angel

Long Goodbye

After a week of writing bad poetry, writing lists of bad things I shouldn't do but wanted to do, of jumping every time the phone rang, after seeing the person I was falling for with someone else, I'm am starting to feel like I can breathe again and starting to move on.

To be clear, or maybe to complicate things, this wasn't a "relationship" and there were many aspects about it that were "open." I could say for sure I thought it was an open honest friendship and we were getting to know each other and figuring out how we wanted to be. Friends with incredible chemistry planning world domination through creative projects and plans we both had always dreamed about? Maybe more? Had we already crossed the lines and would never be able to go back to friendship?

There were so many beautiful things about this budding "friendship." Ze first of all seemed like he was constantly working on the kind of transman he wanted to be: a sensitive man not afraid of his emotions, working every day to fight against all the negative trappings/privileges of masculinity. Embracing his "puto-ness." Comfortable in his skin no matter who is made uncomfortable by his transgression.

This also means paying attention to all kinds of details that to us Latina Femmes (por lo menos en mi opinión) are important markers of respect. The little things that one does not as some sort of game, but because you want to, are genuine and will continue to do because that is who you really are or who you want to be. Thoughtful things such as: opening doors, walking on the outside of the street, cooking for me or doing the dishes if I cooked, asking me about my needs, checking in with me about my boundaries, really listening, calling or texting when you say you're going to, sending messages when you don't have to, dressing in way that celebrates your butchness and all kinds of other sweet cariños that make a girl feel respected and well, loved. Loved in a world that would rather we stayed in our designated areas or only wants us to speak in stereotypes. A world that would rather erase us.

You are uncomfortable sometimes with the stares when we are in public but I in all my femme glory will enjoy holding your hand, showing affection in public with reckless abandon; our simple presence a radical disruption of heteronormativity. Each loving moment defies any concern that we are both worthy of love. Caressing your cheek will be one of many simple revolutions. All this while each one of us continues on our own path working on our own stuff. Being open and building trust so you both can express your needs, emotions, frustrations, dreams, hopes and have some fun while you're at it. Friends. Allies. Radical lovers. Platonic or romantic. Love is love. And we all could use more of it.

What made this particular experience so intense? We were both working on projects over several months that were near and dear to us. And when nearing the finish line I even gave up sleep to help Ze finish his project. I did it because I believed in the work and because of course I believed in whatever it was we were building. I told myself that no matter what happened I was okay as long as we came through this in an open and honest way.

You see he had been working towards his top surgery and was already in the throws of his transition. It was an intense time for him but he was doing all this really great work and he seemed so grown and healthy and working on his shit. I had never known someone who was so secure in who they are and what they wanted. And I was there for him.

I was experiencing a new year full of hope and optimism. I was (and still am) making all these positive changes in my life. I was feeling so strong and open and ready to take some risks. I wanted to date and explore and take it slow and attract goodness and light and fun and sex. Not be shut down anymore. I for sure didn't want to jump into anything. I was recovering from a year or more off of the dating world, cutting out negative friends and a rocky relationship with an alcoholic and the most machista possessive traumatic butch you will ever know. This was a new time. It is a new time. It would be okay again.

Do you know what it is like to feel like you have a partner in crime? Like someone really sees you and hears you and wants you to do well in the world? Not sucking the life force out of you but actually bringing so much to the table that they even seem to have the power to reflect your own light and uncover some beauty you didn't even know existed? That's what I was feeling like. I was even able to talk to Ze about coming out to my mom and all kinds of other things I didn't feel like I could talk to anybody else about. I mean I have both straight and queer friends but he seemed to understand the transitions I was going through too.

This kind of "open friendship" only becomes a problem when the person you are "kicking it with", making plans to take over the world with and talking to almost every day disappears and shows up two weeks later at a club with somebody else. He only seems somewhat embarrassed, makes an excuse but doesn't talk to you about what he's been up to. Maybe this is just an every day occurrence in the world of dating, sexing, friending, whatever. I didn't really feel like we were dating but maybe that was also one of the warning signs?

I knew there had been someone else but not until after we were intimate. After. But he of course made it seem like they weren't really together. He made it seem as if they were already past tense. Then later, that they had an understanding, an open relationship. Maybe they were on the way out.

It shouldn't have come as a total shock. I knew she had helped him too. He had also been working on a project of hers. Of course that was where he was the last two weeks. I didn't really understand she was that she although my intuition kept trying to tell me. Kept trying to prepare me. Prepare me for what? I wasn’t doing anything wrong. We were only friends.

I didn't really want to know. I didn't care because I was just being open. No hurry. No rush. I didn't want to even think for a moment that I was some kind of other woman. I wouldn't ever want to put myself in that kind of situation. I wouldn't have even gone there with him had I thought he was unavailable. I mean, I wasn't the other woman right? Because they're in an "open relationship" right? Then why am I so l unclear. Why, when I saw them did, my heart take a dive into my stomach and my lungs gasp for air? Why did I feel in that moment like I was lied to. Like an unwilling participant in a farce. Taken advantage of. Used. So easily discarded. How simple it would have been because of the rapport we had built up for him to just talk to me. How much less it would have hurt in the long term.

He wouldn't see me fall apart. He wouldn't ruin a perfectly good night of dancing. I would dance the rest of the night and leave it all there, perform a healing ceremony right then and there on the dance floor.

He called several days later. There was the usual "Hola Cariño" enthusiasm. He was ready to talk maybe. Tell me everything. Ask for forgiveness for being such an insensitive jerk. Beg me to still be his friend. I mean, our names were intimately linked to project presentations in the future. He would listen to my grievances. Hear me out. I would tell him he had lost my trust. I would want complete, total clarity and honesty. Maybe there might be some explanations that I would consider. We would eventually be able to start over. Really be friends this time. I would eventually forgive him. He would get a tentative second chance but not a third.

I answered the phone but was in class. I whispered very plainly that I couldn't talk but that we should talk later that night. He said of course, hablamos mas tarde. sin problema. un beso. adios cariño.

I burst into tears. The ugly cries. Sobbing rainstorm tears. I had been holding this all in. I cleaned myself up in the bathroom. Why was I so upset? Why did this affect me so? I knew better. I had been holding back. I knew better. I knew better. I knew better.

We never talked that night. We may never talk. Friends say I’m better off. Work on cutting him out of your life. Move on.
Today I’m feeling better. I don’t like this feeling. But it’s finally working itself out the only way it can when you never get a chance to have your say.