Roses Are Red, Trauma Is Real

Thoughts on love, heartbreak, and moving forward

Once upon a time, there lived a little gay boy who had a lot of feelings and nowhere to put them. He tried blogging once, but it didn’t go as planned—there were too many expectations, so he gave up trying.

Years later, he dared to try again.

Even though he thought nobody cared. Even though he worried he’d get overwhelmed and stop. What if, what if, what if. Those thoughts ran circles in his head until one day he decided to tell them to shut up and just try again.

Me wearing something cool while I was helping my sister with a photoshoot in 2024.

Now, that same gay man is dealing with thoughts of bitterness—feelings he’s had before—especially when it comes to relationships. So what better time to talk about it than on this so-called holy day of love: Valentine’s Day?

Maybe, like this blog, I won’t give up on love either.

Read on to find out… teehee.

The Glass Closet Years

Romantic love is an interesting topic. Looking back on my childhood, I didn’t have many “girlfriends.” I can count two when I was seven or eight years old, but… does that really count?

For most of my life, I can confidently say I’ve been single. I don’t know how proud I am of that, but it’s true. I remember trying to ask out a few girl crushes in elementary school. Looking back, I think I chose them because I knew they already knew I was a little different—and I felt safe knowing they wouldn’t hurt my feelings.

I could never ask out a boy I had a crush on. I was too nervous to let the world know I was gay. Hello, glass closet.

The only person who wasn’t ready for me to be out was myself—but that’s for another blog. I think I used the idea of the closet to keep myself “safe” from being seen and hurt. In the long run, though, it held me back in so many ways. The biggest one? While my peers got to explore romance and sexuality, I felt like I couldn’t.

My sister and I were at Disney World in 1996. I'm sitting in this weird heart-shaped waffle chair.

Whether it was society’s views on queerness or my own fear of rejection, I didn’t feel safe being sexually expressive. Because of that fear—one I placed on myself and, regrettably, still do to some extent—I struggled to see myself in healthy ways. That led to unhealthy relationships with myself and with others later in life.

And let me tell you: heartbreak later in life—especially when you didn’t get to experience it during those formative years—hurts like a bitch in heat.

Heartbreak, With a Learning Curve

It took me years to build enough confidence to put myself out there—Grindr. And because I started my dating journey there (like many gay men do), you learn quickly that men are men and very visual.

I’ve heard everything from:

“Hey, big sexy.”

to “Damn, you fat.”

to “Kill yourself!”

to “Can I get some money?”

It can be demoralizing. But I guess it’s possible to find love in a swamp… maybe. Or at least what you think is love.

I ended up in two relationships that started on hookup apps. The first taught me how to open up—though it didn’t end well. I was ghosted after three months. (I was clingy; it was my first time being romantic.)

The second taught me that I need to love myself more than I give to others. That relationship lasted five years. And I won’t lie—it was eye-opening, but it took years for me to really see that.

I'm tired of taking headshots in this picture from 2023

This is the heartbreak I mentioned earlier. The one that hit the hardest. Being left around your birthday. At a job you hated. In an apartment you couldn’t afford alone, even though you were paying most of the bills. Feeling lost. Numb.

I thought I’d never open up again. And if I’m honest, I still don’t know if I ever will.

This is where I fear pain can turn into bitterness. I’ve always known how to stay hidden—even in a glass closet. But I opened the door and let people in. It’s easy to close that door again. Still, I prefer the light that comes through.

Of course, with light come shadows. And sometimes the dark feels safer. Healing hurts. Look at any broken bone—once the pain meds wear off, the real work begins.

But it’s worth it… right?

Choosing Me, Finally

“If you can’t love yourself, how the hell are you gonna love somebody else?”

— RuPaul Charles

I’ve repeated that quote for years as a Drag Race fan, but it didn’t truly hit until recently.

You don’t just fall in love with someone else—or maybe you do, but I think you first fall in love with yourself. Then you’re able to see that love reflected through another person. As Mother Ru says, it’s easier said than done—but worth it. I want to believe that.

My true lover and I... art back in 2025

Last year, I chose not to like myself. There was a moment when I lost the apartment my ex and I shared. Part of me felt free. Another part was grieving. I couldn’t hold onto that space—or that hurt—anymore.

Still, I chose to hold onto pain. And I’m not saying all pain is a choice, but when my sister told me during a passionate discussion this year that I run from love, I was ready to fight her on it. Instead, I sat with it. Alone.

And she was right.

I let one person spoil my love—not for the next person, but for me. For the human I am today. Love is the most human emotion, which is why it’s also the most complex.

To anyone on a journey of self-love, romantic love, platonic love—whatever love you’re navigating—do what I didn’t give myself credit for in the past: give yourself grace for who you were and who you’re becoming.

I’m saying that for you and for me.

My parents on the Potomac Spirit (nobody knows what year)

Now… say “love,” and happy anniversary to my parents—37 years together. Goals.

See you in the next one.