I always wanted to belong. I wanted to be one of the boys. Not „normal“, rather accepted as a fellow outcast. I needed to see that there were many just like me, people who I could turn to and look up to.

Looking back it feels like that was the first time I did belong: I shared the experience of many others by thinking I was the only one.

Another experience I think I share(d) with many others is that I couldn‘t really picture myself in a healthy relationship. I didn’t think it was an option for me, like who would want to be with me? I thought I had to settle with whatever was given to me, because at least something was given to me.

My first boyfriend was a sweetheart. Big smile, abs for days and hung.

He would cook curried goat and fried rice for us, while dancing in the kitchen, wearing nothing but boxers. He would call me baby and himself „ya boy“ – and he still does, by habit maybe, but it makes me cringe. He’s married with kids now, the kind of wife his parents wanted him to have.

Last time we met, we talked about being friends in the future, us both being dads in the future, and imagined a big family cook out together. It made me happy sad. Like he hasn’t given up on his idea of me.

We got to know each other in theatre, he was a dancer, I was in charge of costumes and stage design. One day at a party he just started hugging me, not really letting go, almost feeling me up a bit and I couldn’t believe that he chose me out of all people.

Shortly after we spent the day together just riding bikes, talking, grabbing food and drinks. He then asked me if I had a boyfriend. It seemed clear to him that I wasn’t going to have a girlfriend. I told him „no, I don’t“.

The next day he picked me up from a play reading rehearsal, which of course had to be Romeo and Juliet, and when I threw my arms around him, he actually picked me up and spun me around. Back at his place he asked: „would you like to make this a relationship?“ and he did wait until I said „sure“ to reach out and kiss me for the first time. He was this kind of boy.   

When we were together he would call me his girlfriend when introducing me, not minding me wince or other people giving me strange looks. I tried to talk … well no, actually I didn’t, really. Everytime we talked he said: „baby, I love you, but I am not gay, you know?“

Still to this day I can’t really understand it, how he could actually convince himself. I never asked „but why are you with me then?“, I guess I didn‘t want to hear it.

He was the first boy I told I loved him. But this is not about him.

Fast forward to just recently: I am in a happy, stable and open relationship, my boyfriend watched me grow and change and he loves me no matter what. But it’s not about him either.

This is about one night. I met him on grindr, we messaged back and forth and he was not only quite outspoken about being attracted to me but also super admiring of how I would communicate and handle my partners. He wanted to get to know me without trying to change me or the way I date. So far I ended up sleeping at his place three times now, getting amazing head two times. Pleasing him by cumming in his mouth, like me being satisfied is what brings him the most joy. 

So one time when we were making out, both of us hard, almost dripping, he smiled, held me tight and said „faggot“ in the most loving and admiring way. That’s when I felt complete.

That’s who I am and he chose me because that’s who I am. Because that’s who he is. We are. We belong. And I love it.