Confession of a GAP.. Sometimes Straight Boys Give Love

By Rory G. Lapointe
So I did it again. What all gay men do at least once in our lives. Broke my heart and poured it into the ground; hoping against hope that it would be different this time. Trying really hard to tell myself that this would be the right time with the right person. It's funny how easy it is sometimes to forget every other time in your life you've done the same thing and have been wrong. It started at one of those "end of something" parties that you have to make something really unimportant matter. We were drinking out of plastic cups and pulling ice cubes out of the kitchen sink; mixing hard drinks with cheap liquor and diet soda. Manny and I stood by the pool, making lazy conversation, he was laughing at all my witty jokes while I tried not to notice the way the light bounced off the water into his eyes. For a moment I held my ground and didn't say anything real but eventually, like always, my truth had to spoken. I opened my mouth and spilled out my apologies, that I hoped that he hadn't heard the rumors. That all my practical jokes and quiet asides hadn't been made for him to feel uncomfortable. That I understood he was straight with a girlfriend and a life that I had no right to step on. Selfishly I drifted past all the moments I had cornered him, teased him and stopped him on his way to somewhere else. Manny smiled and laughed a guff sound while pulling hard through his goatee. A hand on my arm, he told me that I never did anything to make him feel uncomfortable; that he was okay with things. A moment passed and I sighed with contentment, I was fine and the depth of my secret was unnoticed. I wandered away from him, finding other friends to talk to and taking a stolen moment to hide my small smile. I was safe with him. At this point it should be noted that I do this all the time. I meet someone and instead of doing the sane thing, the rational thing, I play my game. The game that we all play with boys like Manny; boys that we can't have. Somehow we've all learned to believe that love was like a piñata; you close your eyes and take a swing with the stick and hope you break it open. That love would fall scattered on the ground in a million sweet pieces that you could have if you were lucky. And every time you lose, instead of learning your lesson, you just spin yourself around and take another swing. So instead of letting things go, letting them lie, I decided that my heart hadn't been thoroughly broken yet. I noticed he was making his way to the door, to leave the party, to leave my presence. My heart caught in my throat for a moment; this could be the last time I saw him for 6 months, a year, forever. I was rude as I made my way outside to the street; I blew past people I always had a kind word for, a joke to share. I hit the street with a drink in one hand, a smoke in the other and the hope in my mind that I made good time in my shattered state. He caught me with a smile by the curb, somehow I done it and was rewarded with this last chance to talk with him. He was leaning his truck, putting on some Tracy Chapman, and holding a cigarette. For a moment I laughed, either outside or to myself I can't remember. I straighten up and made a silent promise to God that I would be forever grateful for whatever was about to happen. Slowly we started to talk about the world and the infinite sadness of "Fast Car" and somehow we landed on the subject of his girlfriend. Manny told me about how he had done her wrong, made a mistake that could cost him everything. That now it was about tests and silent heartbreak and that whatever happened to him was earned punishment. I looked at him and let go a long silent breath. Of all the things in the world to say to another person, to me, this was heartbreak and sadness. That there was a possibility that someone like him could just go away. It was selfish thought but it was also the truth of the moment. Breaking the tension was the ring of a cell phone. It's her, Manny said, as he held the phone in his hand, unanswered. He looked me in the eyes and just stared for a beat. His voice broke as he told me that he loved her. That she was his ONE and that he couldn't believe he had risked all that for nothing. That things had happened that put all of his love for her in jeopardy and that he could lose IT. Now you might assume that this broke my heart but instead it saved me. I no longer wanted to love Manny but rather I did love him; not in a sexual sense but out of my understanding of his love. That he made me see that this real, larger than life thing was possible; that it isn't a random party game but something special that you can hold in the palm of your hand. It can call out to you in the middle of a drunken, balmy summer night. With such a build up, you might assume that there should be a grand ending. Instead, other people joined us on the street, all drunk and silly with smokes and one night stands to be had as my head swam in circles around his love. My friends tried to lead me away from Manny, telling me to get a grip as they all thought that I was making some drunken last play for a boy who I couldn't have. In the confusion Manny slipped into his truck and drove away, leaving me with an opened heart in the middle of the street. In that moment I realized what the point is of those people in our lives. That it's not about the angsty crushes or bad poetry or that we fell but that they are there to remind us of how it can be. That love is a real thing that comes to you in a million different places and for a million different reasons. That we all have a boy like Manny somewhere in our lives; not the boy that we did love but rather the boy who made us see what love could be all about. Now I won't lie and say I didn't cry a little that night before I drifted into sleep. But that night I also realized that for every time I have ever been that in love with the wrong guy, that in denial about sexuality, there was a reason for it. That it's to tell us about how love can be real, that it can be and that sometimes it can come, not from an actual love relationship, but the possibilities and loves of another person; even a drunken, sad-eyed straight boy. And part of me wishes I could thank Manny for this gift but part of me also know that it would take away from our moment on the street; our moment for smokes and heartfelt thoughts. I'd rather picture him driving somewhere, Tracy Chapman still pouring out his truck windows and his cell phone calling him home.