10-11-2010, 03:26 PM
My boyfriend (let's call him Matt) and I have a relationship that I am quite sure is not the typical boyfriend story. We've each been through a lot together and before I go into it all, let me say I am very happy with where things stand now. But I do wonder if, because it's such an unusual story, our relationship will always be unusual.
And now, the story...
So I met this guy online last year. We decided to meet up in real life but neither of us said anything about being gay or wanting to date or anything. As far as I knew it was just going to be two friends hanging out. He took me to a club and we had a good time chatting and whatnot, and at one point he gave me a little peck on the cheek. I don't even remember how I reacted but it really caught me off guard. He apologized. As a footnote, before this night if anyone asked me my sexual orientation, I would have said "100% straight." I had never even heard of words like "bi-curious" and even though I knew deep down I was gay I had already decided I would never entertain the idea. That is, until a guy actually kissed me. My first kiss ever from anyone, any gender, actually. So I surprised myself and told him it was okay to kiss me. He kissed me a couple more times like that, and then later on gave me a huge open-mouth kiss in front of the entire club full of people. I remember one group of people even taking pictures. At the end of the night we took a cab back to his place and all of the sudden, 23 years of repressed hormones, desires, fantasies, etc, came gushing out. He walked me to the subway the next morning so I could go to work and I spent the rest of the day floating on a cloud, albeit also extremely confused. I would find out several months later that the place he took me to was not actually his place; it was his boyfriend's. With that revelation I would also find out that evening was at the apex of a heated argument he and his boyfriend were having. And that is where the story takes a turn.
We started going out a lot. I began to have a lot of feelings for him, feelings I had never had for anybody, feelings I didn't even know existed. He never offered to go back to "his place" again (it wasn't until much later than I found out why), but we did go to my place a few times. I had a very strict roommate at the time so privacy was a hot commodity. We fooled around, hand stuff mostly, which to me was far more than enough. Just him touching me down there for a minute or so was usually enough to get me off and I had to learn how to control it. We'd go on romantic dates, walk out along the river, etc, but whenever I tried to say anything overly mushy he'd shun me. He would degrade what we did in the bedroom, saying it was "nothing," the kind of stuff that platonic friends do all the time. He belittled me every time I tried to ask if we were in a relationship, if I could call him my boyfriend, etc. I also asked about his apartment and he said he was just renting it for a month and no longer lived there, and his actual residence was a state away.
At some point, he started inviting this other "friend" of his when we went out. Him going back home with me at the end of the night was not exactly common before, but now it was becoming an extreme rarity. He would always say that he was going to drop off this friend of his and then go spend the night at another friend's house. I'd offer to go with them to make sure he made it back to his friend's house, but he always told me no. One time in particular, he insisted that I walk to a different subway station than him and his friend, which forced me to walk five blocks away by myself in an area I wasn't really familiar with, at 3 in the morning. He called me "retarded" for wanting to go to the same subway as him.
Eventually, through Matt's friends who were also becoming my friends, I found out this guy was his "ex" and he was very abusive. Matt has permanent physical scars because of this guy. He had a penchant for kicking Matt out on the street in the middle of the night with nowhere to go. When I found out they had such a crazy past, I started growing more resentful every time we had to hang out with this creep. And the fact that Matt always went away with him at the end of the night made me assume they were actually going back to have sex. Of course Matt always told me he was just dropping this guy off and then going somewhere else to sleep.
But then Matt started texting me about how he didn't feel well. One time he said he caught his penis in a zipper and it caused it to bleed and everything. I saw him limping for several days. I happened to mention the incident to his "ex" and he said "I know; I felt bad and offered to put cream on it or something." Matt had told me this happened at someone else's house, so the fact that the ex told me he was there when it happened, hit me. He probably caused this injury, whether intentional or not. Then one time, Matt called me at 4 AM in the middle of winter, saying he was wandering outside without any money. He wouldn't even tell me why but I knew it was because his "ex" kicked him out of the house. I picked him up, he was shivering and despondent. I took him to my place but he wouldn't even talk about it. I'd often receive random phone calls from him during the week where he'd sound so distraught and so depressed, and ask me for guidance, but then he refused to tell me what was wrong. Whenever things started to get intimate at all between us, he'd find something about me to insult or ridicule. He started playing games with me. He once told me he had to spend the night on the streets because his friend kicked him out, and he was lying out by the river like a homeless person. I managed to leave work early and scoured every inch of the riverside, walking up to countless people covered up in coats or towels, without finding him. I eventually called him and he laughingly admitted he was out having lunch with a friend and made up the story. He said I was stupid for believing him.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I knew what was really going on but he kept refusing to tell me the truth. In what was the angriest text I ever sent anyone, I called him a "conniving slut" that was using me, lying to me, and treating me like garbage. Instead of any semblance of an apology he said I was delusional. So we "broke up" even though we were never actually a couple. I started dating another guy, and after all the madness before I felt tempted to go really fast. We were using the word "boyfriend" after one date; a couple weeks into things and we already told each other "I love you." But then things crashed and burned there. This new guy broke up with me not even a month into our relationship. I turned to people for solace, including, yes, Matt. He was actually for the first time ever, really there for me. But he did it in a way that wasn't mushy or anything. His matter-of-fact guidance helped me get over the break-up. I found out that he and his "ex" were now officially done. There was irreparable harm done between them, through one major incident that I still don't really know much about.
Anyway, Matt and I actually started dating again, and this time there was far less drama between us. He now always willingly came back to my place at the end of the night. He'd leave clothes, buy cooking supplies, and it kind of became "our place." I was happy. But after everything, I was now so afraid to use words like "relationship," "boyfriend," or "love."
Finally, several months ago, I asked him if we could actually be boyfriends and he said yes. And then a few months later, in a romantically random moment, I said "I love you." He didn't reciprocate but he didn't shun me either. He did eventually say "I love you" to me as well.
So that's where we are now.........However, he is still very light on all the mushy stuff. I tell him all the time how much I like being with him, how every moment with him is magical. But I can't even remember the last time he said anything like that to me. I know he loves me; after all we've been through I know he does. But he says that I go "ballistic" any time he ever says or does anything sweet to me. I argue that's because it's so rare. But maybe he's just not the type to greet me with a rose and a card, like I do for him. Maybe he's not the type to wake me up with a love-filled good morning text, again as I do for him.
I can't help but wonder if he sees me as his knight in shining armor, the one who was there for him during his darkest times (even though I did eventually have to walk away, but I'm pretty sure I did more for him than any of his other bfs). And of course, for me, he was my first, the one I will forever associate with "coming out." There's rose-colored glasses on both of us.
So it's anything but a normal relationship, and I worry that it never will be. I know this has been an extraordinarily long message, and even if no one actually reads it I'll still be glad that I actually got to get all of this off my chest, that I was actually able to "tell" someone all that I've gone through. But if anyone does find themselves with a lot of spare time and wants to share their insights, I would really appreciate it.
And now, the story...
So I met this guy online last year. We decided to meet up in real life but neither of us said anything about being gay or wanting to date or anything. As far as I knew it was just going to be two friends hanging out. He took me to a club and we had a good time chatting and whatnot, and at one point he gave me a little peck on the cheek. I don't even remember how I reacted but it really caught me off guard. He apologized. As a footnote, before this night if anyone asked me my sexual orientation, I would have said "100% straight." I had never even heard of words like "bi-curious" and even though I knew deep down I was gay I had already decided I would never entertain the idea. That is, until a guy actually kissed me. My first kiss ever from anyone, any gender, actually. So I surprised myself and told him it was okay to kiss me. He kissed me a couple more times like that, and then later on gave me a huge open-mouth kiss in front of the entire club full of people. I remember one group of people even taking pictures. At the end of the night we took a cab back to his place and all of the sudden, 23 years of repressed hormones, desires, fantasies, etc, came gushing out. He walked me to the subway the next morning so I could go to work and I spent the rest of the day floating on a cloud, albeit also extremely confused. I would find out several months later that the place he took me to was not actually his place; it was his boyfriend's. With that revelation I would also find out that evening was at the apex of a heated argument he and his boyfriend were having. And that is where the story takes a turn.
We started going out a lot. I began to have a lot of feelings for him, feelings I had never had for anybody, feelings I didn't even know existed. He never offered to go back to "his place" again (it wasn't until much later than I found out why), but we did go to my place a few times. I had a very strict roommate at the time so privacy was a hot commodity. We fooled around, hand stuff mostly, which to me was far more than enough. Just him touching me down there for a minute or so was usually enough to get me off and I had to learn how to control it. We'd go on romantic dates, walk out along the river, etc, but whenever I tried to say anything overly mushy he'd shun me. He would degrade what we did in the bedroom, saying it was "nothing," the kind of stuff that platonic friends do all the time. He belittled me every time I tried to ask if we were in a relationship, if I could call him my boyfriend, etc. I also asked about his apartment and he said he was just renting it for a month and no longer lived there, and his actual residence was a state away.
At some point, he started inviting this other "friend" of his when we went out. Him going back home with me at the end of the night was not exactly common before, but now it was becoming an extreme rarity. He would always say that he was going to drop off this friend of his and then go spend the night at another friend's house. I'd offer to go with them to make sure he made it back to his friend's house, but he always told me no. One time in particular, he insisted that I walk to a different subway station than him and his friend, which forced me to walk five blocks away by myself in an area I wasn't really familiar with, at 3 in the morning. He called me "retarded" for wanting to go to the same subway as him.
Eventually, through Matt's friends who were also becoming my friends, I found out this guy was his "ex" and he was very abusive. Matt has permanent physical scars because of this guy. He had a penchant for kicking Matt out on the street in the middle of the night with nowhere to go. When I found out they had such a crazy past, I started growing more resentful every time we had to hang out with this creep. And the fact that Matt always went away with him at the end of the night made me assume they were actually going back to have sex. Of course Matt always told me he was just dropping this guy off and then going somewhere else to sleep.
But then Matt started texting me about how he didn't feel well. One time he said he caught his penis in a zipper and it caused it to bleed and everything. I saw him limping for several days. I happened to mention the incident to his "ex" and he said "I know; I felt bad and offered to put cream on it or something." Matt had told me this happened at someone else's house, so the fact that the ex told me he was there when it happened, hit me. He probably caused this injury, whether intentional or not. Then one time, Matt called me at 4 AM in the middle of winter, saying he was wandering outside without any money. He wouldn't even tell me why but I knew it was because his "ex" kicked him out of the house. I picked him up, he was shivering and despondent. I took him to my place but he wouldn't even talk about it. I'd often receive random phone calls from him during the week where he'd sound so distraught and so depressed, and ask me for guidance, but then he refused to tell me what was wrong. Whenever things started to get intimate at all between us, he'd find something about me to insult or ridicule. He started playing games with me. He once told me he had to spend the night on the streets because his friend kicked him out, and he was lying out by the river like a homeless person. I managed to leave work early and scoured every inch of the riverside, walking up to countless people covered up in coats or towels, without finding him. I eventually called him and he laughingly admitted he was out having lunch with a friend and made up the story. He said I was stupid for believing him.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I knew what was really going on but he kept refusing to tell me the truth. In what was the angriest text I ever sent anyone, I called him a "conniving slut" that was using me, lying to me, and treating me like garbage. Instead of any semblance of an apology he said I was delusional. So we "broke up" even though we were never actually a couple. I started dating another guy, and after all the madness before I felt tempted to go really fast. We were using the word "boyfriend" after one date; a couple weeks into things and we already told each other "I love you." But then things crashed and burned there. This new guy broke up with me not even a month into our relationship. I turned to people for solace, including, yes, Matt. He was actually for the first time ever, really there for me. But he did it in a way that wasn't mushy or anything. His matter-of-fact guidance helped me get over the break-up. I found out that he and his "ex" were now officially done. There was irreparable harm done between them, through one major incident that I still don't really know much about.
Anyway, Matt and I actually started dating again, and this time there was far less drama between us. He now always willingly came back to my place at the end of the night. He'd leave clothes, buy cooking supplies, and it kind of became "our place." I was happy. But after everything, I was now so afraid to use words like "relationship," "boyfriend," or "love."
Finally, several months ago, I asked him if we could actually be boyfriends and he said yes. And then a few months later, in a romantically random moment, I said "I love you." He didn't reciprocate but he didn't shun me either. He did eventually say "I love you" to me as well.
So that's where we are now.........However, he is still very light on all the mushy stuff. I tell him all the time how much I like being with him, how every moment with him is magical. But I can't even remember the last time he said anything like that to me. I know he loves me; after all we've been through I know he does. But he says that I go "ballistic" any time he ever says or does anything sweet to me. I argue that's because it's so rare. But maybe he's just not the type to greet me with a rose and a card, like I do for him. Maybe he's not the type to wake me up with a love-filled good morning text, again as I do for him.
I can't help but wonder if he sees me as his knight in shining armor, the one who was there for him during his darkest times (even though I did eventually have to walk away, but I'm pretty sure I did more for him than any of his other bfs). And of course, for me, he was my first, the one I will forever associate with "coming out." There's rose-colored glasses on both of us.
So it's anything but a normal relationship, and I worry that it never will be. I know this has been an extraordinarily long message, and even if no one actually reads it I'll still be glad that I actually got to get all of this off my chest, that I was actually able to "tell" someone all that I've gone through. But if anyone does find themselves with a lot of spare time and wants to share their insights, I would really appreciate it.
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