Hate You More (Chapter 3)

I still remember his first day as my “boyfriend”. I took him shopping for a whole new wardrobe. I just thought being seen with a guy with a stretched pink tank top and a pair of orange skinny jeans wasn’t such a great idea. I mean, I knew he was gay, but was he blind? I thought gay guys were supposed to have excellent sense of style. The transformation caused me a fortune. From shoes, to suits and tuxedo, I spent my one month paycheck. He better be worth it!

The outfit? Checked! Next up, I needed to teach him a new walk since he walked with too much glory and splendor, and I didn’t mean it in a good way. I chose to say teaching him to walk like a real man really got on my nerves. He walked with his ass, if you know what I mean. I really thought I was more masculine than he was.

During the so-called quality time we spent, there were some awkward moments. I remember the first time we held hands. My hand would always in the lead. He really felt awkward holding my hand but always found a way to pretend not to be. Finally we were done with the “training”. We went back to his house to get his stuff since he would be living with me. We got tired of packing his stupid gay stuff in his stupid gay house which we decided to have dinner there instead of going out. He cooked that night and man, was he a good cook! I certainly picked myself the right gay guy to be my boyfriend. (That was a strange sentence!)

“Hey, remember the time when I hit you?”, i said , trying to start a conversation on the table. He looked at me and laughed. “How could I forget? The night I almost lost my leg. What about it?”. I faked a laugh and say, “You haven’t told why exactly you didn’t want to go to the hospital that night.”, I asked. He accidentally dropped his fork on the plate. He was just looking at the plate saying nothing. “Joshy?”. Still, he didn’t move and was just staring at the plate.

“Fine.”, I said, trying to disregard him. “It doesn’t concern me. I understand. Anyway, I’ve prepared a room back in my house for you. You’ll have your own bathroom, your own TV, stereo, your own...” “I was raped!”, he said suddenly leaving me speechless. I didn’t continue my sentence. I looked at him. His face was still facing the plate on the table. I wanted to ask him more but couldn’t get a word out of my mouth. He then looked at me. I looked at him back trying to convince him that I was okay with it. But the environment on the table; awkward! He took a really deep breath ready to spill it out.

“I just got out from the club. I was so drunk and high. I couldn’t even remember what I took. So, I walking home and there was this guy came on to me and asked for light. And..I..”, he stopped. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand. Kind of gay to me but I was really into his story. He looked down. Then he looked back at me. I saw the tears in his eyes.
“ I’m not sure if I could tell you the whole story.”. He stood up and walked to the living room. I followed him and sat next to him on the couch. I leaned his head on my shoulder pretending to console and comfort him. I couldn’t care less about what he was feeling. I was just so curious to know more about the incident. “It’s okay”, I said. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. I’m sure it’s been an emotional time for you.”.

He sat up straight and looked at me. “Then he hit my leg and..he..and he…I’m sure you’d know what happened next.”. I nodded and hugged him. I unexpectedly felt the sudden sadness in my heart. I was totally feeling him. But I had to admit it really gave me a fright. I mean, come on. Man rape? How on earth could that ever happen? Couldn’t he stand up for himself? I know he’s gay but he still is a man.

“I didn’t think I could go to the hospital with my OD. I didn’t want to go to jail.”, he later explained. Obviously he was afraid of tested positive.

“But what I don’t get is how could that happen? I mean, you’re a guy. Shouldn’t you be fighting back?”. I asked. “I was drunk. Were you even listening?”, he yelled and walked to the kitchen. I followed him and hugged him from his back. He held my arm. “ Sorry. I don’t want to scare you with my story.”. I smiled and got back to packing his stuff. We were bonding well when he started telling the story of his life. I was glad that we met. Getting to know him made me realize how lucky I was. It’s a crazy world out there and here I am complaining about what the Medias think of me.


TO BE CONTINUED