Why I Dropped Taylor Swift

I stopped listening to Taylor Swift recently, because I couldn’t handle the emotions anymore. I know. It doesn’t make much sense to me either. However, “You Belong With Me” speaks to so much of my heartache, that I realise I can’t listen to it without being/heavily on my way to drunk.

That sucks because it’s the only Taylor Swift song I can stand. It speaks to a large part of the homosexual conundrum, as I understand it. The homosexual conundrum is not a one size fits all. Like the various roles abundant in homosexuality, each person’s conundrum fucks you differently. Back to the issue: The entire “how do I make you see me?” question that has plagued gay men since Jonathan and David’s illicit affair. (You know they were fucking each other – I imagine some of you objecting violently. However, if the verses used to describe David and Jonathan’s relationship were to be used in popular literature, it would be interpreted as heavily homoerotic.)

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with pining for someone in and of itself. But it generally shuts down your ability to see the people around you. Most minds can only process one chunk of unrequited love at a time, and it’s usually the love we feel for someone else going unnoticed that we care about. A “straight” friend recently told me he’s wanted to kiss me since our first semester in college. And because I’ve never been the expert at reacting with emotional intelligence, my first response was to send a “lol, how was your day?” text.

He then successfully broke my heart by describing every single thing I went through with all my imaginary loves. That idea of viewing someone through glasses so rose tinted everything looks blood-coloured. How you make excuses for them casually breaking your heart, and how you hold on, because he’s texted you with a “hey babe” because he needs you to send him $5 via Ecocash.

Now, I generally am able to look at myself and pull myself from the edge because I realise, sometimes subconsciously, that I’m pining for an idea, rather than the person. I also have friends who offer friendly reminders when I’m becoming psychotic. I have a support system that pokes fun at my unconventional choices in sexual partners. This is fucked up, but the unconventional ones tend to see you as more than just a cum receptacle, and are willing to do really weird shit with you at 1 in the morning. Like come over to hold you whilst you exorcise fears of how unloved, or inconsequential you are. Or go with you to the sports field, with a blanket, and look at the stars whilst you smoke a blunt. I have no fucking idea how we never got caught. Or sit in a cinema, with your hand in his joggers, playing with his penis whilst attempting to watch a movie.

I am getting carried away…

My “straight” friend, however, due to the fact that he’s spent so long ensconced in this idea of what masculinity is, and what it isn’t, is unable to come to terms with the idea that he wants to kiss a guy. Or be comfortable with the fact that it’s ok to want to kiss a guy without having inhaled half a bottle of whisky. I can only hold his hand as he works his way through his own shit, slowly, painfully, and hopefully not throwing up in my lap anymore. The first and only time was enough to scar me for life. Without in any way stopping me from drinking like alcoholism is a paid job.

So, like every person I know, I move on from Taylor Swift during my sober hours, and use other things to numb the countless pains flying around in my head. For example, the realisation that I’m not the only gay guy who’s loved someone who will never love them back eases a lot of stress. I can also focus on my friend as he is making that thorny-as-fuck journey to self discovery. Nothing has yet been said about the journey being a painful one that rivals all three Hobbit movies in length and general uselessness, and the only thing I can offer is support in the form of marijuana on a blanket whilst we look at stars. I have a blanket waiting, if my straight friend ever decides to talk about it. Or if he ever gets the guts to try and kiss me.