I get to meet a lot of interesting people while working in a dental office. I admire their personal histories as I listen to them recount tid-bits of their lives while seated in the patient chair. Oftentimes story-time becomes too entertaining and spans more than the allotted appointment hour, so our staff encourages some patients to write autobiographies for us to later read. Surprisingly, a handful have followed through with our request. Although my life is rather dull in comparison, this encouraged me to begin compiling my own memoirs. I plan to organize them into chapters of people: those who entered my life and have made a substantial impact. I’ll begin with our first encounter and continue to document memorable events leading up to the present. This will obviously be a work in progress for years to come, but I have already begun and hope to keep it up. The following rough excerpt comes from a chapter containing my history with one of the most important people in my life, Keety. Starting from the beginning, as it began over 2 years ago:
It was with a mutual friend that your name first crept into conversation. She often described you as my male counterpart—the title alone was enough to spark my curiosity. Months passed before I’d finally come face-to-face with my elusive clone, as an honorary guest at J.Crew Fondue. It rained on the day of the gathering and I had already made my mind to stay in, but at the last minute convinced myself that a two minute trek around the corner to your apartment might be worth it.
The first thing you said to me was, “Hi. Keith—nice to meet you. I’m impressed,” in your naturally deep radio voice. You took the words right out of my mouth. After our first encounter, we quickly learned that we indeed share common interests, particularly in photography, which served as the catalyst for most of our conversations. We played a seemingly endless game of blog tag, commenting each other’s photos before finally arranging to meet up for the first of what would become many photo shoots. These sessions transcended into more than just an exchange of ideas on lighting and editing techniques. In fact, I learned more about photography simply because you inspired me to take more photos.
I was thankful to finally have a friend at UCLA with whom I shared so much in common. When cameras weren’t our topic of discussion, we found ourselves engrossed in effortless conversations about clothing, music, and pretty much all else. On our never-ending list of similarities, we were also fortunate to find that we shared the same partying habits. And so came the days when we would run into each other at Brewco, where I elbowed my way through crowds of drunken college students to receive a long anticipated hug. Although we usually arrived at with our respective circle of friends, seeing you there always made my Thursday nights. Good times with great company—these would become my favorite memories from senior year.
Though I tried to maintain an unassuming friendship on my end, I found myself secretly hoping to run into you on the way to class or anxiously awaiting our next photo shoot, and when these weren’t enough I even made conscious efforts to see you at the bars. The troubling part about these expectations was that I was already in a committed relationship, and during our talks you would update me on the status of your current love affairs. Because we were already romantically involved with other people, I had very little reason to believe that what we had could surpass a platonic friendship. Yet, I still enjoyed entertaining the thought of what it would be like to be with you, in confidential and lighthearted talks with my closest friends. But this was no more than just a fantasy. After all, we were good pals, KT and EsEs, and nothing more.
As I headed towards the intersection of our shared route towards Strathmore and Gayley, I felt an unexpected tug on my backpack. Before turning around, I hoped it would be you standing behind me. In that instant when my eyes met the sight of your face, my heart immediately began to stir. Curiously, I tried to decipher the meaning behind your seemingly harmless gestures—playful flicking of my hair, my name repeatedly appearing on your blog, an added line of “xoxo” on your Facebook wall post—trying hard convince myself that what I felt was mutual. And before coming to terms with these forbidden feelings, gossip arrived with the potential to confirm all my suspicions. And as if I had broken some kind of law, I assumed the role of a fugitive and did the first thing that most people think to do when they’re scared—I hid. I later learned that this would become the turning point of our friendship. It was a difficult decision for me to stop seeing you, but distance was my only solution.
I succeeded avoiding you for an entire quarter and meanwhile became occupied enough with school to use it as an excuse not to see you. Surely, I began to miss your company and attempted to communicate my yearnings in the only way I knew I could; through subtle, yet pathetic blog posts. I hoped that we could eventually meet up so I could explain myself, but I wasn’t quite ready to face the truth. Then the inevitable happened, and we ended up running into each other at Brewco. I was happy to finally see you again, but I met you with cautious approach. And as I expected, I was shown the resentment and bitterness that I deserved. Upon arranging for a more sober reunion, one that would take place during our shared four-hour break between spring quarter classes, my words escaped me, “I have something to ask.”
To this day, I can vividly recount the conversation that took place that afternoon; my lingering around the question, your long pauses, our half eaten Chipotle. In what seemed like the most agonizing few minutes of my life, you hesitantly admitted to having feelings for me. I sat there in silence, too stunned and even more coward to reciprocate. It was the answer that I secretly wanted, but never expected to hear. The look in your eyes at that moment would haunt me for weeks to come. Yet, I recall the most memorable, heartbreaking part of it all was that in response to your complete honesty, I lied to your face. I told you that I didn’t feel the same way because I was already in a happy, committed relationship. And as I shamefully replayed our talk that night to a close friend, I could not stop myself from sobbing uncontrollably.
Confused and afraid, I suppressed my feelings. By default, this was always my way of protecting myself. I was afraid of hurting someone who cared about me, of potentially making the wrong decision, of committing the same heartbreaking betrayal that I had witnessed during my first year in college. Most importantly, I did not want to inflict any of the same transgressions you fell victim to in the past. So we carried on with our lives and resumed our friendship as normally as we possibly could. I still always looked forward to seeing you, especially during our occasional four-hour lunch breaks. But as if nothing happened, we slowly returned to what we were before: good pals, KT and EsEs, and nothing more… [In progress...] -Chapter: Keith Tio
