First Love

I don't have anything new to update, so I thought a walking-down-the-memory-lane post would be a nice substitute.

I've only been in a relationship once. It was quite an experience, with its peaks and troughs of emotions. If I remember correctly, our relationship lasted for about 6 months or so. We knew each other two years prior to the relationship, and even though we broke up 6 years ago, we still very much keeping in touch with one another.

Perhaps, it's more apt to call this relationship of mine a high school fling. As the name implies, we were in the same school, the same class in fact. Saif was not a person I would normally fall for, his physical appearance wasn't what people would call my type. He was slim, neatly combed hair, a typical sporty guy, with dark brown complexion. I normally prefer someone quite the opposite of these but fate had it that he would be my first. Saif was nice and gentle, with occasional bad boy character he had on when he's in his pack of jock friends (which just so happened that on one occasion he ignored me when I waved at him for fear of ridicule by his mates).

Our fond of one another didn't happen overnight, but rather a slow realisation that we liked each other after 2 years of acquaintance. High school, as many would probably experienced it, had its own social divide - the prefects, the nerds, the pious, the rich kids, the debaters, the drama club, the teacher's pet, so on and so forth. Saif and I were in different gang, I was the divas and he was obviously the jocks. So our social circle rarely had the chance to overlap, being naturally at the opposite ends of the school social spectrum. But we were in the same class in our final year of schooling, and so that lead us to get to know each other better.

I was an outspoken person, very extroverted and owned the divine gift of divaness in me. People of my sort would normally be bullied but I had a way of making myself likeable by others, and that was by seducing the guys that I know would potentially be a bully. My promiscuity had not always been something for my personal pleasure, but started as a skill to merely survive school. Many closeted gay high schoolers would know how essential it is to have the correct survival skill to go through school. One thing for sure, after school, it does gets better.

Anyhow, flirting with other boys had then become one of my natural characters, even though I wasn't intending to do so. I talked and interacted with other boys in a certain flirtatious way, and it slipped my mind that doing so might send the wrong signal. For what it worth, my strategy worked, I was safe from any sort of bullying minus a few person who secretly hated me, high school then became bearable and a place I can truly be happy and make friends.

This extended to how I interacted with Saif. I remember his sheepish smile when I teasingly caressed his hand, or when I persuaded him to give me a back rub while I pretending to be sleepy, or when I over-exaggerated my reactions to his stories like they were the most interesting things I'd ever heard. With subtle hints of affections, I began to have a soft spot for him. Little did I know that he too began to have the same feeling for me. It was mutual, and I genuinely didn't push the feelings we had. It all bred on its own and I suppose that's the sweet thing about it. I didn't pursue him, nor did he pursue me, but we found each other side by side one fine day and everything seemed beautiful.

The moment we realised that we were inseparable was a memory to be cherished. We had finished with school, and was waiting to go back home. We stayed in hostel that night and laid next to one another. Pillow talk was our thing, that's how we bonded too. As the night progressed, with our chats subdued to the song of the night, we kissed. It was uncalled for, and the both of us were slightly taken aback not knowing what it meant nor how to go forward. But after the kiss, I could see his smile through the moon rays. We cuddled and slept with out hearts tied together that night.

He was then my first kiss, my first boyfriend, and my first of many things, and I was his. Our story was somewhat resembled the typical coming-of-age tale of a gay boy finding meaning of what this all meant. During our short-lived yet highly passionate relationship, we experienced it all. I was happy, and he was too. We visited one another even though we lived at different parts of the country, and talked on the phone for hours till we had to work to earn money for our mobile top up, and we talked and loved each other like the world belonged only to the both of us.

The minute details of what we do would take more than a post, there were so many memories I had with him. Perhaps, I'll cherish those in another posts, one by one if the time allows.

The end of our relationship however was not something I'm proud of. It was me who broke it off, and that broke his heart deeply until this day. I somehow couldn't forgive myself for making him suffer for many years afterwards, but I kept in touch to check on him, making sure that he lived well and went of with his life without me.

It all started because I wanted to start anew. I was selfish of course, not realising that he would be a person I should take on that positive journey. But at the time I was still struggling with my sexuality and identity. I felt that I need to try to be straight and that same-sex relationship would lead to nowhere. Furthermore, we both earned funding to go abroad, but in a different countries. So long distance relationship would be difficult to maintain, even when we were in the same country. In retrospect, I suppose one should fight for one's love. But I was handling too much emotions at the same time, and couldn't bear more than that of my own.

So I called it off, and he was devastated. He begged for another go, but I assured him that it's best if we separated. After all, he wasn't gay to start with, and he didn't turn gay even though he had a relationship with me. He was and is still straight as he comes. Men don't interest him and our situation was different in that it's personal and individual, rather than an attraction to a specific gender. Knowing that I could potentially robbed him of the chances of normal life he could have, I backed off, doing him a favour. Or so I thought.

In many years to come, whenever we found ourself messaging one another, he would remind me of his love. And in those instances, I would ask him to let me go. He then would say he's only joking, but one can easily tell when a joke or a genuine confession was made. It ached me deeply that I had ruined a person's heart.

Since we're both abroad, summer was the only time we could meet. And every time we met, we would have passionate ex-boyfriend sex. It didn't really help our emotions to be honest, especially for him, but sex with him was different, it truly meant something. With others, it was purely physical. Until now, he only had sex with me, and I on the other hand couldn't keep track of how much guys I've slept with. I couldn't resist to have a go with Saif every summer, because the once slim boy I knew at school has now turned into a muscular dark skinned hunk. It certainly add to the pleasure, but without his muscular physique, I still loved him, and I cared for him. I still do until today, but as a friend.

He was waiting for me to come back this year as originally planned, but I haven't told him yet of the changes. There's a plan for us to stay together when I come home since he's also an unemployed fresh grad, but I suppose that plan might not come true. The last time we texted, it was a couple of weeks ago, and I finally got to hear what I wanted to, that he would try to let me go. Of course that doesn't mean we couldn't be friend, or stay together as a matter of fact. But at least, emotionally he would be free to look for his girl, and I on the other hand has made the choice to be true to myself and wait for another love to grow, just how it happened with Saif and I.

Waiting for a love that was not pushed nor pursued, but an authentic desire to be together.