Since I know nobody is reading this I’ll just go ahead and unwittingly pour my heart out to the oblivion of cyber space. At least maybe this way I can derive some catharsis.
I have this friend; we’ll call him Tony. Now Tony is a good friend of mine, perhaps the only one who really (kinda) gets me. He’s also the only one I really talk to. Problem.
Tony is straight, I however I’m not. The problem is that I have been in and out of lust/ infatuation/ love with Tony and everything in-between since we met four years ago. So one day (recently) when I couldn’t take it any longer I told him. He looked at me and in not so many words declined seeing that he’s undeniably straight. And since he is red-blooded Kenyan he’s unlikely to experiment (darn!).
The weird thing is some people often think that he’s less than straight (in the last year quite a few people went up to him and asked). I often like to tease him about this in the (vain) hope he may one day break down and admit to being of the queer persuasion and we’ll live happily ever after no such lack. Physically he is gifted (read athletic), broad shoulders, flat abs (no 6 pack here!), a beautiful package (even in buggy jeans) and in his day he was a champion swimmer and football striker. However he has certain slightly effeminate mannerisms, he does the hands thing (yup that queer gesticulation), his voice is slightly high pitched and to top it off, he’s a serial flirt. Women love him, they find him charming but it seldom goes beyond that, hence the rumours. Oh yeah and he’s also uncannily clever, the sort of person who studies well before exams and hands in assignments early. I dislike such people, but this is Tony we’re talking about – he’s everything I’m not, maybe something I aspire to.
Needless to say I worship the ground he walks on but the fact that I can never have him kills me. He’s the only guy (and I’ve met many) that I actually like and the only guy who makes me extremely sad. He likes me too; in fact he once told me he loved me (in not so few words) like a brother. I’ve tried to ignore these feelings (even he told me to) but it’s been four years and every time I look at him, I feel a stirring in my pants and a little pain in my heart. Tony says that I don’t actually like him but rather I want him because I can’t have him and to certain extent because I have nobody in my life. Sad but he may be right.
Anyway that was my little rant. Story of my life! And I lead an infinitely boring life. Its much more interesting in my head since.
It’s Saturday afternoon in Southern Africa and I have nothing to do except wallow in self-pity! It’s already getting dark and cold (cold for a Kenyan at least). Maybe I should go see what Tony is up to.
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