June 29th, 2017

“You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you have never had the courage to commit.”

-Oscar Wilde

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Hello Tommy,

I know this blog is written for whomever it is I end up with. But in the meantime I will be writing directly to you. Any why shouldn’t I? Currently it is you that I am hoping for.

This post will be the history of you and I – from the moment we met up until today. And it will be the longest post. So buckle in. I know you were a part of all of this, but it seems sometimes that you chose to forget some of the important moments we have shared. And you know me, I remember everything. Especially when it comes to you.

So allow me to remind you of the story of us:

April 10th, 2016. Sometime around one in the morning. It was a cold night in San Francisco, but I didn’t notice. I was on vacation and drunk with my friends. We were leaving Beauty Bar on our way to god knows where when we arrived on the corner of 22nd & Mission. That’s when I heard Kelsey yell out your name.

“TOMMY!”

I turned around to see who she was talking to – because of course Kelsey would run into someone she knows on a street corner. That’s when I saw you. Tall and handsome, wearing a white button shirt and jeans. I’d be damned if my heart didn’t skip a beat. You were the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my entire life. Turns out you and Kelsey used to work together at a FroYo show back in Boulder. Turns out you were on vacation with friends in San Francisco as well. We were drunk. We made eye contact. And I remember something about that moment just feeling so safe and so familiar. As if you were someone I already knew. Our groups walked together to The Make Out Room. We planned on joining groups, but I didn’t have cash to get into the bar, and you wouldn’t cover me (I asked. You laughed.)

Then we parted ways. That is the moment I met you. My silly boy with the wild eyes and even wilder hair. I fully expected to never see you again. I remember thinking, “what a shame. That boy is just my type.”

Fast forward to June. We’re back in Boulder now and summer classes are starting. At this point you were just a memory; a missed connection. I’m sitting there on the first day of Family Communication observing all the classmates as they walk in. That’s when you walked in. I didn’t realize it was you, obviously. But I still got the same feeling inside. I thought to myself, “Damn. That boy is cute as hell.” For the first four weeks of that class you and I didn’t talk. But you were my classroom crush, so of course I would periodically peak over at you. You were just too stinkin’ cute – you silly boy with your wild eyes and even wilder hair. I remember you talking in class about how you would always play Disney songs growing up and your parents would think it was your sister, when in fact it was you. Look at you, slowly working your way into my heart.

We are on the second to last week of class and we have a group project. By chance we end up assigned to the same group. You were gone the day we got assigned groups because you went to attend the Dalai Lama’s talk. I had no idea what your name was so I had no idea you were in my group until you showed up to our first group meeting at The Point Cafe that Friday. Goodness, you. You walked into the coffeeshop with the biggest smile on your face, you walked right up to me and gave me the biggest hug as you introduced yourself. That hug felt way too familiar. Just as you always feel way too familiar.

By the end of the group meeting you and Jill are inviting me to tag along with you guys that night to attend a drag show in Denver with your other class. I was hesitant. Everyone else left but you and I stayed chatting for around a half hour. You and your damn charm convinced me to go – but let’s be real: I could never say no to you.

I went home with the biggest smile on my face. Look at this cute boy inviting me to a drag show. You, me, and Jill were all texting trying to coordinate how we’ll get there. We opt for me driving rather than us all taking the bus with the rest of your class. When I went to pick you and Jill up, I obviously picked you up first. You were cute. I wanted you in the front seat with me. You come running out of your apartment with a bottle of vodka, some lemonade, and a blue Gatorade. Classic you. Always ready to get the party started.

After we picked Jill up, we all made our way down to Denver. You and me chatted like old friends the entire time (Jill literally told me later that the way you and I talked had her convinced that we had known each other for years. She was shocked when we found out we had just met). We got to Denver and took shots of your vodka in the street with the shot glasses I have in my car. You wore Jill’s fur coat and bragged about your pants you got in Barcelona. The night started brilliantly. We went to a bar to grab a drink before the drag show. And when we finally went to M-Uptown to meet up with your class, I felt like I had known you my whole life. By chance, my friend Divinity happened to be a bartender there. She gave us all free shots.

It was here that you first opened yourself up to me. You asked me what my sexuality was. I told you I prefer men but I would be with anyone if they stole my heart. I asked you the same question. You said you don’t care about gender when it comes to love – that you could be with a man just as easily as you could be with a woman. I tried to hide the smile on my face – I knew you were flirting with me. But I didn’t want to seem so easy.

And here is where your ex-girlfriend shows up. Apparently she is in the class with you. Apparently you didn’t know she was going to be there. She goes and talks to Jill and they go into the bathroom. You pulled me close and told me that she was your ex but that you are entirely over it and wished that she wasn’t here. Darling, you were so transparent at the beginning.

We put a couple drinks in us and went and sat down in a booth to watch the show. I was sitting next to you chatting and suddenly your ex swoops up next to me.

“I can’t wait to come back to Boulder with you guys,” she says.

“I just met you. You can come if I like you,” I dryly utter back to her.

She gives me the bitchiest look I’ve ever gotten in my life, aggressively leans over me, and starts being a drunk flirt with you. I eventually trade seats with her and start talking to Jill.

As I sat there watching you and her talk I felt uneasy. How at this point I didn’t realize I had feelings for you is beyond me. But the whole situation felt very upsetting to me. I went outside for a cigarette. When I came back in you popped up next to me and asked if I wanted to leave. I told you I did. You told me to meet you by the front door. So I stood there and watched as you pushed your ex into the crowd, with a mortified look on her face, and you sprinted through the door yelling “HAUL ASS” as you passed by me.

And so we ran.

I didn’t know at that point that running would become a trend with us.

We ran back to my car, laughing the entire time. As soon as we got in my car you were yelling “DRIVE! DRIVE! DRIVE!”. And so we made our way back to Boulder. Finally alone. You asked me question about myself. Asked me to play you my favorite song (I played you “Teach Me Tonight” by Amy Winehouse). You told me a story about one of the frat pledges who didn’t get in and how upset you were. You told me how to felt about him. I told you it sounded like you had a crush on him. You just laughed and said “maybe I did,” as you looked out the window.

My heart was happy. You seemed to be the freest person I had ever met. You seemed so interested in me.

We made our way back to Boulder to go meet my friend for a drink at Bramble & Hare. We got there and shared a grilled cheese sandwich. You said it was the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. We spent the time talking with the group of people we met up with – you casually chatting away with everyone. I smiled because I didn’t have to take care of you or try to hard to make you feel comfortable. You do that all on your own. It was refreshing. We spent a good period of time trying to guess this one girls name – turns out it was Sam.

We left Bramble with my friend to go over to Biergarten to have some of that vodka that naturally takes like vanilla and cinnamon – it tastes delicious with apple juice. On the short one block walk over I was talking to my friend and turned to say something to you, but you were nowhere to be seen. I frantically looked around and found you across the street, on all fours, with your face buried in a dog. Oh, Tommy. How my heart melted at the sight of that. I think that was the moment I fell in love with you.

I turned to my friend and said, “oh god. I think I like him.”

“No shit!” she muttered, as if it was the obvious thing.

After a quick drink at Biergarten we took her home and you said you wanted to go back out onto Pearl Street. This is where we climbed that fence onto a construction site and got chased by a cop. I know you remember that. We still laugh about it to this day. We spent the rest of that night eating Gyros and sitting on a curb talking until nearly four in the morning. I don’t even honestly remember if we got another drink. We just sat there together. You talked with a drunk stranger about the meaning of life. I looked at you with admiration in overflowing in my heart. You were honestly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

When I dropped you off that night you put your arm around me, pulled me in and said, “I’m your man. Whenever you want to hang out, I’m there.” Turns out for the past year I was parking directly outside your house. I would say ‘what are the odds’, but you and I seem to be shrouded in coincidence.

I drove home that night feeling so at ease. And that is the rarest feeling in the world for me. It’s something you, and only you, have ever made me feel. With you I always feel the youngest I have ever been.

The next week was filled with small interactions. We spent a night snapchatting and texting until the early morning. You stopped riding your bike to class and I would walk you home instead – one of those times you told me you think my eyes are beautiful, and then blushed, gave me a quick hug, and darted inside (damn, you’re so fucking adorable). Once I found you at the coffeeshop I always went to – you claimed “what are the chances.” There were other small moments, but, all in all, it was all me trying to be around you as much as I could. I wanted to soak every ounce of you I could before you moved.

I remember at the coffeeshop you asked me if I think you should move to Austin or San Francisco. I told you San Francisco because I wanted you there when I move there a year from now.

Some time during that week I told Kelsey about a boy I met in class and how I had feelings for him. She asked his name. I told her yours. She flipped when she realized it was you – the boy I met on the streets of San Francisco. Once I reminded you that we had met in San Francisco months before, you apparently remembered. Glad to know I’m memorable.

Now comes the day I think you are choosing to forget.

We planned to meet up after the last day of classes to celebrate you finishing college. You told me to meet you at Illegal Pete’s at six in the evening. I had assumed I was meeting up with you and your friends. I got there and low and behold, it’s just you sitting there drinking a margarita in your dorky fish button shirt. You had the biggest smile on your face. The first few hours of that night were amazing. We bar hopped around The Hill for a bit until we went back to your place to take some shots before going to Pearl Street. You took me around a lovely little tour of your home. We tried on clothes in your costume bin. My heart fluttered when you took your shirt off. Goodness, I’m cheesy, aren’t I?

I wanted to hold your hand, but I second guessed myself.

Eventually we meandered our way down to Pearl Street where we went to License 1 (my favorite bar). When we were there we took a photo in the photo booth. I lost the photo but I have a picture of it on my phone. And damn are we cute together. I gave you your first martini that night. You told me you’d try to like gin if I tried to like tequila. You heard music playing in the other room and we went there.

We danced. And not the ‘two friends standing two feet apart’ kind of dancing. We danced like lovers do. With your hand around my waist, you guided me deeper in love with you. You silly boy with the wild eyes and even wilder hair.

From there we made friends with strangers by convincing them you were my British cousin because you have a very convincing accent. We went with them to Press Play. We walked arm in arm. We kept that charade going until you slipped up on the accent and we hauled ass to Bramble & Hare – again, us with the running.

This is where you began to pour your heart out more to me. We talked, in the least subtle way, about how we felt that gender shouldn’t matter when it comes to love and how we would both be with someone regardless of gender so long as we felt something for them. I was trying to feel you out, you were trying to tell me how you felt. I caught on. You invited me back to your place. It was three in the morning.

I felt like a seventeen year old as we talked back to your place. At one point I threw you into the grass and you pulled me down with you. Such a charmer.

Back at your place you set some music going. You started dancing like a drunk idiot looking like you were trying to woo me. You already had me, darling.

But it was the last day of classes, and you, being the ever popular boy that you are, people heard music outside your apartment and the next thing I knew there was about twenty people inside your apartment. You seemed like you didn’t want them there, but you didn’t know how to tell them to leave.

I started getting nervous. You were talking to a group of girls. I figured there was no way someone like you could ever want someone like me. I was kidding myself. I made it all up in my head. I had myself convinced I needed to leave. I stepped outside to bum a smoke, you had a pack of light blue’s in your room. Out there I made up my mind. I made up my foolish mind to go home. I walked back in and told you I was going to leave. You asked to walk me out and when we got outside you asked me if you had done something wrong. You kept asking me to stay and said you would kick everyone out of your apartment right away – at one point you even turned to your apartment and screamed “GET THE FUCK OUT!” You clearly wanted me to stay but stubborn me already made up my mind. I told you I can’t stay. I told you that I had feelings for you and there was no way you had feelings for me.

You told me you did.

I told you that you’re kidding yourself and if I tried to kiss you you would hate it.

You told me that wasn’t true. You leaned in to try and kiss me.

I foolishly turned way and kept ranting about how I didn’t want you. How you didn’t know what you wanted. I told you I had to go. You tried one last time to ask me to stay. You told me you hated that we just met before you were moving. You told me that had we met sooner that we would be together. You begged me to not let this be the last time we saw each other. And you asked me for one last hug.

I gave you that hug. And I cried in your arms. I went back to my car and left you on that corner. I cried in my car for probably thirty minutes before I was able to drive home. In my head I convinced myself that you went inside and fucked one of those girls in your apartment. I still don’t know what you did. I just know I regret leaving you that night. Leaving my silly boy with the wild eyes and even wilder hair.

I didn’t see you again until August. You left to go on vacation for the Fourth of July, and by the time you were back I was visiting home for a month to earn some money. We texted a bit. I apologized. You said it didn’t matter. I thought about you every day, Tommy. Just as I have thought about you every day since I met you. When I found out the date you were leaving to move to San Francisco I made sure to fly back to Colorado to see you before you left. I flew back a week early. I missed out on $1000 worth of work to see you again. I don’t think you know that.

I caught an early morning flight back to Colorado to visit you. We instantly met up for coffee. You were wearing yellow. You seemed so reserved this time around. Not the same carefree Tommy I had met prior. This time you could barely look me in the eyes. When I walked you home I built up the courage to tell you that I still had feelings for you. You told me that you were just drunk and didn’t mean anything you said. I told you I knew that was a lie. I told you not to be afraid and to learn your sexuality when you move to San Francisco. You could barely look me in the eyes. It broke my heart. I went home and cried. Again.

I ran into you a couple more times before you moved to San Francisco. Each encounter was awkward and you were quiet. I get it. I should move on.

We didn’t talk again until March, 2017. I tried to see you the next few times I was in San Francisco. You just ignored me.

I spent a couple months attempted to date a boy, we’ll call him Steven. That’ll be a post for another day. But when that all went to hell I felt sad and texted you. I told you I know we hadn’t talked in ages but I was sad and I just wanted to talk. You called me within twenty seconds. You told me you didn’t care if we hadn’t talked in a long time, that if I was sad you weren’t going to just text me. You went on the explain the view you were looking at and told me how much you thought I’d love it. You gave me all the appropriate advice, even said it was it was happening. And the best part was when you apologized for how you treated me the last time we saw each other. You said you were just nervous for moving and that you didn’t mean any of it. You remembered.

That’s when you told me you would love to see me the next time I visited. I told you I was going to be there in two weeks time and we made plans. Of course, I had no plans to be there. But as soon as we got off the phone I booked a flight.

Right before I left to go meet you, I went and got a psychic reading from this woman I like to call Glenda the Crystal Witch. She told me I was about to see my soulmate. She told me I was going to see him very soon. She said it was probably going to me this weekend. She had no idea about you. Yet there she was, talking about you. Are you my soulmate? Who the fuck knows. She seems to think so, though. She helped me forgive Steven so that I could approach seeing you again with a clear mind. Good old Glenda.

March 18th, 2017. We met on the corner of Polk & California. I was so nervous to see you, but the moment I heard you yell my name as you got out of your Lyft, suddenly all fear melted away. You and I were together again. And it felt so damn right.

We spent the day drinking and talking and laughing and I feel right back into you. I told you about Steven, you told me I deserved better. And you asked me why I always run. I knew you were asking about yourself. I could see it in your eyes.

We took our drinks outside of the bars and laughed and sang and you spoke life into me. You said all the beautiful things I longed to hear you say. Once you were drunk enough you held my hand across the table to Harper & Rye and told me how amazing you think I am. I didn’t even notice you were holding my hand because I was too lost in your green eyes. You were perfect.

When we went to meet up with my friends at Whitechapel, because I was staying in Palo Alto and needed to ride back with them, you apparently told me friend that he has no idea how lucky he is to be able to spend time with me. You invited me to stay the night again. Sadly, I really had to go back to Palo Alto because I was leaving the next day.

And that was that. I ran into you randomly at a bar in Boulder. I let you talk to your friends. According to my friends you watched me the entire time. I made an effort not to watch you. I was planning on moving to San Francisco after graduation, anyway. We would finally be together.

Now a few weeks before I moved I got a call from my friend about a place I could have. A place I got. Once it was all finalized I decided to tell you about it. We talked on the phone. It was right after you finished summited Mount Rainier – you animal.

You asked what neighborhood I was in. I told you The Richmond. Apparently that’s the neighborhood you live in.

You asked what cross streets. I told you. Apparently that’s one block away from where you live. We’re neighbors. As I said: you and I are shrouded in coincidence. We really should just take the chance to finally try being together.

And so I moved here to San Francisco to chance one too many dreams – one of them being you.

We hung out that first Saturday that I moved here. You were as excited as a puppy. But then again you always are. We went for a walk on the beach with a six pack. We sat on a log and talked about love, we talked about life. We talked about our values and what it takes to discover yourself. Everything felt so right. Until it didn’t. And you left. To go on a date.

At that point I was clearly upset and we didn’t see each other again for two weeks. You randomly started sending me Snapchats me out of the blue and then called me to hang out. We went to the beach again. This time it was at sunset. Romantic, right? We had the same usual conversation. It seems we always talk about the desire for love. Are you hinting at me? I know I’ve been hinting at you. Only this time you told me how you stopped seeing that girl the night before. You told me you knew what it was you wanted. You told me you wanted to surprise me with donuts that morning but ended up not (I wish you would’ve. I love donuts).

The best part of that night wasn’t watching you learn to twirl fire from a trans named Tequila. It was the way you would randomly pause, tilt your head, smile at me, and then pull me in for a gentle hug. You really don’t know the way you murder my heart, do you? You apologized for having been distant and told me that we would absolutely be seeing more of each other. And we have been.

I saw you this previous weekend when your family was in town. You had a picnic. I brought guacamole and chips – as per your request. I met your family, your friends, and a group of dogs at a dog wedding. I felt less special compared to everyone else. You only talked to me once when your parents went on a walk. And I had an awkward conversation with your mother where she found it necessary to tell me you weren’t gay. I had not said anything to her about it prior and did not after – wonder why she felt so compelled to tell me that. Was it you or was it me? Either way, you said you were glad I came. You also told me you couldn’t hang out on Thursday because of a date you had planned. That was upsetting to hear.

I saw you randomly the next day. You let me borrow some clothes for my Pride outfit. Pride was a shit show, as you are well aware of. Maybe I’ll retell that story in another post. But it doesn’t have much to do with you so it isn’t necessary. Except thank you for trying to help in my crisis. Locking myself out of my apartment was not fun. Neither was getting my phone stolen.

Now up to yesterday. I was walking home from dinner and thinking, “it would be so cute if I ran into Tommy”. Guess who I ran into? You. You invited me in for a moment. I was drunk and you let me rambled on and on about my Pride experience. We went to go take your laundry downstairs but you left your keys inside and right as you realized was right as I was closing the door being me. Oooops. I locked you out of your apartment. Right as we were talking about how we should make spare keys. Ironic, I suppose.

Later that night we texted briefly. You told me you were going to ‘get lucky’ that night. I shared a piece of my mind with you. I’m sure you remember. You apologized. I probably sounded dramatic. I was drunk and upset. Only I didn’t tell you that I liked you. I didn’t tell you that’s why I was upset about it.

Maybe that’s been my mistake lately. I haven’t told you since August that I still like you. I just don’t know where you stand. I don’t know if you want to hear me say that. I don’t know if you want to be just friends. I don’t know what you want. I just don’t know.

All I know is that I want you. Every day. For the rest of my life.

I took a break when writing this to go have a cigarette to clear my gin-soaked brain. I saw you pull into your garage at 11:32pm. That’s right, you had a date tonight. I hope it went well. In all things I just hope you’re happy. Even if it isn’t with me.

And there you have it, my love. The story of you and me from the moment we met up until this very second. I’m sure I’ve missed a few things. But I’m drunk. Forgive me that.

With all the love in my heart,

Dorian DeVil

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