My second formative experience with love came in the final weeks of the 2008 election. I met a man on the sidewalk outside of the No on 8 Equality for All Campaign office while I was recruiting activists as usual. I kid you not, my entire world stopped when I saw the 6’4 Superman. I awkwardly stuttered, “Um, excuse me, have you volunteered for No on 8 yet? If not, could you at least just stand here on the sidewalk and look pretty? It would attract more people.” The handsome stranger thankfully didn’t hear my nervous mumblings (he would have walked away at the shallow comment, he informed me later). He did, however, agree to a visibility shift—holding No on 8 signs in crowded places—for later that evening. I couldn’t hold back a smile.
During the training for the shift, he was nowhere to be found. The coordinator, Joscelyn, gave me a look of sympathy and began to divide us all into groups. After my group had been decided, he walked into the office and I almost had a heart attack. I quickly grabbed Joscelyn’s arm and quietly begged her to restart the count. The volunteers gave me a confused look, but I was too focused to care and Joscelyn kindly agreed. She would later credit herself as matchmaker.
I greeted my newly assigned teammate and, by some “stroke of luck,” ended up in his carpool. His BMW convertible offered 15 minutes of Heaven. Warm in our seats and listening to Goldfrapp, we traded meaningless stories and I silently admired his perfect features. His words were refined and biting, and I could tell immediately that he was very intelligent. He oozed of class and everything about him screamed Prince Charming.
Later in the week, I continued to talk to him under the pretense of getting him to volunteer again. He never would, but he did take me to dinner after the devastating loss. “I know you put a lot of yourself into that campaign, are you ok?” he asked. As I ate the delicious food from the cute vegetarian café, I couldn’t help but feel absolutely fine. I wasn’t able to get married, but being with him made the hatred of the world melt away. He was traveled, experienced, confident, independent, adorably introverted, and a video game playing gay man looking for commitment.
The funny thing is, I never believed I had a chance with the man. I thought he was out of my league and would never fall for a boy like me. You can imagine my surprise when one day he texted me, “are you ever going to ask me out?” My mind flashed back to the day Ryan Gordillo wrote his blog about loving me. Why did men always confess their feelings for me through electronics? It didn’t matter. I was in disbelief, but quickly responded, “yes but not via text.”
That night (November 7) I found him at his favorite hangout, the Starbucks on University, and went up to the window. He smiled when he saw me and I pulled out a No on 8 sign. I smiled back and then turned the sign around. Across it, I had written in bold lettering, “Will you go out with me, M****** P****?” From there began the second whirlwind romance of my life.
Since the breakup, I’ve often tried to dismiss the short-lived relationship as a tragically dysfunctional infatuation with a depressed and broken man, but the truth is that I really loved him. He was intoxicatingly gorgeous, but there was so much more to him than that. As an ex-model, he resented pictures of himself and shallowness of any kind so I designed a gift to demonstrate that, while traditional beauty catches the eye, the contents of a gift (or person) are what truly make it (or him) beautiful. On Christmas I gave him the perfect box from Tiffany’s. Inside was not jewelry, but rather a hand-carved box from Thailand (his favorite place in the world). On the box were two elephants (his favorite animal after caring for a number of them in Thailand), representing the two of us. Within the box I had printed 50 pictures of different things he liked, did or represented to me and on each one was a statement explaining how they made him beautiful in my eyes. There was not a single picture of him, but the gift still succeeded in presenting his true beauty.
Indicative of our two different ways of thinking, he gave me a $5,000 limited edition Quantum of Solace 007 Omega watch. Despite the glamour, the gift was meaningful and came with the sweetest card explaining the symbolism of the watch with one of his few and precious memories of happiness. The often pessimistic and misanthropic Superman then quoted the Bond line, “I have no armor left—you’ve stripped it from me. Whatever is left of me…whatever is left of me…whatever I am…I’m yours.”
But the armor came back on as quickly as it came off, and mere days later on New Year’s Eve, after he revealed more of his tragic past, our communication and differences broke us apart forever. The next day, our mutual friend admitted to having paid for my Christmas gift. Suddenly my only Quantum of Solace was no longer genuine and I was left even more confused, hurt and devastated. As I’ve told before, the heartbreak and rage ate me alive and I became a monster. The rest is history.
Only now that I’ve found atonement can I finally understand how this all led me to where I am today. For this, I want to acknowledge and celebrate the wonderful parts of our relationship and let go of the negative. My second Superman changed my life and I could not be more grateful.
You seem so sweet Matt, very well written:)
As always, wonderful! Leaves a reader wanting more!
Even though for only a limited amount of time, it does sound like you were able to bring him a rare bit of happiness to his life. I hope you were able to leave as much of an impression on him and bring some much needed changes and perspective to his difficult life as well.
It’s always difficult to see how and why things like this that devastate us actually end up helping us in the long run, even more difficult to acknowledge and admit that they did.
It’s strange reading this blog and actually thinking that to David, I am his Super Man and Prince Charming, even though I don’t feel like it sometimes.
Your blogs never fail to put my own life in perspective for me and help me realize things about myself and my situations, and reawaken thoughts and passions I’ve long forgotten about. It was your blog after all that reminded me how much I love to write and to look into writing as an option for me as both an expression and maybe even a career.
It’s interesting that you call him Superman. Ever notice how Superman always ends up alone? The problem with a Superman is that they are almost perfect, but their imperfection is a *fatal* flaw. With him it sounds like his past and intense feelings of getting away from what he didn’t want to be were too much kryptonite. The problem with these “weaknesses” is that they are designed to be unbeatable. Give me a person who is complex and a solid mix of colors, not one who is almost so white it’s blinding until faced with the blackness that they simply can’t overcome. Those are the people who overcome their weaknesses and constantly become stronger. Superman will never be immune to kryptonite. He never gets stronger. He is always going to be exactly the way he is, and therefore, always alone.
I will never forget the night you put that AMAZING box together because your father did not bat an eyelash when he helped you print those cards out; you had so many to do AND I will never forget that present because I was glad you could love so much, so deeply, give so freely and SO beautifully!
Thank you for sharing that with us!
Erika Brown (mom)
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