Now Reading
Chipotle confessional

Chipotle confessional

In an odd experiment, Luke and I decided to continue dating each other in spite of our stark differences. Most other guys would have run away after seeing their new romantic interest crumble under the experience of an HIV diagnosis. He not only stuck around but helped me put the pieces back together.

One of our common interests was Chipotle. I loved the healthy options; Luke loved the simplicity of getting a burrito the size of his head. The restaurant became our new spot for easy romantic courtship.

One evening the conversation got critical; as we laughed together and stuffed our faces as usual, Luke decided to make himself a little more vulnerable. He confessed, “I really do like you, Scott. And I really feel like I can trust you.” He stroked my hand gently.

This was the point where I should say the same thing back, but I couldn’t do it. A knot began to twist in my stomach. I began my own confession, “But you can’t trust me.”

Luke was thrown off. People don’t generally respond to a heartfelt compliment with brutal honesty. But this man had been so good to me that I couldn’t give the perfect answer to look like my most perfect self.

The conversation got serious over beans and rice. The instant Luke gave me trust, I felt guilty for taking it. I desperately wanted it, but knew my past hadn’t always been so trustworthy.

Perhaps it began when I was in Boy Scouts. One of their core beliefs is trust. I wanted to make my parents proud so I begged them to go on Scout camping trips, but I’d fail the minute my uniform got dirty and demand that they take me home.

Maybe I got the knack for violating trust in my teens. Each time I missed my midnight curfew, I opted for some far–out story like getting stuck at a railroad crossing with a really, really, really long train. I started realizing the ease of telling people what they wanted to hear.

In my first relationships, I wanted romance so badly that I truly thought I could be trusted for it. But after a point I’d fumble over monogamy, as sex and love got confusing.

Luke snapped his fingers in front of my glazed eyes, interrupting my very untrustable life flashing before me. “What do you mean I can’t trust you?” he asked.

I began to stuff my mouth to buy some time to figure out if I really wanted to do this. I really liked him. So I could either tell him the truth that he deserved or, like in my past, tell him the perfect answers.

This conversation couldn’t carry on in a restaurant, so we went for a walk in a nearby park. I began confessing it all, spilling the beans about my emotional foibles in an effort to discredit myself. Luke gave me a generous hug, perhaps to stop me from saying anything more. I figured this was the moment he would break up with me – Chipotle would forever be the restaurant that I infamously stuck my foot in my mouth.

“I am not perfect either,” Luke said instead, then laughed. “Besides, now I think I really could trust you.” For the first time in my life I felt the power of telling an undesirable truth rather than what someone wanted to hear.

What's Your Reaction?
Excited
0
Happy
0
In Love
0
Not Sure
0
Silly
0
Scroll To Top