Devon Hunter

My dance partner, Scotty Jacobs, told me about some really awesome compliments from last night. Evidently some of the gay patrons at PT’s 1109 in Columbia, SC asked him if I was really gay or not. Of course I’m gay, and until April of 2008 it had never been an issue of debate or confusion. I guess as I’ve worked out more it’s become more dubious that I’m gay, but honey, she was born with a tiara on her head - yes, she is definitely gay. Anyway, when Scotty confirmed that I am in fact a big ole ‘mo, these guys said something to the effect of, “Wow - he can dance, he’s sober, he’s got junk in the trunk, and he’s gay?! It’s about time we had someone representing us gay guys in a positive way.” Now that is worth more than money. That’s awesome.

I was mistaken. It wasn’t as easy to turn off the faucet as I’d thought it would be. Unfortunately, I actually had begun to invest in hope, and that was a mistake (although, in my defense I was pulled along the path, like a puppy on a leash). Given everything I know about this person and all the huge red flags waving in my face, it really is my own fault in the end. Yet, I earned these tears. I begged for them. Now I have them, and I hate him for it… well, no one said desire was reasonable.

Have you ever known someone was a mistake (in terms of being a match for you), but you went along with the fantasy anyway, hoping your instinct was faulted (yet realizing resentfully that your little voice is never wrong)? The best description I have for these last FIFTEEN MONTHS is this: Imagine standing on a street and looking down its length for several blocks. You can see potholes, broken glass, nails, burned out red lights, jay walkers, car jackers, drunk drivers, and maybe even a live power line waving around in the road with sparks flying out of it… Walking this road with this man is like that for me: Looking at a horrible obstacle course and taking it anyway, knowing the dangers and perils, looking squarely at them and deciding to continue down the street anyway. Despite the danger. Despite the stupidity. Despite a sense of self preservation. Fuck potholes - I saw this bridge was out miles ago, and I drove off the end of it anyway.

Yep, if I’d have not severed nearly all contact with this man on my birthday two days ago, that is the road I may have wound up on. Thank the Goddess that I turned down a side street only a couple blocks down. I do not deny that he is beautiful. I do not deny that I miss his strange and fleeting presence in my life. I do not regret opening myself to possibility.

Although this man has hurt me worse than anyone in the last two years since my last relationship ended, I thank the universe for him, because he cracked through my walls. He reminded me that it can be wonderful to hope, but he also reminded me that there is a difference between dreams and reality.

Pay attention. Why pay? Why can’t knowledge simply be free? Everything has a cost. The intensity of the last four months, coupled with the firey burn out of the last four days, has cost me the rest of the trust I’d saved back up. I might criticize and say this man is tragically broken somewhere in his heart if he cannot accept love, but that would be hypocritical on my part. Rather I should look at the need to criticize him for “leading me on,” and apply it more to myself for being willing to be led.