My perspective on life always seems a lot clearer after Pride. Reality sinks in and I realize that I put too much emphasis on things that don’t really matter at the end of the day. The epiphany that there’s no one way of being and no real need to fit into anything other than my own skin is freeing. True colours get exposed at Pride. I got a good look at  who my friends really are, their priorities and agendas. I see the people who value my company more than the cheap thrill of a one nighter. Admittedly though it takes a certain level of maturity to understand that Pride means different things to different people and to be the bigger person and not get bitter about how folks choose to celebrate it.

Relationships that survive Pride are golden. Granted there’s different types of relationships. But if you’re in a monogamous arrangement, this is where trust kicks in and you know if your relationship really is what you think it is. I used to think I had to compete with every shirtless Trojan or anyone with more muscles or better features than me to keep whoever I was with interested in me during Pride. But I figured out pretty quickly if someone needed convincing Pride or otherwise they weren’t really worth shit.

Pride raised a lot of insecurities in me over the years from body image issues to an overall sense of displacement with what I thought it meant to be proud. Friendships bloomed and some withered. Relationships flourished and a few circled the drain. At the end of it all I’m always left with one constant: me. In order to find true meaning in Pride I had to first find Pride in myself, my struggles and my differences.

You mightn’t always fit the mainstream,  but that’s something to be proud of.