where the winds sigh

To him I was the One, the only One. I was everything he wished for: someone new, uninvolved in gay circles, and not messed up by past relationships. He lied to me about his past, but eventually he couldn't stand keeping up the pretence  He broke down and told me about his terrible past, and all I wanted to do was to keep him safe from it all. He found in me a confidant, someone who wouldn't judge him for his mannerisms or character. And I truly cared for him. But I never loved him.

Perhaps it was how we got together. He was a friend of a friend, someone we went clubbing with. He was atrocious on the dancefloor, touching, feeling, grinding. I didn't know him, but I liked it. We traded cryptic hints online, about longing and wrenching desire. I still didn't know him when we first made out, but we both needed somebody. 

Getting together by default is a strange affair. It's like dating in reverse, getting to know each other after hitting the home run. This was also my first relationship. I wanted to do my best, to become the best boyfriend I could be. Something didn't sit right, but I never let that show. Who would love an insecure person? I learnt how to plan surprises, and that I should get him flowers and presents. I learnt to read between the lines, and to be the bigger person when we argued. These were things I ought to do, to make him happy and to keep us together. Creating happy memories so we can nurture something special.

Maybe it was unfair of me. He needed me, but I just needed somebody. I thought by acting like I loved him I could fall in love with him. He thought I was the One, but I knew I wasn't, and the feeling of guilt and dishonesty ate me from the inside. I desperately wanted to love him, but it never happened. I was, and still am fond of him. But I didn't share his vision of us, happy together in the future with a house and kids.