It's 3 in the afternoon right now. And, no, I did not just wake up. I've been up for quite a few hours now. Of course, I slept at 6AM so an afternoon waking time would be expected. Anyway, if you're wondering: Melvin is still nowhere to be found. That's not what this entry is about, though.
This entry is all about... Yes, you got it! Old entry #2!
Alright, if you're not open-minded about sexuality, don't even bother reading. This is sort of about the ugly, horrible closet that I never ever want to go back in!
This was originally posted on Aug 13, '07 8:11 PM on Multiply.com.
I have long accepted the fact that I am not straight—it’s been around ten years, I reckon. It has been well over five years since I first mustered the courage to tell a person that I, in fact, have the inclination to admire people of the same gender as me. True, I was already at an acceptance stage to myself then—for more than four years, but I did not feel quite ready with the idea of other people knowing it.
I was a high school freshman student when I first admitted to be something besides heterosexual. It was not a direct confession, though. I did not just go up to someone and tell the person right in the face that I was such. It was really unexpected—especially on my part. It was kind of a double confession scenario. This was how it went. At the school cafeteria, my friend and I were talking about girls—well, actually, girls who have had the ill fate of going through faithless little me. I went on and on about my past relationships until we got to the point of talking about hers. At the outset, it was all about men: her past boyfriends and her infatuations. For what seemed like ages, she went on and on, and on. She irked me with her palaver of redundant statements which to her, were of major “kilig” factor.
Things only began to get a little interesting, however, when she said, “Lud, I have something personal to tell you.” My curiosity had awakened me. I responded saying, “Yes, what is it?” I was obviously more awake and more interested in what she was about to say than what she had been saying for the past several minutes since she acknowledged the widening of my eyes. “I’ve never ever told anyone about this yet, ever!” she added. And I replied, “Then why are you going to tell me?” seemingly unexcited but still bearing enough tone of concern to make her tell me anyway. “Because I trust you,” she said. Normally, typical best friends would have a sentimental hugging moment after such statement but we did not. I was too excited about what she was going to say to even tell her I was touched. She hesitated saying, “Oh, never mind. You might not understand.” On that note, I already had a clue of what she was going to say. I then sentimentally held her shoulder and said, “Come on. You know you can tell me anything.” And then, after a series of “it’s-just-thats”, “ohs”, “shits” and “damn its”, she finally said it. “Okay, okay. I’m into girls too.” I tried to act as surprised as I could—though part of me actually was. Everything just turned up-side-down. [“I* knew it!” I snapped.] And for about half an hour, I reckoned we were already talking about females, and it was she who was doing the talking. I thought to myself, “no matter how hard the wind blows, I will never admit anything. I will never say anything that would ruin my reputation.”
I’ve always been viewed as a “man” by my friends. A lot of people knew how many adverse relationships I’ve had since the school year began. I didn’t find it pleasant, though, but at least they all thought I was straight.
Anyway, back to the story. I was contemplating too much whether or not to tell her my own secret that I forgot to listen to her. The next thing I knew was that she was looking at me an odd way. She had this strange smile which, to me, suggested that it was my turn to say something interesting about myself. And then there I was. Somehow, I found myself in a skirmish against the urge to do something I know I’d regret in the future. “What? Are you waiting for me to parallel your confession?” I asked. She nodded, widening her smile and turning it from strange to utterly bizarre. At first, I scrupled and swung my head but her smile just kept squeezing me and rendering all resistance futile. So, after a few stuttered words, and “fucks”, I finally cracked. I said, “Fine! Yes! I’m into guys too.” She screeched like a rat whose tail got caught by a spring trap! Everyone else in the cafeteria turned their heads at us and I tried to curb her from what she was doing. Then I added, “But I always think of myself as the ‘man’ when I fantasize of other guys.” Still, she went on with her “shock drama”; dropping her jaw down lower with every statement from me with matching exaggerated eye blinking, and the typical right-hand-like-a-spider-on-the-chest. It was really annoying. But, alas, I was eventually defeated.
What had been a complete secret for four years had now been revealed in a most unforseen way. But, i have no regrets whatsoever. I'm even quite happy that happened.
Going back to that moment, unlike her, I didn’t talk about any guys, though. I wasn’t open to that yet. But that confession was indubitably something big. It opened another door for me. It has certainly helped me no longer to be repressive of my feelings. All thanks to one girl’s bizarre grin.
It seems a little funny that back then she was the only one who knew and I was so frantic about anyone else knowing. And now, I tell almost everyone I meet very easily. But anyhow, what's done's done.