Dedication (ijuh)

Dedication

Before I begin this story, I feel obligated to start with a few disclaimers. First, this story revolves around a gay romance that starts with two friends and ends with two devoted partners. If that doesn’t sound like your thing, don’t read it… or maybe you should. Make up your own mind. For the record, this story doesn't involve much sex. It's not your typical gay romance.

I consider myself to be asexual (though I prefer saying non-sexual and much prefer having no label at all) and have been my whole life. I never thought I'd be in a loving, wholehearted relationship with an incredibly sexual person. Not with a man; not with a woman. I thought I’d be with no one because I felt like I was a nothing. Not straight, not gay.

Nothing.

But now Mark and I... our love touches on everything you might expect two men to do together. (Okay, so nothing with poop. And I have a lot of rules... so that blanket statement about 'everything' is a huge exaggeration. But our love is our love, and it involves a lot of playfulness.) Our lovemaking wasn't always so easy, and at first the adjustment was a struggle. We were two very different people, but somehow we came together beautifully. That's what this memoir is about—not my coming out of the closet (which I never felt I was in), but about how Mark and I fit together.

Originally, I wanted to call this self-portrait Defective. One word. Big, bold letters. It felt appropriate. But I also want as many people to read this story as possible, which means selling it as a romance. I’ve written it as a romance… might as well call it something less abrasive.

It’s Just Us Here will take place over nine installments. The first three books will complete a friends-to-lovers story arc. The fourth and fifth books will feature our evolving sexual relationship and eventual separation. The sixth book will be about our reconnection and deep commitments to each other. And the last three books will take place a few years later when we adopted our son.

There will be, obviously, so much more to this project than just that structure.

I am an author by trade, though usually a ghostwriter (or under one of my many pen names). This is my first attempt at writing about my own experiences. I have hidden some of our identifying characteristics, or at least I hope I hid them—I changed our names. I didn't expect this to become any kind of success, so I didn't focus too much on hiding locations, job descriptions, and my friends' identifying quirks. Perhaps if you live on the north side of Chicago or went to the schools where we went... you might recognize our story.

If you do, my only request is that you leave us in peace. I never liked the spotlight and I don't want the attention—unlike my partner, who is obsessed with taking pictures of everything and getting ‘likes’. My request is also for the safety of my family, which I will protect like a rabid animal. If you make it to the end of this story, you will understand why I'm so fierce about my privacy.

Many years ago, I got in the habit of writing a daily journal—sometimes only a few sentences, sometimes it would span pages. I just wanted to keep track of what happened to me during the day. That journal grew to be of vital psychological importance when I suffered a mysterious illness which would eventually be diagnosed as an autoimmune disorder. I only had my journal to complain to, and I kept up my daily writing with compulsive observations... and have done so religiously ever since.

I’m drawing from those journals to get an accurate portrayal of my emotional headspace at the start of this love story. Now that everything has settled down, I look back to when I first met Mark and feel a rosy fondness, but those first few months were blistering and tumultuous as they unfolded. If I were to simply sit down and write everything purely from my memory, it would be a much happier story than what actually happened. I would color my descriptions with foreshadowing of our future successes and mitigate failures right from the beginning.

Because I know what Mark and I would become—I know how strong we are today… so I would also try to hide some of my... dramatic reactions to the stuff Mark and I did together. You don't have to comment on the amount of times I use the word 'blush' because I know I use it with high frequency. I blushed a lot back then. Mark liked catching me off guard (and still does!).

I know how well my partner and I work together, so in my mind and in my writing I constantly want to make our relationship sound easy and perfect. Like we were destined to be together, which after writing this, I’m beginning to think that actually might be the truth.

But that is not how real life happened; it was not easy. And even now, having written seemingly my entire life in these pages, I laugh at the first time Mark made an appearance in my journals. I'll copy the exact couple of sentences, from a Monday: “Met a really weird guy today. He must be having a tough time—really lonely. We're going to go running next monday. Hope he's not a serial killer. If I don't show up, Mom, this was what happened. I'll keep the circuit under a mile so if he does attack me, I'll hopefully be able to limp my way back to the car. I'm probably faster than him. He looks more like a gym guy than a runner. Fancy car, rich people problems.”

Oh Mark, I love you buddy. We've been through a lot. Thank you for coming back for me. Thank you for being there for me when I needed you the most. Thank you for strengthening me so I can face what’s ahead. Thanks for all the normal days. Thanks for helping me with this story and pushing me to get it out to the public. You're the best and blah blah blah.

Yours, as always,

Christopher Cheese Sullivan.