In honor of America's victory over Ghana.
It was my second semester of senior year and his second semester of his freshman year. We connected online, and I'll keep it at that. The first time we met, we hooked up in his Scion TC in a parking garage on campus. You know, the kind of high school shit closet homos have to resort to when you don't have a place to yourself.
WC was a fuckin' stud, and he still is, in some ways. Tall, dark and handsome with a sick body. I remember how nervous I was that he might pull up next to my car and end up having what some would call, "a face for radio", or even worse, if he was someone I knew. He was neither. In fact, I learned that he had had (paid) modeling gigs in the past. *cue Aloe Blacc's "I'm the Man". For the next two or three months WC and I would text back and forth, playfully flirting, and sneak into each others' rooms at odd hours.
There was an undeniable sexual attraction between us, but as time went on, I started realizing that he wasn't the bro for me, for many reasons. First and foremost, I was far from ready to have an emotional relationship with a guy. The other factors were a combination of our immaturity, different interests and my impending graduation. Our attraction to each other was purely physical. This was the first time I realized how much I valued a compatible personality and common interests in a potential significant other.
Fast forward to now, after three years, we're both in similar places but on COMPLETELY different paths. I always had a feeling he'd be a sceney type gay--he was too pretty, and he had his (cringeworthy) "princess" moments. He's been more open with his predilection for dudes and is even dating one of those internet-famous Instagram/YouTube guys. I'm stoked for him, regardless of our history, and regardless of what I think of those internet-famous Instagram/YouTube guys.
I, on the other hand, am perfectly content being somewhat under the radar. I've checked out pride events, and I've been to the gay bars, so I know for sure that that "scene" isn't really my thing. It just doesn't jive with my personality and what I want out of life. Plain and simple, it's not for me, but I understand its appeal. You know, some people say cucumbers taste better pickled.
And so my big revelation was that at 25, having been through some shit and having met different types of people in the three years since I met WC, I've come a long way. I don't have the same fears and worries that I had when I was in college. Sure, there's some lingering anxiety and I could probably be happier, but overall, I'm pretty fucking content.