lest he beat me over the head with his cock ego and overwhelming need to prove himself superior. Cheung is best left alone; that much emo will choke a man, and he was honestly too young for us to have anything in common - plus I’d rather not have many reminders of my one-time adventure with borderline jailbait since I’m not particularly comfortable with feeling like a dirty old man. Takeshii…Takeshii is too complicated. It’s hard to be friends with someone that you at once love, hate, and pity. Then there’s Devon, but…that’s a story best left untold.

I wonder if it should bother me that I can’t even remember the others’ names.

I’m only 28 and I’ve been through enough men to last me a lifetime. Some serious, some not, a couple I’ve even considered tying the knot with, and I wonder if it’s a sign of our times that that’s not even considered particularly abnormal - and no, I don’t just mean the typical gay stereotype of sleeping around and going through men as if they were toilet paper. In this, heterosexuals and homosexuals have more in common than most people think.

The popular stereotype is that homosexuals are serial daters and sluts, while your average heterosexual only has a few relationships in a lifetime before committing to something. Frankly, that’s pure bullshit. Serial dating is common across all of society - in fact, it’s even promoted and made to look like some glamorous lifestyle by television, shows like Sex and the City and…well…anything prime time featuring attractive singles. Not only that, but there are plenty of people among gay and straight demographics demographics that date rarely, get involved in serious long-term relationships, or don’t date at all.

So I don’t know where this idea of gay promiscuity came from, this love ‘em and leave ‘em lifestyle where our partners are just faceless and disposable. We may have been a bit louder about certain sexual freedoms in the 70s, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t happening in straight society, too - and it’s still happening. Even though I’ve had several serious relationships, all lasting at least six months to a year, and even though I’ve blitzed through several brief flings where I figured out it wasn’t going to work after a few dates, weeks, or months…I’m not promiscuous. I didn’t sleep with every man I dated, I don’t jump in the sack on the first, second, or third date, and while I don’t remember all of their names…I do remember the ones I was serious about, and sometimes miss the friendships that we had before we ever tried for something more.

Have I had a few one night stands? Yes. There are times where you just need to feel someone’s touch, need to feel wanted, whether it’s to sate the itch or soothe an ache that runs deeper than the physical. That’s normal. That’s part of everyone’s life, the daily loves, losses, triumphs and regrets that come with trudging through each year and trying to figure out where we’re going only to end it realizing that half the fun of life is being lost. So I refuse to be vilified for being just like everyone else, save for in the gender of my loves and lovers.

I am just like you in my right to love, and even in my right to fail at love as I try with various people, looking for just the right fit.

So when you’re pointing your finger at me…remember that I’m just a mirror of you, pointing a finger right back.

This is why I shouldn’t post when sleep-deprived. Although learning to type on the Eee is quite fun; this thing is smaller than the span of my freakishly large hand. He’s tiny, cute, slick, and black, and I have named him Roman.