What happened...

Over the last decade I got my masters degree, moved to a different country, met the love of my life, changed my career entirely, learned two different languages, moved to a third country, travelled the world, got married and co-founded my own house with some of my best friends.

(That's what I could remember off the top of my head, and that would fit into one paragraph. Obviously lots more happened, and if it's not here it certainly doesn't mean that it wasn't as important.)

The last day of the year

Gratitude. That is the something I have been thinking a lot about, and it is something I want to incorporate into my life and practice more of. Be grateful for who I am and what I have. It is very easy to take things for granted when one lives inside a bubble, but the world is not an easy place. Life is not fair. And, like everyone else, I have my problems and issues, but I have infinitely more to thank for than to complain about. Gratitude, that is my focus for the future.

I don't do new years resolutions, they are cliche and they have no meaning - the earth went around the sun once again in a complete circle, but if I learned something from mathematics is that a circle has no beginning and no end. So I don't do new years resolutions. But if I did, that would be it. Gratitude.

But it's over now.

You gotta admit: I've been pretty good. I promised not to write you anymore, and it's been almost six months. In fact, Christmas Eve will mark exactly six months since I last wrote you. Ironic, isn't it?

You might think that I forgot about you, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I still think about you every day. It's not something that I want - in fact, I wish I could snap a finger and, just like that, get you off my head. But we all know that's not how life works. You're my burden, my ghost, and I accepted the fact that you will haunt me for the foreseeable future.

So why am I writing you now, out of the blue, is what you are probably not asking yourself, because you won't read this letter. I don't have a good answer for that. The truth is that I've been thinking about you a lot, probably since Halloween. I know how the 31st of October is the kickoff to your favourite season, how much you love Christmas, how this all matters to you, and then there's your birthday today...

But maybe what got my fingers to pull the trigger - or in this case, hit the phone keyboard - was the fact that Marie Fredriksson died some days ago. You of all people would have got what that actually means. And I'm someone who despises the phrase "you of all people". But you probably saw the news over there, and you felt as sad as I did. Like a part of your life died or something. This may sound a tad dramatic, but bear in mind that "spending my time" is the song I had my first slow dance to.

Think about losing someone instantly takes me back to you. Throughout my life I lost a lot and I had to say a lot of goodbyes. Some of them voluntarily, some of them were forced upon me. And many of them hurt, many of them didn't. Saying goodbye to you is one of the ones that hurt me, and it still do. And her death reminded me that you're also not around anymore. That I cannot just pick up the phone, call you and say: hey, did you hear? Or ask you how is your day, how are the kids, the husband, the baking enterprises...

Maybe that's why I cannot get closure: although my mind tells me that you're dead, my heart knows exactly where you are. Exactly what to type on Instagram to see what is happening in your life. And yeah, sometimes I go there. Sometimes I also feel like giving you a call, writing you a message. But then the moment goes, and it's better this way.

I cannot explain how I still feel so much for you. But above all, I cannot explain how a person who were mere words in a screen, whom I only met in person once became one of the most important things for me. And how, just like that, I lost you. It makes no sense. But still, it is real. To this day it is real.

It must have been love...  

Nobody can escape causality

It is a very simple thing, but sometimes it escapes our grasping: every choice has a consequence. It couldn't have been different with us. We are not the exception to this rule, because there is no exception to this rule.

The bill always comes, and nothing is free.

So it might be that the darkest times for us are still ahead, and maybe we cannot be saved. But we ought to learn from it, in order not to make the same mistakes in the future. Because only then the pain that we might feel will be worth it. Only then, we will look at the scars and remember what we have to go through. Only then we will fully understand that our future is influenced directly by our choices in the past.

You made your decisions and I made mine, and now we are both dealing with their consequences. Now and then. Let's just brace for impact and hope for the best...

Hi J.

You don't know me, and I don't know you either. But we are connected to each other by someone we care about a lot, although in totally different ways. And, based on all that's happened, you might think that I'm the villain in your tale. The truth is, I was rooting for you guys to work things out. I bet that comes as a surprise to you, but guess what: there are a lot of things you don't know.

This all started with my mistake, and it's a mistake I do quite often: I hit on your partner, without asking him if he was available. This is in no way an excuse, but I live in a world where everyone has open relationships and people flirt with each other all the time. A world where a naked picture is no different than the word "hello". I should have known that not everyone is like that, and I promise that I'm trying to be more mindful about it.

This continued until the day I asked him if he was single/available/allowed to have this kind of chat. When he said he was not, I offered to stop. Granted, stopping is not as easy as I thought it would be but I offered to nonetheless. I apologised for everything I had done so far and offered to stop. He said it was ok to go on. And I went on.

You might see this as a homewracking move form my part, but we are all adults here. If he said it was ok, I was not the one to judge, be moralist and say that he should think about you. After all, you were HIS boyfriend, not mine. The way other people deal with their relationship is none of my business.

As me and him started to become good friends, I told him that he shouldn't hide me from you. I told him that honesty is always the best way to go, and that lies and deceiving always end up coming back to slap one in one's face. Even after the breakup I told him that he should be clear about me and my intentions. I did tell him multiple times to try to put himself in your shoes. I told him to imagine how it would look like if you'd find our chats, discussing the possibility of you two breaking up among naked pictures and videos. That if he would explain you what was actually happen, it could go badly, but never as bad as you finding out and filling the gaps by yourself. But he decided not to, and we all know how that story played. And once again, I won't judge his decisions.

He has his reasons, and even though you or me or someone else might think those reasons are not strong enough, they were strong enough for him to act that way.

Another thing I told him multiple times is that I was also interested in you, both as a friend and sexually. One thing about me that you don't know is that I don't like to divide or subtract, instead my thing is to add and multiply. Countless times I brought up the possibility of the four of us - me, him, you and my husband - having sex together. Because, besides the fact that I am happily married to the love of my life and I am not looking for another partner, my husband is a whore like me and for us, the more does mean the merrier. I was clear that, should you two reamin together and decide to open your relationship, me and my husband would be on the front of the queue to play with you two. 

But probably one of the biggest things that you don't know about me is that I rooted for you guys to work things out. When he told me about how affectionate you were after you had the pre-breakup chat, I asked him if he was sure about it, I told him how I felt for you, how I have "love goggles" and how I want everyone to work their issues out and be happy. That's just one example where I asked him to think really hard about this decision before making it. But most important, I want HIM to be happy, and as I told him recently, I haven't felt that he is happy with you from all that he tells me, so I understand why he decided to break things up. And sometimes, no matter how much we want to save something, it cannot be saved. We have to accept it, cause that is how life works. It sucks sometimes, but it is what it is.

I just wanted you to know that I never had anything against you, I am not rooting against you or your relationship and I certainly never wanted to steal him from you.

If you remain in his life, I would be opened to getting to know you better, making a connection with you, introducing you to my husband... Add and multiply. I am sure there's enough space for both you and me in his life, and we would occupy entirely different places in his heart. I am willing to make this work, in fact I never was not willing to. It is, as it always was, entirely up to you. I'm am a good guy, and if you give me a chance, I am happy to show you this.

I wish you could see that I'm telling the truth, but if you don't, there's nothing else I can do either, I just have to accept it, cause I know how I feel and he knows how I feel, and that's enough for me. Like I said, that's how life is. You are not the first and won't be the last person who dislikes me.

And maybe it is easier for you to blame someone else for everything, but keep in mind that I've only been around for 3 or 4 months, and your issues has been happening for more than a year now.  Maybe right now none of this will make any sense to you, maybe in this moment you need someone to blame, something to ease the pain, and you are free to choose whatever you want for that, including making me the bad guy.

But I hope that one day you understand that everyone makes mistakes, it's probably the most human thing out there, but the mistakes are only worth it when you can learn from them. I hope you can learn from your mistakes, be it to make things between you two work in the future as boyfriends, just friends, or any new relationship you might be in. You deserve to be happy, everyone does. I don't know you, but I truly hope you can find happiness. For real. 

I just hope it's not too late for us when you finally understand that.

You know you lost, but haven't been told yet.

Imagine you went for a job interview, and there are 2 places on offer. One of the candidates is the manager's daughter/son. And you just got a call saying that the first place was filled by a third candidate. Although the second spot is still open, everyone knows how that's gonna go...

The unwanted punch

I knew it already. To be honest, I was kind of expecting it. Also, it makes perfect sense, when I think about it. It is the right path, and it is what I wanted as well. And it's not the first time I heard it, and it certainly won't be the last.

Nevertheless, it hurts. Every time I hear it, it hurts. Like a punch in my heart.

You, me, him and the big picture

Today I made two big decisions about the place of our friendship in your life and in your relationship. This is not something that just came to me, it's actually something I've been thinking about for a while, and recent events only made me certain that those are the right decisions to make.

1- Redacted.

2- Redacted.

There's another thing: Redacted.

I will post this on the blog, but I will redact most of it, in the off chance that you see this. Cause I don't want you to know about this before something actually happens, so it can't influence you and your decisions. But when the time is right, I'll make sure you get the full version of this letter.

Dear A. - Nov 2019

It's been more than 8 years, and I am still not sure if I am ready to write you. There is so much anger, so much resentment, so much pain... I wish I didn't feel anything when I thought about you. And believe me, it is getting better, but there's still a lot there. I still get extremely upset when I think about you.

A big part of this is due to the fact that I'm upset with myself. I look back and I still cannot understand why I got so in love with you. I was blind, but in a way that I have never been before. My feelings for you were obsession, and I let you do to me things that I would never even consider with anybody else. Both physically and psychologically.

Thoguhout the years, I developed many theories to why I let it happen, why I let it get so big, so powerful and so destructive. I may never find the answer, but I know for a fact that I will never let it happen again. And I do have a never say never policy, but this is one of the few exceptions. I learned a lot about myself, about how I react and where I can be taken, and I will never go to that place again.

I want to forget you, I want to erase your role in the story of my life, but I know that, not only this is not possible, it's not productive. I need to have the constant remind of you and of the person I became around you, so I won't be that person again. I need to feel that pain, so I can be sure never to let anybody hurt me the way you did.

I know, in my mind, that you were not only bad to me, that there were good moments, that you helped me, that good things happened between us two. But those moments are so insignificant, when put close to the suffer you caused me. I try to think about positives, but I can only remember the negatives. I can only see the darkness. How you kicked me out of your place in the middle of the night, after I made a massive effort for you. The way you chose to break up with me, and where you did it - how you hurt me using the things that you knew would hurt me the most, like bringing up the fact that I was unemployed and had no money, that we were from different levels, how you met someone you actually connected with. And how you did that in another country, in the middle of all your friends, where I was a stranger, completely out of my comfort zone, defenseless. And how I had to share a bed with you after being broken up. How, after having disappeared for months, you called me and asked me to travel with you, disregarding my job, my boyfriend, my life, just because you needed someone to be your translator. How you couldn't even remember my birthday. I still remember yours, to this day. 

In essence, there's just too much hurt there to even give the good things a chance.

I hope one day I will think of you and I won't feel anything, neither good nor bad. That day is not today. Today, I truly wish you are burning in hell. And bear in mind, I don't believe in hell. But for you, I want hell to exist. I want hell to be real, and I want you to suffer on it.

Does that make me a bad person? Maybe. But I don't care. Or maybe I do. I want to get over you, I want to be indifferent to the fact that you live or die. And I'm sure that day will come, sooner or later. It always does. At least for now I have the peace of mind that my life is better in a way I cannot even calculate. My husband is the one who saved me from you, and he showed me what love is really about. You'll never be 1% of the man he is. It took me a while to realise that, but I got my happy ending. You were only a plot twist to make the audience gasp, but you are nothing more than a secondary character. You would never get a spin-off or sell any books on your own.

Anyway, I've written you more than you deserve to get from anyone in life, so I'll finish this letter here. From now on, I won't have anything else to tell you. I'll just work towards feeling nothing about you. Because that's all you deserve: nothing.

...

Gilda

Dear Rita,

it took me a while but I think I finally understand what you say. Of course, we are talking a whole lower scale here: I am not an international movie star from the 40's (thanks, google!). I am just a simple guy with around 5000 followers on Instagram. But I, on my own way, feel like Gilda and Rita.

I have a social media persona, who, like every social media persona - or every persona - is not real. It is me in the pictures and the pictures are real, but it is all one dimensional and isolated from reality. I choose what I want to share and how people will see that persona. I have active control of how that persona should live in my follower's minds. And I am starting to feel like that is coming back to bite me in the ass. The same ass I post there.

People look at it and assume I am this great guy: a world traveler who is always surrounded by the most amazing and the hottest friends, who has a perfect husband, no insecurities and who is an absolute sex god. And although these things can be true here and there, I am not that guy all the time. I am someone normal. I am someone who will order McDonald's and binge watch Netflix beside a snoring husband whenever I am home on a Friday evening. Someone who does not have lots of friends, who finds his job boring and lonely at times, who owes money to his credit cards and, most importantly, someone who has insecurities like everyone else.

And this is not part of the fantasy, this is not something other people will see. People want the entertainment, people want Gilda. Behind the phone screen, I am just Rita. And more and more I am noticing that, after they get to know the real me, they go away. Their investment does not pay off, so they just leave. When people set off to get to know me, they expect to be sucked into my fantastic perfect and happy world, and not to be shown problems like their own. Inevitably I will disappoint them for starting with the bar so high.

One would argument that I am better off without those people, that at least they are showing their true colours now better than later, when they are sentimentally involved in my life, and that it is their loss. And I agree to all these point - rationally speaking, they all make perfect sense. Unfortunately a friend that waled away from me once taught me that we are not entirely rational, and that the emotional bit means a lot. At the end of the day, no matter how much "better" I am for being myself and for not having those people in my life, I am still the one who's walked away from. I am still alone.

Usually this is the part of the text where I write something hopeful, that will make the future look brighter. And the future will be brighter, it has to be. I cannot give up, I have to keep trying until it works. Rationally speaking, I know that the wheel turns, and if now it looks grim and sad, it is just the bottom of the spin, but soon I will start going up again.

But right now the emotional is being stronger. Right now I just want a hug. Or maybe I wish you could come back from the dead to tell me that none of that matters. In 70 years, you'll be dead and someone will be talking about you in a blog no one will read.

A big bear farewell

I am so upset and so disappointed with you, that I could write a whole book about it. One letter would not be nearly enough. But, at the same time, I don't want to write to you or about you. You're not worth my lines, you're not with the energy my finger muscles use to type. You're not even worth the bandwidth I will use to post this. These lines are way more than you deserve.

Next, please.

The last apology

I wrote you another apology letter, before I watched the videos I sent you. I felt, based on what I could remember, that I went ballistic on you. That I offended you, called you names, and told you to fuck yourself a lot. But then I rewatched it, and this letter had to change.

Because the only thing I need to apologize for is to bother you, when you said you didn't want to talk to me anymore. That's way better and lighter than saying "I'm sorry I called you an asshole and told you to go fuck yourself", don't you think? Sorry, shouldn't be asking you questions.

I don't think that I have offended you. In fact, I just opened my heart. I told you what I was feeling in a very honest and open way. I never wore any masks while talking to you (one of my mistakes, maybe...) and that video didn't have me being any different. I had many questions thar I needed answer, and even though I never got to ask you them, they were still there. Drunk me had the balls to ask you.

For instance, I don't get how our friendship crumbled so fast and so easily. I kept asking myself this question, building different theories, second guessing myself. You also woke up an old feeling of abandonment and rejection, but I've talked about this extensively in the blog so I don't need to go into it anymore. Ultimately, I just wanted to understand. This is who I am, I need logic, I need to understand how something works to get along with it and move on. It gives me control, and control is everything a control freak needs. It's right there, on the name.  

But I'm also not a kid anymore. I learned in my life that some things are out of my control. And those things I cannot control. Those things are out of my reach. This is one of them, and I have to let go. I know I said before that I'm moving on, and I don't know if this time I mean it or not, but I want to move on. I don't want to care anymore. Like drunk me very wisely said: I miss you, but I don't want to miss you. 

Sometimes I feel selfish, like I'm always talking about myself, how I feel and how things affected and still affect me. I feel like I never ask you how you are, or how you're dealing with everything. But I did. Before we decided to go our own ways, I asked you several times if we could talk. If I could help. You didn't want to talk, you didn't want my help, you denied me your side of the puzzle. And drunk me asked you, maybe not not directly, but asked nevertheless: what happened, what's your version of things. You chose again to be silent about it. You don't want your part to be in the story I'm writing, so I have no choice but talk about myself, my feelings, my side. But I'm also getting tired of my side of things.

So this will be my last apology. I'm sorry for sending you drunk videos and, even though I'm not sorry for anything I said on them, I'm truly sorry for everything I could have done. The things I know I've done and the things I cannot even begin to imagine. I wish I could say some cliche like "I hope you'll be happy", but that would be a lie. Right now I don't wish you any good or bad. Right now, all I wish is to forget you, to be able to move on, to wake up one morning and don't think about you. And it's not because I hate you or because I have any bad feelings towards you, I truly don't. 

I just want to have peace. 

The beginning

It's been two years since you died. I never really met you, or even heard about you before I saw that you were gone, but your death had an effect on me. Your death became a massive commotion on my social media, and it made me ask myself: if I would die tomorrow, who would cry? What would they say about me? Who would come to my funeral? What if my husband would die, who would be at my side to give me strength and help me move on? And from there, lots of other questions started to unfold about my life in this country, the fact that I was living here for a whole year and still didn't have any friends, that I still felt like a visitor in my own home...
Like what happened to Nobel, it also got me thinking about the impact I am leaving in this world and the legacy I am leaving behind. It also made me think about the people I have around me. Your death woke me up for the fact that I was still alive and I had to do some things with my life. You, dear stranger, threw me into what is still probably the biggest crisis I've ever had in my life.
I went down, but I came off the other side stronger, I met two of the most important people in my life nowadays, I changed habits and I became a better person. And I thought it was over, I was through. I thought that, after I went back up, I would be immune to such an event in the future. Life was good.
Now I realize that this was just the first phase. I am now back on the lower level of the wheel. I am currently knees deep inside another crisis. But this time, it is different. I am different. Maybe I did become immune after all. Right now I am questioning everything in my life. Things I held sacred and certain are now big doubts. I don't know what I want, how or when do I want it, or even if I want anything. I am currently living in this state of apathy, where everything and nothing doesn't seem so different. A bit like the calm before a big storm.
Two years ago, there was a big storm, and now I know for a fact that another big storm will come and will wash away lots of things, leaving space to build new others. I cannot put my finger on what exactly will fall and what will stand, but I don't care. Caring won't make any difference anyway. And I know, based on my previous crisis - or the first part of the current one - that I will survive. The sun will shine afterwards and everything will be good again.
I also know now that this may not, or probably will not, be the last one. The wheel will spin again, I will go up, then go down, then up again until the day I actually die and none of this matters anymore. I won't be able to know then what people think of me, how I will be remembered, what legacy I left behind. I hope it's a good one, but if it isn't, oh well... 

To a very cute and very reserved big bear

I need to be honest with you: I feel a bit intimidated when I talk to you. But I am not saying that you are intimidating, so let me explain...

You and I, we are very different people. We are opposites - and maybe that's why we are attracted to each other. Maybe (or probably) you are the most opposite to me as someone can be. I am this big extrovert with little shame, who's absolutely not shy, is always saying what he thinks, loves to talk about sex and would live his life naked if he could. You seem to be reserved, quiet, shy and always fully dressed in your pictures and videos. I have channels on both xtube and Tumblr.

And here's where the problem begins: I never had to deal with someone like you in my life. I probably told you this before, that being like I am, I learned to deal with rejection like a pro. So whenever I met someone who was not so intense like I am, they would normally reject me, because I scared them away. Sometimes we would become friends, but that would also end at some point, cause our incompatibility would become to big to bear - usually for them.

And here's where the other part of the problem lies: I like you, quite a lot actually. I cannot explain, but I need to add some notes about this: first, I like you as a friend, not in a romantic way. I do want to have lots and lots of naked fun with you, but I do not want to be your boyfriend. I am happily married and he is the only person in my life who gets the boyfriend love. That is well established and I cannot see it changing anytime soon, or at all. Second, there's a reason why me liking you is part of a problem, and I'll get to it. The point is, I cannot explain but I like and miss you. We have a text based relationship, we never met in person, for all I know you could be a 57 year old lesbian truck driver from Russia, but I still like you as I like a close friend. I feel like you're as part of my life as the people I get to hang out in the non virtual world. And I am afraid of me being too much for you.

Cause whenever we talk, I feel like I am pushing it more and more further. Like someone blowing air into a balloon. Let me see if I can put a bit more inside - no pun intended. Or maybe pun intended? But there's a point where the balloon pops, and every time we talk I feel like I got to that point with you. Whenever you walk away from the chat, I think to myself that I finally managed to screw this up, like I always do. Then I hear from you again some time later, and I relax and think: it still wasn't this time. That's stressful and intimidating. Not you, but the situation. And it's not your fault, this is a situation I put myself into.

So why do I keep pushing it? Some people might argue that I could just stop filling the balloon with air and just play with it... But one thing about big personalities is that they're big because they don't know how to be small. We live in a go big or go home world, where any other option is not an option. Ultimately, I don't want to change you, but I also don't want to change myself. I need to adapt. I need to learn.

And I am learning. I am learning to control myself, to be less me and to let people be more themselves. Maybe you don't know it, but you're teaching me this. I'm becoming a better, more tolerant and more flexible person, and that's also because of you. And I cannot thank you enough for that.

Lastly, I want to tell you that I have a good heart and I mean well. So please bear with me, cause I am learning. I will make some mistakes and I expect you to tell me off about them, but please don't go away. Please don't give up on me. Cause I want to have you around for the long run. I want the texts to turn into hugs, and the hugs to turn into trips together... I want to call you my friend and have you call me yours.

Until the day comes where we laugh about this, and you're the one telling people "yeah, he's a bit too much but he's a nice guy".

Dunning–Kruger, FOMO and Social Media walk into a bar...

You are posting... 

...about inclusion and acceptance, but you exclude anyone who doesn't share your interests...

...about being body positive, but only when you're going to the gym and your body is getting into the beauty standard...

...about being sensitive, sweet and opened to love everyone, no matter who they are and how they look like, but in real life, you're a rude asshole who only talks to people like you, who's all the time on your phone and turns your face when people say hi...

...about how much you love your boyfriend, how he's the love of your life, but you keep sending naked pictures and asking people to be discreet about it...

...about your relationship, even though you never did this before with any other boyfriend, just because this one is hot and worth showing...

...about how much you wish people were honest and told you the truth, but the faint sign of truth turns you into a defensive and argumentative beast who thinks the world is out to get you...

...about how much you want a teddy bear and/or a daddy, but not so long ago you were looking at overweight and/or older guys in disgust when you went out...

...about your mental health issues, and how you wish people were nicer to you, but you do not hesitate to use your mental health as a free pass to be a complete asshole to someone else...

...about being available when someone says they're looking for a guy, but you reject everyone who's around you in real life and shows any genuinely interest in you...

...pictures that will make people drool, but you complain about them being naughty on your feed...

...about how you're a big nerd and you like nerd culture, but back in school you bullied all your friends who were into anything that was not popular...

...about how much you're into certain movies and TV shows, but you never read any of the books or comics that originated it...

...pictures showing how cute and hot and sexy you are, and even though everybody is into you, your inside is empty and ugly based on how you treat other people...

...criticism to others, calling them stupid and other things, but you cannot even spell correctly in your own native language...

And finally, you are posting about how you have the best life ever, but you are just doing what everybody else is doing, watching the shows everybody else is watching, travelling to the places everybody else is travelling, being what everybody else is being...

But none of that matters, because you think you're right, people around you will encourage and applaud you, and you and your life will always stay the same. And you will be happy, because you want to fit in, you want to share it and you don't like change. But most important, you don't know enough to even understand that something is wrong.

Dear C. - Jan, 19

I feel like you deserve an explanation to why I went away - I thought a lot about this initial sentence, because I don't want to say that I owe you one. You lost your right to be owed something by me a long time ago. This one is on you, and maybe I shouldn't tell you anything. But this is my letter, to get my closure, and to make me feel like a better person, so I can move on.

In a nutshell, you are boring, annoying and creepy. That alone would not be a reason for me to go, but your behaviour started to affect me, my relationship and my friends. Until we got to the point where I said "enough" and cut you from my life. I don't miss you and I genuinely think my life is better without you. And probably the only reasons we started a friendship is because I haven't seen your true colors then, and I did not have any other options.

You seemed like a nice guy, you are cute and interesting, but you don't seem to understand the concept of boundaries and respect. This game we play also has rules, even though it is not a conventional game. And one of them is that, being an outsider, your are not supposed to try to be an insider. Unless the conditions are perfect for that - trust me, been there, done that, took the pic and got the t-shirt. And even when I was the one kicking the insider out to get his place, it hurt me to do so. You seem to be ok with that. The way you acted around my man, especially when I was not around, was so extreme that even he had to tell you off. And he's probably the nicest person anyone will ever meet. He does not tell people off. He did with you, what does that tell you?

You disrespected him at work, acting so intimate around him to the point that some people started to think you were me. You put his career in danger. We will be eternally grateful to you for all the help to get the job, but not at any cost. You used the time that I was away to abuse your friendship and force something with him, while pretending you were my buddy when I was back. And even if you tell me now this never happened, the fact that I felt this way shows how bad was the way you behaved. I am not a jealous person, ask anyone. I do not mind if he fucks around, if people come to sleep with him in our bed, if he spends the day watching movies and cuddling. I was jealous of you. And not because I think you are better than me and would threaten me, but because I you crossed so many lines.

And then one day you came to our house and forced your way into a very drunk friend, who had a boyfriend at the time and was in a closed relationship. You took him home, pretending to be a nice person and to help someone, but you only thought about yourself and what you wanted, disregarding how many times he said no. You knew that, in that state, he would not resist you too much. Ok, we are all grown ups here, and being drunk is not an excuse for anything. But what you did not see was him crying in our couch for a couple of hours the next day, because he cheated on his boyfriend. He clearly did not want that, and if you have asked him while he was sober, he would have said no - like he said so many times early on the party. As the sober one, you should have known better and been the better person. You were not - big surprise.

From that point on, you were banned from my house and later from my life. I was sure that you were someone I did not want around, and I would try to be as far away from you as possible. You are toxic and selfish - that seems to be the common opinion of anyone that gets to know you, after you are in their life for a while. Others told me so.

So why am I here spending my lines and kilobytes writing you this letter? Because of J., who is my actual friend, whom I love and who is an incredible person. One of the things we talked about was that everybody deserves an explanation to why someone leaves them. J. says not everybody does, and I told him I would never do that to anyone. I was wrong, I did it to you and you deserved it. J. was right. But this bothers me.

I do not want to be that person, I want to be someone better. I am doing this for me. To have my heart in peace that I put this out there, that you have the chance to see it, maybe understand it, and who knows, learn something from it. It is not my problem if you will see this or not. I honestly do not care about you, or whether you will be a better person or not. This is for my peace of mind. I might have gone without an explanation, but there is one here for you to see.

I am being selfish, but you, of all people, will understand that.

Reclaiming my bottom

For me, one of the boringest things in the male gay world is people who say they're only this or only that. I get, preferences and stuff, but by being a gay man you usually have the chance both to fuck and to get fucked, so why not use the best of all worlds?

All that said, I am only a top, and I've been like that for a while now. I can write here justifying my preference and behaviour, but that doesn't make me less boring. In fact, I don't like to be a top only, but at the moment I don't have a choice. And I'm hoping to change that. I want to take back the control of my ass.

I started my sex life being exclusively bottom. Back then, I didn't accept myself as a gay man, and the excuse I used to trick my brain into thinking I was straight is that I would do with boys what I couldn't get from girls - I would have my ass fucked. I could never be active with another guy, because in my head that would make me gay. After all, I could put my cock inside a pussy, so I did not need to "use" boys.

In my early 20s, when I started to accept my sexuality and embrace it, I tried fucking someone and I liked it. I then became full time versatile. I would do basically anything - inside the normal spectrum, as I've always been a bit of a vanilla. Those were happy days.

Later in life I had a bad experience - I don't want to go into details to preserve those involved, but in a nutshell he was big and he was bad, and that changed me. Even physically, as I believe he literally torn me apart. Since then I lost the interest in being bottom, cause it was always associated with pain and discomfort.

Still, the bottom in me kept showing signs that he was alive and well. I kept having fantasies about being penetrated, and when I was with someone who I fancied, I always imagined how it would be to have them inside me. The one factor in common with all those boys is that they had either small or thin cocks.

Right, now I want to make a pause and talk about small and/or thin dicks. I've never been that much into penis size, even when I used to bottom before. Sounds very cliche, but for me it was always a matter of how it's used and what else comes attached to that cock. In fact, I came to notice throughout the years that people with small and/or thin cocks are, in general, better in bed. My theory is that they know they're not massive, so they make more effort to compensate what they feel is not enough. Same applies to guys who are not the main beauty standard. I came to notice that someone who's hot, have a big dick, etc, tend to rely too much on that and don't do much else. Again, this is generalisation and all rules have exceptions. Besides, I firmly believe that there are lots and lots more things to do than to put a penis inside an ass, and a good fuck can (and often does) happen without penetration.

All this and the discomfort in being a bottom affected me to such extent that I developed a fetish for people with small cocks. I search for those kind of videos to masturbate, and I get genuinely pleased when I meet one in real life. And I promise this is in no way pity.

Another thing that is part of my masturbation fantasies is to be a bottom. More and more I think about being passive, having someone fuck me, but it doesn't only stay in the introduction of the penis in my asshole. It goes further. It's about the feeling of someone pushing their body against mine. Forcing themselves - not in an unauthorized way - inside me. The knowledge that my butt is giving them intense pleasure - just as my mouth, hand and cock can do.

But when it comes to the real world, it is very disappointing. Even though I consider myself much more penis oriented than bum oriented, probably because of something realted to Freud's phallical phase, I can be very liberal with my hole. People are allowed to lick it, touch it and even lightly finger it. More than that and it becomes painful and uncomfortable. The main reason I don't bottom is because it hurts. But not in a "of course it hurts but I enjoy it " pain. It hurts for real, and it hurts real bad. To a point that there's no more pleasure.

I do believe that there is something physical, maybe some sort of hemorrhoid. But there's also a psychological factor involved, I am sure. And I'm willing to change them, both of them. I want to be a bottom again. I want to fulfill my fantasies and stop being a boring gay. I want to ask someone to give it to me good. I want my ass fucked.

I don't know how I will achieve that, but that's one of my goals from now on. And maybe, who know, in a couple of years I can be bottoming in a town near you. 

The edge of reason

Feels like I stumbled into the VIP room by mistake, and it's just a matter of time until someone show me the door.

It's not new, but still very actual and accurate.

I hope you're ok?

No, mate, I'm not ok.

I think about you every day. It's one of the first things that comes to my mind when I wake up, and it's one of the last things I think about before I go to sleep. I miss you a lot, more than I was even aware I would. I even deleted and blocked you from all types of social media, in the hopes that I would.hurt less if I didn't get to see you. It didn't work, cause you're inside my mind.

I'm also experiencing the return of a lot of my unresolved abandonment issues due to the fact that you left. I'm not saying this is your fault - if anything, it's my fault: my background, my experiences and insecurities. But you are certainly the trigger.

I'm afraid of talking to people, I'm afraid I'm always doing something wrong, but worst of all, I'm afraid of being myself with people around me. Even those who are close to me, like my best friends and my husband. I was myself in a very deep level with you and you left very fast and with a very thin explanation, and that just fuels the belief that it's my fault that you left. That you left because of me being me.

I also couldn't bid for Toronto flights in June, cause I'm very far from ready to be there and don't be with you. To be there and don't see you. To be close and at the same time so far away. All the antecipation about Toronto finally coming back to schedule became fear, discomfort and resentment.

But probably what hurts the most is that I don't want to be your friend anymore. Getting over our friendship has been hard, and I feel like I could never try anything else again with you, as I would be too afraid of losing you again and going through all this again. I'm not sure I could handle this for a second time. Besides, I feel like I did not deserve the way you left me. I get that you have a lot on your plate over there, but you said you'd be here forever and then something changed. And whatever it was, it was stronger than our friendship. And I keep wracking my brain, trying to think what could have been so strong to beat how strong our friendship was. And slowly it's sinking into me that it wasn't anything strong. I rolled my eyes at you and that was enough. So our friendship was not as strong as I believed it was. At least not for you. You dismissed me from your life very easily. I have some other theories as well to why you left, but that terrifies me even further. 

Right now I feel trapped in an unsolvable problem: you're the only thing that could make it better, but at the same time I don't want you to be the solution. So no, mate, I am not ok. I'm a wreck. But that won't make any difference to you. It's none of your business, as we're not friends anymore. So I'll go back to write about you and about what I'm going through in my blog, I'll go back to talking to my real friends about it, I'll go back to living my life and finding my peace, and then one day it will hopefully be alright again. 

I hope one day I'll be able to think about you and feel nothing. Until the day comes, where I don't think about you at all. Then I will be ok. Then, life will be good again.

The fat closet

A couple of days ago someone made a very rude comment about my belly on the tube, and it made me laugh. Not with joy, neither with shame. It was just amusement. I hasn't and wouldn't affect me negatively, and there's a reason for that. Some things can be changed, others will always remain the same. And that's not really bad.

I've always been overweight, as long as I can remember. As a child I felt self conscious about my thick thighs, and my mom, knowing that and wanting me to be healthier, told me that if I'd eat standing up all the food would go to my thighs. I won't judge my mother's parenting techniques, I just want to show that fat is nothing new in my life. And I've always lived in a world where fat is wrong.

Yes, full disclaimer, there are tons of studies linking obesity and sedentary lifestyle to health issues, so in that aspect fat is bad. But I want to focus here on the aesthetic and social aspect of being fat. Even using the word fat has a negative connotation to it.

I'm alright to say I'm fat. You might want to call it chubby, overweight, excess of deliciousness, thick, large... It's all synonyms, and I always believe that the word by itself is not offensive, but the intention behind is what makes it. But I'm also not here to discuss semantics.

It took me a while to be alright with being fat. My early to mid twenties was filled with crazy diets, slimming pills ordered over the internet or prescribed by dodgy doctors, immense time spent at gyms and the constant aspiration to have a palstic surgery. I was living in Brazil, it's very common there. As an idea of how bad it was, not only once but twice I fainted on top of a spinning bike at the gym, halfway through my 3rd spinning class while starving myself.

I did have a six pack at some point. It was not easy: I only ate lettuce, broccoli and chicken breast, I spent 4 hours a day at the gym, 7 days a week. I felt great, I felt beautiful, my life changed. But it was not natural. It was an artificial change. I couldn't work, have a social life, have a realtionship, eat something here and there. I had to live this abnormal life to have a "normal" body.

Obviously, judging by recent pictures of me, that did not last. I started living my normal life again and the fat came back to me.

Many times I asked myself why. Why was I born like that? Why couldn't I have been born thin? Why couldn't I have better metabolism? Why was I doomed to be fat forever and why was the cost of changing it so high? 

After a while I started to realise that the problem was not with me - or not with my body, to be precise. The problem was with the questions I was asking. The problem was with the perception the world has with being fat, and how that affects us every time, even when we cannot see it. I was not wrong to be who I was, to have the body I had, to live the life I lived. I just had to accept it, accept myself.

Accept may sound defeating, but it's not. Acceptance is a big win. I believe that in life everybody has their different and multiple closets that they need to come out of, and this was one of mine. This is who I am, this is my genetics, this is my body, and even if I lose everything I have - friends, family, job, money, love, dignity - my body will always be there with me until the day I die. So I have two choices here: I can hate it, try to change it and live unhapilly ever after, or I can learn to love and accept it.

Coming out of my fat closet was not easy, but it was achievable for me. And it was a great decision. Once I accepted that I would be forever fat and there's nothing to be done but live with it, the bad thoughts slowly gave space for the good ones. I started seeing that my body has good bits. My thighs, that once we're a source of embarrassment, are now something I'm proud of. My manboobs, who I always associated with femininity, give me great sexual pleasure. My belly is often something I can use to make jokes and get people laughing - usually with me, not at me.

I am proud of my body. I love it, and I care about it. It is my treasure. It is not perfect, but it is the only thing which is truly mine in this life. And this was not an easy journey, but being out of my fat closet made me a better person. Better than any diet, pills or surgery could ever had. Maybe those work for someone else, and if they're happy with them, that's what matters. But this is my story, my truth, my body. 

My amazing, beautiful and very loved fat body. 

Dear B. - Jan, 2019

You broke my heart. And you know what? It was not only once. I get that you have issues, and I understand how serious they are. But that does not make you the center of everything. Everybody has issues, in different degrees and levels. You are probably too busy with yourself to acknowledge what is going on with someone else. And that is a bit selfish, don't you think?

I tried my best to be there for you, to lift you up, to include you in my life. You never let me in for real. I get that it is not easy, but you let others in and that hurt. Because all I always wanted was to help you, and to make you see yourself with my eyes. You are way better than you think, in different aspects. I was trying to show you that. Yes, I know I am not easy to digest. I know I can come across too intense, to say the least, but I have good intentions. And I really liked you.

But then I started to see that, if it wasn't for me, we would not have any contact. I stopped writing you, and I take the blame on this one: I was testing you. I was testing if you would write me back, if you missed me in your life - I also have insecurities, big surprise. Your attitudes gave me the answer I was not hoping for, even though I was expecting it. Until the day I confronted you about it and you just left. Maybe confronting you was not my best move, but I stand by it. And the way you just left everything was a horrible realization that I did not mean a lot to you. 

Not a good feeling.

Now cut to tonight, when you liked one of my pictures. You couldn't even write me anything. And when, again, I confronted you, you said you did not mean it and things have been rough for you. For you. Once again, it is all about you. How you feel, what you do, how things affect you. I don't really make any difference in this equation. If I needed any more proof, you threw it in my face. Silly me for believing things could be different.

You are so into your head and your problems that you cannot see others anymore. I want to help you, but I also need help. We all do. And I feel you are not willing to give. Problem is, there is no relationship with only one way. Don't get me wrong, I would not do things expecting anything in return, it is not about that. It is about being there for each other, being friends, giving and receiving. I want to help, but I don't want to be a professional who is only doing their job. I want to be your friend, but I think you are not ready to be friends with me. Because I should also matter.

If you ever want to tell me your side of things and work on it, I am willing to try. But I will tell you beforehand that I will not jump into us until I am sure it will work. I do not want to get hurt, especially by someone I care about. You helped me learn that.

Perception and perspective

Perception

It's like in a movie, where the hero dates the wrong guy, who everybody hates. And everybody asks themselves why is the hero with that guy. And everybody hopes that they'll break up, leading the hero to finally find true love and happiness, while the wrong guy will be forever miserable. We've all seen that movie, we've all rooted for that outcome. Until you are the wrong guy.

Perspective

A statement like "the sky is blue" is absurd for those under a cloudy sky. They'll call you stupid. They'll make you doubt yourself. But no matter what they say, you know it's true. Even if everybody else cannot see it. Having 99% on one side doesn't make that side true. Actually, most of the times, majorities are wrong. Ironic, isn't it?

Why am I doing this?

Shit happens. To everybody. No matter how well it all seems, there is some shit happening somewhere, so don't get fooled. Someone might look like they're having the time of their lives, but they might be feeling miserable.

Yes, I'm talking about myself but no, I'm not feeling miserable. This was an exaggeration. But a couple of days ago I heard someone telling me how great my life looks, based on what they see me post on social media. I told them that there are downsides to it, like everybody else, and he ironised me saying that I don't post the bad stuff. Well, people don't want to see the bad stuff. People don't want to hear how sad your life is, unless there's something for them - like a happy ending. And not the sexual one.

Even though it doesn't seem like, I have insecurities. I feel alone sometimes. There are things I don't like about my job. My life is not perfect. That guy, the one in the pictures, he's a character. An alter ego. He's entertainment, based on a real story. But he's not me. Not entirely.

And this is how I cope. Some people drink, some people smoke, some people like to shoot things, some people bully others, some people cry. I write. After years of therapy, I learned how to talk to myself. I learned how to organise my ideas on a piece of paper (nowadays a digital one), in order to put everything out of me. This is how I vent.

I write letters, sometimes to myself, sometimes to others. I don't have real intentions of sending them, because this is something that I need to go through for me. I don't do this to change someone else. I don't want to tell them how to live their lives, because honestly, I'm still learning how to live mine.

So why make them public? Why give people a chance to see them? It's a clever solution, actually: I will live in a permanent state of duality, where my letters will and will not be read by whoever they are intented to. I will have the peace of mind that my message could be received, but it was not necessarily received. It's there, to be found. And just like everything else, this is about me, and how I am doing my part. If someone else will find them or not, it's not on me anymore. I don't and won't have that control. After all, I can only control what I say and how I say it, but not how it will be received and how someome else will interpret it. My job will be done.

I don't have any intention of offending anybody, so if you feel like this is for you and it is bothering you, please reconsider. This is about how I see things, not the truth. This is my truth, for my closure. And if you ever want to get it sorted, please let's talk about it. Let's work things out. If you're here, it's because you did or you still matter to me. And that must mean something. 

Hi G.

I hope you are well. I am not.

I am sure further down the road I will look at this piece I am writing right now and ponder if I should have waited a bit to write you this letter. I probably should. But after having you around, somehow I got less rational and more emotional. Funny how a pattern is a pattern for a reason: I usually pick up something from each friend I have. Sometimes it is an accent, sometimes it is a personality trait. From you, I got the emotional side of me. But even funnier is how that came from you, and not other people who are physically closer to me. In that sense and keeping up with the whole idea of me writing to catch the heat of the moment, here we go.

A couple of hours ago you told me to move on. I had a feeling things were heading in this direction, but deep down I still wanted to believe I was wrong. That my gut was wrong. It was not. I am moving on, I think. It's just hard, because I like you and I miss you. We had the weirdest friendship, where we actually only met each other once in person, and we were not even alone. Goes to show that a connection can be achieved in any situation, and no problem is big enough to be unsolvable. I will look at internet stories differently from now on, and this is another thing I will always owe to you.

I am sorry for being me. I can apologize for several things and, like I told you, some of them I know, some of them I don't. But ultimately I want to apologize for being myself, and for that not being good enough. I promise I am not making drama, I am just trying to look at the facts. When two people have a fall out, sometimes one, sometimes both of them feel like the other is not good enough for them. That does not mean I am not good enough, but for you I am not. Maybe I am not anymore. I wish I knew what triggered that, so I could try to work on it and be a better person. But it's your right to decide if you explain me things or not.

Usually people say things like "you don't owe me any explanation", but as you know me enough, I am honest and honestly, I think you do. We have a massive history and I feel like this is being disregarded by you right now. I probably cannot see the bigger picture here, because you are holding lots of the puzzle pieces. But I still feel like I deserved more. I deserved an explanation. No matter how bad I might have been, I also have been good. And in the final weighing of things, I think the good parts are bigger.

But also, you promised me something. You promised me that you would never go away without an explanation, you promised me you wouldn't disappear and let me wondering. You knew how much this can wake up my insecurities, make me second guess myself, and ultimately hurt me, but you did it anyway. You probably have your reasons, but nevertheless here I am, hurt. Funny again: it is not the first time I tell you this.

I will move on. Partially because I have to, partially because I am not sure we can mend our friendship, but also because I think that things could have been handled better. I admit my part on things: you asked for space, I should have given you. I should not have acted spoiled and annoyed that you did not answer me. I had my reasons for doing it, but that does not justify it. Rationally, I should have kept myself away. Emotionally, I was not able to. Probably because I am learning how to deal with it as I go.

You could have done better as well, but I am not writing you to teach you how to behave. I am not even sure why I am writing you. Possibly to give me what you should have given: a reason, an understanding. Closure.

This will hurt for some time, but I don't want it to be the final image I have from you. I will work towards remembering the good stuff about our friendship. My goal is to think about you and instantly taste smoked maple pecan fudge. To remember how you said good night to me every time I see a hawk. To laugh about your disgust when I have a cup of decaf coffee...

So thank you. Thank you for having passed through my life, thank you for having been there in green chat bubbles, thank you for being my friend. From the bottom of my new found alive heart, thank you. It really meant a lot.

The first letters I never sent: June, 2017

Dear D,

I get it, you are famous. I mean, not you, but your boyfriend. You just get some attention for being with him. You can say as much as you want that you do not care about it, but trust me: you will miss it if and when it all goes away.
You probably do not have time for someone like me. I am not popular, I do not go out every weekend, I do not drink and basically I have a life in the real world. Some of us do, you know. I will not waste any more of my lines with you, explaining how much better I am than you two in several aspects, but I will highlight one: I am not rude. Especially when someone wishes me happy birthday.
It would not have taken you 5 seconds to answer. A simple smiley would be more than enough for me. But you decided to ignore it. Fair enough, I guess I am not as important for you I though I was. As you are for me. The thing is, I have a big heart and I tend to expect the best of people.
There, another reason.

Dear M,

I have to be honest: I do not really care about you. Don't take it wrong, I barely know you. You are not actually in my life, and I am not sure if I want you to be.
So, when I wrote you, I was being nice. Just because, you know... It is nice to be nice to people. I was not expecting to meet you. Actually I was sure we would not meet. It was almost like a polite invite.
But you couldn't even be bothered to answer. Granted, it did not affect me so much. To be honest, you are actually here just for the statistics.

Dear J,

I know we don't know each other very much, and I know you are probably busy in your new life, but it did hurt me when you left. And not just because you are sexy, I actually liked to get to know you.
I was investing in you and you left, but I wanted to keep my investment because I want you in my life. I have been trying to keep in touch, to keep that bond, that connection that was interrupted by you going away.
You just ignored me up to the point that I had to make a scene. And I do not make any scenes. For anybody. I did it for you because I cared.
You broke my heart, but I am ok to move on. Just please, don't do it again.

Dear N,

I am also not very important for you, for whatever reason. Well guess what: neither are you for me.

Dear P,

I am angry with you the most. I keep telling myself that you are a nice guy, but it is getting difficult not to see you as an idiot. You are after my man right in front of my face, and I get it. He is amazing and it is impossible not to be in love with him.
I do have a big heart, and instead of hating you, I tried to see your good side. I tried to get you into my life and get me into yours. I am not him and I never will be, but I have something as well. Sometimes you show me that you can see that, but sometimes you just act like a jerk. And this bothers me.
Maybe you like to play with people, have them over your feet and drawn to you, just to then dismiss them. But you know what? I am not your wool ball. Furthermore, I am not a beta. I am an alfa, I am in charge and I am the strong one. Just like you allegedly are. And usually there's only space for one alfa.
We could make this work, if we both compromise. I am willing to, are you?
Just let me make this clear to you: I will not change who I am to please you. I am like this, and if you want to like me, you have to like me as it is.
If you don't, go fuck yourself and get your eyes off my man.