Once in a LifetimeA Story by Dane V. Loviel Life
consists of three things: food, sleep, and the pursuit of Love. The first two
of these three life-giving activities are, to me, important for obvious
reasons. You literally would not be alive without them. But love - deep and
penetrating love - is necessary on an altogether more profound level. For too
long, I had a craving for this passion which yields true life, a lust for a
connection, a yearning to celebrate in the arms of mutual reverence. I would venture
to say that I would have spent my entire life without ever feeling true love
had it not been for one split-second decision that completely altered my view
of adoration, and what being “in love” would entail. Love has always played an important
part in my life for the short 8 years of my life that I can remember, and from
what my mother recollects. “You were always trying to make
others happy, and you simply delighted in your success,” she once told me
reminiscently, when I asked her about my childhood. My heart was something my mother
admired, and something that I prided myself on as well. This caring for others
followed me all the way through elementary school and into the 7th
grade, where I met my first girlfriend. Like so many naïve middle school students
before me, I fell instantly under the impression that I was in love. A doubt
never entered my mind that she and I would separate, until a tragic November
night when my illusions shattered. I realized with horror that I was
elated in the crooning gestures she gave me, and the affection she allowed me
to bestow upon her almost constantly, but I was not in love with the person underneath; she just wasn’t “the one”.
Never being one to lie to myself, I accepted this fact, although with a heavy
heart. Still, with great apprehension, caring immensely for my girlfriend’s
feelings, I withheld from bringing it up for months. The day eventually came
when she needed to know. She kicked me down the stairs. Literally. The experience left my stubborn
assumptions mauled, and I took to questioning the nature of true Love. There
were other prospective along the way, but never did I feel emotionally
connected. As I realized that there was no solution but to find passion on my
own, I spoke of this to nobody. With a few more girlfriends under my belt, I
began to grow disenchanted with dating. Sure, I would kiss them and enjoy the
physicality, but it would forever remain a simple kiss. There was no blossom of
satisfaction inside me for these or any other romantic moments. These escapades followed me late
into my 8th grade year, when I was invited to a friend’s birthday
party. I started thinking that I was the issue, or maybe I should resign to
waiting before pursuing another relationship, as I felt I was in an age group
not yet mature enough to grapple with love. It was on this day, in the bedroom
of my good friend, and a small group of other companions and acquaintances that
a fateful conversation changed my life. “What do you think of love?”
mused the birthday boy, sitting next to me on his bed. I scoffed, which drew
his attention to me. “You don’t care for it?” he asked. “I certainly don’t have much faith
in it,” I replied, sound nihilistic at best. I gave them a brief confession of
my struggles in connecting with the people I dated. “Perhaps you’re looking in the wrong
places,” remarked the birthday boy, appearing now rapt with the conversation. “I’m always open to meeting new
people,” I retorted, “at school, when I hang out -" “That’s not what I meant,” he
interrupted, speaking mischievously. His smile confused me. “Well then, wh - “ My sentence was
cut short as he unexpectedly busied my lips with his. There was a long moment where I was
completely nonplussed, panicked even. I felt rudely violated until a quiet, revolutionary
thought popped into my head. Wait.
Kiss back. Throwing all biases into the wind, I
closed my eyes, and I kissed a man for the first time in my life. What resulted
was a violent explosion of emotion. Colloquial butterflies worked their magical
buoyancy into every inch of my stomach, feeling more like fireworks, and bolts
of electricity shot through the two of us… connecting.
There was such a passion in that one move, that one kiss, I could feel my life
changing, I could hear my reality twisting, and there was no going back. I
became aware of his arms around my neck, so I caressed his hips experimentally
with mine. This was too much revelation for one body to consume; I inhaled
sharply and broke contact, amazed. He was smiling mischievously again, and I
was panting as if I’d run a marathon. My heart violently attempted to beat its
way through my chest and scream what I just learned. I was, and am, gay. I stayed with that boy for a long
while, but we both grew and there were no grudges when we parted. As my wants
and needs changed and continue to change, the partners in my life also changed,
but my quest for soulful happiness was no longer a futile expedition. There is
a vast labyrinth of roads and options ahead of me, all of them brighter and more
promising than my past, all of them stemming from my one singular, spontaneous
act of experimentation. That kiss, honestly, shaped the core
of my romantic being, taught me the value of open mindedness, and will always
remain in my heart as the first time I felt love, and that I was loved in
return. © 2012 Dane V. LovielAuthor's Note
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Added on June 9, 2012Last Updated on June 9, 2012 Tags: gay AuthorDane V. LovielCAAboutI love to write, anything from poetry to short stories to simply recording my thoughts as they meander about our universe and what may transcend it. more..Writing
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