Work in progress

There are a lot of things in life that we wish we could have a do-over. For example, getting teased by kids at school due to an embarrassing moment, too afraid to make a move on your crush, not speaking up to your boss, not telling someone that you love him/her, or not paying attention in your Spanish class back at 7th grade and now you are struggling to find work in Spain. I wish I could have done things differently because now I feel like I'm stuck. It has been weeks now since I have been applying for various jobs in Spain, one that can offer me a work visa to relocate. After working in the professional world for over a decade, I have become a supervisor, yet I am struggling to find entry-level work in Barcelona. Saying I am frustrated is an understatement. It is almost like being told that I am an amateur or unworthy. 

I feel like my life has always been going around in circles. Every time something good happened, some obstacle decided to bomb it all away. Like when I first got my biological father back when I was six, he disappeared without a word after a summer. Or when I got into NYU with a full-ride scholarship, living the dream with my parents, a month later, all became the darkest time of my life. For the longest, I believe I am cursed. Curse that I am not supposed to be with anyone, curse that I am destined to be alone. That is why I always kept myself far away from everyone.

Not because I don't want to connect, but because I was afraid that my curse, my chaos, would damage someone in the process, like how it took my parents away. Therefore, in the past few years, I have done everything possible to isolate myself. I avoided celebrating any holidays; I made excuses to attend any after-work parties; I kept a distance from all my friends, and I tried not to love anyone, never completely. But then, a magical night happened, I saw a light in this guy on the street of Barcelona. His smile has hotwired my flatlined heart rate. And now, I have fallen madly in love with him. The times I have spent with him have made me feel content.

A feeling that I have not felt in ages. Every moment I spent with him was paradise. From us exploring all the Disney parks, waiting for the NASA launch, watching the Lion King, traveling all over Florida, enjoying our Sunday routine, running all over town to catch pokemon, getting all nervous before walking into his parents' house, looking like a complete idiot on the ski trail, and making all these sweet love every chance we get. Somehow, I have forgotten all about my curse. He has completely changed my life. He makes me believe that we will have a great future together. I prayed and prayed every day, hoping that one day he would ask me to move to Spain with me. And I told God that if he does, I promise with every fiber in my body that I will drop everything and run to him. And now that he had, I don't understand why the world makes it so difficult for me, for us. I have been applying for jobs nonstop like a madman, but all I've gotten so far is rejection after rejection. I hate being stuck in this town. I hate that I am not physically there for him. I hate that I feel like I have let him down somehow. If I had known I would have eventually met him, I would have taken my Spanish class seriously since middle school. I would have started applying to graduate school and jobs on the day I met him. And now, every day, I feel an enormous to-do list waiting for me to catch up. I am trying my best to tackle all the tasks as quickly as possible, but I still feel like I am failing. I feel like I am failing him, and I fear that at any point, my curse will be reactivated again because I am destined to be alone.

In the last three months, I was scared that I might have prostate cancer, and in my head, I was like, this is it, this is the curse. But then, my doctor fixed me. I was nervous that perhaps he is not ready to give up his independence, and that he wouldn't want me to move in with me. But then, he proved me wrong. And now, this whole work visa. I don't understand why life can't throw me a bone. I just want to love him, treasure him. Marry or not, I just want to love him each and every day for the rest of my life. So if any higher power up on cloud nine is reading this, please grant me this one wish: moving back home where my heart belongs. 

Happy St. Valentine's Day

St. Valentine's day, a day of full mysterious history and stories, but in the modern days, it is known to be a day to celebrate love, particularly in romance. On this day, it is easy to spot who the people are single or coupled by the number of gifts or flowers they receive or the sum of hateful memes they post on social media about how much they find this day to be repulsive. I have had some experience to celebrate this romantic day in the past with my failed relationships. But looking back, none were exactly "sweeping off my feet." However, I always seemed to know how to sweep theirs. And to be honest, I can't even remember what we did to celebrate St. Valentine's day. I think there were some dinner plans, or maybe watch a movie at home, but that's about it. Again, my feet were never swept. Perhaps we only celebrated it was due to the social norm and the label of relationship. Therefore, it would seem improper not to observe this social holiday. Or maybe the reason why I was never excited about it was the feeling of not feeling anything. It was like being penetrated by a two inches penis; no matter how hard he pounds, you just can't feel a thing. It leaves an awful taste to your soul. Therefore, over time, I become disinterested in it. 

This year was notably different. It is the first time ever I had to celebrate St. Valentine's Day from a long distance. So, I knew I had to be creative, especially the birthday gift that I got him didn't seem to work out as well as the way I envisioned it (that is another story). I started researching for ideas and presents three weeks ahead of time. I've looked through hundreds of European websites, delivery services companies, and searched many romantic movie quotes that I can use as a love note. Finally, I've found what I think to be the perfect gift for him. Throughout this whole week, I have been teasing him about what it is about to come. However, just like any first-time sexual encounter, no matter how much you prepare, it always has some bumps along the way. For a whole week, I have been picturing the look on his face when he finally receives the big love package — imagining how the delivery man will surprise him out of nowhere and hand-delivered my regalos to him. However, some got delivered a day early, and some is missing a note. In the end, all's well, ends well. He received all the gifts and enjoyed each of them. Seeing that smile on his face was pure joy for me, I felt so warm looking at his selfies with the gifts I got him. But little did I know he also has a plan of his own. 

Javi is a talented artist. His hands are very gifted in so many ways that they can transcend the cartridge paper and my body into a work of art. His creative talent is one of the many characteristics that is why I fall in love with him. Turnout, his Valentine's Day's gift for me, is his drawing. As I see how tiresome he gets and how much work he put into it, it makes my silly presents seem minimal. Because he is a perfectionist, he didn't want to show me what he had so far on the day of Valentine. But, looking at how he was trying to make it perfect, he has gotten my feet swept. I never have anyone who always seems to know how I think and what I want.

Watching how much effort Javi put into the drawing got me to realize that I had never received such a meaningful gift, which can touch my heart. Because the gifts I received in the past were just objects that I can buy on my own, it doesn't necessarily have a sentimental value to them. Growing up from a single-parent household, I often felt neglected when it comes to feeling loved. My mom would generally give me twenty bucks as presents for any occasion. There was never a birthday dinner, thanksgiving meal, Christmas tradition, etc. I think it was her way to protect me from not being reminded that our family was not wholesome. And because of it, I often found gifts without effort is meaningless. However, does that mean my exes had never put in effort into the gifts they bought? No, but somehow I never felt the sentiment behind them. What I desire isn't something that can be purchased. For someone who grew up from a broken home, what I genuinely fancy for is the simple thing in life, those small gestures that show this person understands me and recognize the only thing I need is affection.  

A drawing that he had worked on for days and sleepless nights, it shows I matter to him. He somehow knew that I would much prefer his artworks than anything else in the world because that drawing represents his love for me. Love cannot be bought. You either do or don't. When he had finally shown me his finished masterpiece, it immediately brought me to tear, even now, as I am reliving the memory. He drew the animated version of us, holding hands, with me walking in the front as if I am leading him to our many adventures. It was simple, straightforward, innocent; it is us. For the longest, I felt alone walking on my path, searching aimlessly for something that cannot be bought. In all my relationships - friendship, family, romance, not once had I truly felt comforting that I am not walking alone on this path that we called life. Somehow he knows what I want, and need is pure love. That pure, innocent love that can bring back a dead man back to life. Like Snow White woke up from her slumber by a true love kiss from Prince Charming. Or Belle turned the Beast back to his human form with her love. That's the power of his love, his masterpiece. He shows me that I am no longer walking alone by myself. Since I was a kid, I often imagined myself trapped inside a cargo box, sunk deep in the ocean, and desperately hoping for someone who can reach far enough into the sea and pull me up. Today, he did precisely that. He knew how lonely I have been; understood the agony I endure; realized despite my hard, thorny carapace, all I want is to be held and told that it is all fine now, now the nightmare is finally over. For the longest, I felt like I am homeless within my world, but now I am home. I like doing house chores with him because it makes me feel like we are taking care of our home. That apartment is more than just a roof over my head. It is a place where I feel the safest. When I am wrapped around in his arms, I feel protected. And that is what I intend to do for him every day. I wish my parents were still here to witness the joy I am experiencing and to know what an amazing man he is. I know they would be proud and feel at peace, knowing that I have found my one true valentine. Maybe someway, somehow, they are the ones who found him and guided him to me. So their lonely son will no longer be homeless anymore. 

Jealousy

"Jealousy is a complex emotion that encompasses feelings ranging from fear of abandonment to rage and humiliation. It strikes people of all ages, genders, and sexual orientations, and is most typically aroused when a person perceives a threat to a valued relationship from a third party. The threat may be real or imagined." Psychology Today. "Jealousy." https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/basics/jealousy. 

It is a common emotion that many people have experienced before. It can be sibling rivalry, workplace resentment, or even envy between friends. Some can hide it well; some would displace it all and shower those they see to be their enemies with their grasping greeny gas. The type of jealousy that is the easiest to spot is the one between romantic relationships. Many people would claim that jealousy is a toxic substance that can damage the bond. However, evolutionary psychologists argue that jealousy is a necessity as a form of signal to flag that a valued relationship is in peril and need to take steps of measure to nurture it back to its former glory. Therefore, this toxic greeny feeling in actuality is healthy for a couple to breathe in because it preserves the bond and motivates the partners to engage in behaviors that can strengthen and maintain their relationship. Psychology Today. "Jealousy." https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/basics/jealousy. Although psychologists found jealousy to be healthy, I am very certain they meant for couples only to take the right amount of dosage. It's like milk. One glass a day can keep your bone strong, but drink too much can cause mortality or other health risks. 

Now, you must be wondering who is the jealous one in my relationship. Is it me, the Asian model who poses nearly naked all the time, or the hot nerd who screamed at his monitor saying La Puta. The verdict is me. It turns out I am the jealous one. But what or who am I jealous of, you ask? Is it the imaginary puppy from the future who will have all his affection, love, and attention? Or, the hoe who used to linger around him and made constant moves on him. And now, he is being invited back to our home with a group of friends. As we discussed that topic nearly an hour, to a point, my head was starting to explode, and my veins were beginning to pop. He questioned if he should have kept that particular secret from the past to himself. The truth is, one of the few reasons why I can trust him is because of his unfiltered brutal honesty. He rarely stops to wonder how the other person would feel if he/she learns the truth. Because he believes knowing the truth is always better living in the dark. I have seen many times how he stood up for himself or others if he believes that he is right. And for that, I will always love that veracious man. The thing is, it is not that I don't trust him fighting against temptation. It is that I DO NOT TRUST NO HOE. Let's be real here. Many of us have seen a girl or guy who had hit on a hot guy or girl, even knowing they have a significant other. Especially in the gay world, it's not like the gays are known to have the highest moral standard. I have seen many of my friends let random men plow their brownie hole on the dance floor. Both of my besties were banned from a spa because they got caught getting pounded by another gay couple. The other day I was watching this gay cruise ship documentary, I saw how those ship workers looking disgusted as they mopped the dried cum and lube off the decks and picked up used condoms that have shit stink with tongs. It is like watching the horror version of Titanic, where Rose told Jack, "You jump, I jump." Except, in this case, Randy is telling Jerome, "You cum, I dump." If this is what the gays are capable of, then seducing and stealing boyfriends is a piece of cake, especially for a greedy bottom. Let's not forget, we douche every time before we get on the saddle, at least the good ones do. 

But am I really jealous of some silly little hoe, or am I afraid that the man of my dream may get stolen away? Whenever I finished a photo shoot, I normally would post and promote the works on my Instagram. I never post any of my modeling pictures on my actual account. I usually post it as a story because it will delete itself after 24 hours. But during those time frames, I would get all kinds of direct messages from unknown followers. Many times is just a respectful heart emoji or one-word compliment. The others are more flirtatious or writing me an actual love note; some have even sent me dick or hole pic. Thanks to modern-day technology, it allows me to filter them out. But I always wonder, my profile is evident that I have a boyfriend whom I love dearly, and yet people would still try to get a shot at me. Even with me telling the world that I only belong to one man still doesn't stop the unsolicited dick pic, what is there to stop an actual human being whom he had a connection with to make a pass at him? I am nervous that someone will try to find that perfect moment, swoop in, and take him away from me. I am even more scared that he will eventually get worn down by the temptations and abandon me behind. 

As I am now counting down the weeks I have left here in New York, I am still, in fact, anxious about moving to Spain. Yes, every fiber in my body is aching to be with him already. I want to love him every day with action. I want to see his perfect smile every morning when I open my eyes. I want to be there to hug and cuddle whenever he feels stress. I want to give him multiple nonstop mind-blowing orgasms until he begs me to stop. But, I worry about the immigration status, finding works, language barriers, and starting over. But those are not my biggest concern. My biggest fear is that I may become too much of a burden for him to bear. And we may end up fighting, resenting each other's decision, and having him to wanting me out. I am very convinced that he is the guy who I will love for the rest of my life. But I am worried that he may fall out of love with me. So I guess, my jealousy is not about he may end up fucking another guy (although I am very concerned about that), but he may end up loving someone else who he thinks is a better fit — another Spaniard who has it easier than me; with less past damages, and less complication. If only he has an x-ray version, then perhaps he will see inside this badass personality shell is just a guy wanting to try his very best to become the best man he can be for him. So one day, he will deem him worthy enough to call him husband. 

Happy Holiday

These past few days, my emotions have been on the low-end side. The weather of my soul has sort of been cloudy since I got back from Spain. It went from a joyful, fulfilled life to a dull existence. My week is now consists of going to the gym in the morning then work, coming home, hoping I will get to chat with Javi for that mere moment, then making myself some dinner and going to bed. On the weekend, I have been staying home, working out, writing down a few of my thoughts, watching a few shows, reading all these new books that Javi bought for me, then preparing for the upcoming work week so that I can repeat the exact pattern all over again. My life so far has been transitioning into an autopilot mode. I busy myself with tasks, but they all have no meaning to it. It didn't hit me at first in terms of what I have been feeling lately, but today, a particular holiday has made me realized what I have been feeling these past two weeks, homesickness. One may say, but I am home. I am back here in New York, so how would that even make sense. It is true. I grew up here; my whole life has been here in New York. Although my friends, my job, are all here, my love, and the future I want to have is not. It has made me start questioning where do I belong? 

Last week I was out with my two best friends who I have known for over two decades, Lily and Judy. We have been friends since middle school, each of us is from very different family backgrounds, but our sense of wit, morals, and the level of pettiness are very much alike, if not, identical. Growing up in a single-parent household, those two were like my siblings. They were the reason why I had a bit of childhood. Regardless of the inexhaustible shade bomb that they throw at each other, sometimes we would purposely insult each other as target practice, we can still see through each other's mask and catch those unspoken words between the lines. Twenty years later, both of them are now married; Judy even has a kid. Lily and I are both the godparents to Judy's little offspring, who looks just like her mother. Besides my late parents, they were the closest people I've known as family. Now, as we were sitting across from each other at some new coffee shop in Flushing, we realized that we are going into our separate way. After we finished our coffee, Lily had her father to pick us up and drive each of us home. As we were walking toward her father's car with blinking headlight, it flashed me a mental image of us being twelve again. We were always going out to the latest coffee shop, doing absolutely nothing but occupying space until late evening just so her father can pick us up. For the longest time, New York has become my home because of them. I went from being the kid who always hid away in some corner to avoid the monster at home, to the person who grew to develop his sharp tongue, slaying every person with my words who dared to hurt anyone I care. My canvas started out black, but they managed to bleach it clean and added colors to it that I didn't know they even exist. Part of me is hesitant about letting go here; however, as we were each getting off that car and stepping onto the pavement, we understand that this is the end of an era. 

After my parents passed away, I had stopped celebrating any holidays or birthdays. Because it often reminds me of what I am lacking, a family. Of course, I had my new friends here in the city, but none can understand me the way my family does. Therefore, instead of explaining how I feel to people who can't possibly relate, I chose to remain silent. Over time, that silence has become a reflex, an automatic response to hide away my vulnerability. In doing so, people misjudge my silence as a strength and have forgotten about my existence. I remember I once had a candid conversation with a gay friend of mine. I explained to him why I always care more about them than they do for me. That is because of survival. While in many ways, all my gay friends came to this city independently, gathered together, and formed a community, but they all have a family back home where they always belong. I, however, have indeed been left alone here. So I have two options, either choose to be alone and lonely, or I can care for people in the hope of them to show me that slight grace of caring. Many of my gay friends have once called me their brother, but none have I ever believed in their words. Or perhaps I should ask myself the question, have I ever considered them as my family? How can anyone find people as their siblings if they can't comprehend them? If I dig even deeper into my own psyche, it would explain a lot to why I always try so hard into making the guys fall for me before I develop feelings for them. Because deep down, I really do hate being alone. So instead, I cling around the people who I can't connect with while feeling desolated. It's almost like playing musical chairs. As the game goes on, the pool of selection where you can place your ass is becoming limited. Once you set on that chair, is it really a comfy one? Probably not, but at least it's a chair with a vibrating dildo attached to it. When I broke up with Andy, all my gay friends were anticipating a catastrophic reaction out of me, as a matter of fact, a friend of mine even cried for me after I told him the news. Unfortunately, those tears of loss had never surfaced; some of my friends then wondered if I'm inhuman. If you apply the musical chairs approach to this situation, one would ask, why would anyone shed tears for a defective sex toy? 

But then, somehow, my way of thinking has transformed before registering into my inhuman brain. For the first time in forever, that torpid heart of mine started to beat again. It was like being submerged into the Christmas Carol. I woke up to the light and feeling that rapture holiday spirit. Instead of grinching other people's happiness, I decided to embrace the cliche. I slow dancing with Javi in the living room, placing presents under our Christmas tree, gagging on the 12 grapes as the New Year bell rang, and taking this happiness into my heart, although I would much prefer to gag on something else other than grapes with seeds. At least the one I had on my mind has a lot less sugar and calories in it. Still, even with all that love, I waver if I can really consider him as my family. That New Year night, it was perhaps the most romantic celebration I have ever experience. Nonetheless, due to my doubtful mind, a slight impediment snowballed into a disappointment. That night, I let my brain took the wheel, spinning into the pit of doubts, wondering the what if while pretending nothing bothers me. The next day after I woke up, I tried to shake off that jitter and pretended everything is normal. Javi just walked up and hugged me into his arms; he somehow read every unspoken word of mine by just looking at me. I was astonished. At that moment, my brain was not capable of formulating a single word. As if a glitch to a computer program that the software has never encountered before. He didn't even ask or wait for me explaining to him my version of half-truth — this man who I have known for a short year managed to make the impossible possible. If only he could feel my heartbeat, he would have known it paused for a good minute, or maybe he did know. I did not know what to say to conceal my embarrassment for allowing myself to go into my usual autopilot mode, except just hugged him back really tight and telling myself not ever to let go. Because I have finally found a place where I feel belong to. He is my home. He makes all the holidays festivo again. 

After Lily, Judy, and I aged into our adulthood, that canvas of mine has stopped evolving. Sure, there have been a few spin-offs mini sketches produced over these last few years, but the central art piece was just collecting dust since no proper artists were painting it. Except now, it's like Goya has come back to life and started pouring all sorts of new color onto my bristol board pad. Even as I am writing now, my dusty eyes are getting watery. Because for the first time in forever, I am learning to break my silence, showing my vulnerability, and acknowledging this happy story of mine does not have a time stamp on it. Even during those years that I had spent with my late parents, each happiness is attached to a stopwatch. Notifying me that there is a time limit as to how long I can enjoy it. Because of my mom's cancer, each celebration is like a going-away party. Behind each laughter, there is tear. Then my dad passed away, the one man who I had ever shown my vulnerability to because he was the only person who was capable of protecting me. On top of that, the only two siblings that I have had moved on to their married life. Consequently, I learned to discard a big part of me that made me human and became a greenish creature. Because by admitting what I desire is acknowledging what I can no longer have. And that is simply too much to bear. Now, I have this angel reaching his hands out to me, being everything that I have lost and long for having. Words cannot describe this overpowering mixed emotion I have. On the one hand, I feel ecstatic; on the other, I feel nervous. Nervous about losing him. I am worried that my string of good luck may eventually run out, then I am back to living in my series of unfortunate events. Javi has become this body pillow that I can lean on. As I was falling times after times on those ski slopes, I learned to let go of my fear because I have him behind looking over me. I trusted that he would come to my aid if I am in danger. For the first time, I rely on someone else other than my dad for protection. And when he hugged me that New Year morning and read me like a book, that smile of mine came from a genuine place. And when we celebrated Christmas together, I actually look forward to the one next year, and the year after, and many more. That happiness did not attach to a stopwatch. He somehow made everything possible again for me. Saying I am grateful is an understatement. I see myself growing older with him. I want to wake up every morning next to him, welcoming the sunray into our bed, feeling the warmth of his touch, and telling myself I am home. 

So yes, despite being back here in New York, the place where I grew up, I do feel very homesick because my home is no longer here anymore. Knowing how good it feels to celebrate a holiday with joy, I don't want to be on my own on any holiday or birthday anymore. I want to celebrate birthdays, his and mine. I don't want to have to ship his birthday present to him. I want to hand the gift to him in person. I want to stop being embarrassed to tell him how I truly feel and just scream out to him, verbally, "Yes, I need you. And yes, I am afraid of losing you because of how much I love you." I want to love his family as they are my own. My life all the sudden has meaning again is because of him. He is the Goya of my canvas and the key to my heart. 

A new understanding of love

My love for Javi has evolved to a new level that I have never experienced before. As I was explaining to my friend about my upcoming plan in moving to Spain, I realized I really have decided to move and to be with a man that I met over one night a year ago! So I reflected on what makes Javi different than all the other guys I have ever dated or encountered. What makes him so special that I consider him as my one and only soulmate? That is because, for the first time in my life, I actually see a future with another person. I feel alive and content whenever I am with him. His presence only provides me a shield of comforting feeling that I have never felt before. His love has inspired me to unpack my past, so I can become an even better person for him and for us. And the sex... my goodness, that mind-blowing sex! Making love with him makes porn seems like a PG cartoon. It was like back when you were a virgin, picturing how amazing your first time would be like, and when it finally happened, it was exactly how you pictured it. That is what I feel every time when he touches me, kisses, holds me...etc.

Clearly, I am no virgin, and yes, I have been in relationships before. In fact, the longest relationship I have been in was over 5 years, we lived together for 4. His name is Andy. Andy was a really nice guy. He was very sweet to my parents, especially my mom. He actually considered my mom as his own. That is because, throughout our relationship, his parents did not accept his sexuality. In fact, every time when his mom called him on the phone, Andy would've told me to hide in the other room. As if the scent of my gayness would travel through the phone line all the way to Romania.  Therefore, my mom tried to overcompensate what he's lacking by giving him more affection. Andy and I were very different. I am more in touch with human emotion, vs. he prefers to communicate with the computer. However, over time, we did change a lot. We both grew to understand each other. That is also because we have gone through a lot of ups and downs together. He was there for both of my parents' death. Andy was there by my side every step of the way. From doctor visits to arranging the funeral. Many had thought that he and I would eventually end up together. But not once, have I ever considered him as my soulmate, and I knew he feels the exact same thing. There was love, but it wasn't romantic love. It was more like two best friends had become brothers that type of love. The only reason why we were together for so long was because of my parents. And it would have hurt them for them to see us broken up. I still remember after we buried our mother, we went home, sat in the living room, and didn't speak. No TV, no small talk, no nothing. Looking into the empty space in silence. It was then we finally realized we had stopped being a couple a long time ago. All the chaos that has been going on, it clouded our eyes. It prevented us from seeing the truth, which is we don't belong together. Long story short, sometime after, we decided to break up in the middle of the New York street, and then we have never spoken to each other ever again.

After my relationship with Andy, I didn't really date anyone, nor did I want to. I found meeting guys were more like job interviews. You have to put up a front to make a good impression for a stranger that you most likely don't even want to see again. Plus, because of my past, my long, complicated, tragic past. For the longest, I've always believed no one can possibly understand or even remotely relate to what I have gone through. So in many ways, I've always felt alone, even in relationships, just like with Andy. Until I met my next ex, Tae. I met Tae in Vegas. He was my masseur, who I ended up having a meaningless encounter. But I was intrigued by his profession, so we kept exchanging messages. He told me about his past and how he ended up doing what he does professionally.

I felt related to what he went through in life. We bounded based on our shared, painful memories. Eventually, that bound has evolved into a relationship. Even from the beginning, deep down, I knew this relationship was like a minefield. But part of me felt like I had to save him. And so, I did exactly that. I moved him from Vegas to New York, helped him find a job, enrolled him into college, paid off his debt. Tae was grateful to everything I had done for him, but his thanks were very physical. What people didn't know was that during that 9 months relationship, I was a victim of domestic violence. Tae has anger management problems and semi borderline. He does not know how to process emotions, plus he is a bodybuilder who injects steroids regularly. Put the two things together, it creates a dangerous monster. Every little thing can easily set him off. At first, it started with just verbal abuse. He would call me names or said something very disrespectful. But then he would quickly apologize and tell me how much he loved me. After we moved in, that verbal abuse has evolved to physical, with him throwing objects at me. It started with just a pillow. One time I came home from dance practice, as soon as I walked in the door, he threw the couch pillow straight to my head. He was angry that I was out so late and left him at home all by himself. Then a month later, he was slamming the cabinets, pushing me to the couch, using his body weight to pin me down and accidentally knocking over the coffee mug to the ground. He started crying very hard because he felt sorry for his uncontrollable action. He began to get psychotherapy treatment afterward then realized he shouldn't be in a relationship with anyone. But because he didn't have anywhere to live, we remained as roommates. One night, he saw I had installed a dating app on my phone, he went into his beast mode again. He slapped the phone off my hand, and when I tried to confront him, he slammed my body to the wall and choked my neck with his arm. I kept trying to shake him off, but it was no use. He slammed my head to the wall a few times as he was choking me. Finally, he stopped, and he blamed me for making him do this to me. That night, I went back to my room, locked my door, and prayed for morning to come. The next day, I saw a massive bruise on my neck. It was then I realized I was no savior, I was a victim of a horrific relationship. Fast forward to the end of this relationship, Tae ended up moving out of my apartment and moved back to the West Coast.

At this point, you can probably understand how I have become very cynical about the idea of romance. Almost every man that I have encountered is either a robot or a monster. On top of that, you also have all these mediocre white men who only desire you because you are just another Asian with a nice piece of ass. They see you as nothing but a toy for them to own. They see themselves as the superior race and act as the savior of all minorities. But then, the society we live in also reinforce that mentality. We see minorities fight one another just so they can be with an average white man or woman. If you observe closely at any club, you will see many gay minorities often play a particular role just so they can be more attractive to the white race. Some may say this is all just an assumption; I call it an observation. So yes, I do have a few admirers here in New York, but none are partner material for my taste. Whenever I was being asked out on a date, I usually use my kids as an excuse. So just, I don't have to give a follow-up answer. I believed romantic love was nothing but a myth or a lottery. The chances that you can actually find a guy who fits into everything you look for is down to zero. That is until I met him, the one I consider my soulmate, Javi.

If you have to ask what is my biggest fear, I would say it is being abandoned. I still remember back when I was in high school, I was going through manic depression. That is because I did not understand why my biological father has three sons, but he chose me to leave behind. I was always trying to figure out what is wrong with me. For the longest, I wanted to confront him and force him to give me an explanation. But then thanks to counseling and my late dad, I learned to let go of him. But that abandonment feeling has already scarred me, it is like a parasite buried deep under our consciousness. Making us think and act in ways that will eventually lead us to doom. So whenever I was involved with anyone romantically, I often plan for a breakup. Because the only way to not feel abandon is to desert the people you may have feelings for first. However, with Javi, I learned to rebuild my entire foundation and beliefs on love and relationship. Let's face it, not even he and I had foreseen we can last up to now. We are talking about two strangers from two different cities and two different worlds, who met up for one night, 7 hours at most. To say feeling skeptical is an understatement. But then the way how he and I act are all based on these unexplainable emotions. From the night we met, to him visiting New York, us traveling to Florida, and to now, us living together. The first time I realized I have developed deep feelings for him was when I had to say goodbye to him at the JFK airport after we had spent a whole week here in New York. I felt like my heart was shattered into millions of pieces. Because I thought that was the end of our fairy tale.

There were times I told myself perhaps I should just give up on Javi and prevent myself from any more heartache, but then part of me can never let go. So I pray, I go to the St. Patrick Cathedral Church literally every day during my lunch hour. Asking the higher power for a sign. A sign that says he is the one. Every morning when I wake up and see his texts, it brings me sunshine, each time when I see him smile, it brings me joy, and every conversation I have with him, it gives me comfort. Without realizing, I have somehow removed all my guards. Because I have learned to trust him and believe when he says he really cares for me. He helps me to get in touch with my past, but he also takes my hand and guides me to move forward. When we went to Disney World together, I explained to him why I never like an amusement park because I never have a family to go with. He took my hand and assured me that I will never have to feel alone again. It was that moment, I had realized this is the man I have been searching for my entire life. He is my winning lottery ticket to happiness. And he is the man that I destined to be with. I have to go through my past, beaten to the rock bottom, and lost all hopes of living just so I can genuinely understand love in the most profound way. I know he is the guy that I have to love with everything I have. I want to be the best man, boyfriend, husband, partner for him, treasure him every day as if it is our last.

did I dream it?

As I was walking backward away from the security checkpoint, taking each step farther away from Javi, my heart started to break a little more; tears were building up more and more.  Finally, I got to the lower level of the airport; I found myself standing in a corner, desperately trying to suck the tears back into my eyes. After a few silent seconds, I got the courage to take the air train home. As I was sitting on the air train, I felt lost and confused. I just set in the air train letting it go around the airport for 30 mins before I got out and switched to a right line.

I texted my friends for meeting up as I was riding the subway because I was not ready to face an empty apartment. So I asked for a friend of mine to meet up. As he has work to wrap up, I’m just waiting alone at a nearby Starbucks, looking out at the window and feeling grateful that the sky is crying and not me. Because of my past, my tears seem to have dried up even though I know deep down I’m crying on the inside but can’t seem to understand how to let it out, so the sky is crying for me instead.

As I’m reflecting this past week, I still wonder if it was a dream, since it felt like a fantasy that you can only read about it from a book or a movie. There was no drama, no bull shit argument, just two guys, liking each other and going on the adventure together. If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.

comedy

I've heard that the funnier you are, the more pain you have endured. If you look at some of the most famous comedians now or in the past, what they have in common is a painful past. Yet, they all somehow have risen above and turned their misery into comedy. I personally think I am funny. I throw harmless shade at people as much as I can daily, because it makes people laugh. I like being known as the funny teacher, or the straight-up ratchet advisor, or the dumb shady friend. Because the way I am usually makes people laugh, and I truly enjoy that. Seeing them laugh makes me laugh, because then I, too, can tell myself that I have risen above all my sorrows.

But then, sometimes being the funny guy can have a double-edged sword effect. Because people forgot underneath all these jokes and laughter, a guy is hoping for someone who can get to know him on a deeper level, understanding where his comedy comes from, and reminding him how to be vulnerable again. I don't know how other comedians do it, but each of my jokes is like a shield, protecting me from my pain. There was a time I didn't think I could survive the pain and the chaos, but then something funny happened. I was watching some show for school; there was a scene with the character taking a dump in the middle of the living room, and it shocked the heck out of her family. I busted out laughing, hard. And with that, I survived another night of not killing myself. It was then that I started watching a lot of comedic shows, movies, and YouTube clips, copying their style and mannerisms. Eventually, my friends started laughing around me. Gradually, the thought of wanting to end it all had slowly faded away. But the pain remains, just deep in the pit of my bottomless broken heart.

So what exactly is so bad that made me want to kill myself, you asked. If you have to guess, probably my childhood, right? Although my upbringing was never perfect, I enjoyed many aspects of it. What made me want to die is death itself. For the longest, I feel like death keeps chasing me and taking the people around me away. By the age of 25, I had already seen 4 deaths. One was a friend, one was a friend's lover, and two were my parents. For a while, I felt like I was death itself, and the only way to stop it was by ending my own life. I purposely tried not to get close to anyone. I intentionally pushed away my ex, my friends, and anyone that I crossed path with, because i was afraid i may hurt them, or worse, i may kill them. But like I said, something happened, and that was comedy. After college, I worked as a youth advisor at a social service agency. I witnessed all these beat-up teens coming into my office searching for help and hope. Trying hard to forget how shitty their life is. So, I made it my mission to be funny around them. Helping them laugh has become my purpose. Because each time they laugh, it feels like their lifespan just got a bit longer and death has taken another step backward away from me.....

To be continued