First

Who can forget their first love? I was a late bloomer in every sense; my first was not until I was seventeen, and I could have passed for fourteen. He was tall, olive-complected and broad-shouldered, with mahogany eyes. I was slight and fair and light-eyed. We met at school, immediately bonded, and it was not long until we were inseparable. He had an energetic charm that I found irresistible. He was unabashedly physically affectionate and had the ability to erase my shyness with his mere presence. We would constantly hug and hang on each other and lie around together. I even kissed him on the forehead or the cheek a few times. It was so beautifully unrestrained...

The night I truly kissed him will forever be burned into my mind. It was late and we were half asleep, lying around and talking. In an uncharacteristically impulsive moment, I leaned in and kissed him. He laughed and covered his face, so I pulled his hands away and kissed him again. Once again he shrugged it off; the conversation quieted, and he fell asleep. My emotions careened from euphoria to panic and back again until I drifted off to sleep. The next morning we resumed as if nothing had happened. We never spoke of that night. A short while later, I told him I was in love with him; he was impassive and said, "I love you too," as if he misheard me. We carried on as usual for months, but soon he began drifting away from me; I resisted and our relationship cooled for several weeks. When we eventually reconnected, I had reconciled my feelings for him and ensured that I always kept him at arms length, so to speak.

We remain good friends to this day, but it often seems that the young man I now know bears scant resemblance to the charming boy of a few years ago, my first love and my first kiss. Whether he changed or I did, I will never be certain.

I will always wonder what he was thinking at the time. Did he care for me so much that he was able to look past my clumsy advances? Was he so naïve and innocent that he could not see what was right in front of him? Perhaps someday I will ask him.

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Sigur Rós - Viðrar vel til Loftárása

The Right Direction

I don't know how to begin my foray into the world of blogging, so I will start with the simple truth. I am gay, and I am attempting to fully accept that fact. I thought I accepted my sexual orientation some time ago, but it has been my primary and constant preoccupation recently, which suggests that something needs to be addressed. I think my recent graduation from university has left my mind too idle; because of late, I am lost in my own world, lying awake at night thinking, continually distracted at work and essentially everywhere else. I have decided that a blog might be a good outlet for my thoughts. I am reminded of an Oscar Wilde quote: "Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." Expressing myself through the anonymity of the Internet may not be ideal, but it is a step in the right direction.

The first question that tends to come up on this subject is whether or not I have "come out." Coming out is probably regarded by many as one of the first steps toward self-acceptance. I am not out to my family. A few of my friends know. The idea of coming out is often on my mind, but it is somewhat contrary to my personality. I don't want a dramatic discussion... I don't want to burden anyone... I don't even want to be reassured that they still accept me, as strange as that may sound. I don't want my family to feel like I previously did not trust them, nor do I want them to feel like I have any doubt about who I am. My present stance is that I will deal with the issue if I meet someone and establish a relationship, but I am beginning to doubt the wisdom of isolating myself in this way. Is coming out an important step? Or is it more of a ritual, a rite of passage?

On a lighter note, here's a video that never fails to make me laugh: