by Evan Goodrich.
My phone emitted a loud buzz from beside me. I had gotten a text. I slid my phone open to see the text. My heart skipped a beat when I saw whom it was from. It was from him. Already my day had been made. But with that feeling of elation came another, less enjoyable emotion: a twinge of pain.
There were so many words I wish could be spoken, so many feelings I wish I could communicate. I wanted to be that great boyfriend to him, the one who listens, who playfully banters with him, who truly cares. But I knew that I couldn’t have it my way.
The word love is tossed around so carelessly between people my age. Every teenager experiences “love.” Sometimes it’s genuine, sometimes it’s simply teenagers being teenagers: being silly and twitterpated, succumbing far too easily to their crush, despite the fact they’ve only known the object of their affection for a couple days. Pick a day, any day, and I’m sure I could go on Facebook and find some silly status or comment where someone says something along the lines of “So happy to see my boy/girl. Luv u bby!!! Xoxoxoxo,” after only dating for a couple weeks.
As ridiculous as these people can be, I sometimes wished I could be like them. I wished that I could have someone I could show love. I’ve always been a romantic at heart, a characteristic most likely formed from my early exposure to Disney movies and overly melodramatic Japanese video games.
Being a gay teenager in the South, dating hasn’t been very easy for me. During my first year of coming to grips with the fact that I was gay, I tried online dating, much to my chagrin. However, every seemingly sufficient suitor I found lived miles and miles away. I lost faith in the efficiency of online dating and pretty much abandoned it before long.
Then I talked to him. To this day I can remember the first time I talked to him, through a private message, of course. By this point, I had given up on online dating and just happened to see his profile. I remember thinking that he seemed like a nice guy. Dating was obviously out of the question, but he was at least friend material. And to my excitement, he messaged me back.
And so he stayed a friend to me, a good friend, for nearly the first year of our knowing each other. But things changed. I began to develop feelings for him, huge feelings. I had always had a bit of a crush on him, but those feelings really started to grow. I suppose it was inevitable that I’d develop these feelings.
But I was afraid to tell him. I was afraid of what could happen, how things would change. Nothing terrified me more than a rift forming between us. And so I kept the words I wanted to say locked inside me, and so they’ve remained in me a year since that realization.
I’ve often imagined typical, melodramatic scenarios where I gush my heart out to him, where I could finally let loose those three words from deep inside my anxious heart. But I couldn’t help but feel that no one would take my feelings for a guy I met online seriously.
Those three words “I love you,” three words that are supposed to be some of the most significant words one ever speaks to someone, have lost their meaning. Teenagers throw those words around carelessly and thoughtlessly, without any genuine meaning behind them. Because I have never had the chance to let out a sappy declaration of love to the person I want to most, those words are nearly sacred to me.
People take expressing their feelings for granted, the opportunity to be with someone to care about and make those sappy scenarios a reality. But I know that I won’t. Though I still am left pining from afar, as silly as it may be, I’m prepared. When the opportunity arises for me to pour my heart out to him, I will take it and make those Disney fantasies real.
