Vertigo's Affection (Written by me)

Sometimes I can’t believe that he loves me. Damn…I bet I sound like one of those insecure guys who could name every Anime character ever created. Well, I’m close but not quite that dorky. I’m just your average guy. Average in the sense that I like normal things, nothing extremely weird. Well maybe except my underwear fetish but that’s not weird…is it?

But seriously, I find it really hard to believe that this particular guy actually holds a torch for me. Not that I’m not worthy or anything. I’m also not delusional. I know I am not the model type. I don’t work out. I’m one of those guys who hardly ever gets noticed by his looks, whether it’s positive or negative. And usually when I am noticed it’s usually because of something I did that was ‘cute’ not necessarily because I was born with high cheekbones or a dazzling smile.

Every time I see Vertigo I feel like I’m walking right into a dream. The smile…it’s always for me. The stars that rise and fall in his eyes are due to me. Sometimes it’s just so overwhelming. With him…it’s like everything I do is spectacular or amazing in one way or another. Even the underwear fetish thing (which I am not prone to divulging).

Vertigo is Puerto Rican, Italian, and Haitian. God paid extra attention when he made this one. He came out the womb looking like a superstar. I’m serious. He should have been a Gerber baby. Tyson Beckford and all those other men who might have made the Top 10 Sexiest Men list have virtually nothing on Vertigo besides fame. His hair was kept short, it was curly and as black as Earth before light and dark were separated. Caramel eyes, a dimple on his left cheek to create some semblance of imperfection. He also hated that his ears were kind of pointed. They made me think he wasn’t human sometimes. Like he was some Elvin prince or something. See? I’m not weird.

He was slender, average height. He worked out but not to get buff. He did just enough to stay fit so he could wear his fitted clothes that flattered every aspect of his body. His facial hair was concentrated on his chin, not yet a full beard but foreshadowing what would come ten years from now when he would be thirty. Vertigo was a man and the beautiful part about him (aside from his looks) is the fact that he is not afraid to allow his feminine side to show. It’s funny that his name is Vertigo because that’s the effect he has on me. He knocks me off balance. Gives me the sense that I’m falling every time he gives me that billion dollar smile and lightly grabs me by my chin to pull me close for a kiss.

Even when I’m told that it’s real I still believe it’s a dream. My friends are as in love with him as I am. Charming is not the word for my guy. I have never met someone with so much charisma. I could just go on and on but then you wouldn’t realize why I find it so hard to believe that he actually loves me. Everything that I have stated previously are reasons that anyone would wonder when being the object of the affection of such a catch as Vertigo.

But the reason I wonder, the reason I question it is because I’m not real. I’m a figment of his imagination and yet he loves me. I’m the guy he dreams about because he’s surrounded by all these men who are nothing more than superficial shells of luxury and store bought beauty. They are not men of substance. Those men are trophies and my man doesn’t want a trophy. He wants a lover.

Vertigo Rodriguez is my Elvin prince but I’m the suitor that he can never find. The peasant that wants to enter into his kingdom but his life prevents that from happening. We exist in two different worlds and sometimes it’s really hard to decide which world is the imaginary one. I’m in love with him and he’s in love with me, yet we can never be because we are worlds apart.