[Off My Chest] This is why you should't crush on straight guys

I was wondering whether I should post this to /r/offmychest or not, but I guessed if anyone were to read this, it would be my fellow members on /r/gay.Just like a lot of other offmychest posts, this will just be me venting and getting my thoughts and feelings into writing so that I can get over my current situation. So, please, forgive me if you didn't want to hear a pity story or something to make you feel down. I don't want this to affect anyone in a negative way, so, please, if your emotions are easily affected by the stories of others, I urge you to just click away.I want to start this off by saying something constantly repeated by members of LGBT+ subreddits and communities: Don't crush on a straight guy.I always wondered what the problem was with crushing on straight guys. Up to now, all my crushes were either girls who already had boyfriends or straight guys. (I'm Bi, just in case that wasn't clear to you.) My heart was never broken by these crushes, then again, I never actually told them that I liked them.A while ago, I stumbled upon a comment on the internet that basically said, "Although some people may say having a crush on someone you can't have is a waste of time and a burden on your heart, I beg to differ. A gay crush on a straight person is an experience that cannot be described in words. True, it might not come true, but that is the case with most crushes. Keep on crushing on that person, fantasize, dream, and cherish the feeling. Like most crushes, the feeling will disappear, you'll find someone else to crush on, or better yet, you'll find the true love of your life."I was touched by this comment and so I kept on crushing on straight guys, but never told them about my feelings, and gradually, I learned to move on. So, whenever I saw comments on Reddit saying, "Don't crush on a straight guy. It never ends well," I just ignored them. This was a mistake, and I urge others take this advice before you get really hurt (emotionally, and in my case, almost physically). Don't hold on to hope that maybe they might be Bi. Of course, such love stories exist, but they are very, very rare. I don't mean to be a pessimist, but after today, I feel like sometimes it's much better to be safe than sorry.My current crush is (was?) on my roommate. It was love at first sight. I remember meeting him on the first day I moved into the sharehouse and being captivated by his handsome face, sexy accent, and manners of a gentleman. I have a very faulty gaydar, (the reason most of my gay crushes are on straight guys) so I couldn't really tell if he was gay or not. I mean, he is European after all. (Gay~ or European~) I didn't cyberstalk him for his past relationships because 1) I don't go on Facebook anymore, 2) cyberstalking is the first mistake you make which drags you deeper into a crush and I really didn't want to crush on a roommate I will have to live with for a while. Despite my attempts and efforts to not crush on this guy, after about a month, I fell heads over heels for him.He was always so polite to me. He made me feel more confident about myself whenever we talked about our fuckups at work. He made me feel safe. And with him, I felt at home. I found that I started to adore everything about him. His laughter. His rapping. His routine of waking up late. Hell, even his smoking and snoring. You know you really love someone when you feel all giddy inside when you hear their snoring.I finally found out he was straight when he started talking about his past which he never really brought up because he was really shy about talking about himself, especially his past. He was a bit drunk and really opened up to me talking about how he grew up. He told me about the time he fell into a really dark place after breaking up with his first love. He told me how they both lost their virginities to each other. He told me how much he loved her. He told me how hurt he had been when he lost her. It was heart wrenching, not just because it was a sad story, but because I finally got my confirmation that he was straight and that this was going to be another passing crush with nothing I could do about it.Finding out someone is straight is usually the first step to allow myself to move on. However, this time it was a different. I couldn’t just distance myself from him. Hell, I had to sleep in the same room with him every single day. It really didn’t help that he was getting closer and closer to me. He would bring me food from the restaurant that he worked at because he “thought I would like a nice meal after coming home from work.” He called saying that he would come in late almost as if he knew that I would be worried about him not coming back early. (Yes, I was really worried that night… but that’s another story..) He showed me on Google Maps “the most beautiful place he had ever been to in his country” and that he “wanted to show it to me in person one day.” He had to make things confusing, didn’t he?What made things even harder and more confusing for me is that he delayed his flight back home a couple of more months when I distinctly remember him saying that he was tired of living here and wanted to go back in just a few months. When I first heard about his initial plans to head back home, I was a bit saddened, but relieved that I would soon be distanced from this crush and would finally be able to move on. When I heard that he now wanted to stay a bit longer, I couldn’t help but think, “Does he want to stay a bit longer… For me?”Of course that was another one of those brainfarts that you get when you have a crush.Okay… Let’s skip over how much I love this dude and talk about today.Today was a bit weird. Almost everyone in the sharehouse had a day off work or school and so we held a very small cooking party and my roommate invited his friend from his home country over for a few drinks. I really enjoyed the company of my housemates as it had been a while since we ever had a gathering like this. We decided to have a movie night, something scary before Halloween (because we all have to freaking work on Halloween night…) and while we were watching the first movie, my roommate and his friend were in our room drinking the beers they had bought earlier. (Don’t worry, it doesn’t end with my roommate and his friend in bed or something like that.)My roommate doesn’t get drunk easily, but right when we were getting ready to watch the second movie, my roommate came into the livingroom, clearly a bit tipsy, asking another housemate if he could have some of his Vodka. He wasn’t totally out of it because when I offered to help him make his drink, he could still properly and he poured the Vodka and some Cola into a glass without a problem.The moment I noticed that he was totally out of it was when he was sitting in a chair with his head drooping to the side in a very uncomfortable looking position. I think he might have even fallen asleep for a second. I got up from the couch, kneeled down next to him, patted him on the back, and asked him if he was feeling alright. And just like every single drunk person, he said, “Don’t worry. I’m okay. I’m not drunk.”I replied that I knew he wasn’t (of course, this was a lie just to make sure he would comply to my suggestions), but wanted him sit on the sofa instead of the chair from which he was nearly drooping out of, for his own safety. I really thought we was going to fall out of the chair and hurt himself. Thankfully, he seemed to get back onto his senses and said that he was fine. Not wanting to nag or annoy him, I simply went back to my seat.He was alright for a few more minutes, but I noticed that he was having trouble placing his glass back on the coffee table and he was just inches away from knocking it off the table every time he went to grab some popcorn. After a few more close calls and him dozing off again, I decided I was going to get him to bed.As I knelt by his side with my hand on his back, I realized that this was the first time that I actually made contact with him other than the first handshake. Touching him, feeling the warmth from his body ignited a feeling in me that really cared about him and just wanted him to get to bed before he got hurt.I took the glass from his hand and was going to move the bottle of Vodka out of his reach. That must have triggered him in some way because he immediately lunged for the bottle almost yelling, “Why are you taking that away from me? I’m fine!” I wanted to say, “First of all, it’s not yours, and second, you’re way too drunk to have more,” but I was so surprised that nothing came out of my mouth. I was still holding onto the bottle, but his grip was firm and determined, not to let go. Fearing that I would agitate him or that struggling with the bottle would make it go flying, I reluctantly let go. He then started to drunkenly mumble the words that stabbed me right in the heart.“You.. Just because we live in the same house.. Just because we live in the same room.. Just because you’re my roommate, doesn’t mean you’re my… my… you’re my… What’s that word…? You know! You’re not my…” Although what he said doesn’t make any sense written out like this, I understood what he was trying to say. There was no reason for me to look after him. I had no responsibility in caring for him. I wasn’t his keeper. I wasn’t his guardian. Maybe.. I wasn’t even his friend…All I wanted to do was help. All I wanted to do was see that my roommate, my friend, was safe. All I wanted to do was make sure he didn’t get hurt or hurt anyone around him.My other housemates, probably sensing some hostility signaled me to back away, and in caring voices, they tried to talk some sense into him.I was torn. I thought he cared for me like a friend, like a brother, but instead, at the moment when I thought he would need my help, he pushed me away.As I backed off into a seat right behind him, I couldn’t help but think about what I did wrong. Sure, I must have ticked him off, showing that I thought he was drunk when he didn’t think so. Maybe touching his back was a mistake. Maybe offering him to help with his drink in the beginning was what set him off. I felt really sorry to my other roommates as I had no power or control over my own roommate as he was making things awkward and uncomfortable.My thoughts were interrupted by a shatter. To no one’s surprise, he had tipped over his glass which shattered on the floor. I immediately got up to get some paper towels to wipe up the mess and a bag to gather the broken shards in. Even in that moment, he held up his hand and said he was “sorry about the mess” and that he would “clean it up.” That scared me even more, the thought of him trying to clean up the glass shards drunk. I ran to get the paper towels and bag. I didn’t care that he was telling me to stop, I would not let anyone get hurt because of my roommate. Blaming myself for not focusing on the glass that was bound to fall and shatter, I quickly picked up the broken shards and wiped up the mess.Even after that he would not agree to go to bed saying that this was “just a small mistake,” that “he was sorry,” and that “he was still not drunk.” He kept calling out the names of my other housemates, calling them “great friends” and “the best” and asked them if they would please make him just one last drink. He was trying to make a compromise with them. But what hurt more is that he didn’t ask me. It was like he was deliberately trying to show that they mean so much more to him than I do.Eventually, he did get his last drink (in a plastic cup this time) and fell asleep in a really uncomfortable looking position on his chair. I kept on debating on whether I should just pull him off of the chair and get him back to our room, but I was scared about what he might do in resistance to me. Instead, I decided to finish the drink that was in front of him so that he wouldn’t get any worse and cleared all the bottles from the room before he woke up. He did wake up to go to the bathroom and after I was finished throwing the glass out, I found he made his own way back to our room, but didn’t turn the lights off. I pulled up his covers, resisted the best I could to kiss him on his forehead, and turned off the lights.I didn’t return to the living room to finish the movie, nor did I stay in our room to look after him. I decided to go outside and try to make sense of my feelings and of what just happened.So here I am, typing on my laptop at 2:40 a.m. while trying my best to hold back my tears. I don’t want to go back to our room. Maybe I’ll just sleep in the living room. I don’t know…To whoever made it this far: Thank you so much for reading. Sorry if I wasted your precious time. I will not go back and proofread it, as it hurt enough thinking about it again, so I apologize for any weird flow in the story or any grammatical or spelling mistakes. I just really needed to get this off my chest and I had no one to talk to about it. Have a good day.TL;DR - In love with roommate. He got drunk. Wanted to help him, but he acted in a way that made me sure that he did not care for me the way I thought he did, or the way that I care for him. Heart is broken. Will now go cry myself to sleep on the living room sofa. Don’t crush on straight guys. Break your ties before you get hurt.