Adieu

I never thought saying goodbye could be so difficult. I was proven wrong. I left Santa Rosa yesterday night, for good. Well, at least 3 years. I left one of my best friends. The one who I had spent so much time with and had so many different emotions for, in a short frame of time.

We originally met at the start of the semester. I was taking waterpolo the same time he was taking swimming. I walked past him and his eyes surveyed me and my speedo-clad body. When I stood in front of the urinal in the bathroom, he peeked. At the time he was somewhat overweight and had a sole patch. I was unimpressed. It wasn’t until about 3 months later when we formally met each other and became friends.

We spent Thursday together at a gay resort in Guerneville- a small town along the Russian River. He had talked so much about the place and his friends there, that actually being there was pretty surreal. He'd often tell me, how much he got hit on. I was cynical. Though I thought he was attractive and charming, I felt he was exaggerating- until I saw him in action. It was exactly like he said. Guys feeling him up. Any and everything.
The day was relaxing. We laid beneath the sun, chatted with an attractive older couple, - who hinted to us that they wanted a foursome...I was somewhat horny, and asked my friend several times about it. He hinted "no". I can be dangerously naive.

Later as we pulled into my driveway, we randomly started talking about interracial relationships. I don’t remember how we got to the subject. He said he'd never date outside his race, didn't understand how others could, and referred to stereotypes that I didn't even know existed. This hurt me a lot. Especially because I recently had a sexual excursion with a close non-white friend. I never saw race as a big deal. I passively accused my friend of being racist, but he repudiated that. I knew that in practice he wasn't, that he had black, Hispanic and Asian friends and wouldn't outright do anything racist. I guess his views had been shaped living in a heavily white town and having a conservative military asshole for a father.
We also talked about next year. About me going to UBC. Randomly, he came out and told me that he thought it was stupid to go to Canada, when there are so many good colleges in the US to choose from. I gave my long, intellectual reasons for wanting to go to the school, but it didn't register with him.

What hurt me the most was that this was one of the last times we were going to see each other (as residents of the same town at least). We argued on and on and almost reached a yelling point. He kept suggesting that I wanted him to leave, I had little response. I think part of me did- out of anger. He went over to the door and stood outside. I walked over and slammed it. I went to my bed and started crying. Then, just when I thought I wouldn't go back, I heard him knocking. I waited for about a minute. I knew he didn't want to leave. And he knew I didn't want him to either. It was then I realized, we were probably feeling some of the same emotions. We were both frustrated that I was leaving. He didn't understand me, or my reasons- in very much the same way I didn't understand his views on race or Canada. I suppose we both felt that arguing about those things was a scapegoat in suppressing our frustrations; that leaving it like that would have somehow made it easier. And forgetting about each other and the time we shared would’ve been better, emotionally.
But deep down, neither of us truly wanted that. I know I have a hard time erasing people from my life. Even now, I feel conflicted about him. Part of me loves him; part of me hates what I saw as his ignorant small town mentality.

I guess, we both realized how different we were. I'm a big city boy. I have big ambitions and big plans. I want to experience the world outside Northern California. My friend on the other hand, will be happy going to bars, hanging out with rambunctious friends and living in a small town for the rest of his life. Each to his own. But it stumped me at how difficult it was for us to understand each other, and the different directions we sought.

We talked and mulled things through. I was overcome with emotion. He held me tight, as I sobbed and drenched him in tears. We made out passionately. Then, he told me that we could see each other tomorrow, before my parents arrive. We did that. We went to the café we used to frequent. It was a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon. As we sat in his car, outside my apartment, we talked about how much we were going to miss each other. We locked lips one last time. I was going to miss that. He'd been my best friend, and the closest thing I'd ever had to a boyfriend.

The 9 months I spent in Sonoma County is a thing of the past now. A memory, already starting to fade as I readjust to life in San Francisco and prepare for my future in Vancouver. But I’ll always remember the short but intense friendship I had with that funny, sweet, loveable gay guy I grew to love and adore.