Today I’ve had an uneasy sleep.
In my mind, I was in the past, seven, eight years ago, when I lived in other city. I remembered how I went out, trying to find new places I could enjoy. There was this gothic club I only went to three times. It was the birthday of a friend’s coworker, and we went to that place. I was amazed when I first was there.
I returned there a couple of times only. I didn’t want to go alone. It felt so sad. And when I returned there, with friends, I felt so out of place, but so belonging there. My friends didn’t want to stay long, because they were looking for meat, and they wouldn’t stop complaining the whole night.
Whenever I could go to places I liked, my friends wouldn’t want to go there. They just wanted those stupid, mainstream, heteronormative places in which guys try desperately to hit on girls. A lot of nights I was the first one to go back home, and they all thought that something happened to me.
So it was not that I didn’t dare to do what I wanted. I tried, but it was so goddamn difficult. I tried to dress up and look nice, but I felt like I was wearing a costume always. Now it feels so different, because it’s just me, it’s my personality, not a costume anymore.
I tried to find people, but I didn’t know how to do it. I tried a couple of dating sites, but the experiences were horrible. I guess that even if I had found the right site, it would have been the same, because I was not me.
Every time I had a nice night, it was without my usual friends. I remember one gay pride night I went out with some gay friends of a friend. In the end, we were three people: This handsome, muscular gay guy, and a small, cute lesbian girl. And me and my lots of doubts, fears and unspoken thoughts. And we talked a lot. God, I guess they got bored of me at some point. I remember talking for hours about which actress was hotter with the lesbian girl, and it was so fun. It felt like connecting. And I remember I did verbalize then that I felt like I was trapped in a man’s body. I did express this in some other occasions, but I never thought I was sure of until now.
That night we talked about a crush I had on a girl those days. I had this fear, I’ve always had this fear of being in love with a girl who was a lesbian. It was not like I was a man and could think well, her loss or whatever men think. It was like I felt it could be great, but I had this prison, this restraint that would prevent me from being even spotted. I guess this was how Quasimodo felt.
However, even with the sad feelings, that night was great. But I still didn’t know if I belonged there.
I guess I’ve done all my life what actors do when they’re preparing a character. They try to get inside the character. They think the gestures, the clothing, the poses. They say, well, this guy wouldn’t say something like this. So this is what I did. I was taught that I was a heterosexual, cisgender guy. A pretty normal guy. The common guy next door. So I felt strange whenever I thought on doing something that didn’t go with that character. I felt like my character wouldn’t say, wouldn’t do something like that.
Every day I come to realise that I’ve done what I could do. Always. And it is a big relief. Still, it feels sad, but sadness is okay. I’ve always done my best, moving in the dark, without any lighthouses to help bring me home. I’ve always looked for what I liked, and I’ve had a glance at many other things. And I haven’t tried to change my character too much, because it was that, a character. I didn’t know how to do it, and I didn’t feel like it was going to be any better. If it works (more or less), don’t touch it, as they say.
And without any lights I’ve come home, and now I can do whatever I like. Now I’m not playing a character anymore.