Do it again

It seemed like it was going to be a great weekend. My friend Daniel had his upcoming birthday on Monday and he had “organized” a small get together to celebrate. He technically didn’t need to organize anything, for parties did themselves with a certain kind of magic his house holds. People just found their way into the party and had fun even though they all start as strangers.

The aftermath was always accompanied by a feeling of regret because of our poor alcohol choices. But that next day, I felt relieved. It was the first day that I could sleep through the night without waking up suddenly in the middle of the night. I had done something different that night. I had spoken my mind.

I have been attracted to David since I was 15. Our story goes back to the childhood of social media, when Hi-5 and Photolog were around and relieved us from the awkwardness of meeting in real life. With an ample smile, cool Carrera shades and a dash of blonde hair in his black hair, David appeared in the profiles that I might be interested in and so I was. It took us a few months to gather the courage to meet. We had McDonalds for dinner and talked about wearing cargo pants. His lesbian best friend came along as a third wheel in case everything went south. It never did go anywhere, really.

We have been in each other’s lives through the Internet. Other than the occasional like or chat message, we didn’t know each other that well. I was always up to date with his relationship status, though. I think that when we first met we were both still eager to meet people or too coward to settle on something. I thought maybe I could do better. No other great opportunities came, so he was always on my could be’s list. Every time he would break up with his current boyfriend, he would make it public and so the brawl began over who would be the next to make the stand.

I was never in his list. I knew he saw me as just a cute friend who was up to flirting without asking for anything in return. He could have whomever he wanted, and so I was never a serious contender for the part. However, every time he was single I got a message saying we ought to see each other, but nothing ever happened. Finally, six months ago one of those messages turned into a real date. He was still with his boyfriend.

I could feel there was something between us. Through the years, I was sure that the spark was kept alive until one of us was brave enough to do something about it. So I felt like waiting on his dying relationship was a noble demonstration of my intentions with him. He was, I thought, a person worthy of waiting. Always a sweet boy, a little too touchy.

I endured the drama. I was there when they fought (they never even saw each other frequently enough to have arguments), I would take him out when his boyfriend wouldn’t. I even sometimes payed for dinner. Always in a respectful but attention asking way. Finally a month ago, he decided to break up for good.

I told him I hated his boyfriend. I told him so even when he was still with him. A nagging, dwarf-size teen who would take pride of his own pastry business that had been payed mostly by his parents. He would critize the lack of David for not pursuing more insistently his dream of being a photographer. He hated his boyfriend’s haircuts, which implied a once a month programmed fight.

As I got closer to him I realized what I would be getting into. His relationship was ending not only because of his partner. He was more than pleased with my attentions, having me pay and pick him up every time we went out. He enjoyed me taking him home half drunk, after he had been consistently hugging me and grabbing my hand in front of people. Only when we were at his door the magic would end and he would just shake hands with me and wished me a good night.

He is worth it, I said to myself. Maybe if I continue by his side, he will ackowledge me. I felt closer to him, I thought he might even be sharing the same thoughts as me. We hanged out more after he broke up, and I volunteered for being the shoulder he could cry on.

I knew I was driving fast towards the friend zone and if I missed my exit, my chance of having something with him would be lost forever. But nothing I tried actually made him take action. Everytime things got a little bit serious between us, he would never mention it again. And still, I wanted him.

He started to flirt even when I was around. He talked about boys, he would be on Grindr and Scruff searching for guys, even though he didn’t want anything serious. Handsome guys would approach him, text him, insinuate to him. And still I was by his side, the loyal friend who wanted a shot at the real deal.

I had been down that road before. The last time I was in love with someone for that much time also ended badly, and ended up in the same weekend I was trying to get to. I don’t know if it is possible to be in love with to people at the same time, shifting from emotions whenever they decide they want me. But that weekend something started to shift inside me. It was also the weekend I started noticing that my feet started to show again some small red dots and my hands where bruising in a strange manner.

I invited David over to my friend’s party. He was excited and texted me about it for several days before. He wanted to get to know him better. He wanted to fit in, I hoped. Maybe he was preparing for taking things seriously. Maybe, being his door mat over and over again had finally led to something. The day of the party he suggested we invited another friend of ours. I was irritated. It was the first sign that he didn’t want to be alone with me. And also meant picking him up and dropping him off at the end of the night.

We had a few beers and danced to Iggy Azalea’s “Fancy”, feeling everything but. Five bottles of Captain Morgan whiskey and countless beer bottles were scattered on the backyard bar. People were dancing, it was time to hit the club. We got in a cab and so the flirting began. David started caressing my leg, hugging and keeping me close. I felt like a kiss was coming. We arrived to our destination.

After we met with some other friends, we got separated for a while. The there he was: David’s ex was making his way through the crowd to the bar. It wasn’t long before I saw my date texting with anger in a corner. I approached him and tried to snatch the cellphone from his hands. We refused. I told him that he would regret texting him in the morning. Still he ignored me. I turned around and left bummed out and returning to my friend’s table. I glanced every few minutes to see if he was done, only to find his face illuminated by the screen, less than 3 inches from his face. And then he took his sight off the screen and into another guy’s face.

I made my way through the dancing bodies that tangled around me, rhythmless. I didn’t had the courage to look around and making out with someone else, but I could feel it. I got inside a taxi and headed back to my car at my friend’s house. I had had enough. I didn’t know what enough felt like, but that night felt like I could not keep being the guy that does stuff over and over again for nothing. I was worthy of love, of recognition, of dignity. I am an amazing person and somehow I had found the one person that took that for granted.

I cried a bit. I was mostly angry at myself for not having the courage to stop it before it got really hurtfull. I had been willfully submitting myself to other people for love and approval, after I had sworn that would never happen again. I made an oath to myself when I was diagnosed with leukemia that I would never depend on someone else for realization ever again. And there I was, three months after finishing my three-year treatment and being cured, as the shit in someone elses shoes.

I didn’t deserve that. I deserved a fucking crown. I deserved to have a wonderful life. I deserved the handsome boyfriend, the one that never showed up when I was ill. I realized the only one to blame for it was me. Looking for love in the wrong people. As I drove home, my phone rang. David was angry at me for abandoning him at the club without even saying good bye.

“So I also had to wait for you to be done making out to take you home?”. He couldn’t deffend himself. He knew what he had done. That night I slept with a clear head. I had had it. Whatever I felt for him and for all the other people who abuse my personality was not love. What I did to myself for them was not love. I went to lunch with my friends from the party, who also had their tragic stories from the night. They were proud of me for putting my foot down.

We returned to my friend’s backyard and drank some more through the afternoon and watched MTV. The mosquitoes were biting my legs and as I scratched off the itchyness I find a bruise in my leg. I check my feet for more spots, unable to distinguish any new ones as I hear my friends talk about last night. I have never been hypochondriac but during the week I did see that my toes had strange marks from my socks.

They said 3 out of ten people could develop leukemia after they have been cured in the first year after they finished treatment. I remembered the chemo. I remembered the promises to myself. The money my parents spent. The long hours in rehabilitation, the shots, the tears. Blood has an emotional connection to happiness, and so leukemia was a sign of unhappiness. I had cured myself once. Could I do it again? Was I getting sick again because I wasn’t happy? Could it be that black or white?

I was afraid but it was a lovely sunset before me. I started thinking about last words and the things that would be left unsaid if I died. How I would never be older. How things could end and that the only thing that would matter in the last moments of my life was how I saw myself, how I was the person I wanted to be the most times I got the chance to. How much promises I held to myself. And I thought about David.

I had told him how it was. I had broke free from a pattern. I felt alive and unafraid. But I felt that maybe lightining does struck twice. That maybe I didn’t knew true love until that moment, when I refused myself from somthing that was harmful. And I thought of all the things in my life that needed to be done correctly. All the words and ideas that needed to be said after those stains in my feet turned into freckles and anemia and everything went to shit. Tomorrow I have my monthly doctor’s appointment and I am shaky. This might be the start of a countdown, but it can also be the start of the truth.

It is the time to start making things right. Everything I have done, I can do again. And better. It starts with being true with yourself and ends with not giving up ever. I am the guy I should be in love with. Hopefully love can change it all.