It was “love” at first sight. I walked into the crowded restaurant, nervously checking my phone for instructions on where to meet. I wore a baseball cap, black shirt along with my best pair of fitted jeans and designer black high-top shoes. I looked around, ever so anxious to meet the person I had been talking with for a few weeks. “Why am I so nervous?” I quietly say. Realizing that he’s probably in the same proximity as myself, I put on a brave face and walk as if I own the world. As I reach for my phone to text him, I get a message from him; “I’m to your left”.
He sat there, looking as if he had been plucked from the latest addition of GQ Magazine. His perfectly manicured hair rested ever so flawlessly on his head, eyes beaming brown and bright, his lips, oh those lips – perfectly shaped, so plump and full. The individual that was now sitting in front of me mesmerized me. For a second, intimidation races throughout my mind as his outward beauty takes my breath away. I realize that this is how Anastasia Steele must have felt when she gave her train wreck of an interview to the dominating (and equally gorgeous) Christian Grey in the 50 Shades of Grey saga.
He flashes his million-dollar smile at me and I melt. Had I actually met someone that I thought could rival any Greek god? Our conversation is light and sweet. I order a four-cheese pasta dish but I can barely get through half of it because of the butterflies growing in my stomach. I begin to observe how he eloquently eats his food and how the dimples on his cheek would appear every time he smiled. His skin is smooth and his tan makes him glow. His jaw is perfect and his eyes command attention. I find myself staring at his lips. His lips might as well have been dripping honey because they looked so sweet, so voluptuous, so…. tempting. I ponder perhaps that lips like his could only be artificially created, I mean, was he attempting to give Angelina Jolie a run for her money?
“Hey there” I say with a smile. “I’m Izak, nice to finally meet you!” I reach out my hand to meet his. His grip is firm but his hands feel soft and warm. “Have you been waiting here long?” I ask innocently trying hard not to show that I’m visually having an orgasm over what I am feasting my eyes on. He replies that he hasn’t and then we begin talking about what we do in life, so on and so forth. He informs me that he is a hip-hop dancer and he begins to divulge on his life. I lose myself again in his eyes and mouth. His beauty smites me, his voice is so genuine and eyes so pure. Could I actually be in the presence of the most gorgeous guy I have yet to meet? I shake my head in attempts to clear those thoughts. I can’t have him thinking that he is God’s gift to humanity. So I try to be polite, neutral and not show too much admiration. I must do so in order to keep his ego in check, I think to myself. But his egotistical self never comes out. He is not what I thought he would be for a man of his caliber. He is sincere, sweet and rather innocent looking. The more we talk, the more I see how kindhearted and down to earth he is. I convince myself that he is just playing the “nice guy” part and I attempt to have as neutral of an evening as possible, rarely showing my true thoughts or feelings.
Our night goes flawlessly and we part ways after watching a movie. Soon, I find myself driving home, racing down the interstate, lost in my own thoughts while thinking about the guy, which left me speechless. Doubt starts creeping in as I wonder if he even liked me. I send a platonic text message when I get home along the lines of “thanks for a nice evening,” he replies in kind. Who is this guy that I stumbled onto? There has to be something wrong with him, perfect guys don’t just fall out of the sky. Little did I know that I would learn something very tragic about my encounter with him.
Days turn into weeks and I find myself being ever more drawn to him. He and I are sharing a whirlwind adventure and are inseparable. We text each other things that would make Hallmark jealous and we continue to get to know each other. After weeks of this, I bring myself to tell him I love him and I truly believe it. He is perfect and we are happy. Though in my world, happiness was a gift seldom kept for long.
Several more weeks into our “perfect” relationship, and the honeymoon starts coming to an end, not on account of him, but because of me. We argue over silly things. The silly things turn into serious things and then the fights begin. All the while, I accuse him of being dramatic, childish and immature, he doesn’t return the favor.
I was tired of such fights and began to regularly break up with him and then get back together. That’s when the tables turned. Soon, it was I who was starting fights and it became a common practice. I felt so bad for what I was doing but I then I began to feel that it was better to loose him because of a fight than to break up with him, and In turn, break his heart.
He finally had enough of me and ended it for good. What had I done? I thought to myself. Then it hit me. I had lost something so beautiful – both inside and out.
All that I was left with were the pieces of a beautiful relationship that I had burned to the ground. When I realized what I had done, it was too late. Feeling like I couldn’t ever get him back, I burned down the rest of our bridge, and stood there, metaphorically watching it burn down in delight. But in those moments, when the fire is raging and the smoke is thick, you see that there’s a human on the other side. A human who is being hurt. He just wanted to love and be loved in return. But the blaze was set, the pieces were moving and no water could save it now. I hurt him emotionally with all I had.
I can honestly say I ruined this one. What hurts the most is not that he left me, it’s that I selfishly hurt him. I basically treated him with the motto, once famously spoken by Samantha Jones, “I love you, but I love me more”. He didn’t deserve me… No, he deserved someone better. Though he is human and has his own flaws, my trifled view of love and commitment set off a domino affect that cascaded beyond what I thought I could control. Control is what I wanted, what I attempted to exert over him and in my attempts to control the outcome, I lost what I treasured the most. I lost him.
The boy made of plastic was in fact, not plastic at all, He was genuine, sweet, naturally beautiful, perfectly made, loving and caring. In short, he was the real one and I was not… I was the boy made of plastic.
In the gay world, many of us seem to be looking for the next best thing – all while neglecting the fact that all we ever wanted and all we ever needed was potentially right next to us. Lust, greed and a selfish appetite sometimes blinds us to one simple fact; the more we look to fill a void, the emptier we become.