I Called His Phone Last Night...

still lacking closure
i reached out to hear his voice
thank god for voice mail

I don't know what I am doing to myself. Someone found me and thought I was wonderful. Perhaps I'm exaggerating with the wonderful part, but he felt a connection and it was reciprocated. He misread my words and assumed an identity, an identity that I do not claim as my own. When I told him how I identified he found it "problematic".

I'm completely comfortable with who I am. I am an American of Italian and Spanish descent. I identify culturally as Hispanic. Again, he found this "problematic" and after all this time, after all is said and done, merely a performance. We have never hung out in real life. We have spoken on the phone and via internet channels and you can only get so much of a person thru these impersonal means. Everyone that I know in real life knows my life is not a performance, so in reality, his bigoted misconceptions of who I know I am have caused a wedge between us.

He suggested that we "agree to disagree" which would in effect dissolve the issue and allow us to move past the obstacle that has hindered our progression into whatever was to come. I can't simply "agree to disagree" because by doing that, I would be denying myself to keep him happy, he would be falling in whatever with his version of who I was, rather than the actual person who I know myself to be. How unfair is that? I think you could be my soul-mate, but I have concerns?

Ever end a phone conversation because you know that the tears were just going to ruin the entire moment? Yeah, that was me. He had called, and we had this conversation over the phone. The emptiness that I felt inside swelled with tears and all I could ask was "Why did you even bother to call?" Quite the conversation ender if I've ever heard one. It was either that or let him know over the phone that he had me in tears, and we know I'm too proud for that.

I waited until the tears subsided before I touched the phone again -- granted it was three in the morning -- and reached out to him. Not exactly to talk to him about issues that are obviously left open, raw and bleeding, but rather just to hear the comfort of his voice. Luckily I got his voice mail. That would have been an interesting conversation...

WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME AT THREE IN THE MORNING?
i just wanted to hear your voice...

Pathetic, I know. Carrying on like a bitch. This is why I don't let people get inside. Somehow I end up getting hurt in the end, and I say the end prematurely. Who knows, perhaps he still wants something from me or with me. If only he could see into me, see that the person on this blog, the person on the phone and the person in real life are the real thing. It isn't my fault that he placed me on the periphery of Latinidad, and now can't look past it. If that's the case, then maybe it's better for me, as it shows more about the kind of person he chooses to be rather than his ability to look past social or even cultural constructs. Social constructs exists solely based on the status quo, what's black here is perfectly average in other places. Cultural constructs, while not invisible, are not genetically hardwired either.

He sees my identifying as Hispanic as merely a performance; performance intended as an insult no doubt. If my performance of his culture is so compelling that he thought I was one of him, then maybe the whole goddamn thing is performance. All I know is this, I don't front or perform -- whatever it is you get when you read this blog, you're going to get in reality.

He came along, when I need a saviour... Someone to pull me thru somewhere... I've been torn apart so many times; I've been hurt so many times before... So I'm counting on you now... Somebody already broke my heart... If someone has to lose... I don't want to play...