Saturday, February 02, 2013


I wrote that last post a long time ago. And never published it. Because I was embarrassed by it. Embarrassed at how idiotic it would sound to others. Embarrassed because I did an awful job of articulating exactly how I felt. It does not capture anything close to the intensity and confusion my (not so) brief obsession left me with.

But I've been re-watching the Kevin and Scotty series of videos on YouTube. So I remember again.

I can't get over the scene where, after punching the waiter Scotty cheated with, Kevin and Scotty talk in the office. I can't get over how Kevin screams, seemingly at Scotty, but really just in pain. His expressions make my heart twist. TV has always been an escape, and something about the drama in that situation grabs a hold of me in a way I can't explain, in a way that makes me feel part of it. (I don't doubt that my personal dalliances with unfaithfulness play some part. I think I see a little of myself in Kevin's reactions.)

A very good friend of mine told me a long time ago that I couldn't live without drama in my life, and I suppose, in particular, in my love life. I wonder if he was right, and that was part of the reason I lost the only person I've ever really been in love with.

It was strange, looking back, holding hands with the boy I kissed in New York. After kissing him and making out a little on the stoop of some building, we were, by mutual agreement, headed for some privacy to our friend's place in a cab. And in the cab, it was strange, holding hands for those few moments. Holding hands without fear or anxiety. Feeling excited but comfortable. Being okay wanting something, and being okay feeling like I had it in that instant. Feeling that he liked me, too. It was strange. It was strange that it was nice. It was strange because I didn't expect to ever feel that again.

It's not strange that it amounted to nothing and left me, charitably speaking, disappointed, and honestly speaking, more than a little hurt.

I think I lose myself so easily in the world of Kevin because it's a world where such a perfectly imperfect man can exist and where he can love and forgive and be honest.

It is strange to me knowing that I'd still want the New York boy if I let myself. (And if you know me at all, you know that "letting myself" is not a concept I like.) It is not strange to me that I want a fictional gay man.

After all, if reality is any indicator, Kevin probably wouldn't want to "even be my friend" either.


(Written more than a year ago, on November 16, 2011.)

I am in love with a gay man.

Well, a gay character. On a TV show. Kevin Walker on Brothers and Sisters.

I don't know how to go about it. I had this thought - I am in love with a gay man - about 36 hours ago when I was watching the 3rd of 4th season of the show. And now I've finished watching the show, all 5 seasons. I think I've lost the initial gush of feelings that came with the initial realization.

In the past, all male characters that I've loved on TV have been less because of how cute they are, and more because of how they look at the women they're in love with. It's Ross with Rachel in Friends; it's Derek with Meredith in Grey's Anatomy; it's Ryan with Marissa in The O.C.; it's Luke with Lorelai in Gilmore Girls; and others I won't list now.

I think maybe it's partly the same thing with Kevin, but it's more than that. I don't know if I can picture myself with someone like him, but his consummate personality rouses something deep-set and fundamental in me. His intelligence, his politics, his short temper, his emotional vulnerability and his emotional reactions. I suppose after these things sunk in, his handsomeness did, too. Finally, in the 5th season, there were a couple of episodes in which he had almost a full-grown beard. That was just the nail in the coffin in a deeply dug grave.

He is intelligent and understanding, but is not immune to his most innate emotional responses. He can be a bitch, but not because he is a bitch. He can be a bitch because that's how his insecurity manifests itself. He can be a bitch because that's how his defense mechanisms work. He is a whole heartedly good and honest person who is not perfect.

I suppose I fell in love with him by season 2. Although his story lines in season 5 seemed manufactured to me, I believe I fell more and more in love with him through season 2-4. I also suppose that during these 3 seasons, it was easier to fall in love with him because he was gay. It is so much easier to attach yourself to that which you cannot have. It is the ultimate acceptance of a failure that is not your fault.

When I finished with the show, I started looking for interviews of Matthew Rhys, the actor that played the character of Kevin Walker. He is not only straight, but Welsh. By that point, just seeing his face was enough to make my heart skip 3 beats, although I'm sure the wine and cigarettes were helping the unsteady ticker. But add to his face and genuineness his relentlessly sexy accent, and I think I might've died a few times.

I started off being in love with a gay character, and am now stuck between a character that no longer lives on television and a man that does live in television and movies. What is better? The fiction I can't have because it doesn't fit the paradigm or the reality I can't have because it's simply not realistic?


(Written two nights ago, January 30, 2013, around 5:00 am.)

Snowflakes will be the death of me.
And it's all because of you.