“You’re a falling star, you’re the get-away car

You’re the line in the sand when I go too far

You’re the swimming pool on an August day

And you’re the perfect thing to say”

            I’m not really that comfortable with public displays of affection or terms of endearment. Even when I am writing, I have no want of sappy or cute and cuddly. I am a rock and quite often an island too. I am more frostbite than hugs and kisses. I suppose you could argue that I am a cold person because I want to be but I see things differently. Experience has taught me to survive. It has made me. I am who I am and I am what I am, regardless of your inclination to judge or any amount of spinach you might have. By no means do I choose to be this way. The distance you might pick up on is a natural selection. When confronted with emotional baggage, the walls always go up. I have no say in the matter. My response is usually offensive, until you push it, then I’ll defence the hell out of you. It’s all a manner of persuasion. It’s all about safety. I am not as frozen as some may think. Underneath it all there thrives another creature. There is weakness within. My inclination is more protection than deflection. I feel in every way what anyone else would. I rarely grant access. I suppose this barricade comes with the territory. I feel Love and hate. I feel jealousy and I feel sorrow. I feel deeply, and profoundly, but logically. I do not wish to be destroyed. A long time ago, I gave in to the expressions. I allowed myself to experience what it is to be vulnerable. The result was just too much for me. I have built barrier after barrier in order to never feel that way again. This is the rub, I fear. To remain intact, I often have to feel nothing, even though deep inside I feel everything. In the end, one may have to reconstruct after playing with a wrecking ball. You can be safe but it will cost you.  

“And you play it coy but it’s kinda cute

When you smile at me you know exactly what you do

Don’t pretend that you don’t know it’s true

‘Cause you can see it when I look at you”

            Despite my icy exterior, I have been very successful in my Relationship. On August 31^st, 2018, my partner and I will celebrate twenty years together. We aren’t really celebrating in the standard manner. Instead of spending our anniversary with our friends and family, we are taking the opportunity to attend the Fan Expo in Toronto on that day. Our gift to each other will be the comic books we obtain. This is a passion we both share. It’s important to have commonalties with your better half. Despite my limited emotional position, I have managed to engage in the things required for love to last. It is love, you know. It is also struggle and pain and disillusionment, all wrapped up into one big smash. Sometimes you have to let the walls come tumbling down. There was a point where I thought I would never allow myself to feel anything again. When I met my first partner on the same day (August 31^st, 1988), I had no idea the chaos that would ensue. I would say that the seven years we spent together were successful but his dead body managed to make that point moot. It was an impossible task but the situation, at the time, was more than enough for me to close up shop and head home. The only way I survived was to turn off, to not feel, to not hold anything in a place were the pain was. Of course, accomplishing this was out of the question. You can bury it all but it always comes back to haunt you. A few years later and I began a new journey, a new relationship and headed into two decades of reward. It has not been an easy road for us. We have struggled and battled and held each other close. We have gone through hard times and good times and those times when the world seems to plot against you. We made it through. After two decades, our love is strong. Regardless of conflict, our love manages to remain as intact as it ever was. It just goes without saying that this anniversary indicates we are both in this for the long haul.

“And in this crazy life, and through these crazy times

It’s you, it’s you, you make me sing

You’re every line, you’re every word

You’re everything”

            I did not wish to fall in love, not ever again. I swore I would not allow myself to put myself in such a vulnerable position. Long before social media, we met on a chat line. It was the standard old school connection. A few weeks of getting to know each other by phone did not change my mind. I was, essentially, still grieving over my loss. My intent was not romantic. I agreed to meet but I told myself there was nothing to this. I did not wish to feel that way again. He got off the bus and looked around for me. From the moment I saw him, I just knew. I almost cursed fate and was about to turn and walk away. I was not comfortable with the attraction, let alone the situation. He spotted me and it all began. We have not been apart since. It’s nice to have someone with you when you need them the most. I think discovering Ben helped me rediscover the greatest joy in life. To love, to be loved, this is the purpose one can have when graced with the opportunity. A few hours of talking and eating and drinking (lots) led me to a strange position. I quickly kissed him in the doorway to the washroom. Sinnz, a small but busy gay bar, apparently persuaded me to take a chance. I had no idea why I was overtaken and made such a directed attempt at closeness. Despite my chill, despite my withdrawal, a part of me was thrilled with this new development. I was metaphorically frozen but I melted just enough to take the chance. Some would argue it was the negativity of a dead partner that drove me to start over once again. I say it was serendipity that Ben and I met on the same day that I met Doug. The coincidence stank of meant to be.

“You’re a carousel, you’re a wishing well

And you light me up when you ring my bell

You’re a mystery, you’re from outer space

You’re every minute of every day”

            There are many constants in our relationship. Will and Grace, comic books and weed are just the icing on this cake. Another constant has been arguing. We seem to have gotten much better at it as we age together. We bicker and squabble, we yell and we scream but these things simply define our passion. It is not simply a sexual thing. We fight, we get it all out, then we carry on with all this living. Despite all the angst and the friction, we have managed to stay together. In the middle of one of those fights, you might well find me considering other options. Regardless of how I feel at that moment, I do not abandon my post. I am committed to make it work. Apparently, it has. You would be hard pressed to find another gay couple who have lasted as long. We seem better together than we ever could be apart. As angry as I tend to get, I do not regret remaining. I always stay, and not simply because of love or loyalty. Our camaraderie is what makes it so. I still get a “longing to see you” feeling, no matter how short the distance between us. This kind of commitment takes practice. No two loves are ever the same. My first long-term relationship ended in disaster but, for the most part, we managed to last seven years. Doug and I are very different from Ben and I, in almost every way. I would have thought there would be commonalities between the two. I suppose, there are a few. I know that I distinguish my love for one from my love for the other. Both are far beyond definition. You can love again if you allow yourself. The love that once was is nothing but memory now. I haven’t dreamt of him in almost a decade. I can’t even remember what it felt like to hold him. Ben commands my attention, not that he leaves me much choice. We have rough edges. We are often volatile and unpredictable and even saddening. We carry on regardless of the struggle. After all, that’s what love is for. It helps us through it.

“And I can’t believe that I’m your man

And I get to kiss you, baby, just because I can

Whatever comes our way, we’ll see it through

And you know that’s what our love can do”

            The creative process can act like replay. One may be flooded by it, for both the good and for all the bad. You are what you write, or so they tell me. I haven’t figured out just who ‘they’ are yet. The luxury is that memory allows you to view the entire body of your experiences from a new vantage point each and every day. The past is constant but how you see things will consistently change as you move forward with your life. As I look back over the last thirty years of my life, I recognize that I have been doubly blessed. To have loved so, not once but twice, can often reach beyond my comprehension.  I realize how fortunate I have always been. I lose battles but I still manage to win this war. People talk about love like it is all flowers and chocolate and awesome sex. While it may be that on occasion, it rarely ever lives up to that standard. A long lasting relationship is more perseverance than romantic notion. Sometimes it’s all about just getting through. You take what life gives you. You scream and you yell (no hitting please), and you carry on the very next day. You can carry on or they will carry you out. It’s up to you. Go make some lemonade.

“You’re every song

And I sing along

‘Cause you’re my everything.”

(Everything, Michael Bublé 2007)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPUJIbXN0WY

2016