For Sherri: 4 of 6

Turning Point

 

My first love was someone who turned out to be bad for me. It lasted for years longer than it should have.

        Telling Kevin goodbye. No, not telling. Honest talk about our feelings was never our strong suit.

        Showing him goodbye. Walking away. That’s more accurate.

        I’d loved Kevin from the moment I met him, in our basic economics class at UCSC. I looked across the table of students and their notebooks and I saw him. He was sixteen and had beautiful russet brown hair, brown eyes, tall and pretty.

        We found a companionship there: I was the first woman he’d slept with. He was the first person I’d ever fallen in love with.

        And that love I’d felt for him lasted for years, long after we’d stopped having sex. Long after he’d come out as gay and I’d come out as bisexual.

We had years apart, and then we met and had years together.

        It started to sour when he went to law school and I’d resumed my studies at UC Berkeley after a few years of international travel.

I think that’s what did it. Mamas don’t let you babies grow up to be lawyers. (I know because I considered being one, once.) In law school, they teach you how to think. How to negotiate. How to maximize your chances of winning. It is the opposite of conciliatory give and take, compromise, and gentleness that a friendship needs.

        He loved me, but he was gay. I was bisexual and didn’t understand the key difference. He would confuse me… clearly, he was attracted to me. He said he loved me. We even thought about marrying someway.

        Then, Kevin met Tom. They fell in love. Tom was a genuinely fine man, bright and sensitive. There was no way I could ethically object to this relationship. And, the part of me that truly wished my friend well, was happy for him.

        But that left me in limbo. In love with someone who couldn’t give what I needed. I would date other people of both genders, and no would measure up.

        At that point, I don’t even think it was Kevin himself whom I loved. I had never really gotten over that first, blind passion. By the time we were older, I knew that my feelings weren’t based on reality. I’d created a pretty suit of clothes in my mind, and I put him in it, whether he fit or not.

        Not that was it was entirely my doing. Kevil would still act very sexual toward me, very much like he was still attracted to me. Often, while in conversations, I’d turn my head to find him staring at me. Usually at my breasts.

        The few times I called him on it, he denied it. Of course he told me I was imagining things. He was in love with Tom, didn’t I know that?

        I felt confused. I felt I was being gaslighted. I felt lonely, and alone.

The final straw came when my gynecologist discovered some irregularities in my pap smear. She sent me in for further tests, but she told me that cancer was a real possibility.

I called Kevin at work to tell him. He was away but he promised to call me back.

I didn’t hear from him for days. I had other friends who cared, who were there for me. He was gone – the news was unpleasant, scary, and he was too important to be there for me.

I left him behind after that. Too much disappointment.

It has been years since I’ve seen Kevin, but I still think about him every day.