By: Jon Reyes

(a gift from one of the six boys)

xxxxxx: 1991

My first boy best friend: Thank you for kick starting my affinity for soccer players.

xxxxxx: 1993

The first boy who was cool with my girliness: You were never mean when I didn’t want to play sports or sprint around a NYC block. I’ll never forget your perfect face, your perfect eyes, and your perfect haircut.

xxxxx: 1998

To the boy that made me realize I was hiding something: You were quiet and stoic - both at the same time. Kindness still oozes from your every pore, I’m sure.

xxxx: 2002

The boy who made me realize I could want more from boys: You were the first man I looked at in the eye without looking away. You were kind and compassionate - so compassionate. You have no idea how much you changed my life because you were all those things.

xxxx: 2005

The first boy I spent the night with: In knowing you, I got to know myself. The scent of your neck - I’ll never forget it.

xxxx: 2011

To the boy who’s given me the shortest story to write: Whatever I said to you in our short period manifested into something real. You are my lucky charm.

By: Anonymous

(the cd I would listen to with one of the boys)

xxxx: 1995

To the boy in kindergarten who first befriended me, kissed me, and then sat in time-out for pulling a fast one on the playground.

xxxxxx: 2000

To the boy from youth group who affirmed me and looked at me the way every girl deserves to be looked at by a boy.

xxxxxxx: 2001

To the boy who first stole my heart, then watched me fly off a ski lift, and then fell in love with me back.

xxx: 2005

To the boy who just sat with me and listened to music.

xxxxx: 2006

To the boy who made me laugh after having had my heart crushed. You were one of “the greats.” Thanks for holding my hand and asking me to dance in front of him. Thanks for helping me in pre-Calculus. Thank you for inspiring me to push myself. Even though you’re gone, I’ll still go to your park and remember.

xxxx: 2006

To the boy I never wanted to talk too. Thank you for almost hitting me with a Frisbee, striking up a conversation, telling me to pick up a pen, being a study partner and then a friend. Thank you for teaching me that feelings can develop for the most unexpected people. To the boy I might still be in love with…

By: Anonymous

(the keychain I never got to give one of the boys)

XXXXX: 1993

The boy I loved to tease. It was second grade and you made my days enjoyable. The boy I slapped and didn’t retaliate, ha!

XXXXX: 1995

The boy I liked because he was funny. I remember the way you would entertain the class each time you answered a question. I was smitten.

XXXXX: 1997

The boy I knew as a child, and reconnected with in junior high. The boy I would write poems about and never share them because we were “friends”. The boy I’ve always wanted to be more than friends with.

XXXXXX: 2001

The first boy I called my boyfriend. The boy I had to travel across boros to see, if even for a few moments. The boy responsible for my grades going down…hey, it happens.

XXXXXX: 2004

The boy I met fresh into college who seemed to be my soulmate. The boy that I almost never got over, but has a special place in my heart.

XXXXXXX: 2008

The boy who I didn’t expect to share a bit of my life with, at a transitional time. The boy who was unlike what I was used to, but accepted me, flaws and all. The boy who always comes back.

By: Anonymous

(me and one of these boys)

xxxxx: 1989

The boy who, in 3rd grade, gave me a bracelet for Valentine’s day and told me he’d gotten it as payment for working at Macy’s. And since I was his best girl friend, I was clearly the one that should get it.

xxxx: 1997

The boy who was too old to be my boyfriend, but did it anyway because I was an old soul.

xxxxxx: 1999

The boy who was, at first, my crush, then my arch-nemesis, then, after a few years of growth, one of my very best friends. The same boy who gave me his heart before I was ready to handle that kind of power.

xxxxxxx: 2003

The boy who I gave my heart to without thought or conviction. The boy I perused jewelry stores with and who had me try on ring after ring. The boy who, inadvertently, taught me I would be able to withstand the pain of heartbreak.

xxxxx: 2007

The boy whom, on the first night I met him, made me say to myself, “If I fall in love with this boy, I’ll know it started tonight. ” And it started that night.

He helped me figure out who I was and what I wanted from life…but in doing so, helped me learn we weren’t meant to be.

And on the final night, when he handed me the keys to my apartment, it wasn’t the act that made me cry, it was the tears in his eyes.

xxx: 2011

The boy who came into my life right when I stopped believing in love. The boy who I denied serious feelings for because I was so scared to feel anything more than a minimum spark. The boy I quite literally would have given a part of my life to save…had he only loved me back.

The above photo is from this little blog post by one of my favorite scribes. Mr. Craig Seymour also happens to be the author of one my all-time favorite memoirs All I Can Bare. He is the inspiration behind the following series: “Ode to the Six Boys I’ve Loved.”

After sharing his succinct piece with my friends, they all expressed how touched they were. Little did I know that my encouraging them to write their own (with the promise I would keep them anonymous) would inspire me to write my own ode to the six boys I’ve loved. In the spirit of solidarity, mine will be the only one with a by line.

Following this post, you’ll be able to read Ode #1. The next will be posted tomorrow, and the final will be posted this Friday. 5 in total.

There’s a consistent thread throughout my friends “Ode to the Six Boys I’ve Loved.” Considering the different backgrounds and personalities of my friends, the connections they had with these other human beings seem to serve as bookmarks for the time they’ve been alive.

Though, there are romantic moments sprinkled in my friend’s (and my own) later years, in our earlier years it seems we weren’t very concerned with the concept of reciprocation. We “liked” and loved because that’s simply what we were feeling. It could be that our innocence allowed us to indiscriminately feel. Or it could be that we had no clue of what it was that we were feeling - you know, that cliché argument that love is too complicated and that it’s strictly an agent of pain.

In the end, we all pick our story.

Over the years, I’ve held a great level of contempt for the history of my connections not working out the way I thought they should have. Up until the moment I put these memories to paper, there was a copious amount of shame for this list. Suffice to say I was embarrassed to share it. In fact, whatever shame I held during my adolescence for being gay was directly related to this list of men I had fallen for. It’s the price I unknowingly paid for being gay in a straight world.

It seems that no matter where we stand on the Kinsey scale, our personal stories of unrequited love are somewhat responsible for how we connect with the world on a broader level. One thing I do know for sure is this: the only personal stamp we can put on these universal experiences is whether we allow them to teach us to love better OR treat them as some sort of battle scars.

We’ve ALL been there.

These tender memories intertwined with heartbreak made it that much clearer why I’ve grown to love my friends as much as I do. They’ve used these memories as positive catalysts, while not allowing those memories to use them.

To my friends: Thanks for writing your odes with gratitude and pride. You’d be different if you didn’t have them to write…thank God, you are not.

“For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation.” - Excerpt from Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke

Ode #1, coming in…3, 2, 1.

By: Anonymous

(the terrace I met one of the boys)

xxxxx: 1994

To the boy in kindergarten: I will never forget how in the 3rd grade you finally admitted that you liked me, and then asked my best friend out. Too bad you still have the same haircut.

xxxx: 1997

The precious 4th grader who taught me to be direct, after you found out that I was listening in during a three-way call. Now I know it was totally not the way to find out if you liked me.

xxxxx: 2003

My first real boyfriend. Profoundly wish every girl in the world could be loved like this. You have the kindest heart. I least expected it from you.

xxxxxx: 2006

I still can’t decipher you. And that is why you are referred to as “He Who Must Not Be Named”

xxx: 2010

To the man I met on a beautiful tropical terrace: You were so beautiful and so was the brief moment I contemplated following you to the Middle East. One day I hope to see you and thank you for the great memories.

xxxxx: 2011

To the foreigner I have the pleasure of loving now. I am so in love with your accent.

What to love? Bey’s neck-back-dip.

Our favorite City Correspondent. How can you not love him?

We loved this Op-Ed in the New York Times. Frank Bruni writes a few choice phrases on here that, while changing our perception on other sexual proclivities, make sexuality much more complex than we had already been taught.