Entry #77: Fraud

I am such a fraud.

Recently, I had the opportunity to go out for a drink with a female friend. She and her husband are pretty good friends to me.

She went on and on about what a chill and down to earth guy I am, and that they both appreciate my friendship.

Little does she know that I die inside a little more every time I hear something like that. They have no idea who I am…none. And…I cannot or will not tell them.

Another anniversary of Annie’s death is fast approaching and if have to be honest about it, I don’t know how much longer I can bear it.

They never knew about Annie. Almost no one in my life has that knowledge, and holding that knowledge deep inside is going to be the end of me. I wish I had the opportunity to tell her story somewhere other than in these pages, but I trust no one to be able to understand.

You see…whenever any of my feelings for Annie came out in the open, she and I were met by absolute hatred for who she was and by extension myself for loving her. Maybe it was just the times we lived in back then and maybe things are better today, yet I refuse to take another chance that the relationship we had can be met with understanding and acceptance.

No one in the outside world who knew Annie’s story accepted her. I was the only one. I will never understand the cruelty and hatred that humans have for one another, and I have given up trying to make any sense of it all.

Forty two more days till I relive her death yet again.

No one knows, no one cares, no one can see me as the fraud that is right in front of them. I am not the person I present to you. You cannot see into my heart and the darkness that enslaves me.

Entry #72: My New Friend

Recently, I had the opportunity to travel from my home and sleep in a strange bed. It was there that I have found a new friend. It was a nice bed…very comfortable and spacious.

Once I got into the bed however, I found a human sized pillow along with a note explaining that this pillow was meant to be hugged when sleeping. Well, of course, I had to try it and it brought back so many memories of Annie.

One of the many things Annie and I loved to do was to just lay in bed, all stretched out hugging each other with nothing between us. It wasn’t just about making love or having sex. It was the comfort we felt with each other in the naked state.

When our schedules were not filled with meetings or clients, we took every opportunity to do this together, even during the day time. Annie would purr and push her body back against me as I hugged and enveloped her. Her actions told me that she felt safe in this bed with me and that in turn made me so happy. The fact that this action provided her with a sense of security was overwhelming in some sense.

Well, Annie isn’t here any longer, and yet, this simple pillow helped me to re live all of these memories of those intimate moments of trust and safety with her.

I don’t seek out another to share these memories or even to make new ones. People are so disappointing to me on so many levels. It has been frustrating to say the least and that is why I choose to not even try any more.

But…I do have a new friend now. I think I will purchase one of these pillows. The feeling of serenity it gives me is indescribable, and I don’t have to worry about being judged by another human who does not even attempt to understand my feelings or thoughts.

Entry #70: Got Me!

From the moment Annie and I met, we both knew that there was something special happening.

Somehow, we both realized that we understood each other in a new and exciting way.

Annie “got me”, and I her.

No one else had ever seen me in the same way that Annie did.

We spent the next glorious year exploring everything about each other. Nothing was out of bounds to investigate and experience together.

When Annie died, my whole world came crashing down and in my heart, I knew there would never be another who could so readily see me for who I really was. I refused to give anyone else the chance to fill that space.

Some time ago, I met someone who triggered that response as soon as I met her. I thought to myself, now here is someone I could trust with my stories and explore my feelings with.

But I was wrong. Like so many who came before her, she showed me that, no…she really didn’t “get me”.

So, now, it is back to the refuge of my darkness and silence. I am exhausted and just too damn tired to make the effort going forward. Why even bother, when it all ends in disappointment?

Entry #65: Stay or Go

Writing this blog has never been easy. Reconstructing all my memories of Annie and the life we experienced together during the short year we had each other has been heartbreaking and uplifting at the same time. Make sense?

Until this past week, I have shared this blog with only two other people that I know in person. From them, I receive only respect and encouragement to keep writing and express myself in the only way I can, as I am not an eloquent speaker.

This week, I shared it with a third person. Someone whom I have known for 6-8 years in social settings, always seemed like an open minded person. We discuss many topics, and I have been supportive of her struggles during Covid, as that is what a friend does.

Sharing this with her was a terrible mistake. A side of her came out that I never knew existed. Rather than give me understanding and empathy over the words I write, I received hate, bigotry and disrespect. After reading most, if not all ( I could tell by her comments), she decided to die on the white privilege hill of her own making.

To paraphrase, since I never had the thought to record her comments, she could not understand why I would ever love an Asian (American) like Annie. I wasn’t sure if she was taking issue with Annie being Asian or transgender, or both. To top it off, she took issue of my writing about my feelings for my black friend. She wanted to know why I couldn’t simply find a white woman.

Well, she is now gone from my life and I have no regrets about it. How dare she comment on who I loved back then, and who I have feelings for now.

The hate and comments I endured during my time with Annie was common back then, even though I knew nothing of it until Annie and I became a thing. It was a constant worry for us wherever we went…would she be safe…could I keep her safe…constant vigilance as to who was around us at any time or place. It was exhausting to fear violence that could erupt without warning.

I thought that was behind me after all these years, but with what has happened in this country with the murders of black folks, and the terrorizing of transgender POC, I realize that this country is no better off than it was back then. Now, when I go out in public with my friend who is black, will my whiteness bring on trouble for her as well? Must I scrutinize every person that comes close to us when we are in public?

I have no solution to this dilemma, and I absolutely refuse to give up not only my friendship, nor my feelings for her. I will fight the haters wherever I find them. Who I choose to love and be seen with is no one’s business and I will make that crystal clear to anyone who gets in my way.

I waffled back and forth as to whether I would delete this blog. Yet, I find that I cannot let the actions of bigots deter me living the truth of who I love and care for.

If someone has issues with me writing about my relationships and friendships with women of color who may be transgender or cis, then just get over yourself and stay off my lawn.

I do not, nor will I welcome you into my life.

So, if you have read this far, just know that I will keep on writing about the women who have made such an impact on my life. This is not only my truth…it is their’s as well.

Entry #59: Anniversaries

There are many different types of anniversaries, and most of us celebrate numerous ones over the years. Most of these are occasions that mark happier times, but some remind us of struggles and sadness over events we may or may not have had any control over.

Next week is one of those in the latter category for me. Annie and I only celebrated one anniversary together, marking the span of time where we not only were able to learn so much about each other, but to realize how right our relationship was from the very beginning. Back then, there was so much hate in the world, not only for who she was, but by extension, our relationship itself.

Virtually no one in my circle of life accepted her, nor the feelings we had for each other. For a straight white male to love and cherish a transgender woman of color was the ultimate insult to what we today call white privilege. In spite of all of that, we celebrated that first anniversary together, without others, in what we described as our normal.

Here it is now, thirteen years later, and quite honestly, although great strides in equality have been made, it is still not enough. Were Annie to still be with me, I am pretty confident we would still be facing the same hatred and disrespect, although it may not be as openly hostile as in that past period.

Marking the annual date of her passing is something I have chosen over the years to do in my own solitary mind space. Until recently, no one has even known where I disappear to on this day. I am just silent and invisible, with no desire to socialize or even engage in idle conversation with anyone. For most of these years, depending upon the weather, I will just find some solitary place out in nature and recall all of the happier times we enjoyed together.

But, this year will be different for me. My friend “A” not only knows the story, but she has read this entire blog as far as I can tell. In a shocking turn of events, recently, she asked me if I wanted to spend a good part of this day with her. She had concerns over me spending the day alone. My first thought was to immediately decline her invitation, but within minutes I texted her back to accept.

How could I not accept such an offer of kindness and personal generosity for the first time in all of these years, from someone who I trust implicitly, and has shown me nothing but empathy and caring?

I cannot wait for the date to arrive and we get together. I just hope that I am not in my usual morose anniversary mood, and spoil the great gift she is offering to me. Normally, I put on a happy face that hides my feelings, but with her, I cannot do that. When I smile in her presence, it is because my smile reveals that I am indeed happy to be with her, no matter what she may have in mind as a surprise for this day.

I am pretty confident that this will be the best anniversary of all of those marking this date, for with this simple invitation, she has turned the tide from sorrow into something more…

Entry #58: Human Touch

Human touch is one of the most important senses in a relationship. Humans are very sensory oriented and to go years without that experience is traumatic.

I returned to our hotel at a very late hour one night, to find Annie waiting up for me. I described my day as did she. Due to deadlines and employee problems, she was pretty stressed out, so I suggested that I give her a massage. She immediately declined while refusing to look at me, so I knew something was up. It took several minutes before she would admit that she had never had a massage and she refused me as a result of her fear of being touched by a male.

I explained that we had been together for quite some time now, and we touched each other all the time, yet she had never allowed herself to relax and enjoy such a thing where she was the object of my attention and had nothing to do in return. I told her to try and relax and all she had to do was say the word stop and it would be over. She reluctantly agreed, removed her clothes and laid down.

I began with her neck and shoulders. She was so stressed, that I could feel her muscles all knotted up. It took me over 30 minutes before I could feel her start to relax and soften the tenseness. I slowly worked my way down her back and it seemed like it took forever for her to finally relax. By the time I asked her to turn over, I realized she had drifted off to sleep.

She turned over and made all kinds of little squeaks and sighs whenever I touched a new spot. Through it all, while she was on her back, her eyes never left mine. She knew she could trust me, and despite her fears and apprehension, she did trust me and enjoyed the whole experience. I never asked her to reciprocate, only to be calm and the object of my concentration.

Over time, we built on the experience in ways to find out what her body craved, and how I could make sure she received the loving touch I could give to her.

Next week will be thirteen years since I enjoyed the pleasure of feeling her body in my hands, and the smile on her face as a result of my attentions. I miss the feeling of her skin and the look of pleasure on her face. Human touch is a frail thing and a direct result of trust. I loved the feel of her body, the way she would hold my hand when we walked down the street or in nature, the way she would lay her head on my shoulder when she was happiest.

Human touch is frail and fleeting without trust. I wish I could experience those fleeting moments yet again. To find someone who trusts another enough to allow themselves the pleasure of human touch without the expectation of anything in return being required.

Entry #55: Silk

Annie and I were scheduled to meet up in Montreal one afternoon. I loved the old city, as that seemed to be the only place where Annie could let her guard down and just be herself. Another benefit of meeting there is Annie always managed to come up with some sort of surprise for me.

We were very cognizant of traveling in the winter time and managed to do a pretty good job of avoiding any delays, but this time mother nature caught us. My afternoon flight was cancelled due to weather, and by the end of the day, all that was left was a redeye, so that is what I ended up with.

Landing early in the morning, I looked to see if there was a message from Annie, but nothing. We had said our goodnights the previous evening and I was pretty sure she was still asleep, so I didn’t bother to call and wake her up.

As is our usual ritual, she had left a room key for me at the front desk, so I grabbed a quick cup of coffee and headed up. I did a pretty good job of being quiet as I let myself into the room, and left everything by the door so I wouldn’t make any noise.

And, there she was, sound asleep in the bed. I must have watched her for at least a half an hour. I could never get enough of watching her, as she was the most amazing person I have ever met. Something was different, yet I couldn’t quite put my finger on it for a few minutes, and then it dawned on me.

The sheets on the bed were not white as is usual. They were a darker color and Annie seemed to have melted into them. Being asian, her skin color was like a very light caramel color and it seemed that the fabric melded with her coloring in an amazing way.

She must have sensed that I was there, because suddenly her eyes opened and she smiled in the way only she could to get my total attention. She pulled back the sheet and asked me what I was waiting for, and she only had to ask one time. Turned out the sheets were silk and she had purchased them the day before for a surprise. This was the first time I had ever been in a bed with silk sheets and the feeling as so amazing. Silk sheets and the woman of your dreams. When I closed my eyes and moved my hands, I could not tell where the sheet ended and her skin began. It was as if she was one with the silk. It was a form of sensory overload and we made the most of it.

I don’t know what ever happened to those sheets. I wish that I had them now, and wonder if her scent would still be on them after all these years.

Entry #54: They Are Back

So, it’s been a couple of weeks since those three little words I wrote about, removed the dark cloud that always seems to follow me. At the time, I wondered how long that would last, and apparently I now have my answer.

Not long enough!

Last night, my mind recognized the fact that in 5 short weeks, I will be noting the thirteenth anniversary of Annie having left this world. Thirteen years of grief and guilt for having failed her in the only thing that mattered, by not being able to protect her from her own death.

As each day moves closer to that date, I struggle with what I might have done to change the outcome when I had the opportunity to do so. I struggle with those thoughts every day, because there is no answer for me. Questions without a resolution.

Logically, I know there was nothing I could have done to prevent her passing, but logic holds no solace for me. To face the fact that I could do nothing to change the outcome, is just not an acceptable premise. There must have been something, and yet, I cannot accept the fact that I had no power to produce a different result.

These thoughts have torn me apart for all of these years, and while I thought I might be able to now overcome them, I realize I was only fooling myself.

My three friends are back and all I can hope for, is that they have lost some of their power over me. As the date inexorably moves closer with each passing twenty-four hours, I dread the prospect of falling back into the darkness.

The darkness was a comforting and safe refuge from the prying eyes and judgmental actions of those who knew us. I have to wonder if that place is still my safe haven.

Entry #53: Rituals

We all have little rituals surrounding many of the things we do on a daily basis.

Annie and I were no exception. Over time, we developed certain rituals that also became special times which we shared with each other, that had profound meanings beyond the ritual.

One of our favorite rituals involved rain storms. Depending upon the time of year and the weather, we had two distinct rituals that we embraced whenever we found ourselves together in rainy circumstances.

If the weather, and also the rain was warm as it usually is in the summertime, we would throw on some not so special clothes and take long walks in the rain. If we were near a forest, it would be even better. Nothing beats walking in the rain in the forest holding hands with the person you love, listening to the birds and other animals as they enjoy the rain and the free baths.

However, if the weather and the rain was cold, we had an entirely different ritual that we would enjoy if we could take the day off from our routines.

On cold, rainy days, we would throw off our clothes and snuggle together in bed for most of the day. We would take turns telling each other about our dreams of how our lives would progress together, and take turns pleasuring each other in every way we could think of. There were many days we never left the bed until it was dark and hunger forced us from our little nest.

So, this week there are several storms hitting us here on the west coast. These are cold weather storms with a lot of rain and wind. Not the kind of storms you can walk around in and enjoy.

In the intervening years since I lost Annie, I always try to go to the beach if it is warm out and the rain is warm, so I could sit in the sand, and stare out west as far as I could see. Further than I could ever see, is where Annie now lies.

But, this week, the storms are cold and unwelcoming. I left my bed so I could write this today, because there is no Annie for me to tell stories to or to pleasure, and the bed is a cold and unpleasant place for me now on cold stormy days.

It would be wonderful to find another person to share these storms with for a few hours. But…it is doubtful that will happen.

My memories of my time with Annie will have to suffice.

Entry #51: The Closed Door

Over the years since Annie died, it was always in the back of my mind that I would travel to Thailand so that I could visit her final resting place. At times, I was almost obsessed with making the trip, but always found an excuse not to go. Admittedly, I was afraid for my own safety if I had to confront the reality of the place. All I hoped to accomplish was to be able to sit beside her and tell her of my love and all the ways I felt that I had failed in keeping her safe.

Not so long ago, I received an email notifying me that Annie’s mother had passed. I knew she was older and in poor health, but my denial of the fact that she would not live forever was in full force. We had not communicated much over the years, but when we did, she always managed to explain in her poor English how happy she was that Annie had found me.

My own indecision has now managed to accomplish what I could not mentally manage. With Annie’s mother now gone, there is no one left for me to contact, make any type of arrangements regarding a trip, and I will forever not know where she rests.

The open door that would allow me closure has now slammed shut forever and it was due to my own lack of courage. While I am still incapable of putting this all behind me, and moving forward to what, I don’t even know, I now face the reality of yet another thing that I have failed Annie with.

I was never indecisive when she was with me, yet, without her I am paralyzed with fear, darkness and an overwhelming dread of all the things I now think I should have done differently.

It is said that when one door closes, another opens. I do not see it that way. As I search through the dark corners of my mind for one remaining door for escape, I face the reality that there might not ever be another open door.

I may be stuck in this place for eternity.