Oh, Infidel

 

ALIFRANCO

I'm planning on making a mix tape for a guy. Quaint, huh? This guy just stepped into my life and I'm not sure what to make of it. He's young, he's effervescent (in his own words, with the right meaning this time) and he makes me feel like I own the fucking world. 

It's weird, though. Because he's too young for my taste and our worlds revolve in different universes, basically. He's interesting, though. Something that you cannot say very often about the typical young American male, on his way to become a Marlboro Man, all stoic and ready to detach himself of everything and everybody. He's sexy and he makes my heart beat harder every time I see him. That's why I want to make a mix tape for him. 

Oh, and because he still has a tape player in the cutest car I've laid eyes on in the last seven years. And because he just came here to kiss me. Yeah, he's that kind of guy. 

That was the first post I ever wrote on Blogger. It was 2005. So I've been blogging for awhile, now. Infidel was asking what made me choose the name of the blog and the handle on the URL. So here's the story, morning glory. Are you ready?

It all started innocently enough. We met in a SGA/LGBTQ group. The college had promoted the meeting and I went with one of my friends. And there he was. All quiet swagger and pretty eyes. I did not speak during that meeting but he did and what he said piqued my curiosity. Who was this boy who was so articulate? I asked my friend. He knew him. Apparently, Mr. Articulate was a theater kid and he was a Freshman. Such aplomb in a Freshman? I was curious. And as we all know, curiosity killed the cat. And it almost did me in.

We met again at a get together I went with my friend. It turned out we had several friends in common and we started going out in group. You know, house parties, movies, to eat pizza, dancing, the works. Soon we got to be alone together. I don't even remember when he kissed me the first time. I think it was in a dark bar that does not exist anymore, near the university hospital, I think. After classes we decided to go to this tiny hole in the wall bar near the university that had half price drinks on Tuesdays or something. And we chatted and chatted and then he was kissing me. I knew I was doomed the second he touched me.

We went out for months and it was fun. That I have to say. I felt so... alive? I was going through some issues at that time and he was like a drink of fresh water. I was completely out of my element and the sense of unbalance was exhilarating. It would prove to doom the relationship, too, but hey. And we did have sex. I was literally paralyzed when we were alone at last. I did not even know what to do. He took the initiative. Thank goodness because I was beyond help at that moment. And so I was dickmatized. For the duration of the.. affair? We were open, BTW. And that did not bother me. It's 'how he rolled', I was informed, during one of our conversations.

Then it was all over but the one thing that stayed was my taste for blogging. You see, at the beginning, we communicated through blog posts because he had a blog. So I created one and we exchanged posts. My handle was the same. The name of the blog changed after we broke up. That first blog's still up here. That blog is full of overwrought and earnest posts about what we felt and about things we shared. His plays, my penchant for making mix tapes for his hooptie, his family, everything. Very sophomoric and cathartic. But yeah, that's how I started blogging. His blog, like our relationship, didn't last. I think he moved on to other things, just like I did. 

So, The Day and the Time, the URL of this blog, is the title of a Shakira song. Why to love, and with such brutality? she sings. And looking back, that was our motto. Our relationship was mercurial and passionate and intense and I loved that. We took a leap in the dark and it worked for awhile. It was exhilarating, to say the least. I did not know what to expect and that was all the motivation I needed at that time. Desilusion takes what ilusion gives. What's the use of make believe? And he did give me life those months. I felt strangely detached of everyday things because I seemed to gain interest on things only when we were together. When he left me (because of course he did) it was not at all unexpected, though. I knew it was coming. We were too different and too similar at the same time. I think we need to be either similar or different to the men we love because otherwise the relationship can capsize very easily. 

Lo Imprescindible, the name of the blog, is another Shakira song. Una màquina de pensar en tí. Eso es lo que soy, lo que siempre fui. I was a machine that could only think about him. That's what I was. When he left (and I knew he was not going to come back, of course) I indulged in the most dramatic of the rebounds: it made me feel alive. Bleib', Baby, Bleib', Baby, Geh nie wieder weg. Even though I knew I did not need to wait for him to regain his senses and come back to me because we had exhausted the relationship, I liked the IDEA of him coming back. That waiting was for me essential at the time: Lo fatal, lo imprescindible es que vuelvas a mí. El dolor es sofocante, y ahora todo lo importante es que vuelvas a mí. The idea of him coming back meant he HAD been there. And that's what mattered to me.

That waiting period between breaking up with him and waiting to forget him was cathartic. Of course I have never forgotten about him. I know he got married and with his husband they managed a theater. I even ran into one pic of him and the hubby doing cyber and I sent it to our mutual friend. Yep, good all Ben was still at it. But I think at the time of the breakup I took control of my life again and many things started to change. That period signaled many changes at a personal and professional level and I am really not sorry about anything that went down. 

So that's the terribly schmaltz-y story of the name of this blog, Infidel. But as you pointed out, I guess it's as good as any other. And what does your blog title/handle mean, Constant Reader?

XOXO 

P.S. Shakira's lyrics in Spanish are very complex and she makes good use of figures of speech to convey feelings in a way that I have rarely found in any other singer. There's more to that girl than those hips, hunty.