Lost in Love

In the summer of 2013, I was still single, but young enough to hold onto the optimism that if I just put myself out there, I would be able to find someone. After all, I was young, employed, incredibly thin, and had not yet let the world beat me down. I was in the honeymoon phase with cigarettes, blind to how hard it would be to break the habit. Needless to say, I was young, dumb, and still believed that my anxiety would magically disappear with time and experience.

In those early days, I often worked a split shift at work. meaning I'd go in from 10:30 - 12:30 and then come back at 2:30 until I was no longer needed - generally 7:00 - 8:00. I have always been a yes man, so even on days I wasn't scheduled to work, if anyone needed a shift covered, I was more than happy to oblige; what was better than running in for a quick two-hour shift and then having the rest of my day free to do whatever I wanted? My mom and stepdad had given me their 2000 Lincoln Continental - still in great condition. For the first time in my life, I had a decent car, some money in the bank, and wanted to be around people.

On my way home from one such lunch shift, I got a notification on POF - Plenty of Fish - that I'd matched with a cute guy named Michael. My heart thundered faster as reality sunk in: the gorgeous 18-year-old I'd thought was way out of my league had liked me back!? How could that be? Hot guys never liked me back. His profile said he was in Breckenridge, a small town a little over an hour southwest of me; I had anxiety about going new places, but Michael was hot enough that I was willing to risk it if it meant getting to see him. He was thin, with dark hair, beautiful chocolate brown eyes, and a brilliant smile that made my heart skip a beat every time I saw it.

We started talking - he seemed very sweet. He had graduated high school in the spring - not even twenty-two myself, it seemed appropriate for me to pursue a romantic - and hopefully sexual - relationship with Michael. I learned that he was very close to his mother - as I had been with mine when I still lived at home; he was disappointed when he found out I smoked - his mom smoked, too, and suffered from COPD. I tried to be sympathetic and played it off like I was just a casual smoker, able to quit at the drop of a hat with no issues whatsoever - if only that were true. We shared a love of horror movies and the hit TV series Charmed.

As we continued to get to know each other, he got flirtier, which I was more than okay with. One afternoon I stopped at the Family Dollar on the way home to get cat food for my grandma when Michael sent me a message that immediately made me hard.

When was the last time you got a good dickin'? he asked, making my insides burn with desire.

I'm a virgin, I replied, hoping that wouldn't be a turn-off for him. And I think I'm more of a top.

After a couple of seconds - in which my heart beat so fast it felt as though it would burst out of my chest - he replied: Lay me. I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. He revealed that he was a virgin, too, which made me feel relieved. I wouldn't have to worry about being judged on my performance if we slept together. Later that day, we exchanged number, a sign - to me - that things were going in the right direction.

Not long after that, we exchanged nudes for the first time. He was thin and lean with a big dick; he was very complimentary toward my slim physique and said he was impressed with the size of my member. It was nice to get a rave review - in my head I was not well-endowed and always feared sending nudes for fear of rejection. Having a hot guy be so complimentary was a high that I wanted to feel as often as possible.

We started to talk every day; every time my phone went off, I snatched it up, heart racing, to see if it was Michael or not. I broached the subject of meeting in person; he didn't have a car yet but said that he was down to meet for a date. I was still nervous about driving to him, but the more we talked, the more attached I got, the less I focused on my anxiety. Wouldn't I be willing to do anything for love?

On a Tuesday night - my Friday - I performed my usual routine of coming home from work, showering, and then devouring almost an entire large pizza along with roughly half of a bottle of Captain Morgan. I've always been a lightweight, but even more so back then I was still underweight. At one point, I snuck outside - not wanting my to wake up my grandma - for a cigarette. As I smoked, I checked my phone, drunk enough to be disappointed that Michael still hadn't texted me back. I knew he didn't have a job or anything, and he'd said he had no plans for the evening, so where was he?

My thumbs sloppily typed out you're a terrible friend lol. I was hoping he'd see it and explain that he'd fallen asleep or was reading or something. I was definitely not expecting the response I got.

Michael was upset. He said that my message had hurt his feelings and that while he would continue to talk to me, any chance of us dating was now off of the table. He explained that if anyone made him feel bad, his feelings for them immediately died. I was too young and too dumb to see that for the red flag that it was, and although I kept apologizing, explaining that I had meant it as joke, he would not be swayed. I begged him to forgive me, to let me prove to him that I was serious and that I wanted to be with him: he would not relent.

Initially, I kept the conversation going, trying to pretend like everything was the same as it had been before while inside, I was breaking. I hated myself for making such a stupid, careless mistake and ruining what could have been a potentially great relationship. Michael replied to my messages, but his tone shifted from smitten and flirtatious to that of a friend; I didn't want to see that, so I ignored it, convincing myself that he was just giving me a hard time, that he wanted me to prove how much I wanted him and how sorry I was.

Eventually, he started talking to me about other guys, which ripped my heart in two. No matter how much I pleaded with him to give me another chance, he kept insisting that even if he wanted to, those feelings for me were dead. I wasn't mature or experienced enough to point out that if his feelings had been legitimate, they wouldn't have died so easily. All I knew was that everything had been going according to plan until I'd made the stupid mistake of making a joke. I went so far as to buying him a DVD copy of Mamma Mia! because he'd told me how much he wanted to see it; my friend Nancy told me that I couldn't buy his love with gifts, but I didn't want to listen.

As hard as it was, after a few weeks, I forced myself to stop texting Michael. I had finally accepted that he wasn't going to forgive me, and while I did want to remain friends with him, I knew that my feelings for him weren't going to go away overnight; if I wanted to salvage our friendship, then I would need some distance to work it out. It was hard; texting him had become an all day, everyday occurrence. I didn't know what to do with my newfound free time; I tried Grindr, but any guy who talked to me was subjected to me whining about Michael and how I wish I'd never made that stupid joke, that if I had never hurt him, we could maybe be together by then.

After a while of silence, I was in bed watching a movie one night when my text notification went off. Michael!? My pulse quickened as I reached over to see who had texted me. It could have been anyone from my mom, to one of my aunts or cousins, to a friend from school or work. My heart skipped a beat when I saw that it was, in, fact, from Michael. I hurriedly opened the text to find a cute picture of him with the caption something to brighten your day.

I immediately texted him back telling him how gorgeous he was. He mentioned that he'd noticed I'd been distant lately, which I took as a good sign. I was honest with him, that I still very much was interested in him romantically, but he shut me down again, saying that we could only ever just be friends now. I told him that that wasn't good enough for me, that I couldn't keep talking to him all day every day and not keep my feelings alive; I confessed that I wouldn't be able to move on if we stayed so close, because any guy I talked to had the misfortune of being compared to him. Michael was sad that I was pushing him away, but with neither of us willing to budge, we both gracefully bowed out.

We didn't talk again for a few years. I happened to spot him on Grindr one night and decided to see if he'd be more amenable now that he'd been out in the dating world and had seen how awful it was and how shitty guys could be. I was pleasantly surprised when he responded; he was no longer a virgin - which broke my heart - but he was single and horny - which I could use to my advantage. I sent him some dick pics, which made him happy. He replied saying that he had always loved how big my dick is.

We talked a few times after that. One morning, he revealed that he had just gotten back inside after having sex with a random guy in the back of his Jeep. Even though I'd convinced myself that I no longer had any feelings for Michael, hearing that made my blood boil with jealousy. I would have loved to have just had sex with him in the back of his Jeep, though I'd have much preferred his bed. Was I bound to stay in that toxic cycle with Michael forever?

We lost touch after that, though I do still follow him on Instagram. According to social media, he goes by Arizona now and moved to Grand Rapids. He got through nursing school and has really blossomed since the days when he was a baby gay. He's grown a neatly trimmed beard and got several tattoos, gained enough weight to be considered sturdy but not fat, and God, he can still melt my heart with his gorgeous smile.

Any time he's home visiting I message him on Grindr; he has no memory of me from before - I try not to use that to my advantage. The last time we talked, he confessed to me that th0ught he might be bi, that while he loved men, he loved eating a nice, pink pussy. No matter how much time passes, I eventually always find myself wondering about him; I'm not saying he's the great love of my life or anything, but he was a prominent figure - no matter how short-lived - during a happier time in my life.

I miss those carefree days, when I could love unabashedly, when I still believed that I could be some semblance of normal and that there was a special guy out there just waiting to give me the love that I so desperately wanted. Now, I've been on the dating scene too long, I've been hurt too many times to be that bright eyed and optimistic. I shouldn't have allowed myself to get attached to Michael so easily, nor should I have lowered myself to beg him to forgive me and agree to go on a date with me. Sure, I'd made a stupid joke, but it wasn't even really mean or hurtful; I should've seen what a drama queen Michael was and ended things, instead of falling for his stunning looks and heart stopping smile.

I miss that naive, bighearted kid who saw the best in everyone and was determined to love as strongly and openly as possible, to prove that love was real, that fairytales do exist. and that I wasn't the freak that I had always been made out to be. Now, I'm so callous that it's hard for me to even get emotionally attached to a guy, to let my walls down enough to allow him inside. You can't get hurt if you never let yourself feel, right? I'd like to think that that special guy is out there somewhere - waiting patiently for me - but the truth is, I'm not sure he exists, and if he did, I probably wouldn't even notice him because I only like toxic, emotionally unavailable guys.

As I look back on that time, I realize that although I have made great strides toward having a healthier relationship with myself, deep down inside, I am still that insecure boy who craved love because he couldn't love himself, who felt he was unlovable, but didn't talk about it because he didn't want to burden his friends and family with his neuroses. On my darkest days, I still feel like that, that something is wrong with me, because no one has ever loved me the way that I wanted to be loved, and I've tried; I put myself out there and loved with my whole heart, just to end up exactly where I started, just with more invisible scars and lower self-esteem. No matter how much I convince myself that I love my life and being single, the truth is, it makes me sad when I turn the lights off at night and try to sleep alone, without cuddles, or when I celebrate my birthday knowing that there isn't a special man out there who cares. Maybe I still have a lot of work to do on myself; maybe these feelings will never go away. Maybe there isn't a special someone out there for everyone - and I'm one of the unlucky ones that won't ever get to experience the wonders of love. Maybe my place in life is to learn how to love myself, how to be enough within myself that a relationship is something I want rather than need.

These days, my main focus of love is labels. Givenchy, Versace, Lagerfeld, Lacroix, and Roberto Cavalli may be expensive brands, but with the right care they will last - if not forever- then for a long time. That's the kind of reassurance that I need in my life. If I invest time, energy, and money into something, I want to know that it's going to be around for a while; you can't guarantee that with people, unfortunately.