Hello dear readers and friends! Welcome back for the final chapter in this woebegone tale of love from yours truly 😀😁😊😋
The phone call
Javier and I continued corresponding on the phone throughout February of 1996. Of course he had to call me since he had no phone. My life as an acting intern at the time was pure HELL, and his phone calls and letters always cheered me up. (Well, there was one such strange letter he sent me about the frog and the scorpion, the one where the frog allows the scorpion to ride on his back across the river. But the scorpion ends up stinging the poor frog to death. Apparently this is from the movie The Crying Game. And Javier asked me in the letter what did I think it meant. Cryptically, he said it meant what it said! I should have known from that!)
He would usually call once a week and when he did, that call carried me rather happily through until the next week. We talked a lot about us, and it wasn’t long before he was talking of moving to Atlanta. Now, I did “nada” to encourage this. He came up with that idea on his own. I wasn’t about to discourage him, though. I loved the man, and I wanted to be married to him more than anything in the world. Well, as married as two men could be in this country at that time, the land of the free, where all men are created equal. NOT! I asked him if he was sure this was what he wanted. He assured me that it was. Anyway, I was going to be Mr. Derek Ratliff-Muro-Cortez or something like that!!! Or so I thought.
We talked about him coming down to visit in February. He promised he would. Then there was Valentine’s Day. I sent him a great, big old card proclaiming my undying love. I did not receive a card, not even a phone call on V-Day. It didn’t matter because I knew he was coming. Right? The Friday night he was supposed to arrive, he called up saying he was not going to be able to come because (1) he had been sick and (2) his car wasn’t going to make it. To say I was extremely disappointed was an understatement!
“Okay, back up Javier. You were sick?” He explained to me that he went to the clinic, and they gave him 3 shots in the butt!!! I immediately had a flashback to the time I discovered I had syphilis about six months into my sojourn in Atlanta, and the three shots I had received in the posterior assets. Long story for another time.
“Do you have syphilis or HIV, Jorge?” He told me no, he had the flu. I explained to him that I had gone through the syphilis thing, and it sounded like that with the three shots deal. As far as his car was concerned, he told me there was no way his car could make a 6-hour trip like that. I wasn’t hearing any of this.
Well, I gently told him how disappointed I was, especially in not receiving a call or a card for Valentine’s Day. He was silent. He then told me that he had shown my card to Hector, and Hector had remarked to him that he was lucky to have a man like me for a boyfriend. How nice, but I wanted Javier with me. But that wasn’t THE phone call.
THE phone call came on February 28, 1996, between 12noon and 1 p.m., because sometimes he’d call me during his lunch. I was extremely glad to hear from my man. I remarked that his English was much better. He said it was because he was talking to me. Well, he had also been going to school all this time! I hadn’t heard from him, and I was worried that I had been dumped. He laughed and said no, that if he were going to dump me he would stop calling. How comforting. (Well, he DID stop calling!!!!) He was at work, but it was a new painting job, because he had gotten fired from the other one. Oh. Then he told me that he wouldn’t be able to move to Atlanta because of his nephews. He would have to take them with him, and he just couldn’t do it. And he even used Israel’s old phrase “I’m just not free.” Well, okay so he wasn’t able to move down; it didn’t mean the end of our relationship, right? He never said so, so when I got off the phone with him I really didn’t think too much of it. I should have, because that was the last time he called me.
THE SEARCH FOR JAVIER MURO/JORGE CORTEZ
Just to sum it up, my acting internship fell apart during their production of Three Sisters. But that wasn’t the only thing that fell apart.
Following Three Sisters and when I had time, I decided to at long last, return to N.C. and ask Javier why he hadn’t called me. Dumb. Very dumb. I actually believed that maybe he had gotten deported. Or perhaps even hurt and in the hospital. So, I booked a motel room on the outskirts of Durham, and left on Friday April 19, 1996, for Durham, N.C. I was thankfully escaping Freaknik, telling myself ‘Yes, this is what and why I am escaping.’
I got there and checked into the Howard Johnson off Hillandale and immediately began my search. In my motel room I began calling all the area hospitals such as Duke Memorial, Duke General, and UNC Memorial. None of them had either a Javier Muro or a Jorge Cortez listed. ‘Okay. I’ll ride over to his apartment.’ I thought. It was dark by the time I got to Juniper Street. I ascended the metal steps that you could break your ass on and knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. Okay. Out of the corner of my eye I could have sworn I saw someone peeping out of the window. I left and went back to the motel to rest. The plan was to go to The Power Company that night. Surely I’d run into him there.
I got to The Power Company and made my way into the night. I went upstairs to the upper bar and looked around. No Javier. I went back downstairs and searched in the dyke side, the white boy’s side, the mixed side, and the black side. No Javier. I went downstairs to the lower bar. NO JAVIER!!! Okay. So, I went back upstairs, ordered a drink, and sat in the mixed side. Soon, an older gentleman, who claimed to be the CEO of a major computer corporation, joined me. He tried to pick me up, and under normal circumstances I would have gone along with him. These weren’t exactly normal circumstances. When I think back on it, I should have. I slid out of the proposition, and he soon left me alone. I finished my drink and left.
The next morning, which was Saturday, I decided to head back to Juniper. I got over there convinced that someone would be there. No answer when I knocked. Just as I was leaving I noticed a family preparing to go somewhere. I decided to ask them where the leasing office was. I figured I could at least find out if he had moved. Again. I learned from the mother that the leasing office was located on the boulevard and that it wouldn’t be open again until Monday. Damn! But all was not lost. I wasn’t leaving until Monday anyway. As I was leaving, I jotted down the number to the leasing office, which was located on the side of one of the buildings in the complex. I decided to try yet another angle. I remembered that Javier had written me once and told me that his friend Rafael worked at a fast food Chinese place at Northgate Mall. I hopped in my Corsica and headed for Northgate.
I got to Food Court and searched in vain for this Chinese restaurant. I did eventually find the Chinese restaurant, Formosa. No Rafael. Okay. Time to head back to the motel and regroup. I took a nap when I got there and decided to eat and go back to Juniper Street. When I got there, I noticed a light on in one of the rooms. ‘He’s home!’ I thought. I calmly walked up those metal stairs and knocked. The door opened, and I was staring face to face with some Hispanic guy I’d never seen before.
“Hello.” I said.
“Hola.”
“Is Jorge Cortez at home?”
“Huh? Jorge? You mean Javier?”
“Yes.”
“He moved.” The guy replied.
“Moved? Where?” WTF???
“I dunno.” The guy stammered. I obviously had awakened him from his nap.
“Does he live in Durham? Chapel Hill?” I asked, the desperation rising in my voice.
“He in Durham.” He replied. We were at last getting somewhere.
“Where in Durham?”
“I no remember.”
“Please try. Is it near here?”
“No, it near Duke.” Okay that’s better.
“Do you remember the name? The apartment number?” I continued.
“I’m sorry, I don’t.” This was like getting blood from a turnip.
“All right. Gracias. Does he at least come by here? Have you seen him?”
“Oh. Si!”
“Good I want to leave him a message.” I quickly got a pen and paper from my car and left my phone number and hotel room number of where I was staying.
“If you see him, please give him this.” I said.
“I will.” The tiny guy replied.
All right. So at least he hadn’t been deported. And he wasn’t laid up somewhere in some hospital. But the question was why hadn’t he called? Then I thought ‘Maybe he’ll be in Raleigh!’ So, off I went: TO CC!!!!!!
No, he wasn’t there either. Midway through the evening I decided that the little asshole just wasn’t worth it. It FINALLY began to sink in that yes, I had been dumped. The oldest game of not returning calls now known as ghosting. We didn’t have a name for it back then. LOL
I began to drink rather heavily, and soon I found myself across the street at Legends. I wanted so desperately to pick someone up, to get picked up, and this is when I noticed this cute Hispanic guy standing a few feet away. I was in the dance area at the bar, and this guy was standing on the other side of the bar. I began smiling at him, and he noticed me and began smiling back. The next thing I knew I was motioning for him to come to me. He shook his head and pointed to where he stood. What the hell, I was tipsy and I didn’t care. I went over to him and began talking to him. His English was not good at all. He was cute though, but he looked awfully familiar. I managed to find out his age, which was 25, thanks to his companion who stood next to him. The companion looked familiar, too. Well, I continued flirting with the first guy, but I liked the way the 2nd guy looked as well until I looked at them both and said, “I know both of you.”
“We’re friends of Javier’s!” the interpreter said.
OH SHIT!!!!!!! IT WAS RAFAEL AND HECTOR! No wonder they looked so familiar! I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or relieved to have found a true connection to Javier. I just dove right in.
“Where is Jorge? I haven’t heard from him. I understand he moved. Where?” I asked.
“Yes. He lives in University Apartments near Duke.” Rafael replied. YES!!!!
“Which apartment number?” I asked. Rafael thought a moment.
“2-C.” WONDERFUL!!!
“Thanks, Rafael.”
Soon after our exchange, Hector and Rafael left, and I was left armed with this valuable piece of information. ‘I’ve got you now Jorge Cortez or Javier Muro or whatever you’re calling yourself!’ I thought.
The next day the plan went as follows: I checked out of the motel, and I went to Orange Grove Baptist, the same church Teresa, Javier, and I went to back in January. Afterward, I changed clothes at the park (the same park I went to with Javier when he confessed who he really was, and the same park I went to after my HIV test that time when I thought I had it. I quess this park has seen a lot of action) and set out to find University Apartments. After asking directions, it finally dawned on me that I knew where it was. Many years ago back in the summer of 1989 when I attempted to drive to a friend’s house, I ended up on that road in front of a series of apartments. I remembered that one of them was University Apartments!!!!
I got there, parked in front of the apartments, and went around back in search of the C-building. I found it and nervously made my way inside. I looked at all the doors to see which one was #2. Turned out it was upstairs, so I climbed the stairs and stood nervously outside the door. ‘Knock, dammit.’ I thought. I did and heard a female voice ask, “Who is it?” ‘It must be Maria!’ I thought. ‘But where’s the accent?’
“It’s Derek.” I replied. The person came to the door and opened it. Well, it wasn’t Maria. This chick was an older-looking lady.
“I’m sorry. I’m looking for Javier Muro.”
“No one by that name lives here.”
“Well, thank you.” The disappointment was rather high. I left thinking that Rafael did say 2-C. I decided to see if the leasing office was open, so I walked all the way to the front. No dice. Sealed tighter than Fort Knox. ‘What am I going to do?’ I thought. I headed toward the back again and entered the B-building, thinking Rafael meant “B”. I went upstairs to 2-B and was about to knock when I noticed the name “Jackson” on the door. I also heard voices inside. Very American. I guess it wasn’t Javier’s apartment. I was getting very frustrated with the whole thing. Not B. Not C. Maybe D? I tried that and knocked, but no one was home. Maybe Javier’s place? Hmmm. I looked at my watch and noticed that it was nearly 5 p.m. I knew Teresa, who was in D.C., would be back soon, and I figured I should just give up and go there.
I was leaving the D-building when I noticed a guy who looked sort of familiar coming out of the G-building. He was Hispanic, attractive, in his early 20s, but he wasn’t Javier. Yet there was something vaguely familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it …
I was walking down the sidewalk to my car when I swear to God, a voice in my head (not to be confused with the other voices in my head) told me to drop my keys and pretend to pick them up as I turn around. After I did all of this I noticed a heavy-set female in the distance at a clothesline hanging sheets. I walked slowly towards the female, and the closer I got the more I realized that she, too, was familiar. She kept staring at me like she knew me, too. It was Maria! When I got close enough she said, “Derek?” I responded with, “Maria?” She smiled and then walked up and hugged me. I dispensed with some small talk and then asked what I was dying to know:
“Where’s Javier?”
“He spent the night in Cary. And he’s sleeping.”
So, he was inside! FINALLY! All of my detective work had paid off. Nancy Drew would be so proud!!!! Maria took me inside to “2-G!” Rafael meant “G!” (Either that or he was trying to throw me off the scent.) Once inside, I also saw the same guy who had walked out of the G-building previously. He was one of Javier’s nephews, which explained why he looked so damn familiar!
Maria led me to one of the bedrooms, and she went to get a chair from the kitchen for me to sit. She then sat on the floor and smiled at me. I just assumed that she had gone to wake Javier when she got the chair. I stared at her for a second, then I told her that I thought Javier was there. Miscommunication. Turned out that in her broken English, she was actually telling me that Javier had spent the night in Cary and that he was still in Cary! He had gone to a party and had stayed over. He was coming back that day. She promptly informed me that Javier didn’t have a boyfriend, as far as she knew. Thanks for the info, Maria. I asked her when he was returning. She figured he’d be back around 8 p.m. that night. I told her I’d be back, but first I left Teresa’s number where he could reach me.
I caught up with Teresa at her apartment around 6 p.m. and began to explain to her why I was there and what had happened. We were interrupted by a visit from a friend of hers, Sharon. Without shame I told my tortured saga of Jorge Cortez. Midway through the story the phone rang, Teresa answered it and told me that IT WAS JAVIER! I calmly walked to the phone.
“Jorge! How are you!”
“Fine. And you?”
“I’m fine. Jorge, I need to see you. Where are you?”
“I’m at a pay phone and then I gotta get some groceries, but then I’ll be home later.”
“Do you mind if I stop by to see you later?”
“No, I don’t mind,” he replied.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Are you really sure?”
“Yes.”
“I mean it is all right?”
“Yes!” He sounded a little irritated. I guess it was all right.
We set a time of 9 p.m. I got off the phone with him and told Teresa and Sharon what had happened. I also explained that I was leaving to meet him. Teresa told me that she’d see me tomorrow. I chuckled and said that I’d be back that night. She said no, she’d see me tomorrow.
I was late arriving at University Apartments. I went to the same outside door to G-building I was at earlier that day, but this time it was locked. I should have taken that as a sign. I knocked and knocked and knocked until a short, sexy little man wearing no shirt came to the door! It was Javier, and damn he looked good!!
‘I am not going to let him seduce me. It is over. I am going to tell him off and then I’m going to leave. He’s going to have to have a damn good reason for not calling me, to make me stay!’ I thought.
He opened the door, and smiling, he immediately hugged me.
“Why did you come to the back?” He asked.
“It’s really the only entrance I know.”
He led me upstairs to 2-G and to his bedroom. The same seat that Maria had for me was waiting for my confused ass to plop down into. So, I parked it and Jorge sat on the floor opposite me, staring at me wide-eyed. I just jumped right in, telling him that I wasn’t going to put up with his not calling me anymore, that basically I had had to look for him, and I did it to say good-bye. He sat there in silence. Then he said, “Give me another chance.” I looked at him, for I really didn’t know what to say. He then told me that his brother, the father to his nephews, had been murdered in Mexico! I sat in stunned silence! I don’t remember the details of Javier’s story, but I remembered what I had thought previously about that good reason. I guess this was it. I asked why Rafael, Maria, or Hector hadn’t said anything about it? He told me I would have to ask them.
Well, I gave him that 2nd chance and we made up. He stood up, walked over to me, and sat in my lap. We kissed and then we stood up. He grabbed my ass, and I picked him up and we ended up on the floor, rolling around smooching. He then asked if I was hungry and wanted to get something to eat. I told him sure, then we took off for Ham’s on Franklin Street. As we were leaving the building, Maria, Rafael, and Hector, who were outside at this point, stared at us.
While we were there, Javier kept asking me if I noticed anything different about him. I studied and studied and studied and studied him like he was a piece of sheet music I had to sightread at All State. I couldn’t tell a thing. Finally he told me he had shaved his eyebrows in the space between his eyes where it connected. Okay. He didn’t order anything to eat, just Coke, no ice. By the time we left, it was close to midnight. I didn’t want to leave him, so we drove to Carrboro Park. We couldn’t get in because the gate was up. So, I parked outside the gate, and he and I talked.
I wanted to know more about his brother. He didn’t say a whole lot about him. He had brought a Spanish magazine with him and began to read aloud from it. Something he read kind of reminded him of his brother, and he sort of teared up. I touched him and we looked at each other. Soon we were in each other’s arms again, kissing and nibbling. I suggested we get in the back seat. We did; he pulled off his shirt, and I undid his pants. And yes, we had sex. Afterward, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Bright and early the next morning we drove to Teresa’s. Javier stayed in the car while I went inside. I was a bit embarrassed because she had been right; I did stay out all night with Javier. She had company of her own; a man was asleep in her bedroom. She didn’t waste time. We said our good-byes there, and I promised I’d call once I got back to Atlanta. Then I took Javier home.
Javier helped me take my bag inside so I could shower and change. After he showered and changed, he came back clad in only a towel. He shyly put his underwear on underneath the towel and took the towel off. I remarked on what a magnificent body he had! His legs were so muscular, and his stomach had ripples! And his chest was slightly built! I told him we should go swimming sometime. He grinned. I noticed a picture of his 3-year-old daughter, Jessica, and remarked that she was going to grow up to be a heartbreaker like her father. He laughed.
After we both got dressed, we dined in high style at the Waffle House on Hillsborough. He then asked me to take him to check on his car. It wasn’t ready so we drove back to Carrboro Park, where we walked and talked and spent one of the most romantic moments I’ve ever experienced in my life.
He told me that one day he’d like to build a house in Mexico. I would never want him to leave. We walked around the park until we got to the spot where I broke down in October 1989 after Phil rejected me. If only Javier knew… We laid a blanket out, and I got my boom box, and we lay on the blanket. It was midday and yes, there were people there. It did not stop us from kissing each other. I remarked that there was a couple there, and they saw us. I then asked if he cared. He said no, because it was his life. Good answer!!
Our conversation consisted of me possibly wanting to move to California some day and him not wanting to. And I also proposed to him and told him that if it took 1 year, 2 years, 5 or 10, one day we would be married to each other!
We continued kissing, and soon Jorge stretched out in my lap and fell asleep. The strains of SWV’s You’re the One For Me could be heard coming from my box. It just didn’t get any better than that. I was so in love, so deeply, fully, madly in love with the man who called himself Jorge Cortez!
After the park we went to the Northgate Mall and hung out. I then took him to check on his car. Still not ready, so we headed for his apartment. In front of the McDonald’s on Morgan Street, I asked him if we were still committed to each other. And he said yes. I also made him promise to call me.
He said he would. Outside his apartment, we said our good-byes. He didn’t want to kiss in front of his building, so I took him around the corner of his apartment building in my car where we shared what was to be our last kiss. I then brought him back to the front of the building after I made him promise he’d call me. Once again he said he would. He then sat on the stoop outside his building and watched me pull off for Atlanta. Good-bye Javier. BECAUSE THIS TIME IT WAS GOOD-BYE!
As I pulled away, I got this feeling that it was over, that it should probably be over. I made a promise to myself that if he didn’t call me within a week, that I would deem it over and go on with my life. AND A WEEK WENT BY AND NO PHONE CALL!!! GOOD-BYE JORGE CORTEZ/JAVIER MURO!!!!
So, that was pretty much that. However, what was VERY strange is that I DID continue to run into him. The day we buried my grandmother in February of 1998, afterward I went to CC in Raleigh and saw him at Legend’s!! We chatted. He supposedly had a boyfriend at this point. However, he stuck to my side like glue the ENTIRE night! Come to think of it, I had no idea where the boyfriend was. And other people noticed and thought we were a couple.
Later that year in 1998, I was working for a certain touring troupe, which shall remain nameless, and we actually traveled to Raleighwood!! I did get in touch with him then, and he actually came to see me perform! Also, later that summer, I traveled back to North Carolina to do a show at Snow Camp and ran into him at a club in Greensboro. One time only the entire summer. I believe he gave me his number, too, which I called and he had already moved!!!
And a couple of years after that, oddly enough, I started running into him in Atlanta!!! Once was during one of our gay pride celebrations at Piedmont Park. And another time actually at the club formerly known as Burkhart’s. (And he had the NERVE to give me his number, which I never used. At this point, I knew how the game was played!) What was stranger, is that my brother was visiting that weekend, and I had dragged him to the gay bars with me!! LOL He and Javier actually met!! On the ride to the Eagle, I told him how Javier almost ended up being his brother-in-law. Yeah. Right.
Another time I even ran into him at Taco Cabana, the picture from above, where he told me he was going to move to Atlanta. 😂😂😂. And of course that NEVER happened. That night, he also told my friends that I had changed. That I was ‘mean and I used to be sweet and kind.’ What. Ever. I suppose dealing with men who make promises they don’t keep has a tendency to do that to someone. 😁🙂🤩
And I was to later learn that a friend of mine’s ex-boyfriend had a brief encounter with Javier! He actually SAW the twin once and thought it was Javier! I can’t make this stuff up! Me and this guy spent a lot of time swapping stories about Javier/Jorge!
In summation, when I read over all of this, it actually makes me sick to think that I was so stupid and so gullible. You see, all of the above is part of the reason why I am still single and don’t fall for men and their lines any more. Bitter party of One?? Perhaps. But I don’t have time for foolishness like this, because it is not good for my overall mental wellbeing.
And to this day, I have no idea where he is. And I don’t care. Actually, just for funsies last year, I decided to look him up on Facebook. And I found that he lives in Arizona, but the year of his profile pic was from 2017 or 2018. So, he could still be there. Or somplace else. He, of course, enjoyed being nomadic. Wherever he is, I do wish him well, though.
I learned A LOT during this experience. For one, NEVER chase after a man. Also, accept that when it is over, it is over, as well as accept things at FACE VALUE, i.e. the use of another name, not returning phone calls, excuses, etc. And most importantly, that I am a damn good super sleuth!! Especially that one!! LOLOL
Well, that is going to wrap up this sad, sad tale, yet a great learning lesson. I will be back in TWO WEEKS with another post. So, be on the lookout. Until then, please be mentally well!
DEREK’S DISCLAIMER: I am not a medical professional, neither am I giving any medical or legal advice. If you are seeking help from a doctor or an attorney, please consult said professionals. These are my personal thoughts and feelings on the subjects discussed, and my blog is my own personal experiences and journey with mental imbalance. Thanking you in advance!
AFFILIATE DISCLAIMER: There are products on this page. By clicking on the links, you will be redirected to that page at no cost to you. However, I will receive compensation if you purchase something (which I hope you do 😊).
