Everyone has their story and as much as everyone’s story is unique, we usually concern ourselves with the good part, forgetting the battles we fight in the comfort of our loneliness. I get so depressed sometimes that the thought of ending my life often cross my mind. Yes, I try to discourage people from suicide, but I get to that point sometimes. I recently discovered straight male companions, and they have made all the difference.
Have you ever lost something you hold very dear to you? I know some of you will be thinking about relationship already. For me, it was something different. I hit my lowest point when I lost my job. It was my dream job, and I did everything possible to get here. What pained me the most was that I lost the job for no fault of mine. It would have been easier to assimilate if it was my fault.
It took several months of rigorous training and screening for me to get the job. Along the way, a lot of people were dropped. Making it to the last twenty that finally got the job was like a dream. I screamed the day I got my appointment letter. I jumped and screamed my mum thought I had gone bananas.
Then the financial meltdown struck, and my establishment was looking for a way to cut down cost which meant downsizing. The policy was “last in, first out”, because they preferred to work with people that had more experience in the system. Their argument was logical, but it still didn’t make it less hurting.
I had just spent less than a year on the job and was already planning my future, my promotion and getting married. That well-crafted letter was the end of all that dream. Like most depressed men, I began to drench myself in alcohol. I came to the point where life meant little to me. I found no reason moving on.
I was in one club in a lonely corner drinking myself to stupor as usual when three guys walked up to my table and sat down without requesting my approval. I would later discover that they are straight male companions. Since I was alarmed and a little bit angry, I would admit that their intervention was timely.
When I strained my eyes beyond the effect of the alcohol I discovered that one of them is my very good friend that lived very close to my house. I relaxed and began to talk.
“Were you looking for me? How did you know I would be here?” I asked in quick succession. I asked a question to no one in particular, but my eyes were fixed on the one guy I knew.
“We have been here all the time!” One of the guys said. “He said he knew you”, he kept talking pointing to the guy I knew, “So we decided to intervene”.
We kept talking, and I opened up on my problems. They listened attentively and showed a deep sense of sympathy. Visibly, if there was a way they could help I was sure that they would have done that.
“This is the worst time for you to stay in isolation. You need to be around people that love and care for you. It would help you to get over the trauma. If you don’t have anyone to keep you company, you can stick around us. We are straight male companions,” the guy I knew said.
Since I would have loved to dispute what they said and sue them for violating my privacy, I knew they were right. While I contemplated what they said, I was also trying to resolve the mystery of what straight male companions really meant. It was the first time I have heard those three words being used together side-by-side.
In the coming weeks I decided to do what they said, I hung out more with them, the straight male companions. My mood improved and I began to wonder how on earth I ever considered suicide. One of them happens to be highly connected, and after many interactions, he said I was smart and introduced me to his uncle. That was how my condition changed forever.