Dear Eddie,
I feel funny writing like this because I know you will probably never read it - even though I'm posting it on my blog. However, I am in the middle of a something of a crossroads in my life and I feel the need to reflect.
I sit here and wonder if you remember me. In many ways I feel that you do. Our many encounters in the smoking area of the Oppenheimer Tower in Westwood are most unforgettable to me. You are most unforgettable. Maybe this is also a time for an explanation, even if you will never read this. This is...well, just something that I feel I need to do.
One of my earlier entries here is a erotic short story I wrote a while ago back when I lived in West Hollywood. It was back when we had stopped seeing each other around Westwood. It is a short story where we encounter each other again - this time we both initiate ourselves into a few moments that start to blossom from an erotic night. In the story I had written a book about us and I ask you if you understood my fear. You - or rather your character - did understand because he had read the book. I did not go into details with the story, so I might as well do it here.
I guess the hard part right now is where do I begin? If I go all the way back, it will be too much. If I start too soon, nothing will actually make sense.
In the years that I lived in L.A. it had turned from this magical place I once thought it was to this place...this city that sparkled like a diamond but once the diamond was lifted up, one found all types of ugly things. One of those ugly things was how racially tense Los Angeles really is. I told myself that I could rise above it. But when I discovered that people whom I thought were friends actually thought of and called me a sell-out (or white-washed or coated); and that those men who are into black men were actually more racist than everyone else, I shut down for about two years. I did not go out, I did not date, I did not seek sexual encounters. It was a slow downward spiral towards something of a livable depression. I got my old job back at the Sunset 5 and worked two full time jobs when I got promoted to Assistant Manager. And when I was done with that, I just sat at home reading or spent hours inside of various movie theaters and in front of my television and did not do much else. I felt drained of all social focus and sometimes wondered if I was being a bit too sensitive. I knew I had to pick myself up and start to live again. I did not know how I was going to do it. I was scared and angry and confused.
And then I saw you while I was on a cigarette break. The way you looked at me with wide eyes of interest. The way you smiled at me. I thought you were the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life. And I would have introduced myself, but I thought you were just another guy who was only interested in 'the myth' or harbored some thug/mandingo fantasy that I would not be able to fulfill.
I have to admit it: you were quietly persistent. I liked that. I also knew that I wanted to meet you and get to know you...but the dark clouds of memories past continued to haunt me. People were cruel; some where downright nasty. Even if I offered a compliment. In the bars and clubs, online, in social gatherings and even some of the patrons at the Sunset 5. I knew I had the strength to overcome and look through ignorance. I sometimes wonder if you reacted to my negativity or if you yourself were scared also. I remember starting to speak to you whenever I would see you. I remember the time I forced an introduction between us and literally ran back to my office shaking and dumbfounded. I remember that even when your company moved to the building across the street I would still see you on your smoke break and our awkwardness towards each other. I remember seeing you watch me from across the plaza or from the Westwood/Whilshire intersection. I remember how I thought no man was as beautiful as you were and how fucking sexy you looked in a pair of jeans.
By the time our encounters ended and I never saw you again, I was coming alive again. To be honest, I'm not going to sit here and blame myself for I think we both gave each other plenty of opportunity for introduction and conversation. I just wish things were different; that I was different. I wish that I did not let so many stupid people affect me and my life.
About a year or two after the end of our encounters, I moved to Seattle. And in a splendid showcase of new found extrovert attitude, I had come across a lot of men who were lost in past pain and damaged. I myself had overcome it all - not completely at 100% but enough to realize what I had done to myself. When I told my friend Beth about you she stated that I was not ready to move forward and date. It's funny. She was the only friend I had at the time who would listen to me and tried to understand what I was going through. Maybe because she was straight. I find it funny now that race was repeatedly thrown in my face and I was labeled 'weird' by my friends for reacting to it. Maybe I wasn't ready to date again. But loosing out on what could have been something I feel would have been a brilliant experience with you is something I feel is a loss.
Maybe because I never had you be a part of my life is why imagining holding you, kissing you, being with you, making love to you seems as if it would have been a beautiful experience. Maybe it could have been love. Maybe only companionship. Maybe we wouldn't have worked out. I don't have a lot of regrets in my life - for I feel they are a waste of time, energy and well-being. But I do regret allowing the shallowness of people to shut me down. I guess I can call it an experience now since I laugh at people who put so much focus on skin color and stereotypes. That makes me think back to when I was twelve years old. I was prejudiced against Muslims. I don't know why. I was a kid in the ghettos of D.C. hanging around and verging on the edge of becoming a street punk. It wasn't until my mother sat me down and told me that she will not have prejudice or racism or intolerance in her house and that she was ashamed and disappointed in me because I held so much hate for no good reason. After that, I took it upon myself to shake hands with Muslims and talk to them and to smile genuinely. And then I discovered that they were no different than I. They just practiced a different lifestyle and/or religion and that was not basis enough for me to hate them.
I am now at a point in my life where I feel I have to let go of the high expectations I have of others and put more focus on just making myself and my friends happy. After years of searching for a place to belong, I found Seattle. I left there recently, but I'm trying to get back. And as many gripes as I have about the guys up there, I find that in becoming an extrovert that I placed huge expectations on others particularly when I started to believe what people were telling me, i.e. that I'm supposed to have this fantastic love and sex life because I'm attractive and a nice guy. People need to go through their own shit and come out on top...well, only if they are willing.
I do believe - and maybe I'm fooling myself - that you and I would have been a scorching couple. I don't believe in 'what ifs' either, but they are nice to fantasize about from time to time. For the rest of my life I don't think I will ever be able to listen to 'Iris' by The Goo Goo Dolls without thinking of you. The song was out around the time of our encounters and I always thought about you whenever I listened to it...besides it makes a nice soundtrack for those fantasies that my mind conjures up once in a great while.
Believe me when I say that I hope you have found someone who loves you the way I know you deserve to be loved. They say that life can be lived in a minute. What about love? Maybe we felt enough for each other during our encounters. Romantic, isn't it?
Me? I've never been lucky in that department. I mostly end up with guys who are emotionally damaged and feel comfortable there. Please don't read any self-pity in that. I do believe in love, but I also believe that it's not meant for me. I'm at peace and comfortable with that now. My life ahead will be full of wonderful times with my friends in Seattle, San Francisco and L.A. and my finally realizing my dream of being a filmmaker and an artist. That is what makes me happy. That is what will make me even happier. I like the man that I have become and I think you are a big part of making me who I now am.
I know what it is like to have your heart closed so deep inside of a chamber that nothing can penetrate it. I know what it is like to have your heart open riding the winds of freedom. So now I know what it is like to have your heart embrace the cherished time of life and live without fear. And whenever I think of love and happiness and beauty, I shall think of you.
Always,
Tony
I feel funny writing like this because I know you will probably never read it - even though I'm posting it on my blog. However, I am in the middle of a something of a crossroads in my life and I feel the need to reflect.
I sit here and wonder if you remember me. In many ways I feel that you do. Our many encounters in the smoking area of the Oppenheimer Tower in Westwood are most unforgettable to me. You are most unforgettable. Maybe this is also a time for an explanation, even if you will never read this. This is...well, just something that I feel I need to do.
One of my earlier entries here is a erotic short story I wrote a while ago back when I lived in West Hollywood. It was back when we had stopped seeing each other around Westwood. It is a short story where we encounter each other again - this time we both initiate ourselves into a few moments that start to blossom from an erotic night. In the story I had written a book about us and I ask you if you understood my fear. You - or rather your character - did understand because he had read the book. I did not go into details with the story, so I might as well do it here.
I guess the hard part right now is where do I begin? If I go all the way back, it will be too much. If I start too soon, nothing will actually make sense.
In the years that I lived in L.A. it had turned from this magical place I once thought it was to this place...this city that sparkled like a diamond but once the diamond was lifted up, one found all types of ugly things. One of those ugly things was how racially tense Los Angeles really is. I told myself that I could rise above it. But when I discovered that people whom I thought were friends actually thought of and called me a sell-out (or white-washed or coated); and that those men who are into black men were actually more racist than everyone else, I shut down for about two years. I did not go out, I did not date, I did not seek sexual encounters. It was a slow downward spiral towards something of a livable depression. I got my old job back at the Sunset 5 and worked two full time jobs when I got promoted to Assistant Manager. And when I was done with that, I just sat at home reading or spent hours inside of various movie theaters and in front of my television and did not do much else. I felt drained of all social focus and sometimes wondered if I was being a bit too sensitive. I knew I had to pick myself up and start to live again. I did not know how I was going to do it. I was scared and angry and confused.
And then I saw you while I was on a cigarette break. The way you looked at me with wide eyes of interest. The way you smiled at me. I thought you were the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life. And I would have introduced myself, but I thought you were just another guy who was only interested in 'the myth' or harbored some thug/mandingo fantasy that I would not be able to fulfill.
I have to admit it: you were quietly persistent. I liked that. I also knew that I wanted to meet you and get to know you...but the dark clouds of memories past continued to haunt me. People were cruel; some where downright nasty. Even if I offered a compliment. In the bars and clubs, online, in social gatherings and even some of the patrons at the Sunset 5. I knew I had the strength to overcome and look through ignorance. I sometimes wonder if you reacted to my negativity or if you yourself were scared also. I remember starting to speak to you whenever I would see you. I remember the time I forced an introduction between us and literally ran back to my office shaking and dumbfounded. I remember that even when your company moved to the building across the street I would still see you on your smoke break and our awkwardness towards each other. I remember seeing you watch me from across the plaza or from the Westwood/Whilshire intersection. I remember how I thought no man was as beautiful as you were and how fucking sexy you looked in a pair of jeans.
By the time our encounters ended and I never saw you again, I was coming alive again. To be honest, I'm not going to sit here and blame myself for I think we both gave each other plenty of opportunity for introduction and conversation. I just wish things were different; that I was different. I wish that I did not let so many stupid people affect me and my life.
About a year or two after the end of our encounters, I moved to Seattle. And in a splendid showcase of new found extrovert attitude, I had come across a lot of men who were lost in past pain and damaged. I myself had overcome it all - not completely at 100% but enough to realize what I had done to myself. When I told my friend Beth about you she stated that I was not ready to move forward and date. It's funny. She was the only friend I had at the time who would listen to me and tried to understand what I was going through. Maybe because she was straight. I find it funny now that race was repeatedly thrown in my face and I was labeled 'weird' by my friends for reacting to it. Maybe I wasn't ready to date again. But loosing out on what could have been something I feel would have been a brilliant experience with you is something I feel is a loss.
Maybe because I never had you be a part of my life is why imagining holding you, kissing you, being with you, making love to you seems as if it would have been a beautiful experience. Maybe it could have been love. Maybe only companionship. Maybe we wouldn't have worked out. I don't have a lot of regrets in my life - for I feel they are a waste of time, energy and well-being. But I do regret allowing the shallowness of people to shut me down. I guess I can call it an experience now since I laugh at people who put so much focus on skin color and stereotypes. That makes me think back to when I was twelve years old. I was prejudiced against Muslims. I don't know why. I was a kid in the ghettos of D.C. hanging around and verging on the edge of becoming a street punk. It wasn't until my mother sat me down and told me that she will not have prejudice or racism or intolerance in her house and that she was ashamed and disappointed in me because I held so much hate for no good reason. After that, I took it upon myself to shake hands with Muslims and talk to them and to smile genuinely. And then I discovered that they were no different than I. They just practiced a different lifestyle and/or religion and that was not basis enough for me to hate them.
I am now at a point in my life where I feel I have to let go of the high expectations I have of others and put more focus on just making myself and my friends happy. After years of searching for a place to belong, I found Seattle. I left there recently, but I'm trying to get back. And as many gripes as I have about the guys up there, I find that in becoming an extrovert that I placed huge expectations on others particularly when I started to believe what people were telling me, i.e. that I'm supposed to have this fantastic love and sex life because I'm attractive and a nice guy. People need to go through their own shit and come out on top...well, only if they are willing.
I do believe - and maybe I'm fooling myself - that you and I would have been a scorching couple. I don't believe in 'what ifs' either, but they are nice to fantasize about from time to time. For the rest of my life I don't think I will ever be able to listen to 'Iris' by The Goo Goo Dolls without thinking of you. The song was out around the time of our encounters and I always thought about you whenever I listened to it...besides it makes a nice soundtrack for those fantasies that my mind conjures up once in a great while.
Believe me when I say that I hope you have found someone who loves you the way I know you deserve to be loved. They say that life can be lived in a minute. What about love? Maybe we felt enough for each other during our encounters. Romantic, isn't it?
Me? I've never been lucky in that department. I mostly end up with guys who are emotionally damaged and feel comfortable there. Please don't read any self-pity in that. I do believe in love, but I also believe that it's not meant for me. I'm at peace and comfortable with that now. My life ahead will be full of wonderful times with my friends in Seattle, San Francisco and L.A. and my finally realizing my dream of being a filmmaker and an artist. That is what makes me happy. That is what will make me even happier. I like the man that I have become and I think you are a big part of making me who I now am.
I know what it is like to have your heart closed so deep inside of a chamber that nothing can penetrate it. I know what it is like to have your heart open riding the winds of freedom. So now I know what it is like to have your heart embrace the cherished time of life and live without fear. And whenever I think of love and happiness and beauty, I shall think of you.
Always,
Tony
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