The women of my dreams can only visit me at 3 o’clock in the morning. Well at least, that was the statement that ran through my mind during the fall of 2004. I barely made it to my 8 o’clock African world studies class because every night I was up in my room in Hartzell Hall waiting… waiting for her text message, which said “open the door”. Her knock on the door was so innocent and soft that none of my neighbors would ever have known that she entered. I did not have a roommate so I had pushed both of my twin beds together and put a full sheet on them, so that we could sleep for that short time comfortably.
In the daytime we passed each other like associates do with a slight hi and a quick good-bye. Soon the every night passion grew to be more than just something we both desired in the early morning. It became a desire that was now responsive in the middle of day, in between class; on the contrary sometimes we even missed class. So we decided mutually to try and be in a down low relationship in the spring of 2005. The relationship was strong, however the Dillard University community did not recognize the relationship.
Nevertheless, many individuals started to see us out in public and started to be aware that we were more than just friends. She was very concerned about her closest friends finding out. I tried to console her and tell her that they would accept her if they were her true friends, however she couldn’t get past the thought of losing her friends and the rejection. She also was still attracted to men and quite often displayed it by flirting with them in public. I was incredibly jealous and would get displeased, but couldn’t do anything because this relationship was a “top secret.”
Soon the relationship became stressful and I also had the stress of dealing with my mother’s alcoholism. This brought strain to our relationship and soon the secret started seeping out, starting with small spats and ending with mental and physical abuse. Though we argued and stressed each other out, we stayed together.
Nonetheless, during the summer of 2005 she called and broke up with me. The down fall of our relationship was very confusing. The day she broke up with me I remember so vaguely. I guess I tried to repress it. I knew that it was a chance it would not last because she was bisexual, well at least that is what she called her confusion. However, I couldn’t believe that after months she was calling to tell me that it wasn’t working out. She said “I tried it, but it’s not me.” Months went by and we talked every now and then, but things were never the same.
Even though I am openly gay, I was in a down low relationship. Sometimes I wonder what would have been the ending result if the stress of hiding was not added in. Though I despised women who could not come to grasp with their sexual preference, I end up falling in love with one. Though I clowned the battle that women who weren’t sure had with themselves, I was the one who molded and loved those women. It was easy for me to sit back and say I would never, until it was in my face, lips puckered, drawing in an infatuation that I had never felt.
Many may read this and say that it is a disgusting love story, however, it is a true story, that is displayed everyday, behind the doors of those who don’t feel comfortable enough to come out and show the world what really goes down. However, it is hidden deep and quite often passed over. Mainstream America spends so much time preaching about men on the down low that they forget about the women. Many individuals try to shut off the thought of these women, doing this by the cover-ups of them having boyfriends. Conversely, most women on the down low do have boyfriends, in fact some have husbands, however, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a woman behind that smile.
