To all the boys I ever love

It wasn’t ever even real. Maybe I chased after the idea of love my whole life, searching for something deep. Yet all they could do was try to hit it deep. Often I became a home wrecker, and rarely did I keep a boyfriend around. My mother would scare them off, or maybe I was too obsessive. At the start, young love was easy. Boyfriends were easy to have, but nothing was ever real.

I never really made a friend, found a connection that meant something. I suppose you were the first. We were both freshly adults and probably just meant to be good friends, but the moment we met, we couldn’t take our lips off each other. It’s ironic for how all over each other we were when really we had no sexual chemistry at all. We’d both come out later as trans individuals, so maybe that’s why we were so drawn to each other.

I was free and existing in an eccentric way, unhindered by society. You admired that in me. You were queer, to me it was obvious, but you had a normal life and supportive parents. You didn’t understand the life of being queer. I’d spent my years being bullied and ridiculed. I was a seasoned freak.

After you, I mostly ran around chasing after acceptance from a man but only being used. The next time I’d try to fake love was for the convenience of a life together with someone I used to consider a friend. But he was ignorant to my needs, and I was playing a game I’d never win.

There was one other in between that was actually quite sweet, we had great chemistry and I’d give you the best road head you’d ever receive and fuck around in the law school study town which was kinda hot. But I wasn’t ready to be committed at that point in my life I wanted to be free. Thought love didn’t exist.

I’ve always fantasized about what love would feel like, what wanting someone forever would be like. I thought so myself. I didn’t deserve it and allowed myself to be chased after by a man who just wanted my body because that felt like admiration. I guess my insecurities won every game because I’d only ever get on my knees and provide a service that made me feel useful.

Something along the way changed, and maybe it’s meeting someone who isn’t obsessed with my body how every other guy was, a guy that doesn’t just treat me like a whore. The guy that doesn’t say his favorite part of me is my ass or my skills with my mouth. The guy that told me my eyes were what he first saw in me. The guy who said he loves me for my personality. It’s insulting to the whore in me, partly because I’ve conditioned myself to believe that’s mostly my worth.

I’ve believed since the first man touched me and my father blamed it on my outfit that that was my worth. Like I was just meant to be used and each man would somehow fill the empty void inside me, but that never worked. It’s silly when you fight for your friends to want more and get away from their shitty boyfriends yet look how I’ve allowed myself to be treated.

So I haven’t loved many boys; I’ve really only loved one, and he’s the one that changed it all. Flaws and all, broken childhood, and a fucked-up past like us all. It only takes one to change it all.