Another summer gone by without having a buddy. That makes 48 now. That's how many summers I've seen in my lifetime, so far.Not a one of those summers has been spent playing catch with my buddy, traveling with my buddy, making love with my buddy.
That's because I've never had a buddy, a boyfriend, a partner, a lover, a man. Haven't any of the female counterparts, either. It's been a lifetime of lonely summers.
Why? There's no one reason, but two biggies in the equation (1+0=1) are the following: 1) when's
the last time you heard anyone say, I just need to find the right black, gay guy with HIV/AIDS to settle down with; and 2) when I was a kid, growing up in an abusive and violent household, I vowed to live my life alone, so as not to be subjected to the heartache and pain (and violence) that comes from having relationships and friends.And then there's the thing about never finding Mr. Right, e.g., someone who actually wanted to have said relationship.
Alas, I have hope. I've come a long way since my lonely childhood. I believe I'm a great catch. I believe I deserve love. I believe anything is possible.
I believe I'm worth loving regardless of my race, my sexual orientation and my HIV status. I believe I am so much more than the sum of three simple concepts. I also believe that someday, I'll play catch in the summertime with my buddy.
