Dear Bryan,
Wow. It seems weird that I'm still writing and thinking about you after all this time. For the most part, I've respected your life decisions and stayed out of your business. Although lately, I have wanted to reach out a hand of friendship. I'm honestly not sure how that would go over.
There are certain specific moments in our relationship I neglected to address when we were together and I realize it serves little to no purpose to hash through things now except that the man I am today is much different from the one I was then. I hope I would handle things differently if those situations played out now instead of then, but that's neither here nor there.
The truth is... The way I behaved back then wasn't honest or true to who I genuinely am.
Saying that by itself invites all manner of scrutiny because I'm more aware that who I really am at the core of my being may not be someone you would've ever searched for or wanted. In fact, we probably wouldn't have gotten along at all. We may not be compatible even on a friendship level. I guess when we're young, we live idealized versions of the lives we hope to have. We try to be the person we aspire to rather than an authentic version of ourselves.
Here are some things I hope may give you some insight into me and what happened all those many years ago. And tonight, in this letter, I'm going to focus on one incident that won't leave the regret center of my brain.
Oddly enough, it's also one of the most poignant moments for me in our relationship.
Up until we started being a couple, I'd had a rather jaded love life. I jumped into my first relationship fully convinced my first boyfriend would be the life partner I secretly desired. But sadly, that scenario played out horribly and I was forced to wake up and realize certain things about other people.
I've always been able to sympathize with people. In a way, that's sorta like being empathic. I can allow myself to feel the emotional plight or joy of another person and although a part of me considered that a gift, another part of me resented it because I would often find myself at the mercy of another person's moods. I'd get lost in their pain or happiness. And it would always leave me off balance when I'd finally be alone.
After I realized this about myself, I took steps to emotionally distance myself from others and not get swept away by people who could feel more passionately and deeply than I could. One of the steps I took was to stop developing intense one on one relationships with people.
For all the good that did me. Lol... It's still the way I approach people today. Some things never change.
I guess you could say I stopped doing it with everyone. I became more selective about who I would listen to and who I would invest time and energy into. No doubt you noticed many disenfranchised souls found their way to me. I offered a level of understanding they couldn't find with most people in general.
For someone who never felt credible or popular or well adjusted, somehow I conveyed that sense to them and they felt like they'd achieved it to some degree through their contact with me. I bridged their strange realities with real life and many of them found their way into a social circle through their contact with me.
Think back on the people that would appear around me. None of them could be said to be normal. And they were all fiercely dedicated to me and my friendship.
Sadly, there were times I abused that dedication and love. I wasn't a great person.
For all the good qualities I possessed, I was still easily swayed by a strong emotional current. And you saw one of those in my ex best friend. Almost all of the bad decisions I've made in life are partly the result of his influence. Even leaving North Carolina was his idea. He convinced me we'd take a serious stab at music together if I came back and the thing that makes all that even more sad is that I didn't really want that life. He wanted it so bad, I would get swept up in it and I believed it was what I wanted as well.
Much later on, I realized my passion was never for the spotlight or the center stage. I was more interested in creating the poetry, stories and music rather than perform it. But he longed for the spotlight and around him, that's all I saw. I had no idea being creative could be something other than a sold out stadium or a number 1 record.
When I met you, I'd gone through a couple of extremely intense relationships that really left me disenchanted and quite frankly, I gave up on the idea of love.
Part of that was the product of my poor self image and the fact I'd never really gotten to know myself. And part of it was the result of dedicating so much time and energy into men I loved and ultimately being rejected or ignored.
You saw that side of me. Valentine's Day is an example! I wanted to buy teddy bears for my guy and chocolate and wine and candlelight and dinner.... Fancy, romantic... I wanted to make him feel wanted and appreciated. Desired. Adored and Safe. Of course, deep down, I wanted those things as well, but I didn't know it. I remember saying things about my romantic gestures though. I would often make a comment about how I wished someone thought enough about me to do what I did for them. I know it's a passive aggressive way to make a point, but you aren't really being passive aggressive if you don't realize you want to be swept off your feet?
I often tell people we find ourselves in the relationships we subconsciously feel we deserve. And it makes sense because I didn't feel like I was worth that kind of attention.
I could psycho-analyze myself and it would be easy to pinpoint where this defect began.. I grew up in a family where I was never given a birthday party. That's probably why I celebrated them so much when I got out on my own. No one ever baked me a cake. Sure I'd get a couple gifts, but it was nothing like you'd imagine. And my birthday was so close to Christmas that any excitement I felt was overshadowed by my siblings' excitement for Santa Claus and what they were going to get. Not to mention the fact most people budgeted their money for Christmas gifts rather than birthday expenses.
I can't tell you how many times I was given a gift for Christmas and for my birthday. Lol, sure that would be cool if it was something expensive or truly spectacular like a car or a vacation... But it was normally something like Monopoly or Trouble. In a way, I was conditioned not to expect anything like that. Not to feel special.
Despite a need to feel that, I was almost always happy to give that feeling to others. Like trying to throw you a birthday party in Asheville. You were so disappointed to have it at the Mellow Mushroom. I remember how negatively you reacted. I felt horrible, but honestly, I didn't have anything else I could do. My entire frame of reference to that city and your life revolved initially around your work and I mistakenly believed so many of those people were friends you valued. I thought I was doing something special for you. And I felt like shit when it wasn't.
At the same time, from your perspective, being around someone who loved Christmas and was used to huge family holidays with presents covering the entire floor and a million things going on all at once, must have been awful. I'm sure you saw me as both superficial and mindless.
That first holiday we spent together... I wanted to give you a Christmas you would love. One to make up for every bad one you had. I wanted you to feel connected to family and life. I feel like you never really had that without your mom and dad... I wanted to make you feel like we could be a family and bring back some of the cheer I felt during the holidays.
Instead, I think I turned it into a chore for you. I was still trying to figure you out and the gifts I got weren't as thoughtful as I'd hoped. I love giving gifts people actually want. Not things they need or will eventually discard. I wanted to make you so happy.
And I felt like I failed again. That, plus the cold weather and memories of Christmas in a jacuzzi sipping margaritas sorta broke the camels back. My ex bestie was constantly trying to talk me into moving back to Vegas and I felt like I was failing as a boyfriend with you. Which, truthfully, wasn't something I felt in any previous relationship. Sure I was dumped or dumped them, but I firmly believed I'd given it 100%. (Somewhat ridiculous when you stop to consider I really didn't believe in love at the time).
I started out wanting to be monogamous with a lifetime partner and instead, found myself adrift in the quasi social-sexual world that is the gay community. No one was interested in monogamy and eventually I figured it was bullshit and tuned it out. I placed very little value on sexual contact in general. I neither considered it a building block to a sturdy and stable relationship or as a way to enhance and build a long term relationship with someone. It simply was. And I'd never really made love to a partner. It was always just sex and very little emotional connection.
When we got together, we both agreed on an open relationship. Unfortunately, I lied without realizing I was lying. Deep down, I didn't want to be open. And as I fell deeper and deeper in love with you, the casual sex I had felt worse and worse. I hated it. I literally just wanted to be with you. I think I was still open to certain things like a threesome or something like that if there was a strong connection between us and the third party. But I didn't like hooking up or knowing about you hooking up.
Ok... So finally, here's the point of all this.
One Valentine's Day, I'd met a guy on Gay.com. I'd chatted with him a few times and he seemed really into me; which my ego needed at the time. I remember inviting him over on Valentine's for dinner. I made my infamous casserole and instead of watching a movie we spent most of the evening just chatting. Now, there was always a chance it could have become sexual, but at the time, I wasn't leaning either way. I was just enjoying the attention he was paying me and trying to get through an unpleasant day. It's possible we may have even started fooling around, but I can't remember because that's not the aspect of the evening that really impacted me.
I do remember that suddenly you came home. And you were early. You walked in and you had a stuffed Teddy Bear and some other things you'd stopped and picked up for me on your way home. When you walked in and saw me sitting with that guy, you were angry. You tried to keep your temper in check and downplay the obvious thoughtful gesture you were carrying in your hands. You introduced yourself and did your best not to be accusatory or start a conflict. However, I could see it and so could my guest.
I remember we quickly wrapped up the visit and he left. I don't remember how the rest of the evening played out but you were angry with me and we basically went our separate ways.
And this is where I wish I'd said something more or sat down and really talked to you.
There were moments when we were together. Sometimes, they were things I'd discover that you never knew I knew, or things that happened between us... Moments that when you put them all together, you did something in our relationship no one had ever done or has ever since done... Somehow, you made me feel loved.
Isn't that horrible? Because once you feel something like that, your greedy heart just wants more and more.
That stupid stuffed Teddy Bear you brought home that night was something no one had ever done for me before. It was a gesture I'd made a hundred times for others, but not something I believed would ever happen to me.
I felt so bad. Bad for making a total stranger a Valentine's dinner. Bad for having him over. But most of all, bad because all I really wanted that night was to be with you. And instead, I derailed the possibility before it even had a chance to happen.
I need you to try to understand the impact of that gesture on me. You were the man of my dreams! And I felt terrified that if I tried to solidify anything between us I would run the risk of losing you. I believed you didn't want a marriage. A husband. And yet the longer we were together, the more I wanted that with you.
I know the fact I've never truly moved on from you is something deficient in me. It probably indicates some insane mental illness. But no matter how much time and distance there is between us, you're still the only man I've wanted to marry. To raise a family with.
It's so ironic.
At the time I was falling more deeply in love with you and wanting to do more with you sexually and in life, you were falling out of love and turning to others to fill those areas in your life I so desperately wanted to fill.
I remember wanting to experiment with bottoming and one of the reasons you told me you couldn't stay with me is because you were more top and needed someone who could be a bottom. You have no idea how devastating that was to hear. We were on the same page. We simply never communicated our needs to each other.
Well, I should wrap this up because I could turn it into a lengthy tangent conversation if I'm not careful and I'd rather stick to certain specific events in these letters I write to you.
Honestly, I have no intention of showing them to you or any agenda in writing them other than my understanding of that time in my life continues to evolve. And I desperately want to learn from those mistakes.
I'll close this out for now and say that even though you may never see these words, I hope you're well. I hope you're happy and I hope you know on some level how much I loved, love and will always love you.
Devotedly yours,
Spence
