This month we started something new. We asked for your stories for the monthly theme (January being Same-Sex Relationships). The following was submitted by someone who wanted to remain anonymous.
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I’m still not sure whether I was blessed or cursed to have grown up in a big gay city. On the one hand, I was lucky to be exposed to a visible queer community that allowed me to see a mirror of myself, to know that I wasn’t alone. But along with that visibility I also saw all the dark sides of urban gay life and quickly assimilated into it.
I believe cliché’s are based in reality, you just can’t let cliché’s define it, and the world I found myself in was ripe with supposed gay trappings: drugs, depression, promiscuity, entrenched superficiality, and such. Everything was sex, sex, sex, threesomes, and abs. “Who slept with who?” and “He cheated again?” was everyday breakfast talk with my roommates. Mind you, I don’t blame my fellow outsiders or myself for falling into such life patterns. I believe we were all deeply wounded by being born into a world different from most, taught to think of ourselves as disgusting or worthless, and into a world with crushing expectations of masculinity that cages both straight and gay men alike.
Then one day I left that all behind and moved to a rural valley on the edge of the Rockies. I had settled on the area because it is shockingly progressive despite its country setting; so don’t think me brave or nothing. I found myself a group of gay friends and boyfriend and shoved all of my projections on to them. They were all coupled up in nice pairs and had ‘normal’ jobs like farming or highway maintenance. I figured these were the ‘healthy gays,’ who were stable and invested in the community and in each other. There weren’t the kind to sabotage each other or themselves, and I wanted to be one of them.
Then one day I realized my projections about them had been just that—illusions made up in my head. I grew to realize that all the couples had open relationships that included varying degrees of cheating drama. They had ‘play parties’ with drugs and leather underwear. And to top it all off one day my boyfriend of a year cheated on me with my best friend. I had in my head that kind of stuff wouldn’t happen out here.
It’s stupid to think of problems being linked to geographical location, of course. People are people everywhere and we are all beautifully flawed in our own ways. But in the aftermath of being cheated on, there was a difference out here. With all the distractions of the city, I’m sure I would have dumped my boyfriend and my best bud. But out in the country you don’t have the luxury of other distractions. You’re going to see the same people all around town. You’re not going to find a new group of friends.
Instead of dissolving our relationships we worked out our problems. Apologies were sincere, and forgiveness was, too. Instead of savoring the drama of being wronged and wallowing in righteousness, I moved on. You have to out here, and it feels healthy to face problems instead of running away to gossip about them. There’s a relief in knowing the same courtesy will be offered to me someday, if I ever make a mistake. I may not have found a new kind of gay, but I did find a new kind of people. And I’m staying put. 
[Feature image: Hamed Saber]
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About the author
Carlo is a Managing Editor at Matador Network and keeps a personal blog at Vagabonderz. The end of his marriage in 2010 started him on a new life journey so, yes, he has much to say on the subject of love and relationships. He currently calls Nelson, BC his home. Like him on Facebook and follow him on Twitter.
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