Brighton and I met just over two years ago in mid-January. I had gone to a gay dating event at the Gay & Lesbian Community Center in New York, and although I came out of that event "empty-handed", my way of thinking had done a necessary evolution. You see... I had been alone and single all this time, because I had wanted to be. Of course, I had my share of boyfriends... but they were fleeting, and never lasted.

It was a full moon that night, and I decided to walk uptown for awhile. It was such a beautiful night. The moon was so crisp in the sky... large, full... and surrounded by twinkling stars. I kept staring up at it and praying... I had been alone for so long... and I was so tired... so hurt... in my heart, I was honestly ready for The One. Ironically, I would find out later, that he had been looking up at the same full moon that night, wishing for more or less the same thing.

Brighton and I actually had chatted in a Gay.com chat room about a week or so earlier, and decided to meet for lunch sometime in New York. Before we actually met, Brighton had read through my entire website... every journal entry... every blog note I had ever written... and in turn, sent me perhaps the most beautiful, the most honest, and most powerful letter anyone has ever sent me or ever will.

 My best friend, Mabelyn, always joked that my standards were a tad bit... "specific". LOL. You see... I have always... ALWAYS... known what The One for me would look like... HAD to look like! LOL He would be Native American, with soft brown eyes, light skin, long brown hair, and a beautiful sharp nose (Oh... and he would have to be an Accountant too ~ yup! LOL) As I was waiting on the corner, and looked across the street, to see Brighton for the first time... all I could think about was that night walking home under the moon. Here... crossing the street... heading in my direction... was my light skinned Native American, with long sweeping brown hair, a sexy sharp nose, and the softest brown eyes I have ever seen. He stole a kiss in Times Square, and with that erased the memory of anyone who had come before him. I can close my eyes and still remember that day... our first lunch together, sitting across from each other, and how he reached over just to grab my hand. I couldn't help but get lost in his eyes ~ eyes that kept telling me, "I will love you till I die."

We held hands for the rest of the date, and kissed each other on every corner. We spent the whole day together almost until midnight, and every weekend ever since.

On Saturday afternoon (1/26/08), Brighton and I went back to Beatriz's and signed the lease to rent her house for a year. At the end of that year, we plan on buying that house. As of March 1st, I will finally be living with him, and his dog (our dog) Beamer. We also plan on getting married (technically "civil-unionized" in NJ) shortly after that. Housewarming and Handfasting ceremonies to follow at some point, no-doubt.

I haven't informed my parents yet, and do not intend to until after the move is complete. My oldest niece's "Quinceañera" is in the middle of February, and I don't want there to be any unnecessary drama on their part. (FYI: The closest equivalents to a "Quinceañera" in the English-speaking world are the "Sweet Sixteen" or, in more affluent communities, the "Debutante Ball" for those who turn eighteen.) I won't have them ruin her day.

My parents are very "old-school", and this will no doubt cause quite the emotional explosion. The foreknowledge of that is causing me a great deal of grief... and a consuming level of guilt. Sometimes, I can't seem to hear my own voice in my head, over everyone else's. I have the right to be happy, but why do I feel that my happiness comes at the expense of theirs? Looking back, I have put so much of my personal happiness aside for others (especially them), and on one level, I feel as though I am being made to look selfish for wanting some happiness for myself. Is that my mother's legacy? For my sister and I to feel overwhelming guilt everytime we make decisions that would better our lives? or bring some joy to it? Do we have to be miserable... because she is?

My father is Cuban, and was born in 1936. My mother was born in Cuba in 1938, but is of Spainard and Gypsy descent. They were married in 1960. He came to America alone shortly after. My mother and newborn sister dutifully followed shortly after in 1961. I have always believed that she never forgave herself for leaving her family behind in Cuba, always blamed my father for that choice, and in turn, directed the lashes of her misery at my sister and me.

There are moments, that I look at her, and see the young girl who left everything she ever knew and loved behind... and I feel such pity. Then there are moments, when all I see is the dark, bitter woman she has evolved into... and I can't stand to be near her. It's draining. It's sad... but the truth is I can't control their reactions anymore than they can control my life... and that's just the bottom line of it. They either will get over it or they will not. I am responsible for my own happiness, I don't want to share her fate.

Some Interesting And Ironic Facts About My Mother:
• My mother's name is Arseñia... a form of the word "arsenic". My mother's name means "poison".
• She shares her birthdate with Nostradamus, the man who has predicted almost every great castastrophe known to man.
• She voted for Bush. Both of them.