I was going to try and avoid this but alas it is necessary.
There are a couple of times a year when I take a few moments to sit down and reflect on my life. I like to think about what has passed, what is happening now and what I see in the future. I take the time to think of my dreams of youth and my bedtime imaginings while waiting to fall asleep. I compare these dreams to my reality now and wonder if the pictures match.
I firmly recall laying in bed as a closeted 14 year old, dreaming of a life when I could be open about who I want to love and not living with shame or guilt about this love. I had images of waking up in the morning with a man by my side, his warmth and energy enveloping me with a protective blanket to help me through the day. I would dream of my love walking through the door to find me with dinner on the table and only an apron to hide my wonderful gifts.
I had a dream that I would be a success. In my dreams I had a good job and money. I was always an athlete (at 14 I was going to be an Olympic skier) and very successful. I would fall asleep with images of throwing myself down a mountain with my bright yellow Volkls rattling over the icy terrain. Some how in those adolescent dreams I would manage to hold down a meaningful career while also being a World Cup Ski racer.
Now that I am 32 I can look back at those dreams with a touch of nostalgia for my blind innocence and hope for the future. Although I had big dreams they really were just that, big dreams. I have always been practical and a bit pragmatic. I never really thought these dreams would come true and when I woke up in the morning I would be slapped with my reality of going to a school I hated while also hating myself and what the practical me envisioned as my real future.
Looking back at my 14 year old 'pipe dream' makes me think of how fortunate I have become. I am living a life that I thought would be a dream. My current life is a dream come true, with the obvious exception.
It is on days like today when I kind of feel like a failure. In reality we are put on this world to meet someone, fall in love and procreate. Although I am successful I am a complete and utter failure in the whole procreation thing. Obviously I am gay so nothing is really going to happen anyways. But looking more globally at this, as a male, I should be getting out there and fucking around and generally being a stud. I could not imagine having a conversation with an eligible man let alone dating or even having sex. I feel so detached from intimacy that I fear I would not even know what to do if presented with the situation.
I feel I blog on this topic way too much but it is reality. If I were in love I would be blogging about my wonderful boyfriend and how we are so perfect for each other. I would be thanking him for supporting my running and being at the finish line. I would blog about how I was feeling tired at the end of the race but seeing my lover's face gave me the drive to run a best time. I would attempt to wax poetic about the difference his balance has made in my running life.
Looking forward to year 32 I do not really have a dream but more of a fear. What if I never meet a man to share all I have now? Running and being an elite athlete are centre to who I am. I am scared I will never meet a man who knows and understands this part of my life. This part of my life that makes me who I am. I do not think anyone could really get to know me unless they saw me limping after a hard workout, exhausted and totally detached after a long run or totally ecstatic and spent after a hard race. When I think of a future love I want him to know me now. I want him to know the elite runner with all the foibles and fabulousness that comes with the drive and passion. I want him to know me at my best and to see the building blocks of who I have become.
So 32 eh? I do not even want to guess what is going to happen. I am hoping some more of the adolescent pipe dream becomes a reality.