Sad Boy

Which city am I in? I don't remember. It was the fourth airport I visited this week, and it was dark outside. I hate my job.

My eyelids feel heavy as I finally reach my hotel room. All hotel rooms look the same, but I think I’m in Memphis. I fly home tomorrow morning. Can't wait for the weekend.

Then it dawns on me – I don’t have any plans for the weekend. No surprise there. But this time, I feel more lonely than usual. No plans, no friends, no dates. It’s easier to just keep working instead, I think. Although it would be nice to have someone to come home to.

My body feels drained, but my mind keeps racing. I don’t know what to do with my life. I feel stuck. I’m too busy with my career for a relationship. And I don’t even know if I like girls.

The realization weighs heavier on me than usual: I don't think I like girls.

Things will sort themselves out in the future, I hope. I set down my stuff and sit on the bed. But I know I’m lying to myself. I have no idea what to do.

I pull out my phone and start scrolling. My thumb moves across the screen, searching for the distraction my body wants, but my mind doesn’t. I find myself looking at men online. My chest gets tighter, and I feel like I'm suffocating. But there’s something intoxicating about this. And I can’t stop. What am I doing?

In a few moments, I feel better in some ways but much worse in others. I get up and walk to the bathroom, avoiding the mirror along the way. I don't want to see myself. The numbness persists.

I take a shower and try to wash it off. The white towels make me feel nauseous. I think it’s the bleach. I force myself to brush my teeth.

This can't continue. This can't be my reality.

The guilt tightens its grip as I think about what I want my life to look like: a wife, kids, a pretty house, some cool cars. But at this rate, that feels impossible. Am I asking for too much? Maybe that’s not what’s in the cards for me.

I crawl back into bed, hoping to fall asleep and not wake up. Something has to give, I think. Sleep finally rescues me.

The morning comes too soon, and I'm still unsure which city I’m in. Charlotte, perhaps? I am groggy and withdrawn. I don’t want to talk to anyone.

But that’s probably what I need most – to talk to someone. But I’m not sure anyone would understand.

I go through my day on autopilot. The weeks and months go by unnoticed. I distance myself from friends and don't let anyone get close. No one can know how screwed up I am. I’ll figure this out eventually, I tell myself.

Over time, I begin to connect the dots. It’s when I feel saddest that I feel most drawn to men. When I’m stressed about work, when I’m not physically well, when I feel shamed by another, when I feel inadequate, when I feel empty, when I feel alone – these are all times when men feel most appealing.

I used to think that the sadness I felt and my attractions to men were two separate aspects of my life that I needed to come to terms with.

But now I think the one fuels the other. Men became a way for me to cope with the emotional distress. Men became a temporary distraction from the inner pain.

The realization itself doesn’t really change how I feel. But I don’t feel like I’m a victim to my feelings anymore — at least, not as much as I used to be. Now when those feelings come up, I know the sadness is hiding back there too. And recognizing that gives me something to work with.