My mother's hatred, disgust and repulse towards my sexuality were strong enough to make her kick me out of the house, but too weak to prevent her from poking her nose in my relationships.

I dated John during the final three months of '07. John was an aspiring singer who worked bathing dogs at a pet shop near his house. Come on, bear with him for a second, the guy had nice dreams.

If my calculations are correct, which they almost never are, John was the fourth man I had been intimate with. So we can all agree that my plan to not arrive at a relationship empty-handed was rather successful. However, sleeping with the same guy more than once was indeed still completely uncharted territory for me.

John was twenty-four and I was nineteen. Funny thing is, when I was twenty-four myself I contemplated the idea of dating a nineteen-year-old absurd. That was when I started thinking he was crazy. Still, I only dated older guys. Maybe that's why I like Lana Del Rey so much. Nah, I never went that old. Or have I?

We had the standard relationship. That means we would chat through messages during the week and meet during weekends. My relationship with him coincided with the beginning of my teaching career. I thought one of those was temporary. I just guessed the wrong one.

He was from out of town. Actually from out of state, almost from out of planet. He and one of his sisters had left home for the big city to try their luck. He saw himself as a pop diva and constantly acted like one. Especially when he bragged about living in a rather noble part of town. I played the part of the nice boyfriend, complimenting him on his achievements, but secretly I was always relieved and thankful for my home's only bathroom not being inside of my room and it not having an adaptation so the sink also served as a water outlet for the washing machine. Yes, my house was on a poorer part of the city, but at least it housed all of its inhabitants without overlapping them.

Talking to John was rather easy, for we both liked almost the same gay pop divas. So every time I saw he was getting close again to his diva behaviour, I would do something to massage the balls of his singer ego and that would buy me piece of mind for a little longer.

My mother used to say I was imposing my presence on him and that it wasn't healthy for any relationship. I didn't see how she would benefit from my relationships ever being healthy.

I was really innocent, and by innocent I mean stupid. Because of his living arrangements not being the best on Earth, he was still sharing that small flat with his ex. I believed him whenever he said he and the guy were really through and that nothing else happened between the two of them.

I briefly dated his ex during the carnaval of '09. I hope I ever have the chance to tell that story. It involves the ultimate loss of my dignity, the only time I was almost unfaithful to someone, another guy, and John.

Oh. John. Yes. Back to John.

I guess that above anything, what made me cherish my relationship with John was the fact that I did enjoy listening to the sound of his voice. When he spoke, of course. However I was too innocent to realise that my mother's voice was coming from a place of experience. Innocent. Innocent as in stupid.

Two days into '08 John broke up with me because he wanted to give another shot at his relationship with his ex. He broke up with me through a text message. I wish I could say that it was the only time I've been through this, but I can't. Especially because I have also been on the guilty side of this crime. I understood why they call it a break-up. If anything, I really felt broken. But I refused to feel guilty. I still do.

You see, for me relationships are about entering a person's universe and allowing them to enter yours at the same time. Don't get me wrong, I'm a strong advocate for individuality and alone time, but if you plan to go by your life all by yourself, what's the point of being with someone?

And that's exactly what Oliver was trying to do.

I woke up to a setting sun after having my first nice sleep in a long time. But reality was quick to sink in. I was positive beyond any reason that after some rest and clarification, Oliver would realise the size of the mistake he had made and I was even more positive that I would unlock my phone to find a text from him saying he was ahead of himself and that we should probably leave things as they were.

And there was a single notification on my phone. Funny how depression is so excellent at driving people away from you. Still. Single notification. A text from Oliver. I closed my eyes and sighed. I hated myself for allowing me to have hope again.

"Good morning, my love. Did you sleep alright?"

I could feel my cheeks burning in guilt and also thankfulness. Knowing someone thought of you and wanted to say kind words to you for no reason is always good. Let me tell you something, when you are cripply depressed and that happens to you, you finally understand what Florence Welch means by "happiness hit her like a bullet in the back".

I replied him with a good morning... Hey, I had just woken up, so that was good morning for me, okay? And it was the first time in a really long time that it was actually good, so I allowed myself that.

He was at work but found a way to reply to my texts. Inside of me the feeling that I had to protect him started to grow again. If he was truly honest I had to protect that. I had to prevent him from becoming me when he reached my age. Above all, I would never allow myself to or forgive myself from ever being the monster who did it. I shook that thought out of my mind and decided to go back to humouring him. I went to the easy target and started talking about his company party to get him hyped and happy. After a few texts about some silly details such as food and drinks he expected to be served, I told him to be excited for the night and that I hoped he had lots of fun so he had loads to tell me when we met the next day.

"You know what would make this party really special? You there with me."

"Ooown that's so sweet. But come on, I really want you to have a good time."

"But I could have a better time with you there."

"I know, sweetie. But that's not really possible, so don't think too much about it. Don't let this thought ruin it for you."

"Ralph, I'm inviting you to the party."

"Oh. I thought you were just saying nice things."

You know, I normally praise myself on my intelligence, but when my brain decides to compensate all the constant hard work with a moment of stupidity, I can make Jessica Simpson look brighter than Hawking.

But then I thought to myself, who in their right minds invites a sober depressed stranger to a party? Still, it had been a long time since I'd last been to a party of any sorts. I would have to shower again. Two showers in two days. Now that one was long gone. Dare I allow myself that brief normalcy? I was still pondering if I felt like getting out of bed at all that day, but a voice rang inside my brain.

If he had said he loved me in a text, he was surely bound to do it in person, right? I didn't have to wonder much when I got another text from him asking if I'd go to the party so I could make him happy.

Ah, if only life were that simple that you could make someone happy by attending a party...

True, not always, actually hardly ever, but wasn't it being so at that moment? Wasn't he saying that it indeed took so little to make him happy?

Again that urge to protect him.

"Ok. You win. How do I get there and when should I arrive?"

"Well, I don't really know myself where it is. Just come up to the store and after we close we can all go together, right?"

"Right. See you before ten, then."

"Yay! :D See you. Love you"

"See you. Love you."

I could really get used to all those love yous. Feeling lighter than what I'd felt in like forever, I got out of bed and headed to my wardrobe to look for a decent outfit and clean underwear. My laptop remaining untouched since I had convinced him to meet me at the beach.