I spent my Christmas at home. It was a nice quiet one. For me anyways. My brothers went to a party and I sat my ass at home. I invited a friend of mine over who is straight but knows I’m interested in guys. He didn’t know the way to my house so I went to get him, and as we walked down to the red brick house that I call home, he told me about how he had finally got a girlfriend and was less shy. This was someone who would avoid meals in my A-level school just so that the huge crowd of secondary school students we shared the school with wouldn’t stare too much at him. Those students could stare… It was unnerving. And it didn’t ease up even after we spent a whole year. Sometimes I felt like a zoo animal under observation and would start my habit of chewing on my lower lip because I was nervous. I don’t think I’d mind anymore if that happened again. Might even revel in it because, Bitch, I’m fabulous!
Anyways he kept on yapping about the girl and how he really liked her and how she understood him and blah-blah-blah. He told me about the first time he kissed her, about how it was sloppy and she just laughed about it and stuff like that. I’m glad he’s getting more confident now; he’s had suicidal tendencies because he felt his life sucked and he could never make his parents happy since he wasn’t overly intelligent and stuff like that. It might not seem like a big deal to commit suicide over, but sometimes that shii can be very irrational. I did my best to be there for him, listened to his secrets and fears and shared mine as a show of friendship or good faith, and though he used to be quite homophobic, he’s much better now. He even found out his roomie was gay, and after the initial shock, he said he couldn’t give two fucks (as long as the guy doesn’t hit on him. I rolled my eyes then). Continue reading