Sunday, Dec. 14, 2003 - 6:37 p.m.
Abrupt Farewell

Sunday, 5:58 pm

Miles dumped me today. I can't believe how badly he's handled this. We're walking home from having brunch with Colin (and browsing at the gay bookstore), holding hands in the crisp air, walking down by London Drugs, almost home, when he says "I've got something I need to talk to you about. It happened earlier this week."

I knew something was up. And he proceeded to tell me that he'd been talking to Richard -- Richard's his friend from back home who arrives in town later this week or maybe on the weekend to visit until Miles flies back home January 3rd -- and they have decided to get together, as boyfriends. That he realized his feelings for Richard have grown (he'd represented his feelings during the one conversation Miles and I had about Richard, maybe 4 or 5 weeks ago, as good friends with some casual sex thrown in, nothing, he made sure to emphasize, nothing on the same level as what he and I have) and so Miles felt it would be really awkward when Richard arrives.

That's all I let him say, I said we'd talk once we returned home so it was a horrible silent time as we made our way the couple blocks home. My heart was sunken, and I didn't know what I felt. "Are you mad at me?" Miles kept asking, and I kept deferring any response till we got back.

Sat down in my easy chair, lit a smoke, Miles sat down on the footstool with my feet propped up between his crotch, his hands on my legs.

"So what are you really saying?" I asked.

"I think we need to say goodbye early."

Ah, I knew that. I couldn't look at him, he kept massaging my legs, trying to meet my eyes, asking if I was mad at him. He leaned down and rested his head on my legs.

Every once in a while I'd meet his eyes, but mostly I was zoned out, distant, staring anywhere else but him.

Slowly, the story came out. Richard apparently had recently met a guy who he really liked, and this news made Miles feel jealous. Miles told Richard he felt jealous, and that conversation led to them deciding to date. They'll start their new committed relationship the instant Richard arrives here in town.

"I really care about you," Miles kept saying, mournfully, "What we have means a lot to me."

Yeah, whatever.

I said I didn't know what to say, that he'd made his choice and there really was nothing for me to say. I was angry, but didn't know how to express it or what to say. Long periods of silence with me staring intently at the floor.

A couple things Miles said at this point made me sense that he was still hoping that he and I would continue as normal right up until Richard's arrival, i.e., he'd still spend the day and night with me, I'd still come with him to his office Xmas party tomorrow. No fucking way. I made that clear right away. "This is over as of right now," I said. Then he grew sadder.

I said I didn't think he'd been completely open with me about what has been going on with Richard. He said he had, that really nothing had been going on until he learned that Richard had met someone else, and felt jealous. Whatever.

I told him that what upset me was that he was willing to--that it was so easy for him to--end our relationship early, and on such a sour note, in order to pick up with Richard.

"You think I don't care about you?" he asked.

I didn't reply.

"Because I do. More than I've cared about anyone since Otto."

Then he said, "Maybe I've made the wrong choice."

I had no reply.

"I'm confused, I don't know what to do. It just felt like it would be so awkward, coming over to visit you when Richard's here. I didn't feel I had a choice."

Of course he did, and he'd made it.

"I have nothing else to say," I said, staring at him blankly. He looked so beautiful. Tears started to flow from his dark brown eyes; he began hacking tearfully.

I sat there, impassive yet moved.

More non-talking, he went over everything again. I listened, without much to say.

Finally, I did say "Well, it feels to me like you're bullshitting someone here."

His eyes widened.

"I mean, if your feelings for me are as strong as you're saying, you're not being fair to Richard. Or either you've been bullshitting me about how strong your feelings for me are, and that wasn't fair to me."

He didn't like that word, "bull-shitting". It seemed to mean 'lying' to him and that's not what I meant. He seemed hurt, and as stupid as it was, I felt bad for hurting his feelings. I tried to explain that I didn't think he was necessarily consciously bull-shitting, but that we all as human beings unintentionally create chaos and hurt feelings in relationships.

Anyway.

Miles seemed to understand more why I was hurt. I think he was quite obtuse at first, thinking it would be no big deal, that he'd already told me Richard and he had been sexual, and that Richard was visiting, and that winding "us" up a couple weeks early was only moving the inevitable goodbye up a little bit, two weeks. But man, it hurts that his heart was open enough to someone else that he could even entertain the notion of getting involved before he and I were actually parted. That stings.

I reiterated that we would be saying goodbye right then. His eyes brimmed with tears again. He asked what I would do in his shoes. I said I had no idea. I wasn't willing to go there. I looked at him more regularly now, feeling compassion for him: he was obviously really upset and fucked-up. But I wasn't willing to budge. I mostly wanted him to leave. But I couldn't bring myself to say it.

I told him I thought we'd probably be able to be friends eventually, but that for right now "I need to lick my wounds." Said I didn't want to hear from him until he's back home.

Another long pause, then he said, "Well I guess I'll go."

I nodded my head, barely.

He stood up. I stood up. He put on his coat. I walked into the bathroom, retrieved his electric toothbrush, walked out with it and handed it to him. He looked at me with a stern, shocked face, took it from me. I felt a burst of sadness break open in me, and hugged him. He didn't hug back. He held the toothbrush in his hand; strangely, he didn't put it in his backpack, held on to it as he knelt down without a word and put his shoes on.

He stood up, right beside the door, looked at me and his eyes were moist. He opened the door. Then he said, "You know, I really loved you." Crying. I gasped, started to cry, said "Don't say that!" and embraced him. "It's too late for that," I whimpered. The door was open; our goodbye was for all the world to see. He cried on my shoulder, I held him close, felt my dick spring up in my pants. He broke away a little bit, looked deep into my eyes. I kissed his forehead.

"Goodbye," I said. I kissed him on the lips.

"Goodbye," he said.

And he was gone.