Life taught me early that existence was being in a state of constant heartbreak. The gay domesticity templates of Jodie Dallas, Ellen, and early representation demonstrated that life would never consist of a cozy bubble with another; only the longing for one. Jodie Dallas was perpetually single, and Ellen’s relationship was full of bickering. These examples of playing-house were a lacking perfect reflection of what I wanted, which was the bittersweet rom-com of How to Marry a Millionaire; 13 Going on 30, What’s Your Number, and Sex & the City.
In the past, I sunk under the weight of pursing others like a puppy only to not be selected. I frequently dream about my exes and crushes, wherein I omnisciently observed their typical day as they worked, then home to their husband. If it was an ex, I gave them kids or the home we had dreamt of together. A crush was bestowed the ideal life, where someone else filled the role that I had hoped to fill. In my fantasies I make other people happy in their relationships away from me. Dreaming or awake I have the believe that everyone is happy but me, who is overwhelmed with a feeling that I am incomplete.