I hadn’t seen him in awhile. It had been years, actually. He was my best friend in high school and he is the only guy-friend I have ever had. I was anxious and excited but above all, I was nervous to see him. I was nervous to find out that the reason we had ‘lost touch’ was not just because of distance. He and I lived thousands of miles apart, on opposite sides of the country. It was natural that we hadn’t talked in awhile.
For months I had reached out to him through every type of communication medium, wondering how he was doing in school and in life. I missed my best friend. Continuously, I had told myself that his unreturned calls, texts, and emails were because he was busy, not that he didn’t want to talk to me--not that he didn’t miss the same things I missed. We ended high school with ritual sleepovers at his house, watching silly movies, exchanging political thoughts, where my opinion was always deemed valid. We went on trips together, stayed in hostels, talked about fashion, technology, and helped inspire each other when we were both no longer motivated in school. My first year in college he had sent me roses on my birthday and Valentines Day just to let me know that someone cared--he knew that I didn’t really have a male presence in my life.
And, where were we now? It happened all so fast. Weeks of silence, turned into months of silence, and then suddenly it had been two years. I felt like we were nonexistent to one another, and above all I had no explanation for why this was the current status of our friendship. Had I done something wrong? We had never been in an argument--and he never mentioned that he was upset with me. I asked him once or twice if he was upset with me, but he would respond quickly with a no... He was busy.
And now, after two years of no communication, I was driving to meet him. It had been too long--he and I both knew this. It would take me about two and a half hours to get to our hometown--just enough time for me to plan conversation starters in case bouts of silence occur between us. He hardly ever came home--he was always in some type of internship or job.
Ahh, Greg. I smile when I think of him. People are naturally drawn to Greg, primarily because of his charm, witty remarks, good looks, and confidence. He is so knowledgeable--one of those individuals that can be classified as a’ lifelong learner.’ You know the type, right? The person that reads the news every morning, subscribes to The Economist, and can still do all of the assigned homework and go to bed at a decent time.
I met Greg in high school. We weren’t immediately friends, but we gradually became friends. He was extremely supportive of me during a time of need where many other people weren’t.
For years, students at school had joked that Greg was gay, but I never believed it--I defended him several times in high school telling people to shut up. We went to a very conservative high school, and lived in a very, very small, conservative town... Hell, even professors that had been teaching at our high school for 10+ years had never come out. I was very protective of him because he was special to me. We both knew we had a unique relationship that we both did not quite understand... We were young.
I guess I had always assumed Greg was heterosexual because he had told me that he was. Looking back, I remember him speaking of past flings with women. I had asked him a few times if he was dating anyone in college, and he would always say that he didn’t have time, which is very true; he is one of the busiest people I know.
First and foremost, Greg was my friend, and I never really questioned or ‘saw’ his sexual orientation... I only saw him, as true friends do. He was my friend but I eventually developed feelings for him. I wanted to tell him many times, but nothing ever came of it because of the distance, the timing of college, etcetera.
I found out through Facebook that Greg was gay. We all did. One day it just said “interested in men” and that Greg was in a relationship with a man. When I say ‘all of us found out’ I mean the few people he was still Facebook friends with, but news of this sort always travels fast--especially within our friend group.
I brushed it off and thought it might be a joke at first. You know, lots of young people joke about same-sex relationships on Facebook, but I knew that this just wasn't something he would joke about. I went through so many emotions when it was finally confirmed that he was gay. At first I was shocked, and then I cried for awhile. I could no longer pretend that Greg and I were close. God, I was hurt. How did this happen? I knew that I was being selfish and yet I could not help it. I was so sad, sad because we had drifted so far apart and hurt that I was no longer his best friend. I think part of me had fallen in love with him a long time ago, and I had never been forthcoming with my feelings. I felt like our friendship had slowly died, and I had just started to grieve.
I thought about things for a few days, about what I should do, or if I should do anything at all. I again reached out to him and sent him a heartfelt email (the likelihood of a returning phone call from him was slim--he hadn’t returned my calls for months). He eventually replied with a brief response back and that made me very happy. I can still remember every word. I knew that he still cared.
Hey,
You probably are wondering about me and Jim... We met several months ago, and have been talking every night since we met. I don’t know how it happened, but we had an instant connection. How are you? ...I’m sorry we haven’t talked. How’s your mom? Thanks for writing, I’ll call you soon.
It can be so confusing to discover that someone close to you is different than how they depicted themselves be. Passing can be misleading, but we live in a society where passing sometimes is the ONLY way for a person to maintain their safety and emotional well-being. No one knows someone’s personal journey, or the hardships someone may face in coming out. I knew that Greg had reasons for his silence. Maybe now our friendship would be able to rebuild.
I think when I arrive and sit down with Greg, and once we talk for awhile, I am going to tell him that I passed too in high school, and that I am still misleading others. My passing does not apply to my sexual orientation. My passing is different than Greg's and the seriousness of his passing and mine are nowhere near equal; regardless, I will tell him. I pass in the way that I put make-up on to cover all of my imperfections and blemishes. I pass in the way that I perfectly straighten all of my unruly curls and unkempt hair. I pass in the way that I exercise not for cardiovascular purposes or to fight off osteoporosis, but to conform to this normative sense of beauty that is completely unrealistic.
I passed in the way that I never told him how I really felt about him, and that I wanted to try despite the distance; I was misleading. I’m going to be the best friend that I can be. I am going to tell him that I can’t wait to meet Jim. I'm not sure what else to say, but only that I should listen--there’s never a manual to these situations.
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