Chapter 1
It’s funny to hear how two people met. I know before we said that this is something you should avoid asking any new couple, but alone, when you’ve had the chance to drag your friend away to grill them on their crush it will most certainly be one of the first things they confess. We met in the Starbucks line, on the subway, around work, during a friend’s party, online, after church, on the street, and every other preposition followed by clichéd location. I don’t think it’s funny because the account of their coming together is every very humorous, but because it will be a story they will always have to tell if it works out, and the story that will be hardest to forget if they break up.
Over the last three years I have written about dozens of guys that my friends and I have encountered. Each one of these guys carries with them their own special story. How we met, what we did on our first date, and eventually why it didn’t work out. Now, over the years I have given (or at least attempted) to give these guys clever nicknames, if not malevolent monikers, and most of you would never know who they really are, in fact the guys themselves sometimes don’t notice. But I, and perhaps a few of my closest friends, remember each and every story behind the story. Right now I keep them in my heart and mind as a timeline, or table of contents, I guess, of my love life. But if a weekend at home with my entire family taught me anything, it’s that someday these will be just minor footnotes in my ghostwritten unauthorized trashy tell-all biography.
Going back home is always a bit like stepping into a time machine. Being the youngest of four, it was impossible not to feel like the baby around my siblings. But over the holiday, weekend, maybe for the first time, I just felt like myself. A year out of college and supporting myself in New York, they no longer seem to look at me as their crazy, gay, younger brother, bound and determined to take a different path from them. For the first time, reliving the stories of their past, made me feel a whole lot better about my present.
All of my siblings are married, the oldest for 11 years now. So I can’t claim to know all her stories of single hood, but their histories have slowly trickled down to me at holidays, weddings, and other events that bring us together. I started to learn that the further they got into their relationships and marriages, these funny stories from the past seemed to become less special, if not a bit more sad. The most important first-meeting stories are about how they met their spouses. One was a spring break romance; only a Disney meant-for-tweens movie could do justice. The next a brief romance and sudden marriage that grows ever stronger, and the last may never have been after my sister ditched her eventual husband at the bar when they were first introduced.
Nevertheless when faced with their only single sibling the desire to play down their married/parental contentedness rises to the surface. We talked about how many frogs they kissed, or in some cases how few, how certain, how uncertain, and how scared they were when they thought they met the one. But like a bottle, broken on the patio at our BBQ, brushed carelessly into the lawn, navigating the back yard of even our fondest memories can cause unexpected pain. When reminiscing becomes more masochistic than nostalgic, it is definitely time to move on. Even if the very person your reminiscing with is your ex or your closest sibling.
Perusing old columns or chatting with exes online is a naughty habit which I, like others, sometimes succumb. I like to remember how they all began, because for unsuccessful relationships that is the best time. When you have a new crush and you have no idea if it’s going to work out, if he likes you, or is even a bottom. The good times, before you end up inevitably disappointed or apathetic. I like it when it’s a cliché story, because it makes it seem so forgettable when it doesn’t work out, and it’s what would make it feel like a fairy tale if it leads to a lifetime of happiness.
I wouldn’t say that my siblings feel they are living in a fairy tale; marriage still takes work, as does raising kids, and paying the bills. But I would say that we each look at each other with a mutual sense of longing and relief. Relief that neither of us has to be in the others’ shoes, and longing to see or remember what it’s like.
It’s funny to hear about how people met, because it will be the one thing that you’ll want to tell your progeny, and the one thing, no matter how many beginnings I write, that I will never forget. I’m just grateful that we are given so many new opportunities to start new a story.
This post appeared originally on 9/4/2008 at http://www.homo-neurotic.com/2008/09/04/everybody-does-it-chapter-1/
Over the last three years I have written about dozens of guys that my friends and I have encountered. Each one of these guys carries with them their own special story. How we met, what we did on our first date, and eventually why it didn’t work out. Now, over the years I have given (or at least attempted) to give these guys clever nicknames, if not malevolent monikers, and most of you would never know who they really are, in fact the guys themselves sometimes don’t notice. But I, and perhaps a few of my closest friends, remember each and every story behind the story. Right now I keep them in my heart and mind as a timeline, or table of contents, I guess, of my love life. But if a weekend at home with my entire family taught me anything, it’s that someday these will be just minor footnotes in my ghostwritten unauthorized trashy tell-all biography.
Going back home is always a bit like stepping into a time machine. Being the youngest of four, it was impossible not to feel like the baby around my siblings. But over the holiday, weekend, maybe for the first time, I just felt like myself. A year out of college and supporting myself in New York, they no longer seem to look at me as their crazy, gay, younger brother, bound and determined to take a different path from them. For the first time, reliving the stories of their past, made me feel a whole lot better about my present.
All of my siblings are married, the oldest for 11 years now. So I can’t claim to know all her stories of single hood, but their histories have slowly trickled down to me at holidays, weddings, and other events that bring us together. I started to learn that the further they got into their relationships and marriages, these funny stories from the past seemed to become less special, if not a bit more sad. The most important first-meeting stories are about how they met their spouses. One was a spring break romance; only a Disney meant-for-tweens movie could do justice. The next a brief romance and sudden marriage that grows ever stronger, and the last may never have been after my sister ditched her eventual husband at the bar when they were first introduced.
Nevertheless when faced with their only single sibling the desire to play down their married/parental contentedness rises to the surface. We talked about how many frogs they kissed, or in some cases how few, how certain, how uncertain, and how scared they were when they thought they met the one. But like a bottle, broken on the patio at our BBQ, brushed carelessly into the lawn, navigating the back yard of even our fondest memories can cause unexpected pain. When reminiscing becomes more masochistic than nostalgic, it is definitely time to move on. Even if the very person your reminiscing with is your ex or your closest sibling.
Perusing old columns or chatting with exes online is a naughty habit which I, like others, sometimes succumb. I like to remember how they all began, because for unsuccessful relationships that is the best time. When you have a new crush and you have no idea if it’s going to work out, if he likes you, or is even a bottom. The good times, before you end up inevitably disappointed or apathetic. I like it when it’s a cliché story, because it makes it seem so forgettable when it doesn’t work out, and it’s what would make it feel like a fairy tale if it leads to a lifetime of happiness.
I wouldn’t say that my siblings feel they are living in a fairy tale; marriage still takes work, as does raising kids, and paying the bills. But I would say that we each look at each other with a mutual sense of longing and relief. Relief that neither of us has to be in the others’ shoes, and longing to see or remember what it’s like.
It’s funny to hear about how people met, because it will be the one thing that you’ll want to tell your progeny, and the one thing, no matter how many beginnings I write, that I will never forget. I’m just grateful that we are given so many new opportunities to start new a story.
This post appeared originally on 9/4/2008 at http://www.homo-neurotic.com/2008/09/04/everybody-does-it-chapter-1/
posted by B. B. Nichols at
7:45 AM
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