living.in.technicolor

This year, December 8th will mark my 3-year anniversary with my boyfriend. The story behind that date isn’t that we went on our first date or when we first decided that we were officially going out. Instead, it’s a small moment that I remember quite vividly.

My boyfriend (let’s call him B) had told me that he liked me earlier in the semester but I turned him down, unable to reciprocate his feelings. While I dated a bit during the next few months, B remained shy and alone. Our friendship deepened through our student club activities. Over time, I came to realize how much I liked him and how much I wanted to give him the happiness of his first relationship. I thought his good nature and awkwardly cute mannerisms made him fully deserving of someone.

We were walking across campus at Berkeley to his apartment to help make food for a potluck. It was very cold but the sky lacked the usual cloud cover and was crystal clear. Stars lit the sky with unusual brightness. Campus was quiet as people turned in for upcoming finals or to escape the cold.

As we came across the GPB area of campus, a shooting star flashed across the sky for a second, taking us by surprise. A white sliver flashing through in a deep, dark blue.

B had never seen a shooting star before. As I debated what it could have been (a meteor, a burning satellite), I remembered that you’re supposed to make a wish when you see one. Silently, I wished that we would end up together that night. We kept walking, staring at the sky and hoping that another would come.

Later that night, we did end up drunkenly kissing on someone else’s couch. It confused him as he thought I didn’t like him still so to clear the confusion, we went on a real date later on and started formally dating. Since then, we’ve always marked the 8th as our anniversary, the date that we acknowledged our feelings under the blessing of a dying light.

3 years later, we’ve been through a lot of tough times (long distance, doubts about our future) and yet, B has remained as dedicated to me as he ever has been. Some people might call us naive, especially since I was B’s first boyfriend and we’re young enough to date around. Still, I don’t think that should matter. There’s a comfortableness we share that I enjoy immensely, and a list of memories like December 8th that seems to keep growing.

Looking back, April was a crazy month. The chief reason: my boyfriend found a job in Southern California and an opportunity to move down.

The entire process seems like a blur now. I drove him to his first interview. A week later, he got a second interview and drove down from Norcal for it with his parents. Within hours of the interview, he got the job and took it a few days later. 2 weeks later, he found a room in an apartment close to work and moved in.

In the midst of all that, we wrestled with the fact that my parents wouldn’t let me move out without a struggle; it didn’t make sense to them for me to do it financially given that I’ll be applying to medical school this year and might not even be in LA anymore after a year. Plus, I couldn’t tell them why I wanted to move in without outing myself. I figured in the end, the stars hadn’t aligned for us just yet to live together. I caught up with a friend yesterday who’s engaged and is moving in with her fiance and it made me think if moving in together entails other things.

I’ve seen my boyfriend more times this past month than I have in the past year. We meet up after work or on the weekends for day trips and parties. It’s definitely presented a fresh array of things for us to experience together in contrast to the Bay Area.

Still, his moving down here forced me to consider our relationship in a serious light. It was a big shift from the long distance relationship we were forced to settle with after I found a job close to home after graduation. It took him nearly a year to find a job  (difficult given that we graduated during a recession) and there were times when I had doubts that things would ever change. But they did and I’m taking my time adjusting to these new freedoms and responsibilities. Essentially, I’ve (re)committed just like he committed by moving down here.

What I’ve been very grateful for these past few weeks is how supportive my friends have been towards my boyfriend and I. They’ve provided us places to stay, chances to hang out and an encouraging atmosphere that has helped us regain lost time. Even in my moments of doubt, I felt like they didn’t want me to give up on something that important. I hope to repay all that good will in the future.

Today, while at work, I thought of the phrase, “Men are from Mars, women are from Venus.” Yet in reflection of my life as of late, I came to an extra addendum - “Gay men are from Uranus.”

Patriarchy exists in my mind; there’s no way around the fact that men and women are brought up and act different in today’s society. Men are brought up to withhold their feelings and withstand circumstances on their own. Women are brought up to talk about their feelings and work together on their problems. A stereotypical view and varying on a case-by-case basis but one that I’ve noticed for most of my life.

Being gay however complicates that for me. Fundamentally, most gay men are gendered male, no matter how effeminate they act. They are capable of doing all the things that men are notorious for: being unfaithful, violent, emotionally distant and prone to anger, to name a few. Yet, I feel like the nature of gay relationships and being seen as (or pressured to act) more effeminate presents gay men with feelings and difficulties that men and women are accustomed to respectively.

As such, gay men attempt to work with these issues in ways they are not prepared for during their patriarchal upbringing. They might try using patriarchal (and unpatriarchal) ways of coping and get mixed results. They could try talking to their friends about relationship problems (and start a lot of gossip) or try to withhold their feelings until they go away (or blow up in their face). It’s a whole set of politics that I’m just beginning to grasp in my own life.

I personally don’t know the best way of dealing with my “gay” feelings. A good cry is nice sometimes but it doesn’t solve the problem. Trying to withstand things is equally hard. All I know is that while unusual, they’re real problems and I have to face them head on in the way that best fits me.

Last weekend, I was with my boyfriend for Valentine’s Day and I have to admit, what I miss the most is the cuddling. We went sightseeing, ate tasty food and enjoyed the SF pillow fight. And yet, what I crave the most during our long periods of separation is cuddling in bed before and after sleeping. The spooning, the caressing each others body. For that reason, I always view cuddling as something very intimate. It solidifies the relationship and takes it to the next level beyond pure infatuation and lust.

For the same reason, I’m ambivalent about cuddling with friends. I have done it at the past when I was single but for some reason, it never felt right. Maybe it was my eagerness to start dating at the time but cuddling always felt like something reserved for the 3rd or 4th date, not for people I’m friends with. Even if I were to do it now, it’d feel a little like cheating, akin to holding someone’s hands but not as bad as full-out kiss.

Sometimes I wonder if that attitude of mine is normal or warranted. I don’t have the most experience being around gay friends and maybe if I tried platonic cuddling more, I wouldn’t think this way. At the same time, as conservative as my attitude might be, maybe it’s just one of those things I have to trust my instincts.