Why I Like Straight Men

“This isn’t healthy for you, Paul,” all of my friends say to me when I tell them about yet another one of my straight boy crushes.  “You really need to stop falling for boys who will never love you back.”

This has always been a problem for me ever since I came out at the ripe and tender age of twelve, as it probably was for many other young queer youth who were ahead of the curve.  When you realize your sexuality that young, you’re usually riding solo.  It seems like everyone else is straight, or just hasn’t figured out otherwise yet, so it’s inevitable to fall victim to the straight boy crush by virtue of the fact that all the other boys in your middle school class are all straight as an arrow.

I am no stranger to this.  In the past decade, I have gone through numerous (as in mostly) unrequited loves which have left me a scared, frail, and nervous wreck whose emotions lie somewhere in the spectrum between Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me” and Adele’s “Someone Like You.”

It’s been an ongoing joke throughout my college years that I only liked straight boys, which is not the truth, though I believed it for a bit.  I even rationalized an explanation in my head. 

I’m still quite self-conscious and insecure, as is any living, breathing human being with even the slightest trace of a soul, and I figured that if I were to like a straight boy and he didn’t like me back, it was because he simply didn’t like guys.  Who knows?  Maybe if he did, we’d hit it off, get married, and have two amazing sons who play catch in the backyard of our white-picket fence house in the suburbs.  Unfortunately, he just digs chicks too much. 

“No hard feelings, bro.  I just don’t think of guys that way,” he’d say to me as he gave me a hug that didn’t linger too long as to not suggest anything.  I’d pretend to be okay with it but still sulk in my bed crying into my pillow wishing that he would get some magical gay potion slipped into his drink that would turn him into a ‘mo and immediately dump his gorgeous model girlfriend to fall for me instead.  At the end of the day, I’d get over it soon enough because it was his fault that it couldn’t work out.

On the other hand, if I were crushing on a gay boy and he didn’t like back, there is no excuse to hide behind.  If I laid my feelings on the line, and he didn’t reciprocate, it was because he didn’t like me.  Something about me as a person was deterring him from being interested, and the fact that we had the same parts was not cutting it.  This was honest, unadulterated rejection, and that’s what scared me the most.

Instead, I found myself falling for straight boy after straight boy under the impression that their rejection was less heartbreaking and thus, it was easier to handle.  I was expecting their rejection.  I already knew the outcome.  For gay boys, it was a toss-up, and that was a chance I was way too afraid to take. 

If I were rejected by a gay boy, it would be full-on hysterics.  Not just crying to sleep one night – more like staying in bed all day eating full boxes of Cheez-Its and a carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream coupled with binge watching “How I Met Your Mother” until the pain went away, which was anything between three episodes to three seasons.  This extreme response was because I figured that, in this case, it was my fault it couldn’t work.

Then I came to the realization that I don’t exclusively like straight men.  I just like men.  And in the greater scheme of males, it just so happens that there is an overwhelming proportion of straight men in comparison to queer men.  When I signed up to be a homosexual (just picture for a second if you had to register to be gay at the DMV or something), I declared that I was a man who was attracted to men.  Nowhere in that declaration of gaydom did I ever say that I was a man attracted to men who are also attracted to men.  That addendum is not part of the description, however implied it may be.  Of course, the life of a gay man falling for men who will never be attracted to him is a sad one, but when I meet a guy, I don’t filter out whether he might like dudes before I think that I might be attracted to him.  It’s a primal response.

I like who I like regardless of how many chicks (or dudes) he’s banged because his perceived or actual sexual orientation is simply not a criteria I use to determine a good mate.  I like a guy whose humor makes me laugh even though it doesn’t seem to entertain anybody else.  I like a guy who challenges my ideas and allows me to challenge his.  I like a guy whose smile could cheer me up on even my lowest of days.  I like a guy who looks just as good in a pair of old jeans and a flannel as he does in a three-piece tailored suit because it doesn’t matter the clothes the man is wearing as much as the confidence radiating from the man wearing them.  I like a man with the strength to pick me up and carry me down the block and the humility to admit that he has weaknesses.  Never was being gay a requirement in attraction.  Of course, it matters if I wanted to pursue a relationship, but that doesn’t take away from a man being worthy of my lustful gaze and inexplicable adoration.  Really, I’m trying to find a guy who I would like to spend my time with, and whether that takes the form of a romantic relationship or an unbreakable brotherhood, I would be satisfied. 

It’s taken me a while to figure this out, but I’m not attracted to a guy because he is gay or straight.  I am attracted to a guy because I think he’s awesome.  Statistically, the odds are not in my favor, as only one in ten of the guys I’d be interested in could possibly like me back, and the likelihood of that happening is not a guarantee.  They say you have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your Prince Charming, and as a gay man, I just might have to kiss a few more.  At least I get to practice my kissing.

A Mural: Revisited

Before reading, I strongly encourage that you watch the video of this speech, for those who have never seen it or for those who I addressed who need a refresher:

Four years ago, I stood on the stage of Avery Fisher Hall in Lincoln Center to deliver the commencement address at the graduation of the Class of 2009 of the Fiorello H. LaGuardia High School of Music & Art and Performing Arts.  It remains one of the proudest moments of my young life, and I don't think I have yet to feel the same immense joy as I did on that day.  My face hurt.  It was numb from smiling so hard.

Now, as a college graduate with purportedly more life experience under my belt, I wanted to revisit my remarks from four years ago.  I loved my speech, and I thought it was perfect.  It still gives me chills when I watch it over again.  It's pretty idealist and overly optimistic, but I was both of those things back then, and I guess I still am now.  In retrospect, I have some comments about the speech, but I would never in a million years change any of it, and I have zero regrets.

Firstly, I still wonder why I was allowed to say a lot of the things I put in that speech.  Though it was vetted numerous times by several high school administrators, a joke about my dream to be at the center of a homosexual tryst with several of the Jonas Brothers somehow made the cut.  What ever happened to those guys anyway?  Regardless, I guess that the rest of my speech still had that hopeful and encouraging tone that these kinds of things should have.  It was pretty well thought out since I had drafts of it written down over a year before the speech finally came into fruition.  I doubt that anyone else would have been able to say half of the things that I did, and that's what made the speech special.

I raised two main points: 1) Artists have a privileged, often misunderstood, point of view, and 2) With this privilege, artists must create a "mural," or some kind of large statement, that will serve as a legacy.

In my four years at the University of Rochester, I have experienced these two things firsthand.  To this day, I still don't quite understand how I ended up at a school saturated with future doctors and engineers, but I fell in love with it, and this one fact alone changed the way I saw myself, my passions, and my future.  Artists are definitely undermined, even in the world of academia, and this happened all the time at Rochester.  It was difficult for some people, mostly those who spent their days in large science lectures and state-of-the-art laboratories, to grasp why being an artist was important.  While they were off developing vaccines and studying monkey brains, I was in the dance studio.  Or in a practice room trying to learn my way around a djembe, or an mbira, or a berimbau.  In a world full of disease and despair, why would anyone spend their time studying something as frivolous as collegiate Indian folk dance teams?

It's because it's what keeps me inspired.  It keeps my mind alert.  It makes me think.  The pursuit of knowledge is a never-ending one, so I'd rather pursue knowledge in something that makes me want to keep learning.  It may not be practical, but who's to know what's practical anymore?  Throughout college, I was challenged frequently about why I do what I do, and because of the academic environment at Rochester, I was also encouraged to branch out.  We always hear that it's all about the chase, and that the journey is more important than the destination, and I couldn't find a better analogy than my undergraduate college career.  My diploma sits on my bedroom floor under several loads of laundry and half-filled luggage bags.  But what I experienced on the way to that diploma, most especially those things that didn't lead at all to attaining my degree, is what really helped me to develop as a student, a citizen, and a human being.

I realize now that artists are indeed privileged, but so is anyone blessed with any kind of education.  Education is something that we must acknowledge gives us an upper hand, regardless of where we find our academic passion.  The fact that, as college students, we are given the opportunity to learn about something that interests us, and spend a small fortune to do so, is the exception, not the rule.  I've heard many different figures, but what I've gathered is that those who have received a diploma from an institution of higher learning are part of 1% of the world's population who can share in that achievement.  What seems like a rite of passage for many people is actually an impossibility for most of the world and even much of America.

Artists are often seen as some kind of underdog, and I'd like to think that we still are, but the true underdogs are those artists, doctors, engineers, and what-have-you who did not have the opportunity to reach their potential.  I hate to make this a grand social commentary, but I tend to do that.  It's a shame that there are talented people out there who are unable to pursue what makes them happy, and I am so thankful to the universe (which is code for "my parents") for being able to do so.

As college graduates, we have extreme privilege, and with that, we have the responsibility to make the most of it.  This is what I mean by creating your mural: we must use our status as a way to empower those who have none.  We have to inspire, to engage, and to never lose sight of our passions because there are so many people whose dreams were crushed by the harsh reality of the cruel world around us.  We must find the beauty that remains past the wretchedness we all encounter.  That is our calling.

I still have the utmost faith that everyone has the capability to make this world a better place, and it is your responsibility to make a tangible difference.  My sentiments from four years ago are still the same: create your mural in the image that you would like to see the world.  More importantly, make a difference that only you can make.  We each are here to contribute something important, and I can't wait to see what each of you do with that prophecy.

And as always, stay fierce, fabulous, and ferocious.

Shit I Learned This Semester: The Final Semester

For those of you who are new to this list, as there always are a few, ever semester since the Fall of 2010, I have written a list of things that I have learned, seen, and experienced throughout the prior few months.  It has become an end-of-term ritual in which I have been able to reflect on the highlights, and lowlights, of each semester.  It has helped me deal with heartache, stress, and confusion while also enlightening me to joys, successes, and triumphs.  It saddens me a bit to realize that this is the final formal installment of this list, since my life will no longer be structured in semesters now that I have a college diploma (or at least not for a while), but some kind of periodic reflection is something that I hope to keep doing in the future.  I want you all take a minute to look back at the lessons that life has imparted on you and let those fester in your brain.  All of those things are what have brought you to this point and you will realize how much they have helped to prepare you for the life you're living today.

I think it's important to look at my own growth throughout time, so here is an archive of all the previous lists, if for further reference to my journey through college:
Fall 2010

Spring 2011

Fall 2011

Spring 2012

Fall 2012

And now, for the final list:

1) You are allowed to make mistakes.

2) It's both exciting and eerie to return to place you haven't been in a while.

3) Do not accidentally eat the little plastic baby in a King Cake.

4) Express what you feel because nobody is a mind-reader.

5) It's okay to be unsure of what you want.

6) To have doubts means that you are thinking critically

7) Your worth is not measured by your salary.

8) The internet is not democratic.

9) You cannot plan how you're going to feel.

10) Don't be afraid of making new connections or reviving old ones.

11) I am not even remotely prepared for grad school.

12) If all else fails, I can become a seamstress.

13) It's never too late to make a new best friend.

14) ¿Dónde está la cueva?

15) You have yet to see the most beautiful places.

16) You have yet to meet the most amazing people.

17) Nothing feels better than proving people wrong.

18) In Puerto Rico, everything is "20 minutes away."

19) It's ColoRADo, not ColoRODo.

20) Pulling around a large plush giraffe on wheels is an effective way of getting a lot of attention.

21) I will always be a Midnight Ramblers groupie.

22) In retrospect, you will always remember the good things...

23) ...so don't be afraid of uncertainty in the future because you're bound to remember all the good stuff anyway. 

24) Some things don't change.

25) There is nothing remotely interesting about the entire state of Indiana.

26) You may possibly graduate with high distinction and not know it until the ceremony.

27) Time doesn't heal everything.

28) I am horrible at goodbyes.

29) There is something so fulfilling about keeping promises.

30) Sometimes, you have to rip the bandaid off.  Really fast.

31) Mario Kart is awesome.

32) I should have boned more frat bros.

33) Never get too comfortable.  Things will be more exciting that way.

34) "Breathe. Drink water. Run in circles. Do some jumping jacks. Twerk. Then keep breathing."

35) There are some pretty interesting and unique ways to use a crockpot.

36) Emojis, Snapchats, and Instagram have significantly altered modern youth relationships.

37) It takes one person to change your self-esteem.  It's yourself.

38) Know your strengths, and always use them to your ability.

39) I am slowly becoming my parents.

40) The Ratchet Effect is actually an economic principle.

41) Not only are you moving forward, but you are also leaving things behind.

42) The greatest achievement in life is to stand up again after failing.

43) "Jugo de China" is actually just orange juice.

44) College has prepared me to be an amazing bullshitter.

45) College has also prepared me to be passionate about things that matter.

46) The smallest gesture can cause the biggest reaction.

47) "Achievement is tied to your ability to let go of the past.  Envisioning your future is never easy because you have to break down walls." 

48) Fail fast.  And fail efficiently.

49) We will always have the past to keep us together in the future.

50) I'm gonna miss this place.