Long Distance…

I just finished writing an email to my ‘man to be’ from Brazil. I don’t think that I’ve ever mentioned him so far and I think I should.

Ok, let’s start from the beginning.
A couple of years ago, during the summer of 2008, almost two years ago, I was online doing what I loved doing, browsing through handsome men’s profiles in ‘manhunt’. At some point I received a message from a handsome, dark haired, witty smiled, 25 year old Brazilian. I remember that he looked quite normal and he didn’t have any hidden or sleazy naked pictures in his profile (that’s a major plus if you’re not looking for a sex date or a freak). At least, it’s a plus for me. So we started chatting.


We started talking around July and he told me that earlier that year he had visited London and loved it. He was planning to start a postgraduate degree that September in London. He wanted to do something in business analysis. So, he was using ‘Manhunt’ to find friends to show him around and also help him improve his English. I didn’t really mind (I had lots of free time then) and we started exchanging emails.

Unfortunately, during that August he was diagnosed with cancer. He never really told me exactly what type and I didn’t insist much to find out. His English aren’t that great either. So, beginning September he started chemio. During that time, he spent a lot of time in the hospital. Luckily, he had his laptop and we were still talking. We exchanged a LOT of emails then.I found out a lot about his life. About how he came out to his parents, his childhood, his best friend living in Spain that went to visit him, his former longest relationship, the gay life of Brazil, his small town where he lived, the poverty and troubles of that country. It was all quite interesting since I’ve never visited the place and he just needed someone to keep him company and chat in no-visiting hours. He also tried to explain to me how his faith was helping him accept his fate and deal with the troubles he was having.


I tried to help him and support him as much as I could. I couldn’t of course grasp what he was going through but I just tried to be there and just listen. I’m not going to argue though that I did the same as well. I used him as a ‘Dear Diary’ moment. I kept sending him emails about my troubles and everyday life. About the guys I was dating and what I’d like to do with my life, about my fears and worries.

Fortunately, his health improved during that winter of 2008 and 2009. He had a transplant (that he keeps calling transplantion), which I still don’t know what exactly he had transplanted, and after the second chemotherapy he is out of the hospitals. His hair started growing again and as he proudly told me, he now has hair everywhere. He even managed to gain some weight and is very proud of his small beer belly. He’s back to work and started dating again. That means that we don’t talk as much as we used to, but that’s fine by me. As long as he’s healthy, I don’t care… He’s annual checkup is coming up later this month (I think)…

I really do like his sense of humor, admire his courage and respect his beliefs. It’s funny because he’s jealous of every guy I’m dating (not seriously) and insists that he will come some day to London to marry me. Let’s see…