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Editorial Autores de Argentina

www.autoresdeargentina.com

Mail: info@autoresdeargentina.com

Queda hecho el depósito que establece la LEY 11.723

Impreso en Argentina – Printed in Argentina

To Hugo Senn.

Take your broken heart, make it into art.

-CARRIE FISHER

Preface

I don't know exactly what it is that I am doing... where I am heading with all of this. But, well, it's 1:00 a.m. on July 21st, 2012. I'm sitting in front of my computer and I let my fingers slip through the keys; they know their way and they guide me... I trust they know what they're doing. I start writing these very words, this story, and a tear accidentally drops on the Enter key. I am crying, it's the third day in a row that I come home from college crying. I'm devastated, completely torn apart, I can't take it anymore. I don't know what's happening to me, why am I like this. Sometimes I think I'm going nuts! But no... it's not like that. Today I finally discovered and understood the reason why I am how I am. I'm in love. That's it! I've said it: I'm in love. And you would normally think that there's nothing wrong about that, but that's not everything... The craziest thing about all of this is that I'm in love with a guy.

C.A.B.A., BUENOS AIRES
(ARGENTINA)

Chapter 1: Introducing me

Actually, I'd rather spare you from all those formalities about introducing myself and telling you who I am. However, I think it's necessary for you to know who the person writing behind his computer screen is and why he is doing it. Anyway, I'm going to leave out all the details about my past, the city where I was raised and who my parents were because I don't want to talk about it. You don't want to know all that stuff, trust me, that doesn't add up to this story. Although, I guess it does help to give you some context, so I'll share a little bit. My name is Dante, I'm 20 years old. I come from a very small town in the south of the Argentina, born and raised there. Went to high school there and finished my studies, but my future wasn't looking very promising in regards to work or even college. To me, it's a town in which nothing goes by, only time... even so, it was my hometown for many years and I love it because of that, I've grown fond of it. But I wasn't fitting there anymore, I wanted more and I needed to run away from there. As for my parents, they were the noblest people I've ever met: righteous, kind, patient and every other positive adjective that you can think of. But, as you may have noticed, I used the verb in the past tense form “were”. They are gone. And let's leave it at that... The city had nothing left for me, nothing to offer, nothing holding me back. That's why I came to Buenos Aires. I came here with a suitcase and a dream, no more than that. I knew I wanted to dive into the world of arts, I felt that I belonged there... and so I did, I signed up at an institute to do musical theater. And that's precisely what I wanted to tell you about, about something that happened in the institute almost a year and a half ago. It all started one day while I was feeling bad and, in that moment, I started writing this story. Because we all have bad days and we all have something to tell, something that we need to let out and express, we all have a story. Well, this is mine: the story of discovering and realizing who I am. A story that goes by in a place (here), in a moment (now), a story about a person (me), about a feeling (love) that also involves another person, a relationship, and how all of that is affected as time passes. Because love tends to do that... If it is the right person, it can turn your world upside down, making you do things that you never imagined, testing your limits and how far you are willing to go for it. This is my story, and it goes something like this...

Chapter 2: I knew you were trouble

It was Tuesday, mid-July. It was one of those days in which you reconsider your whole life, you wonder what you are doing, why you are there, but you know that, for some reason, your place is there and you decide to stay. And so it was... There were 10 minutes left of the music theory lesson. I was very distracted, looking carefully at the posters of some musicals that I had never heard of that were hanging on the wall, and I was thinking that if the clock's second hand was tapping a pulse of quarter notes, the fan on the ceiling would be tapping a pulse of eighth notes with every turn it made. It's not that I wasn't paying attention or that I wasn't interested in the lesson, it was just one of those moments in which your mind drifts away. Besides, I don't mean to show off, but the subject that we were learning about was a piece of cake. The professor noticed that I was pretty absent-minded, so he challenged me to read exercise 7 of the book out loud. It wasn't a problem for me at all and I did it correctly the first time.

“Very well, Dante. But you have to pay more attention anyway...” he dared me.

“I know, sorry professor” I said, feeling a bit guilty.

He gave us some homework to do and with that, class was dismissed. When I left the classroom, I stopped by the water fountain and there I saw two guys that I had never seen before at the institute. The institute had 200 students at the most... I mean, I knew almost everyone in there. Drama class was next (my favorite), but the dean told us that the drama professor wasn't coming that day and that we would have class with him instead. We all entered the classroom, as did the two guys I had just seen when I was drinking water. The dean made us sit on the floor in a big circle. He gave us the lyrics of a popular song and made each one of us sing a stanza. As I was waiting for my turn to sing, I caught myself staring at the two guys I did not know. They were completely different: one was tall and skinny, his skin pale white like a ghost, his hair as dark as the night, and his clothing pretty basic. The other guy was shorter than him and had a more toned body, tanned skin and his hair was a bit messy on purpose; it suited him. He was well dressed. The pale guy realized that I was staring at them and he kept his coffee-brown eyes locked on mine. He wasn't staring at me with hatred or resentment, it was more like a friendly look that said “Hey, I'm...” and that's when I realized that I had no idea what his name was. I must have blushed because I suddenly felt warmer, especially my face. The guy smiled at me which made me feel much better. When his turn came up he sang very well; I was shocked. His voice was tender and high-pitched, which made me think he was a tenor. Although, I must say that the other guy did way better than him... His eyes met mine a couple of times more during the rest of the class and I still didn't know his name. He would smile at me gently and I would nervously laugh and try to look away. By the end of the lesson, I came to Malena (Male, for short), my best friend, to ask her something. I grabbed her arm and pulled her to a corner where we could talk more privately.

“Heyyy!” she said.

“Sorry...” I said, letting go of her. “Who were those two guys in class?”

“Oh. Fran and Nico, from the morning shift.”

Suddenly, this Fran/Nico showed up (the pale, tall guy) and Male hugged him.

“Hello, friend. How are you?” he asked Male.

“Good, and you?” Male replied.

“I'm good, thanks...”

“Oh, you two know each other?” I interrupted.

“Oh, hi. I'm Fran” he introduced himself, kissing me on the cheek.

“I'm Dante... pleased to meet you” I said.

“Dante... What a lovely name, like the writer*...” he pointed out.

“Exactly!” I said with a stupid laugh.

“Yeah, my dad teaches literature” he clarified.

I had nothing to say about that, so I didn't. He kept talking to Male for a while and I left them alone and stepped aside. He left, quickly saying goodbye and Male came back.

“Why were you asking me about the guys?”

“Oh, because the one that just came to talk to you looks like someone I know...” I lied.

“Hm, that's weird” said Male surprised.

“And what is this guy's last name?”

“Stegman”

“Oh, then it's not him...” I lied again.

I said goodbye to Male and the rest of my classmates and everyone went home. When I got to my apartment, I turned on the laptop, opened Facebook, and wrote his name: Francisco Stegman. There he was... I hesitated for a few minutes before finally sending him a friend request. Clearly, I had no idea what I was getting into...

* Referring to Dante Alighieri, the Italian poet who wrote the Divine Comedy.

Chapter 3: Can't fight this feeling

Once he accepted my friend request, I had to do some stalking. Not with bad intentions or anything, I just wanted to know more about him. I looked at all of his photos and went through his entire profile. I was surprised to find out that he had taken part in many theatrical plays; most of them were musicals that I only dreamed of doing. He had experience, he had talent... and there was something else, there was something about him. He looked like a good person, he seemed nice... even sweet. There was a glow in his eyes, those coffee-brown eyes. He had this perfect smile that radiated happiness, a seemingly contagious happiness. I stood there looking at one particular photo of him for hours, gazing at a computer screen. I had a good feeling about him, even without really knowing him. Haven't you felt that way about someone? I think it has to do with chemistry. I had a feeling that something really good was about to happen between us, but there was something else. I think that... I guess... maybe I liked Fran. And I mean like “like”, not just the fact that I liked him because I felt that way since the moment I met him... I mean the other way of liking someone: in a shallow, trivial, physical way; I found Fran, in a certain way, attractive (you could easily see why). Even beyond the physical looks, I also liked his personality, his wholeness, even though I had just met him. I don't know if you get me... it's hard to explain. Don't ask me why or how it happened... you don't get the chance to choose in all of this. That's why they say love is blind, and it totally is. What I'm trying to say with all of this is that, I guess, it was love at first sight. Well, maybe I shouldn't call it “love” precisely because that would be too soon and, anyway, I don't know what love is. I guess this was “something” at first sight, whatever “something” means. And even if that were true, what would happen now? What are you supposed to do in situations like this? Life doesn't come with an instruction manual that says, “Chapter 122: How to realize if you are gay and what to do...” No, there's no such thing. I spent the night lying in bed, crying on my pillow. I didn't know what to do... I was overwhelmed by so many changes. I finally fell asleep, which may have lasted 4 hours at the most... although I'm not sure how I came to that. I guess I had already used my daily limit of tears or something like that...

I think I always knew, or at least I have known for a while... What I don't know is if you're born like that, with that, or if it is something that you develop as you grow up. It's not a disease or a condition, it is a choice. So, my thought is that it is something you eventually develop or at least I feel that's my case. It's complicated, delicate to talk about, to bring up in a conversation. I knew I was special, that I wasn't a “regular” kid; even in high school I was different than the rest of the boys. I had more girl friends than boy friends because I felt more comfortable around women. To me, boys would only talk about cars, girls, and football, and I knew very little of those three (except girls maybe). It's not that girls would talk about Barbies, clothes, and make-up. It's not like that at all, but I've always felt more confident around girls, I felt as if they didn't judge me. In gym class, I always got picked last when we had to make a team and, when we had to choose a sport, I chose volleyball. I also played hockey for some time. In addition to that, there's my obsession with clothes, being a shopaholic, needing my clothes to match, to be well dressed, to look good and neat. Men in general aren't concerned about that, they just don't care, and I do. I remember going to the magazine stand, being all shy and even feeling guilty for buying those teen fashion magazines like Seventeen, Vogue, or Vanity Fair. I would read them at night when everyone was asleep, and later I would hide them under the mattress or somewhere in my room where no one could find them. Even if I go way back to my childhood, I have a funny memory. We were at a record store with my parents and my sister. My parents told my sister and I that we could get any record or album we wanted, as a present from them. I don't remember my sister's choice exactly... probably one by the Backstreet Boys... but I chose Music by Madonna. There was a lot of this stuff going on in my life. My favorite singer is Katy Perry, I used to love The Jonas Brothers, I never watched Dragon Ball Z or Supercampeones. I'd rather watched Floricienta or Rebelde Way with my sister. I also watched Patito Feo when I was older and series like Glee or the reality show where Paris Hilton was looking for a new BFF. In the movie Troy, I had feelings for Brad Pitt, for example. It's not that these are the terms and conditions to be gay, there are no requirements, no secret formula. I do not mean that you're gay because you listen to Madonna, watch Glee, or have certain tastes or hobbies. No sir! Those are things that make you different, that pull you apart from everyone else. As I grew up, I found out that I don't like Madonna that much or I also have these gay friends who don't dress up so well, and it's okay! We are all different, you don't have to be a fan of Lady Gaga, you don't have to wear skinny-fit jeans every day. Your favorite color may not be pink. Even being different, I try to stay true to myself and be original, not a cliché. It's not that Lady Gaga is a cliché, but it is something massive, one of the most representative icons (although not for everyone). You can be gay and wear whatever clothes you want to wear, listen to the music that you feel like listening to, watch any TV series you want, read every book and magazine that you like, be with whomever you want to be with. What matters is that you know you are special, different, in a good way; acknowledge it and make everyone do so as well, make them respect that, respect you. Because it is a decision you are making and you may be criticized for that, but you must always stay true to yourself.