for him. (part 1)

Once upon a time still very fresh to me, I met someone whom I wish never to forget. I could tell you all the reasons why this is so, explain you why he has the most adorable smile or even how he is such a great and sweet person that he manages to surprise on a daily basis. However I reckon this would be no proper way to start the telling of a tale and since I am the one writing and you are the one reading we will do this how I wish and start by the beginning.

The first time I ever saw him, or at least the first time I ever noticed him was on the bus. After discussing this moment with set person almost a year later, he said he was quite amazed I noticed him at all for he says he was quite horrible back then. I disagree at all: never in the time I’ve known him have I found him horrible. As I was telling, I noticed him not because he dared talking to me or because we were introduced. He was sitting next to a friend of mine whom I consider today close but who at the time wasn’t much more than an acquaintance. Looking at him, I had the clear impression that being him a teenager guy he ought to be nothing but a jerk; I couldn’t have been more wrong. Anyway, she made this silly remark about him being gay, which I later found out not to be exactly true.

You must understand what it was to me to hear so. I was a fifteen year-old very closeted boy to whom the prospect of meeting a gay person was quite fascinating. Things went on just as they had so far, him not talking to me, me not daring, from that top of my social awkwardness, to talk with him.

I cannot remember when did we first talk nor why. My bet is it was because at that time we had the same mobile, which we don’t anymore because he broke his and I got robbed. It was a nice little ice breaker all the same. All I know was that after a while, upon every meeting of ours at school we would look at each other, smile and wave. I once had to endure a friend of mine (a girl I must add, for I always got along better with girls) saying he was very gay. That was the first and only time I really felt like punching her in the face.

I really don’t how, when or why (do we ever?) I first noticed I had a slight crush on him. This was very bad news back then, since I couldn’t keep lying to myself anymore  whenever I insisted I wasn’t gay or bi. Very bad news indeed. I didn’t really give much attention to that detail at that time, thankfully; otherwise I might have driven myself to coming out and I don’t think I had found out the right crowd for that yet.

I remember quite well that the first move I made after being fully aware I had a crush for him was sending him a message on facebook wishing him a happy birthday. He answered thanking, which I thought was progress. We greeted, we were able to chinwag very very poorly. Still no talk on the bus, but we surely would come to that eventually.

Courage to really talk to him, infiltrate some might say, only came after an entire summer of intense reflection over my sexuality and the consequences of making it known. I don’t know what came over me, but before I could notice not only was I out of the closet ( only for a restricted group) but I could find myself chatting merrily besides him at all times. I haven’t got the slightest idea how I manage such an impressive feat being me such a awkward person.


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