I know you. I’ve seen your stare from across the room and have met it with a cocky glance of my own, feeling a surge of confidence as you admire the efforts I put into my appearance.
Yeah, I see you and I would like to say “You’re welcome” and “No apology needed.”
You and I have been pitted against each other, mainly because I do not deal in the technicality of us playing for the same team but realize that we are the team.
Our community may be diverse but the love that I have for you is not. I sometimes have difficulties expressing myself to you so I try my best to show my adoration in ways that are acceptable by society’s standards and what have been shown to me.
But you mistake my efforts as being too much like a man, when all I am trying to do is protect, defend and show you how strong I am for both of us.
I would love to embrace our similarities but it is difficult when one minute you tell me I am being too aggressive and then the next, you call me a “weak bitch” if I were to show my emotions.
Regardless of this, I still look at you as if you are the only living thing in this world. Everything I do is for you. I dress to impress you. I work hard so that I can spoil you. Even hanging out with my friends is not complete unless we are out looking for you. I can’t get enough of you. I yearn for you so much that I go to straight women and try to mold them into you. But once that fails and I am hurt by her, I take my frustrations out on you.
I am not like you but that is one of the many reasons I enjoy us.
I only have to be defensive when I feel alone. It is nothing for me to take on all of the homophobic men in the world as long as I know you are in my corner and not conspiring with him behind my back. I don’t take it to heart when you judge the
partners that I choose because I do the same with you. We are both guilty of breaking each other’s hearts but while you deal with it by gathering a group of femmes and entourage-ing-it’ to the nearest club in your fuck-me pumps, I am simply dialing up the first girl that said she wants to fuck me.
So don’t apologize.
However I would not mind opening up the dialogue a bit.
You’re welcome for all of the things that I have done to show you that you are more than your body. You’re welcome for the countless pieces of my clothing that you never ask to borrow but always seem to have. You’re welcome for the nights that you laid in my bed and all I did was listen because you needed to talk. And you’re welcome for never bringing up the “friendzone” even when you clearly made me uncomfortable but I would rather bite my tongue than to embarrass you or have you question your attractiveness.
This is a response to a love letter but also an acknowledgement to all of the femmes who don’t get enough appreciation, compassion or praise. To the femmes who question why we hurt them; know that it is not you. When we hurt you, we aren’t even seeing you. We are looking at the women who have hurt us in our past. Sadly most of us don’t worry about how it will effect you in the future.
In many ways you are stronger than us, having to face the world displaying your sexuality through ridiculously looking rainbow garments and fending off men who want to test your orientation every minute of the day.
But I see you.
It’s good to know that you see me too.
Maybe one day we can stop looking at each other and turn our vision towards the same picture.
P.S—I don’t like to call. But can I text you?
The original: ‘A Love Letter To Studs and Bois http://elixher.com/a-love-letter-to-studs-and-bois/