love (noun) - a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend
I am not one to talk about love or my personal life with others. I am a private person. My brother Joe says I'm too private. So, I'm going to take a chance and open up about love, domestic violence, and relationships. Now, before I go any further, let me assure those of you that are homophobic, uncomfortable with gay related subject matter, or anyone with a g-rated mentality, that I will NOT be getting into any inappropriate details. It will be nothing that I wouldn't share with my mother or yours. In fact, if you are hesitant, I encourage you to push ahead and read the rest of this blog.
RECAP: A-mom passed away. Brothers are scattered over Texas and I have lost contact. I have moved from Texas to Tulsa, OK. I moved in with a controlling, disgusting, roommate.
So, in my effort to curb lonliness, I used the safest means I had to finding someone to love. Being young and gay in the 90's, you couldn't just walk up to someone and ask for thier number the same way you would if you were straight. You might get slugged or shot. So, I used a phone dating service.
Not long after entering my information, I came in contact with a man named Darren. I was about 19 or so. He was 30. He lived in a very small southern Oklahoma town. We talked every day, sometimes twice a day. The conversation was great; music, jokes, a little of our history. That's really it was all about. We enjoyed talking to each other.
I quickly decided to go visit him. He offered to buy me a greyhound bus ticket. Yes, now I see the stupidity of going hours away from anyone I knew to spend the weekend with a stranger. However, the moment I saw him, I thought...what a nerd! (Fortunately, I like nerds) He had limbs like Popeye, and eyes like a child. Not a model, but Darren gave off the most warm and loving aura.
Those two days it was like I was in jr high again. We just laughed the whole weekend. When time came for me to go back to Tulsa, we hung out at the park and cried until the bus came. We connected faster than any stranger I had ever come in contact with. Before I got on the bus, he said "Move in with me." I think I looked at him like he was crazy.
So, two weeks later, I quit my job and moved to this ridiculously small town. I was this lanky young adult, new to the world and was moving to the town of Atoka. Darren was on disability, but had a part time job at the library. He did not want me to work...so I didn't. I had always kept a job since leaving Texas. Unemployment was new. He was innoccent, took care of me, and showed nothing but love...until...
One night, I was asleep and I heard this crash in the living room. I got up and realized that Darren must be in the living room. I walked out of the bedroom and saw Darrn on the floor, phone reciever in hand, and coffee table overturned. He was sitting there trying to put the phone on the table, though the table was on its side. His eyes looked sleepy and his hands were uncoordinated. I stared at him, frightened. I eventually forced myself to go in. I asked "Darren, what's wrong?" tears in my eyes. He slowly turned his head to me and held the phone out to me, as a toddler would offer you something. I helped him to bed, cleaned up the living room, and went to the bedroom. I did not sleep.
The next morning I asked him what was going on. He explained that he took medication to help with something or other and sometimes it made him a little loopy. I accepted that answer and didn't think any more of it.
As time went on, Darren started displaying "Dr. Jekyll / Mr. Hyde" type behavior. One moment he was sweet and loving, almost to the point of needing to be cared for. Then, he would lash out and not make any sense. By the next day, he was apologizing. He passed it off as bi-polor disorder and said part of his medicine was for that. I knew little of mental disorders, but I wasn't as inclined to subscribe to the fact that the meds made him act so strangely. We argued on and off, usually with him apologizing the next day. The fighting became more common until one day he grabbed my arm when I tried to leave. It hurt.
For the next 2 years, Darren and I would have this on again, off again relationship that built to a few occassions of him getting physically abusive. Once in a bar, to the point the bartender had to intervene. Another time, he shoved me with both hands as I was about to descend a flight of metal stairs. Always after he had popped a few pills...sometimes washed down with booze. His addiction increased. I eventually learned that he was writing his own prescriptions. He would steal pads from doctor's offices and (thanks to his early studies to become a pharmacist) write out whatever he wanted. He got away with it too. I spent at least 6 seperate nights in the hospital because of his overdosing. Each time, he told me it was because he couldn't live without me.
In the middle of my "Darren Years", I met Robby. Robby was a young, beautiful man, as sweet as southern tea, who was actually supposed to be meeting and dating Darren (during our longest hiatus). As things turned out, Robby and I spent roughly 6 months together after Robby wrote me a letter nervously confessing his growing feelings for me. I grew to truly love Robby. He was just who I needed at the time. He was one of two relationships I've ever been in that showed any sympathy for everything I had gone through and one of the only boyfriends that made me feel as if I were worth something. So what happened?
Darren happened. A psychotic roommate happened. Our youth and inexperience, not having a car, and a few self-righteous friends happened. With Robby, I felt as if the building debris of drama surrounding me was bringing down this bright ball of light. I decided to let him go. My life was an embarassing mess and I cared about him enough to let him go.
I cried and sunk into a deep depression. I moved out of my psycho roommates home and in with Darren and about 7 drag queens (proof that I was hitting rock bottom). Darren still pursued me. I have no doubt that he loved me...well, the good Darren did. The pill-popping Darren hated himself more than he loved me. This was where I lived when he tried to push me down a flight of stairs. For a moment, I saw me snapping my neck on those steps. It was too much; living with Darren, losing Robby, missing my family, feelings alone, hating my job...
One rare day, while all of the drag queens and Darren were out of the apartment, I took a handful of pills...asprin, diabetic meds, etc....whatever was in the house. Darren came home and found out what I had done. He screamed at me in anger. How ironic. All the overdoses he had done and how I had stood by his side, but I had done the same and he was so angry he wanted nothing to do with me. Analyzing it now? I think it made him think of the part of himself that he hated...so I became who he hated.
I was given a choice at the hospital. I could either be arrested and committed to a mental health fascility or commit myself. I was defeated. I went along with it. I had to spend two weeks locked away from the world. The one time I called Darren, he cussed me out and hung up on me...even told his roommates I had stolen a missing phone card. That place was...like a resort. I don't think they helped anybody...but the peace was nice and I had time to think about my predicament.
When I got out, I tried to get back together with Robby, but he was smart enough to decline. Our time had passed, I guess. I poured my heart into a letter, which he politely and gently returned without reading. He included a letter explaining. It hurt at the time, but upon reflection it really was a mature decision on his part.
Darren and I did get back together. It was "okay" for awhile. He really tried, I think. Addiction doesn't let go easily, though. He followed me around and would call and threaten to kill anyone who talked to me or went out with me. I got home after being made aware of this fact, by a rattled young bouncer who had given me his number.
Darren and I were living together because he had nowhere else to go...and I didn't like being alone. That night I got home and confronted him about the calls. It blew into a screaming fit. This escalated into a punch being thrown. I had enough. We began to exchange one blow after another. He backed down and I left the apartment.
The next morning, Darren had overdosed again. This time, he went onto life support. I sat with him at the hospital as much as I could. Our landlord and I had a long talk about everything that happened. She allowed me to remain, but Darren was not allowed back. It was a wise move on her part. That was the first break in our unhealthy relationship.
He eventually got arrested again, for forging a prescription. I visited him at the holding cell. I told him that I loved him, but that we were only hurting each other. That was the last time I saw him.
A few years ago, I tried to look him up on the internet and found out that he had passed away. He was finally at peace.
From Robby, I learned what a relationship could be...the potential for dates in the future. I do not compare others to him, but keep my mind open for how great one could be. From Darren, I learned to stand up for myself. I learned about unconditional love. I also learned that loving someone does not mean that you belong together. You can love people without having them in your life. Darren was just another amazingly wonderful person who was dealing with his own curse, like a werewolf fighting a split identity. His curse and my curse was killing us...so I left him, to save myself.
It's bittersweet to some, but I feel nothing but love when I think of them. That's why I chose to write about this time in my life.
Happy Valentine's Day.
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