te quiero
This is a story about a connection strong enough to make 2,000 miles feel like 2 inches, this is a story about how, as long as we queers have an internet, we will always have a Tumblr.
Luke's lover Jonas, is in town for a couple of weeks, so I finish up work an hour early to get started on my commute down to their apartment in Hyde Park. I knew early on that I wanted to talk to them about their story because I love love and my romantic sixth senses were tingling.
I first heard about Jonas when a bunch of us were spending one of the last days of summer lounging around Promontory Point - doing what we usually do during summer at the Point - laying on the grass, talking about nothing and everything, grilling fish and vegetables and then marshmallows for smores over Martin's portable yakitori grill (which I love to call the Yak).
Luke mentioned a friend from Mexico was coming to visit and he was nervous because it was the first time he would be hosting someone like this. At the time, he told me "someone like this" was an international traveler and a guest who was not his family member. He was worried that he would mess it up somehow, that it was a lot of pressure. I see now that the pressure was probably more about him being in love with the guest rather than where the guest was from.
Luke & Jonas met on an app – not a dating app as they both reminded me. It's a site called Collective, the 2020's answer to Tumblr's golden era. This time, run by a gay guy who leans into the queer culture that thrived on Tumblr rather than making rules and policies that restrict them. On Collective, when you follow someone it allows you to "match" with someone, prompting you with a set of questions that you can tick off:
[] Get to know (Connect with No Expectations)
[] Friends (Meet as Friends)
[] Date (Meet Romantically)
If the other person follows you back and ticks off any of the same intentions, the app informs you both and you can proceed accordingly. So, in some ways it's a social media site for queers and in some ways, it's a dating app with a social network attached to it. I neglected to ask whether or not Luke and Jonas used the Match feature, but I think the vibes were clear between them rather quickly anyway.
Luke discovered Jonas on the #ceramics page, he himself being a hobbyist ceramicist. One of the gifs on the page featured Jonas working clay on the wheel, shaping it up and slapping it down (which, is obviously, a sexy gif).
If the first thing Luke noticed about Jonas was their art (and I'm guessing, how cute he was) then the first thing Jonas noticed about Luke was his thoughtfulness. Of all the conversations that people had struck up with Jonas on Collective, in the couple of months he'd been on there, no one asked him what language he preferred to speak in. Only Luke asked "O prefieres Español?" I'm guessing, Jonas also was intrigued by Luke because he thought he was cute, too.
My commute from the north side down to their apartment involves two trains and a couple of 15 minute walks in increasingly frigid weather. I stop halfway down because my meds give me the urgent need to pee. Because we live in America during the month of January 2025, I can't tell if more people than usual are staring at me with a sort of murder-y energy in their eyes or if I'm just being paranoid while I rush to the restroom.
By the time I get off the Metra Electric down in Hyde Park, freezing rain is pouring down and I don't have an umbrella, plus I'm breaking in a new pair of Doc Martens and despite spending the last 15 years almost exclusively wearing Docs, this pair of shoes is betraying me and shaving off the skin on my ankles. When I arrive to Luke's apartment, I am cold, wet, bloodied, and a little weighed down by the chaos of the news, but I feel absolutely giddy.
Standing in the kitchen with Luke and Jonas as they finish cooking a giant pot of gurgling tortilla soup, I am warm inside and out. I'm basking in their love for each other - I mean, it literally feels like radiant light is shining off of them. It's the kind of chemistry and affection that eradicates any anxiety, personal bitterness, and existential dread from the crevices of my body. It's like, if they have this connection and love for each other, than anything is possible. Goodness and sweetness can still thrive in this world.
After dinner, we're sitting in Luke's living room while I continue to play interviewer, watching Luke's ginormous cat, Paul Atreides, slowly amble around before cuddling in Jonas's lap. They tell me that their connection was strong and mutually felt, even if it was only over an app, 2,000 miles away from each other, early on. That first message turned into curiosity, the kind of mutual interest that draws two people closer into each other. A crush.
As their conversations continued, Jonas never said "good night" or "good bye", afraid of ending the exchange, perhaps embarrassed by the obvious interest shown by a "good morning" or "hello again" text. Instead, they would say "Sorry I fell asleep," or "I was busy with work," if he hadn't replied in a while, creating the illusion of of one, weeks-long conversation.
Their "language barrier" feels more like a portal than a barrier. Jonas tells me he is not confident in his English, which to me sounds rather posh. Luke, who is actively working on his Spanish to become more conversational, has already picked up Jonas's verbal patterns, decorating the ends of his sentences with sí, sí, sí...like Jonas does. Language, like ceramics, is another mutual interest for them to pursue together. As they learn more about the other's language, they learn more about their own, and they learn more about how Spanish and English has molded their points of view, their ways of thinking. It's a mutual curiosity that is fun to witness and hear about - the kind of curiosity that I personally think more people should have about themselves, each other, the world at large. Perhaps, the kind of gentle, yet stalwart curiosity that would heal a lot of the world.
After a couple weeks of messaging, and several nights of spending nights on FaceTime together, Jonas finally said te quiero. He was weary about saying it - worried about the difference between saying that and saying "I like you" - he was frustrated with the simplicity, the unspecial, unfeeling, and vagueness of the English word "like." So he said, te quiero. Luke, of course, says it back.
On the way home, I don’t notice the rain.