For the past week and a half, I have not held a crush on any man, which has felt both liberating and odd. Though I enjoy the extra man-less brain space and feel so happy and content without a man in general, a part of me still craves to have a crush on some man. In rare moments I find myself fantasizing about an unnamed, unfaced man of color who cares about others, has his life together, and reads books. Though I can very well imagine a life in which I remain “single” forever and thrive like the radiant gay redhead Vietnamese icon I am, my occasional fantasizing and the many posts about men on this blog force me to confront that I on some level still desire romance.
Most of the time I feel frustrated that I want a man at all because wanting a man feels pointless. The other day though, while reflecting on this desire, I felt such gratitude toward my two closest friends because they fulfill for me what any man could and would. Continue reading