Memoirs of a Barfly

Back to the Grind

2009-10-14T13:40:00.000-04:00

After taking way too long of a sabbatical, I’ve found myself back at home. I’ve been back to the Corner Pocket and have started picking back up the lifestyle of the barfly that I was once so accustomed to. I mainly attribute this to working far too many hours at The Pub and not getting off until it’s so late, the CoPo is my only option. I wasn’t going to start writing again until I witnessed something so visually disturbing I had to write it down. I can’t say I really missed the dingy place, but it does hold memories of good times, birthdays, drag shows, male dancers, and drunken moments I wish I could forget but can’t. I was at the bar last week and saw some new faces and some old ones too. The dynamic has changed there since Boyd has passed away and Frank has just about ran off all the previous regulars. I saw this mildly attractive man in his forties I would guess. He was borderline white trash with his Nascar hat on (number 88, whatever that means), old Levi jeans, a goatee, and a less-than-average smile. My friend Brad had been talking to him but suggested he may be trying to sleep with Brad’s friend that was also there. When I say Brad’s friend, I’m referring to this 400 pound monster of a drag queen (in street clothes), no makeup, a thin blonde pony tail, artsy girlish glasses, and an orange polo shirt. His teeth were horrible, and he had this bruise on his head that looked like he’d been hit by a golfball traveling at speeds in excess of 60 miles per hour. I have HEARD about chubby chasers, but never have actually seen them in action. I watched in horror as this skinny Nascar man proceeded to suck face with ‘the great pumpkin’ and bite his nipples through his polo shirt, leaving wet marks. I immediately felt ill, sucked down my Bowman’s rum and diet, and turn my head to smoke three cigarettes in rapid succession. YUCK. Some things never change I guess. The bar is a dive, I shouldn’t expect to see any limos pull up or anyone remotely attractive grace the doors. On the love front, I’ve been on several dates, none of which seem promising. I got shit faced at The Wave last Thursday for 80’s night and made out with a latino guy that I was then obligated to hang out with this past Monday. He was nice, but not what I remembered. The past two nights I’ve partied in a mobile home that is owned by one of the kitchen workers at my job. I got plastered, smoked too many cigarettes, and lost track of all time and didn’t leave til around three AM on both occasions. But aside from all that, emotionally, I’ve flat-lined. I do have a little newfound hope though. His name is Vince. He’s Puerto Rican, 28, and he’s a nuclear engineer in the Navy. He’s only been in the states for a couple years and his accent is strong. He has the most beautiful milk-chocolate colored eyes, and a smile so beautiful it could warm even the coldest of hearts. He’s optimistic, sweet, considerate. He can carry on conversation and has a way of making me feel so beautiful. I have this sense of familiarity with him and just the sound of his voice makes me feel comfortable and at-ease. It’s as if this is just the point in my life where he’s supposed to waltz in, and now that he’s here I can rest. I’ve seen pictures and he sends them to me from his phone sometimes, but he doesn’t move here until tomorrow. He’s in New York right now. It would be great if we both really hit it off. I don’t know if we’re even sexually compatible, but I told him today, “I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me. I think sometimes if you really love someone, you do things you normally wouldn’t and it just works out somehow.” He told me it’s so nice to talk to me because I’ve never brought up sex. He doesn’t drink hardly at all, which is incredible in and of itself since he’s in the Navy but I guess the Navy in New York must not be like our Navy here in Norfolk. He doesn’t like the clubs a lot. I hope it works in person. I hope we click and I just fit perfectly in his arms. That would truly be great. So Vice is at the top of my very very short list. The other guy I met recently is named AJ. He used to date an old friend of mine for a couple years. I didn’t know this until he told me. Small world. He’s got a very very nice smile too, blue eyes, and a husky build. He dresses well, and looks like he’s 24 even though he’s 31. He came with me to the first trailer park party. I got way too drunk and when I knew I had to leave, he and I talked for like half an hour while I sobered up. I was fine to drive by the time I left. He opened my car door for me, and when I sat down, he leaned in and kissed me the most innocent kiss I think I’d ever received. I didn’t expect that at all. I was really embarrassed and kept telling him how I felt so bad he had to see me like that. He was understanding and I felt like he was really going to hate me after that. Surprisingly he wants to go out for coffee sometime this week. He’s great, but I don’t know him that well. Vince, I know and feel like I’ve known forever. Vince strikes me as being the more dominant of the two. I would feel comfortable giving that alpha male role to Vince. With AJ, I feel like he’s still capable of filling the role of what I want in a partner, but something tells me that it wouldn’t work out. I think it could, but with AJ, it would take a lot of time building a foundation together and growing slowly. That’s how it should work ideally anyways, but I feel like Vince is the ready-made husband. He’s already in a good job, he’s responsible, and he makes me feel sexy. Only time will tell really. I wish I knew how my story ended. It would sure make me feel better. I wish I knew when I could stop and relax. I want to know what happens next so maybe I’ll stop stressing so much all the damn time. After I get out of class today I’m going home to take a much needed nap. I’m tired from partying the past two nights in a row. If I have to drink with Brandon from work one more time and sing Whitney Houston and Tina Turner and have to put on one more dance review in public from a bar-stool I’m going to pass out. My grandparents had their 57^th wedding anniversary this week. It’s so beautiful to see how far their love has carried them and how it has stayed alive after so many years. I told my grandmother, “I hope one day I make it to 57 years with someone.” She told me, “I hope you do too.” She smiled at me and my heart broke. I know I won’t. I never will. Never will.

Hope is fading

2009-07-25T13:49:00.002-04:00

I lose more and more hope with each passing day. Before meeting up with Tony yesterday, an acquaintance of mine informed me of some rather devastating news pertaining to Tony. I'm not going to get into any details. But let's just say I beat around the bush and couldn't have come any closer without slapping him in the face with it. I wanted him to speak up, and admit what he needed to admit. He had multiple chances and I gave him every opportunity to open up. Nothing came of it. I feel pretty much betrayed by him. Half-truths are just as bad as whole-lies. I can't even look at him in the face without feeling like he's keeping things from me. I can't pursue him at all now. I refuse to. I did go to the bar with him and his friend Rob last night. We had a great time. I introduced myself to a rather muscular and attractive man standing by himself when I was on my way to the restroom. I had my friend Kyle talk to him to get the dirt. Kyle reported back to me moments later, "Girl, I struck out with that one." I asked him, "What do you mean? Like, struck out good or bad??" Kyle replied, "He's got a wife and a husband, AND kids." Sheesh. So the night played out pretty uneventfully. I had a few drinks. I danced with Tony. I met his friends. I kept a smile on my face and played my part. That's life. I show them what they want to see. I did call Frank before I went out last night and I did speak with him. He started the conversation very friendly and casual. "Frank, I wish I could sit here and talk to you like nothing has happened but something HAS happened. I feel differently now," I told him. He told me he had made me no promises and I re-explained myself when I had point-blank told him about my trust issues and all that other nonsense. He became rushed and frustrated and I had to tell him to slow down and calm down. He was going on about how he doesn't know what he wants. He's just living day by day. He has a lot of work to do on himself. And he quickly came to the conclusion that he doesn't want a relationship or any kind of commitment. I think this was just a rushed statement in an attempt to jump-ship. I was a little disappointed but he said he just wanted to keep in touch. I don't know what's going to happen. I know I shouldn't want him. I called him today but he didn't answer. I left him a message. I went online and went to look up his profile between checking messages. Apparently he has deleted it. I don't know if he's created a new one or not, but his old one isn't there. I am deeply saddened and I feel deserted. I have nothing to cling to. I haven't a single man that I am willing to trust. I've chatted with a new man named Kyle yesterday and today. He's 40, and everything looks good on paper so far. He seems so sexually charged though. I know this isn't bad, but I'm not having sex anytime soon at all. I can't bear to put myself through this emotional turmoil anymore. Kyle has already talked on the phone about getting tested and having unprotected sex, to which I quickly and firmly replied saying I would have nothing to do with it and I would never have sex with him unprotected. He was very quick to say that I would. He seems so confident that I'm just going to want to fuck his brains out the second I see him. I'm turned off by this. I can't trust the sex drive of a man. And if this Kyle guy wants to have unprotected sex with me, I can't even imagine what he'd do with other men. He seems sick of the games too, and I think he's looking for a relationship. We've only discussed the tip of the iceberg so far. I'm not passing any judgments yet. I haven't even met him. He's seen me at work before but I don't remember him. I'm sure he's a good man. He is a Christian. He is stable, secure, and I THINK sane. I just don't have that much hope left to give him. I had hope in Tony, and I feel like he was lying to me the whole time now. I think he's too much of a bottom to be with me, but he says he's versatile (in sexual terms, top= pitcher, bottom= catcher). I need a man. I can't do this dating thing with the 20-something, or even the 30-something crowd. I need a man. I need a dominant, meat-eating, beer-drinking, sport-watching man. I don't have the energy to invest anymore. I'm drained emotionally. I can't move forward at this point. I'm exhausted. I'm running out of fuel, I'm running out of energy. The only thing I have that I can cling to is my faith. I know God has a plan for me, and it's all in his time, not in mine. I have faith that His will be done, in due time. It's just not looking good at the moment. I have got to get a loan for school this fall. My mom says she's not paying it. It's too late for me to get a Stafford loan (I think). I don't know what I'll do to get that money. I haven't received the first paycheck from this new job yet. I am drowning. I have no love, no money, possibly will have to take a semester off from university. I just have to have faith. What else can I do? I'm so devastated. I hate Frank. I don't trust Anthony. Kyle wants to fuck too bad. I don't have the energy for this. I just want to fall asleep and wake up in another time when everything is good. I want to fast-forward about five years and wake up in a new city, with a wonderful partner, a great job, our own home together, a dog, maybe a child of our own. I hate where I'm at. I've got to get out. I've got to get away from this forsaken town. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I don't know how many more times my heart can be broken before all that is left is dust.

I have to believe things would be different...

2009-07-23T15:33:00.004-04:00

I still struggle with the thought of Frank. I have to believe that things wouldn't have worked out even if the whole previous situation never arose. It's hard because I feel like I'd be lying to myself about it. I still have a tiny bit of hope that he'll give me a good reason to stay. I don't want to leave it alone. I have the beginning of a scab and all I want to do is keep picking it off until I bleed to death. I've been working my ass off at the book store and I hate it. I have been staying pretty busy. I went to an outdoor concert last night with Victoria and a new friend named Tony. We met up with Rob and his girlfriend Ashley. Rob was off talking to new people and Victoria kept his girlfriend Ashley good company. They talked all night. Tony and I sat side by side, drinking beer and not really talking much. I just liked being in his company. I enjoyed just having someone there who knows about my trust issues and has enough of his own as well. It's this strange new friendship. It's like the birth of a star. I know it will last long if its fuel doesn't burn too quickly and if it paces itself. I am pacing myself with Tony. I'm not rushing it. I've only held his hand and that was on the third time I hung out with him (last night). He shares the same views on sex as I do. I'm emotionally terrified of sex now thanks to Frank. I went almost a year without it and Frank just plowed through my walls, and disappeared to take everything he wanted from life. I feel comfortable that Anthony would wait and build up to make it a special and memorable and meaningful experience. That's how I want it to be. I don't want to be scared of it. I want to be passionate about it. I want it to be real and loving, and full of a passion like none I have experienced before. I want to go slow. I'm practically crippled as far as loving goes at this point. I've burned bright, and fast, and I've burned out. I want to have faith and trust in Anthony if that's where we're headed together. So far, I'm doing pretty well. I'm still scared to death, apprehensive as all hell, and really don't know what kind of time schedule I'm supposed to be working off of. I just keep praying and go with the flow. I know it will develop naturally and I won't need a time frame of any sort. Tony and I have plans to go to Busch Gardens tomorrow. I have the day off tomorrow and he'll be free by early afternoon. We're going to drive up together and spend the day together. Then we'll go back to his house and cook dinner together, and maybe watch a movie together. I'm excited as hell, and I'm scared as hell too. When I see Tony smile, I can see his heart. I can look right into those blue eyes and know that I can trust him. I know that I want to trust him. He's a good man. He's respectful. He's kind. He cares. He's apprehensive too. It's good though. We're both pacing ourselves and doing this right. I have faith that it will grow if we do this right. I hope I'm doing the right thing. I can't believe I keep trying to find love after all the messes I've lived through. I've got to be at work in an hour. I'm working the closing shift. I have one cigarette left and I want to quit. I want to give up my bad habits. I need to find a better job. I put my resume up on three different banks' websites today. The jobs are all 30+ minutes away but I'd rather tackle the drive and make the money than stay in this minimum-wage retail hell. I've got to get out. Tomorrow will be here soon enough and I'll be with Tony again. The thought alone makes me smile. I'm not going to rush this. Nice and easy this time.

Give a man an inch and he'll run across state lines with it.

2009-07-21T12:37:00.002-04:00

Frank. FRANK. FRAAAANK! Dammit. I should have known better, but I really believed in him. I had broken down my walls and set my trust issues aside with him. I melted into him and I wanted nothing more than to blend our lives and futures together. Once when I went to his house, I saw he had left up the website where we met on his laptop. I saw it and told him, "Frank, I see you have Adam4Adam up on your computer. You know I have trust issues. I don't deserve that." He told me it was nothing. He just watches people online for entertainment, and if it was anything, he would absolutely let me know. So there. Problem squashed. But I hadn't even checked my messages since Frank and I started talking and I knew I was interested in him. I even told him that I hadn't been online since and that I'd feel so guilty. We spent one incredible weekend together. I thought it was amazing and I walked away feeling very attached and craving more of Frank. Being with him in a living situation was completely bearable and that was an even bigger selling point for me. Since we had gotten back into town last monday, Frank has been off on work. He doesn't work very often but had to deliver a yacht to Rhode Island. I figured he'd be out on the open seas for days on end and I wouldn't be able to reach him by phone. I had left one message with him but did think it was strange that his phone actually rang the full ring-sequence and didn't just cut to voicemail. I was on Adam4Adam because I had messages building up. I looked up Frank's profile. There was something different about it. There was the name of a hotel in Rhode Island with the dates 7/18-7/20 "for hot discreet fun". I was slackjawed at the computer. I was in complete shock. I wrote him a message immediately saying: I guess when the cat's away, the cat will play. He responded saying: That was mean. I didn't promise you anything? I wrote him telling him I felt like such a fool for putting my faith in him. I told him he HAD promised me that he would tell me if it WAS something. This was definitely something. How could he do this to me after I just broke down every wall I had built over years just to trust him and open up to him physically and emotionally. I don't even know how to deal with it. If he wants to fuck, go fuck, Frank; just leave me out of it. I told him that too. The worst and sickest part is, if he came back and said he was sorry and that it is more important for him to work on 'us', I'd take him back. I know I would. It makes me sick because I know I shouldn't. I'm just trying to read books, work, spend time with friends and family, and stop thinking about him. When we had gone down to Manteo together, we listened quietly to Khonnor's album titled Handwriting. I was listening to my iPod and songs from the album played randomly and I couldn't help but let my eyes well up with tears. Why do bad things happen to good people? Why is love always running away from me and leaving me in the dark, alone. I've been working a lot at the bookstore this week. I worked from 5pm until 11.20pm last night. I was called out to meet Shawn and Heather Y. at the Corner Pocket. I met them out. I had two drinks, sung George Michael's song Amazing for karaoke, and just hung out. I was smiling. Heather Y. took one look at me though, and she said: "You're fucking miserable aren't you?" She knows my heart. I swear sometimes I think my skin is paper-thin when I'm around her. She knows my heart, and my soul. I consider her a best friend, kindred spirit, and advisor of sorts. The smile slid right off my face and shattered on the floor so-to-speak. "Yes. I am fucking miserable." I told her about Frank. Heather says I need to take time to just be alone. I need to give it a rest. I know I do. I'm still in shock from Frank and a big piece of me really wants him to come home and make it right. I want him to call me. I want him to keep me. I want him to get his shit together and make the right decision. I know he won't though. He's too immature in those regards. Men really are pigs. I don't want to ever have sex again. It makes me too vulnerable. I can't trust a man enough to let him get that close to me again, not for a while anyways. I was on an 8 month celibacy streak before Frank came along and broke the spell. Now I wish he never had. I am not supposed to feel this way at my age. I'm too young to be hurting already. I thought these feelings were reserved for harder years down the road. I don't want to do it anymore. I don't want to find men to meet and see where it goes. I continually throw myself into the fire though, and each time, I come out with one more scar, one more burn, and one more skin graph required on my heart. Frank took me. Frank hurt me. Fuck you Frank. You don't know what you just messed up. I'd have gone to the ends of the earth for you.

Back at the Bottom

2009-07-16T13:18:00.005-04:00

Six brown glass bottles of Bud Light, a flute of Mexican Champagne, a buttery nipple, something with Malibu and Bacardi 151. My night blurs again and details become faint, waltzing gracefully back into my memories as I hold my thoughts lightly in my head about yesterday. I filled my tank with petrol in the morning. I left my house with an unmarked black bag full of clothes, shoes, a book, cigarettes, and a digital camera. It was the first day back to work after a spell of workless days, sunbathing, and friend-dates. I have taken a job at American Eagle Outfitters in the mall. I showed up to orientation an hour early. I spoke with my new manager who is a good friend. The new trainee I would go through orientation with came in on time. His name is Rob. He's 24, with boyish good looks, blue eyes, and is shorter than me. I thought he was probably 19. We have the same initials, but his are a jumbled version of my own. Ryan and Rob. That's us, the trainees. It's ironic seeing as my friend Ryan's boyfriend's name is also Rob, so these names have been a packaged deal in my head for years now. He's straight and has a girlfriend. During the orientation, I noticed that he always let me do everything first when we took turns. I let him borrow my pen. He held doors for me and I noticed. My friend/manager Kyle and I would joke around and queen out, acting flamboyant and carefree for our own amusement. Rob would just smile and laugh. He wasn't laughing AT us, but just WITH us. I enjoyed his company and shared playful dialogue when we were left on our own inside the store. We joked with the headsets, and tried on jeans together. I made him turn around so I could check out his small tight ass in the jeans. He bulged in the front of his jeans just enough to get my attention. I didn't say anything about my minor infatuation with Rob's small body, his fair skin, dirty blonde spiky hair, and his blue eyes. I brushed it off. He was just being my new friend and that's all. Orientation ended, I scored two pairs of jeans, three tees, and maybe four polo shirts for only $78. I used the employee discount and raided the clearance racks. I need clothes to work in, and I own practically NO clothes from the establishment. Orientation is over, but I'm invited immediately back when Kyle is off work so we can roll over to Port Warwick for their outdoor concert series. I leave just to fill out paperwork at Books-a-Million, and return to the mall to meet up with Kyle, Henry (both from the beach the day we met Corinne), and Kyle's friend Andy. We go to Henry's Korean girl friend Sue T's house. I'm sure it's really spelled Siu Thi or something more exotic, but I'm going to just leave it at Sue T, because that's how it sounds to me. I changed into my new fluorescent coral v-neck tee, and distressed straight-leg American Eagle jeans. We pack into two cars and headed to the lawn of Port Warwick, armed with two bottles of wine, two six-packs of Bud Light, and a small arsenal of cigarettes. The lawn was empty to our astonishment, save for a few geriatric couples here and there. I hated to pop the beer for fear of getting a drunk-in-public citation, but as the lawn filled up, I saw more and more people drinking freely, smoking, and unfolding tons of collapsible chairs. When I picked up the beer and cigarettes, my heart skipped a beat while waiting for my credit card to be authorized. I have blown through checking, and what little bit of savings I had set aside. I still have my IRA account, but I haven't had an income at all. I don't know how much more my little low-limit credit card will be able to take. I just have to get through the next two weeks to get a paycheck and start paying it all back. As soon as the first beer disappeared into the darkness known as my mouth, I forgot all about finances. The lawn filled quickly, and the band started. Henry and I were singing Proud Mary by Tina Turner while waiting for the show to start. Here we were, the only sister's in the whole place, queening it out, wailing our arms and trying not to spill our beer. Henry was unsuccessful at keeping his red wine in his plastic wine glass. It was quite unfortunate, but rather comical that a large portion of it ended up in his lap while we sat on the lawn drinking. We laughed and he handled himself just fine. We all nearly died when the first song played by the band was Proud Mary! We all stood up and swayed our hips. We were tipsy, and older people stared a little. Oh well. We have strength in numbers and I would have never acted out without Kyle and Henry there. Rob from orientation showed up with his girlfriend. We kept our sunglasses on, Rob and me. Men showed up with coolers, beer pong tables, and most importantly other GUY friends. There were very attractive men. Young ones. Men with arms the size of my thighs. I nearly died. Thankfully I had my sunglasses on and was able to stare freely without being caught. Rob seemed very comfortable with us. Kyle started talking to a nearby woman, attractive and in her early forties. She had a couple small children, and a charming husband who didn't mind her talking to Kyle. I brought Kyle his beer and joined in the conversation with this woman named Kim. Kyle returned to the group of friends but I stayed and talked to Kim, exchanged phone numbers, and a brief recap of what happened the last time Kyle, Henry, and I met a woman in public (the Corinne story). I reminded Kim of a close gay friend of hers that had since moved to Texas. We decided the two of us would go out soon. Her husband listened in, and was very kind. I went back to the guys after that. The concert ended; Andy got another six pack after we killed our reserves. We sung Michael Jackson and Wendy Ho as we walked back to the car. We did have DD's just to let you know. Rob climbed onto the roof of his girlfriend's Honda, and Kyle joined him. Michael Jackson was playing through the CD player, and the two guys danced on the roof, nearly denting the whole thing in a couple times. We went back to Sue T's house where our cars had been left. Inside, Sue, who had left earlier, had prepared a whole Korean feast for everyone. We ate homemade egg rolls, and noodles, and rice. It was so good. After dinner, we all smoked outside. Rob and his girlfriend went out to Bailey's and didn't join us at Sue's house. Sue had some business to take care of, with the help of Henry, Andy, and Kyle. I had to leave to meet Dallas out since at midnight she would be 21 at last. I met Dallas at the same bar she saved me from a crazy tit-showing woman just nights before. Shawn joined us shortly thereafter. Shawn bought champagne. Dallas bought buttery nipples. I drank water mainly. Dallas had to leave, I can't remember why. Rob had texted Henry to get him to join up with Rob and his girlfriend at Bailey's. I texted Rob, asking him why he hadn't invited ME out. It's so strange to me how these straight guys are always all about Henry. Henry is a confident firecracker of a gay man and I absolutely adore him as a friend. He brings such a charisma to any atmosphere, I can't help but smile and laugh. Rob invites me to Bailey's, so I quickly abandon the bar with Dallas and Shawn at the same time Dallas left. I drove up to meet Rob and his girlfriend Ashley. Rob had completely lost his composure. He was drunk, immediately ordering a round of shots upon my arrival. His vocabulary had changed, and even though in the presence of his girlfriend, his wrists went weak. I could hear a small lisp, and his eyes were sparkling. I think he was doing it on purpose to get in with me and make me feel like he was one of us. I don't understand it at all. Later I would learn that he was making moves on Henry only moments before I got there. When I got there, Henry and Kyle had already left. Rob was now pinching my nipples playfully, he even made a grope at my crotch. Hip hop music played and I danced in my seat. Rob got up and started dancing on me. I was very uncomfortable with everyone else around, in a straight bar. I got him away from me. I talked to his girlfriend Ashley who didn't seem to think anything wrong was going on at all. My curiosity was boiling over. We left around midnight and were going to meet back up at the Corner Pocket, my old stomping grounds. Halfway there Rob texted me to tell me to just go home and that we'd meet up the next day. I came home. I slept. I woke up feeling like I had been hit in the forehead by a freight train. Rob said he was puking this morning. I was going to pick him up and bring him back to lay by the pool at my house since he doesn't drive at the moment. His girlfriend was off work today. He ended up telling me a friend stopped by whom it hadn't seen in years. So I dropped it. I just really wanted to talk to him some more and dive into his confused little mind and untangle some of the knots that had surfaced the night before. Truth-be-told, it really doesn't matter. Yeah, I thought he was attractive, and his girlfriend had nothing but great things to say about him. I really just want Frank. Frank is the man I have been talking to for a couple weeks now. I spent the night with him the first night we met. We never even went to the bar we were supposed to hang out at that evening. We stayed home and talked all night. It was difficult for me since my guard was up and I've been steamrolled too many times. I have major trust issues with men. Something in Frank's eyes pleaded with me and tore down my defenses. So I went back. I saw him again. He took me surfing. He took me out on his boat and made me steer the wheel even though I was uncomfortable and didn't want to. It wasn't that bad. I trusted him. He believed in me. He believes in me. I trust him. He's older than me by quite a few years, which is very comforting to me. I enjoy his company. He's grounded. He knows who he is. We took off last weekend down to Manteo to surf, and hang out for the weekend. He held me every night. He cooked for me, and I did the dishes. We smoked cigarettes on the porch and drank bourbon. I woke up next to him and it felt really good. I tried really hard not to show it, but it was very difficult for me to say goodbye to him after we got back home. My heart broke a little bit because I had grown so fond of Frank, so comfortable with him, and I trust him. I knew that I wouldn't be waking up with him the next morning. I knew I wouldn't be spending the next week with him. He's sailing a yacht up to Newport, Rhode Island and I'm sure he spend the days after our trip packing and getting ready for his trip. He'll fly back home at the beginning of next week. I haven't had any contact with him since then. I know he needs space, and I know he is busy. I really just want to talk to him, to hug him, to kiss him. I need to know that he's thinking about me and missing me too. Everything else just doesn't seem as important when I'm around him. He told me not to steamroll him and I told him not to disappear. I'm ready for a phone call. I'm ready for him to come home. Today has been an empty day. I think about Frank, I think about my lack of money at the moment, I read books to keep my thoughts at bay when it seems like too much to process. I don't have any absolute answers right now. I have to take it one day at a time. Dallas's birthday dinner is this evening. The celebrating will roll over into the weekend. I don't know how on Earth I'm going to afford ANY of it. I have no money for drinking. I have no money for cover charges and dinners. I have to work. I go in tomorrow at the bookstore but I can't just ask for an advance on my first paycheck. I'm on thin ice. I'm skating by on the skin of my teeth. I've never been this destitute. I've got designer everything and no fucking money. I look like I'm wealthy but I'm poor on paper. I will finish college in the next year, or year and a half, and hopefully find a good job and start living the life I want to live. Shawn puts it best when he speaks of being gay and dealing with finances. "People don't realize how expensive this lifestyle is." I agree. It costs a lot of money to be gay. You have to keep up with the Joneses. Fuck the Joneses, I AM the Joneses. You can upgrade, at any time, but what nobody ever tells you is this: You can't downgrade. Not for a while anyways. You can't drive a Benz or a Jag and then decide, "Nah, this is too pricey, I think I'll go back to driving a little Honda." It is a big hit to your reputation if you do something like that. You can do it when you're older and you have a nice house and take vacations often and live an otherwise lavish lifestyle. Being gay has the side effect of having one of the worse social-viruses ever known to grace the face of the Earth. It's a virus rooted in envy, jealousy, hate, and shame. I'm doing much better than I was. I stopped buying new clothes. I've had my current car for over a year now. I don't go to the clubs and bars except for on rare occasion. I spend my time with friends I love, and I'm able to forget about the feelings I used to get when I would see muscular masculine men in the bars. I forget about the feelings of hate I would have for other queens, other bottoms, they were competition that needed to be squashed. I would convince myself that I was the better person, that I had so much more to offer a man, or that I was the more attractive and driven individual. I don't think about those feelings or those people at all when I'm with my friends. I don't want that sort of lifestyle. I want to live in a beautiful home with one man. I want a normal life. I want a family. I want holidays, and vacations, and memories. I want to be with Frank. I could see myself with a man like Frank. He makes me laugh, he makes me happy. I'm not going to force any commitment on him or throw down an intricate rule book for him to abide by. I just want to be myself and for him to be himself, just as long as it's just the two of us, I will continue to trust in him. I don't tell hardly anyone about my feelings for Frank. I don't want to jinx myself. I want to harness my feelings of warmth and fondness for him. I want to keep them to myself. I miss him. Come home Frank. Call me. Oh yeah, and please don't read this. ha ha ha.

Blessings of the Breast Kind.

2009-07-09T14:11:00.004-04:00

God has many ways of showing up in my life at the most random of times. Any ordinary day could turn into the most bizarre happenings imaginable. Take yesterday for instance. Since I've been unemployed since the end of May, I've spent most of my time working on my tan and spending time with friends. My friend Kyle suggested a beach day yesterday, which of course I couldn't turn down. He called me up, "Hey girl! Wear your square cuts. Me and Henry are going to wear ours!" Perfect. I'm always down for causing a scene in public. I show up at the beach after having taken apart the mannequin in my room. I stuffed her legs, detached arms, and torso into my trunk so I could give it to Kyle. This is besides the fact though. Kyle had called me back as I was pulling out of the driveway to tell me to wear some board shorts overtop just in case. I was frustrated seeing as I was JUST leaving and he and Henry were already there. "I'm not going to be showing up and looking like a Richard Simmons workout video co-host by myself. Take your damn shorts, off we're all going down together!" I walk onto the beach in my cutoff sweatpants, white True Religion tee, my Reef flip flops (complete with pop top beer bottle opener on the soles), and my Ray Ban Wayfarers. Of course, Kyle and Henry were rocking their lycra hot shorts and I had mine on as well. "Hello ladies!" I called out to them as I approached. I laid my towel next to them and got down to business, immediately starting work on my tan. The three of us gabbed, laughed, and were talking about men, their flaws and weaknesses, and insecurities that root completely from their own inner self-hatred. We were getting fired up, between cigarettes checking out the scenery on the beach. A woman sitting by herself about fifty feet away had gone into the water, coming back out and looking to be in great shape. I immediately commented, "She looked just like Bo Derek coming out of the water like that!" Henry, without missing a beat: "I'll do the braids girl!" Me: "I brought the beads!" We laughed. She had an incredible rack, which is really saying something if three gay men notice those things. She got up out of her chair to return to her beachfront condo a couple times. She hollered out to us about how every time she got up, her ass would hit the ground beneath her chair. I found it incredibly odd how this complete stranger would have the balls to call out to three random tan gay guys in spandex. Kyle followed up with more conversation after her second run towards the condo. We called her over, spoke briefly, and she offered us beer. SHE WAS IN. Offer alcohol to a gay man and he's all yours. You'll have us eating out of your hand. Of course we accepted the offer, and within minutes, our little miss Derek was walking up with a plastic bag full of Bud Light cans. She sat down on my towel. She asked us if we had noticed the older gentleman that had stepped onto the beach (in full business attire) to speak with her earlier. All of us recalled. Corinne, as we soon learn is her name, proceeds to spew stories about this man and his incredible wealth. "He bought me a $75,000 Mercedes and this huge ring from [insert some Italian jeweler's name you've never heard of]" She told us of his vulgarity; he was an absolute dog, not to mention he had a barrel belly, too much hair, and expected to buy his way into Corinne's heart. As the conversation progressed, Corinne's story changed ever-so minutely. The $75,000 car became a $100,000 car. Once she said it was a Silver Mercedes SL convertible and that she had hand delivered it back to him, walking miles to return home on foot, I remembered seeing that old man drive off in that same Mercedes....ONLY, this Mercedes was the OLD body style SL, and when purchased used, couldn't have POSSIBLY cost more than $25,000. She did have very fine holes in these stories if you looked hard enough, but why should Kyle, Henry, and I care? She brought us beer, she's beautiful, she's from Long Island and has this great attitude! Corinne wanted to go out later yesterday evening. I was down for it, but Kyle and Henry immediately bailed on me. I should have known right then that this was a BAD idea. I would have to face Corinne alone, and she was quite intimidating. Beautiful, but definitely with thorns; I couldn't see them, but I know roses, and I am aware of their downfall. Corinne sets the date for 7pm. We finish our beers, exchange numbers, and pack up. Kyle hands me his digital camera and makes me swear to take pictures of how she looks all dolled up. I get ready at the house, painstakingly making sure I am on the top of my game. I have to look sharp, but casual. I wear my most expensive True Religion jeans, and a Juicy Couture tee-shirt that I scored at TJMaxx for like $20. I pull up to Corinne's condo, flicking my cigarette on the ground, and moments later she emerges. Her hair went from wavy pony tail beach hair, to Anna Nicole Smith bombshell curls, except Corinne is a brunette (but was previously platinum). She approaches the car with a painted red smile plastered across her face. She's wearing red patent leather mary jane pumps, white embroidered jeans, and a red wrap top with white polka dots. The girl looked incredible, a complete 180. Kiss kiss, cheek one, cheek two. She slides into the passenger side of my Jaguar. "I've been riding in some pretty nice cars here recently," she comments. I smile but really don't have much to say at all. I'm intimidated and trying really hard not to show the beads of sweat starting to form on my brow. Corinne has this charisma, this zing that you don't see in other women. She's hot, and she's very well aware of this. She pulls from her purse this joint that resembles a poorly hand-rolled cigarette. It doesn't taper at either end like any joint I've ever seen. She lights up as I drive. She tokes up, offering to share her herbal delight with me. I take one drag off of her modified cigarette and know immediately that I'm done. That one tiny hit was enough for me. I don't smoke weed, and couldn't even tell you the last time I took a hit. Corinne lets the thing go out and I park the car in front of the little upscale tapas bar. We get out of the car, and she sits the joint on the wheel of my car so it's not inside. Smart woman. I wish you could have heard her speak. Corinne and I order our first drink after we walked in, and immediately step outside to smoke a cigarette. I am parched, starting to feel very paranoid, and now at the full mercy of Corinne, the incredible. The words flow from her mouth and she starts filling me in with the details of her life, previous relationships, and eventually, faith. When sitting on the bench out front, slowly inhaling lungfulls of cigarette smoke, Corinne finally breaks the ice on the subject of her breasts. "People always stare, but I take it as a compliment. I know I have this incredible body, and that's what it's for. I don't mind when people look." Then she drops the bomb: "God made me like this as a gift to you." I immediately lose all cigarette smoke in my lungs, and erupt into a fit of stoned laughter. "ME!? What do you MEAN!?" I spat out. Corinne responded, "And him," pointing to a random black man walking on the sidewalk, "and anyone that looks." This was not going well, although it was extremely entertaining to have this brunette bombshell on my arm all evening. We enter back into the bar, and I collapse into the first barstool I can find. Corinne saddles up next to me. She straddles one of my knees and I keep my body language to a pretty guarded stance. I always have an appendage of some sort blocking my body off from Corinne. She's very real when she talks. Her vocabulary is epic. She uses words that I haven't heard, only read in books. She tells me she's MENSA; meaning she's among the greatest thinkers on Earth. She's in the top 1% of the world, and that fat old millionaire man, he's in the 100th of the top 1%. Okay. It's official; I'm dealing with a smart lunatic now. I'm breezing through Purple Haze martini's and she's slowly plowing through Cosmo's. I have no choice but to drink, seeing as I can't escape this woman. Corinne starts her stories on giving back. This was the best part about our conversations. She made me tear up a couple times. Corinne is a giver. I think, personally, that Corinne is a very selfish giver, but I can still appreciate and understand her concept of giving, and would actually implement it myself....maybe. She tells me stories. She was in line at a supermarket and this woman is in front of her in the checkout line. She's got this huge honkin' diamond ring on, Corinne tells me. The woman starts to have a panic attack because she can't find her wallet once she gets to the front. Corinne immediately rushes to her aid, patting this mystery women on the shoulder and telling her in her thick Long Island accent, that "This one's on me. Don't worry about it." Corinne flashes her big white, straight smile, and touches my shoulder. Corinne pays the woman's $32 tab and gives the woman her number. Well, to me, that defeats the purpose of giving, because she does expect the woman to call and repay her in some mysterious unknown way. Well Corinne says the woman calls her and invites her to join her on her 100+ foot long yacht. "The thing has to have a crew, it's so big," Corinne informs me. Corinne says there are about 50 people on the boat. They're drinking Dom Perignon and doing lines of cocaine. They are getting into the hot tub but Corinne doesn't get in with the rest of the group. The woman who owns the boat takes Corinne down into some room and asks her why she won't get into the hot tub. Corinne tells this woman that she has had several children and it ruined her body. She tells this rich woman that she doesn't show off her chest or abdomen to anyone. "Show me. Come on, let's see," this rich woman says. Corinne lifts her shirt, showing off havoc that I can only imagine. The woman later confronts her husband, telling him, "She helped me! She didn't know me from Adam!" Hubby strokes an $11,000 check and, TA DA! Corinne has one incredible set of saline breast implants. This story is hard to believe, but I eat it up, hook, line, and sinker. She has other stories. One I particularly liked was when she was driving in her Mercedes with the top back. Her hair is flying all over the place (at this point, drunken/high Corinne shakes her head vigorously in the bar, making her hair fly as if it were in gale-force wind). She says she was wearing this hot black dress and just cruising. She sees this old, black, legless man (well, OK, he had ONE leg). Corinne tells me about how she backed up traffic while getting this elderly man into her convertible. She tells him that God has asked her to take him to his destination and buy him what he desires. He wants bananas and lottery tickets. "I won't buy your lottery tickets, but how about I take you to the grocery store and come back with some surprises for you." Of course the man was skeptical. Beautiful white women in a Mercedes offering to buy him stuff. I'd have thought to myself, "Isn't this how horror movies start?" But he did trust her. She tells me that she gets him to the grocery store and leaves him in her Mercedes with the key in the ignition and the top back still, and she trusts the man in her car. Corinne tells me about all the fruits she buys him, and how she comes back to the car with bags of groceries. She takes him back home to the Veterans' hospital. She smiles at me too much. I'm very nervous around Corinne as she tells me these stories, smiling the whole time. She touches me constantly, and never gets more than 18 inches away from my face almost the entire time. She hugs me between stories, and makes very many comments about how attractive I am. She apologizes for being a heterosexual. She wants to kiss me so bad. She doesn't want sex, but she wants to kiss me. This makes me very uncomfortable. She starts with another story about running through a grocery store to locate an elderly black woman's cane. She brings one back that was turned in, but it wasn't the woman's cane. Corinne finds the cane on an isle, rushes back out to return it to the woman, and the old woman weeps. This touches me deeply. Corinne grabs my shoulders, pulls me in, and gets all of 8 inches away from my face. Her eyes are locked onto my soul, and I can count every eyelash at this point. "Take the time. Find the cane. Buy the candy. Give it all away." She tells me this at least 25 times. Corinne sees me looking at her breasts. She pulls her wrap shirt back and shows me one of her breasts. She has large nipples, but great looking boobs. I've seen them like that in porn before. I know they are good from what I've heard other men talk about them. I'm a little shocked, but she's very comfortable. I've said all of five words the entire time I've been with her. She dominates the conversation. She's high as hell! By martini number 76, I'm starting to lose the high feeling and starting to feel more like myself. Corinne shows me her boobs several times, getting more and more obvious about it as time goes by. I'm starting to worry that other people, who are quickly arriving, will see them and recoil in shock. Hiroshima/Nagasaki is yet to hit. Minutes later, the bomb is being released. Corinne holds my hand and walks me back to the restroom with her. Dave, our bartender, is a friend of mine. We talk a lot when I'm there, and he knows my friends. Out of the corner of my eye, I've seen him all night, holding back his laughter, and making shocked faces. I can't look at him for fear of Corinne catching on to Dave's little game that I'm involved in. I just smile wider and stare into Corinne's eyes. But back to the moment, Corinne stumbles towards the women's shitter, me dragging behind her. People are standing, there's a nice crowd of 20-somethings hanging out, having drinks. Corinne weaves between them, almost losing her footing on a couple occasions. I'm nearly sober, because I have to be at this point. She goes into the bathroom, and pulls me in. She locks the door and starts playing with her wrap top. She unties it. One breast is now fully exposed. There is a knock at the door. "You can't have two people in there. You're going to have to come out of there." It is Dave. I smile. Corinne pushes me behind the door and opens it up partially to talk to him. "Corinne! Your boob is hanging out!" I yell, but it's too late and she didn't notice anyway. "Just give me 10 seconds. I just need a little time here with my friend," she protests. This is completely out of my hands. Dave doesn't let her stop, but is wide-eyed, at the door, Corinne halfway out with her tit as clear as day. She manages to tie her top and walk out. I come out second, and the entire bar is looking in our direction. People are smiling, hooting and hollering, and ERUPT into applause! They are clapping like crazy, and EVERYONE has now witnessed the incredible beauty of Corinne's breasticlites. I just smile. I turned to Dave as everyone is clapping, "Did everyone see her boob?" I was hoping he'd say no. "Yes. They all did." FUCK. Great. I'm mortified. I just smile and return to my seat. This woman is out of control. I paid my tab. I paid her tab (she at least gave me a $20 to cover part of hers). I still paid over $32 with tip and everything. Dallas, one of my best friends, called me up a couple times and said she was going to stop by. When she finally arrived, she had missed the tit show. I was just in so deep, I couldn't help but smile and play along with Corinne. We kissed on the lips and hugged. Dallas shows up and gives me THE look. It says to me, "What that FUCK are you doing? OMIGOD, you're SO lucky I'm here." Dallas says, "I'm driving you guys home." Corrine is attempting to order another Cosmo, but Dave has cut her off, but he does it nicely by saying that she just needs to wait a few minutes. I'm done. Corrine is talking some crazy bullshit in my ear and Dallas is on the sidelines making comments to herself. She's laughing and she's pitying me. I can sense it. I give Dallas the keys and tell Corrine that, "I'm spending the night with her. I'm really sorry." She had been hoping I'd share her bed with her. Not for sex of course. She's looking for more of a cerebral fuck. A mind fuck. Someone who can stimulate her mentally. I remind her of her handmade doobie. She picks it off the tire, and gets in the back seat with me. She's kissing on my neck, laughing. Dallas is having a fit behind the steering wheel. I'm able to pry Corinne off of me at her condo without having to use a crowbar, but it was still difficult. She went inside, the door closed, I fell into the passenger seat of my car, and Dallas immediately lays it on. "What the fuck!?" she starts, "You're not ever calling her again. You're not going to Paris with her." I tried to explain myself. I'd only just met her on the beach. "Well," Dallas says, "do you want me to take you back to the bar so you can apologize to everyone?" I laugh. "No, just take me home, I need to be in my bed." Moral of story? "Take the time. Find the cane. Buy the candy. Give it all away"...Just don't show your boobs in public again Corinne. I still had a tab to pay, AND we got cutoff. Give a gay man booze, and he's yours forever. Get a gay man cutoff, and you're DONE SON.

The Gay Rage

2008-03-20T15:19:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, Thursday, was quite the unexpected day. Instead of going to my second job, I received an e-mail on my phone from the Boss Lady (BL) telling me that we really needed to get word of the website's existance out there to the community. I was relieved of having to drive to Portsmouth, but instead was instructed to hit local libraries, hair salons, and day spas. I went to the downtown Hampton library first. I didn't see any sort of community bulletin board, so I looked up plastic surgery books and quickly located a small section of books having to do with plastic surgery, cosmetic procedures, and things of that nature. I gingerly placed the postcard-sized flyers between the pages of each book that applied to cosmetic procedures of any kind. I thought to myself that this was pointless because if anyone has to do research these days, they just look it up online instead of checking out books at a library. I found a day spa on the way home that I didn't know existed and decided to check it out. I went inside and spoke with the receptionist. She was the same girl that grew up three houses down from my own. She was a couple years older than me, so I never really spent time with her or got to know her. I left her my flyers and information on Cosmetic Procedure Resource Alliance. I hit two more libraries and a hair salon before calling it quits at five.

Andrew had sent me a text asking if I wanted to go shopping with him. By the time he showed up at my house it was already around seven thirty. The mall closed at nine and it was over twenty minutes away. He wanted to go out to The Garage in Norfolk.

The Low Down on The Garage:
The Garage is a bar for older men generally speaking. It's known to me as HIV central. The men are shady and very forward in regards to sexual advances. I know it is by no means a playground for younger gay men. It's the kind of place you get taken advanage of at.

I told Andrew I didn't have the gas to get there but somehow he convinced me to drive anyways. In hindsight, I should have never drove. I gassed up and waited for Andrew while he bought a new pack of cigarettes and two bottles of "5 Hour Energy". He handed me one once he got in the car. I tried to rock out and sing as loud as I could in the car on the way down, but Andrew kept turning down the volume and tried to talk to me. I was getting irritated but I shut up and just listened to him.

Once we got there, I parked in a small lot across the street from The Garage (The Gay Rage). Swarms of shady looking men walked across the parking lot as we pulled in. Andrew said there was some sort of homeless soup kitchen not far away that drew out all kinds of creepy people. We got out and walked around the bar, entering through the back door. I was quickly introduced by Andrew to this beautiful young Latino bartender named Manny. Andrew pointed out his boyfriend, and also told me that Manny was poz (HIV positive). He had also seen Manny in some porn on Papi.com at one point (Manny later confirmed when it was brought up that the rumour was in fact true). I drank a few beers and Andrew threw back a few Amaretto sours. The end of the bar that we were at was mainly young guys like us, but there were few of us compared to the large number of older creeps everywhere else. The old men nursed drinks all night and eye-fucked us as best they could. I ignored everyone else, mainly trying to stick within a five foot radius of my own surroundings. Manny was super nice and joked around with us, making fun of Andrew and the other guys near us. It was fun. I really did enjoy myself.

My friend Lon Hurst showed up later on in the evening and I spen a good deal of time speaking with him. He ordered me a beer and I thanked him. We talked about relationships (as we often do) and about astrological signs. He's a cancer, which definitely describes why I get along with him so well and enjoy his company. Andrew was ready to leave at that point, so I threw back the beer and he paid his tab.

Andrew and I got home safe. He bitched at every chance in the car because I wouldn't let him smoke inside the cabin. We hugged in my driveway and he left.

That was all fine and dandy, Thursday turned out pretty good. Today was a different story.

I had a very vivid dream last night. There were a few friends, my mother, and me. We went to a party upstairs in a new high rise bar in New York City. My mother was finishing eating some dish with rice and chopped onions. I asked her where she got it from and she told me she got it from some fast-food style restaurant. I had to drive to get to it. I drove through the night to get to this place. It was all by itself on the outskirts of the city scape. As I got closer, I noticed it was fenced off. I found a break in the fence and drove up to the back side of the building, parking right next to the sliding double doors. I walked all of three feet from the car to get inside. The place was full of people and it was brightly lit inside. I had barely had the chance to look around before I noticed a man behind the counter with a gun in his hand. He had a shaved head and a scruffy short beard sprinkled with gray. He told everyone to hand over their money, yelling loudly, rage inside his eyes. I looked down at my hands, looking at a five and two ones. The man with the gun was looking t his right. Since I was left of him and right at the door, I slowly backed up and got outside the building. I saw him turn in my direction, looking at a man not too far from the door. "IS THAT YOUR CAR?! THAT'S YOUR CAR HUH?!" My eyes widened as I watched with horror. The man didn't see me. He pointed his gun and fired through the window, shooting out the window and putting holes in the hood of my car. I watched the shots, still backing up slowly from the building and my car. The shots continued and I went to turn around. I squinted my eyes at the noise and suddently felt burning sensations in my chest. I had been hit below my collarbone on the left side of my body. Even as I slept, I could feel the pain burning straight from my chest to my back. I had been shot. I panicked. I don't remember the rest. I woke up feeling doomed, wounded, and emotionally drained.

I got ready for school. I was running a few minutes late. I jumped into my car and threw the vehicle into reverse. I heard a clicking sound. I slowed down but the sound continued. I looked at my side view mirror on the passenger side of the car. It was stuck. When I reverse, the side mirror tilts down and inwards so I can see the curb when I back up. When I put the car in drive, it tilts back up and out to where I have it set normally. It was stuck on something. I didn't think anything of it, and since I was in a rush, I just drove to school, having to turn around to check the right side if I needed to change lanes. Once I was in the parking lot at school, I walked around to that side to push the mirror into place and see what the problem was. My jaw hit the ground when I realized the damage. Someone had hit my car the night before when it was parked in downtown Norfolk. There was a puncture on the back side of the mirror. There was a scuff on the passenger door and a dent in it as well. I ran into class anyways. I sent my mom a text message asking if the insurance premiums would raise if they took care of it. I went to SEPHORA to talk to some old coworkers after class and while inside, received a call from my mom. I told her I wanted to cry. I just knew she was going to think it was all my fault and that I was just some wreckless drunk. At first, I said I wanted to cry just to try to gain her sympathy but in the process, I started tearing up in reality. I was so upset. She just told me it was okay. She told me it was minor and we could get it fixed. She hung up. I don't have the time. I don't have a single moment when I DON'T need my car. I'm devistated. It's not something I can have fixed anywhere. I'm going to have to take it to the Acura dealership and it's going to cost an arm and a leg. Insurance will cover some of the cost and I'm sure the rest is on me. There goes that tax return I was saving for a rainy day. How irresponsible is that for some drunk to hit a nice ass Acura and not leave any kind of insurance information or anything? "I mean, it's not like I drive a '96 Civic!" I told Ryan over the phone today. He laughed at me. I know it sounds stupid when you put it that way, but, "If I hit some nice ass Mercedes, I'd be like, 'SHIT!' but I'd still leave the insurance information on the car," I told Ryan.
"No you wouldn't bitch, you know you'd have driven off too!" His response was comical and provided the relief I needed but still, I wouldn't have done to someone else what was done to me.

Ryan and I talked for a while after I got my oil changed today (this was after I was done at SEPHORA). He told me I should just skip classes and have a ME day. He broke me down pretty bad on the phone talking about my relationship rituals and my attitude. I felt like everyone really saw me the way he described me. I feel like I'm this gold-digging kid that wants to play house for some old man. I feel like someone with no self-confidence that can't even stand on his own two feet that just believes everything that people tell him. Ryan said it's even worse when I'm drunk. I took his words as best I could. I wanted to hang up. I didn't want to hear it. It was horrible. I was so emotionally drained and completely void of all emotions. I still am right now. I'm going to skip my English class tonight. It's just a tutoring night, and I don't feel like bleeding all over some pitiful student's papers anyway.

Ryan says I have to change. I just feel like if I did, I'd just be pretending I was someone I'm not. Ryan and I are very different. I have this view of money. I don't "gold dig" but I want someone that has that financial freedom. I don't ask for their money, but it's nice to know that they can take vacations and have nice things, and not have to worry about just making it from paycheck to paycheck. I'm going to school to be a doctor, and that means that I'll be a big bread-winner at some point. It may not be for a while, but I don't want anyone to just use me and rely on me for that. I want to be with someone who is equally powerful in terms of finances. I want to retire early and travel, and do everything I've ever wanted to do. I don't want to be with some dead beat that has a dead-end job and can barely make ends meet. Ryan just looks at it in terms of happiness. I don't want money to be something you argue over, and when you don't have it, that's exactly what it is. I can't change my views on money, but I guess I'll have to definitely stop talking about it (I guess that Ryan things I make references to things and objects too much).

I'm going to go home and sleep. I just need to relax. I really hate life today. I hate being me. I hate being here, and I hate the fact that Andrew made me drive last night.

Reconciliation with Jason / A New Love

2008-03-19T09:07:00.004-04:00

I had a falling out with Ryan on Tuesday night. It's a long story, and certainly one I'd love to talk about, but won't. Just let it be said that things have since cleared up and the both of us have a newfound determination to once again ban ourselves from our once-sacred neighborhood bar.

Tuesday night was the night that I decided to step foot into that shit hole once agian. I went there by myself. I had spent the earlier parts of the evening preparing myself for a night out. I was planning on going to the Wave for some reason, but due to inclimate weather conditions and the late time, I just decided I'd settle for a quiet evening at the Pocket. It was anything but quiet to say the least.

It had been building in me for some time to speak to Jason. After the extravaganza about him supposedly talking trash about me to JT, I decided I'd clear up the speculation and rumours that had been flying like cupid's arrows on Valentine's day. Jason was in the back of the bar in the off-limits kitchen. Since I'm a long time bar fly and one of the people looked fondly on by Frank, it's never a problem for me to get into the back with the employees. Since Jason was dating Naomi, he usually spends a good deal of time in the back with her as she readies herself. As expected, I easily found him in the back. I smiled at him, "Could I talk with you for a minute?" I pulled him aside. I spoke to him about my situation as of recent and how I didn't want the rift between us to continue because deep down, whenever I see him, I DO want to say hello and smile, and when I can't, it just doesn't feel natural for me. I'm a very friendly person. I always give everyone the benefit of the doubt. I am not used to having any enemies, so the thought of not allowing to speak to anyone is something that has caused a decent amount of inner turmoil.

Jason stood in the dark doorway that I had led him to and listened intently. Maybe he was just telling me what I wanted to hear and keeping the truth of some twisted scheme to himself, but it worked either way. I took his words for the truth and swallowed them hook, line, and sinker. I felt better. Mind you, all of this took about three cocktails before I had the courage to try to start the conversation with him.

I won't divulge into further detail about that night, but it did end up finishing with a bang.

Everything in my life has been straightening out. The raging tidal waves in my life have been flattened out to smooth glass-like waters. I'm not used to these slow periods. I work as hard as I can to make sure that I avoid these slow periods in my life. It's absolutely dreadful for me to spend an evening at home. There's nothing wrong with home, I just believe I'm more social than that. Unfortunately I do have a pile of school work that I need to get started on. I have less than a week now to create a test based on every chapter in my history book.

On the romantic front, I've been talking to a man that has been, so far, AMAZING. He shares my views on relationships, finance, and careers. He's a homebody, a book worm, and a professor with a Phd. He's 34. I can't begin to tell you how many nails he has just hit on the head when it comes to my somewhat lengthy, newly revised checklist of traits and characteristics that my next partner will be required to have. He is six foot three inches tall. He's muscular and takes care of his body. He's extremely romantic, and idealistic when it comes to love. He believes commitment should be for life. He loves to kiss. He's very passionate about what love should be like, as am I. I could go on and on, but I really don't want to put all my eggs in one basket and get overworked and possibly disappointed if something fails. I will say that I do have my fingers crossed on this one.

The Tuesday Grind

2008-03-15T19:12:00.004-04:00

Tuesdays usually offer nothing other than a small crowd at the bar in Newport News. I had exchanged text messages with Rob the night before and had been invited to meet him and Lenny out for dinner. My classes ended at 6:45PM which gave me barely enough time to drive to Lenny's house and await Rob's arrival. I walked through Lenny's back door and not a minute later Rob walked through the front. Lenny rode with Rob and I followed.

We went to a small local neighborhood Italian restaurant that Rob and Lenny frequent on an almost weekly basis. The owner smiled and greeted us, joking around with Rob and Lenny. A gay couple sat in the booth behind Rob (I sat beside Lenny). One man was gorgeous. I'd assume him to be in his forties, Latino with very dark hair (black with a little salt and pepper on the sides). He wore stylish glasses and dressed far nicer and more professional than his parter. The partner had a buzzed head with a lot of gray. He was really butch, both were to be exact, one just more in a metrosexual way than the other. They were an odd pair, but had been together for years according to Rob. The latin guy must have been related to Frida Kahlo judging by the single tremendous brow spanning across his forehead. He was still very distinct and attractive, and in some sort of strange way, he looked fine with the unibrow.

Dinner was absolutely superb. I had the chicken souvlaki. It was very Greek. It came with a greek salad, pita bread, some sort of marinated chicken that had been grilled, and fries. I ate the slowest out of the three. Dinner conversation was casual if I can remember correctly, but to be honest, Lenny and Rob ate so quickly, it must have been me doing all the talking. Talks of shopping sprung up after dinner, so it was voted on and decided that we'd hit a couple shops. We went to T.J.Maxx and looked around for half an hour or so. I ended up grabbing an Abercrombie tee and an American Eagle polo (the only decent thing in XS). I was the only one who bought anything surprisingly. Lenny is the big shopper and since he's so particular about what he likes (he is a local fashion icon), I can't be but so surprised he left empty handed.

We went out to the bar very early. I sat down and had a drink or two before Ryan called. I figured he wouldn't want to come out, so I told him, "I'm just here hanging out with Rob and Lenny. I was waiting for you to get off work, so whenever you're ready, let me know and I'll come over and we can start getting ready and go from there." He ended up calling me back only to tell me to stay there and that he'd meet me. Rob works early mornings, so it was no surprise when he decided to duck out around eleven. I agreed to drive Lenny back home at the end of the night and that all would be fine.

Ryan showed up eventually. It really hadn't been too busy inside. A guy walked in that I had seen earlier on in the evening. He had been there before Ryan arrived, drinking quietly and devoting all of his attention to doing something on his LG Voyager cell phone. I kept waiting for him too look up so I could walk over and introduce myself but he never did. He left and was now back. I pointed him out to Ryan. "That's the guy that was here earlier." I didn't look to see where he went when he walked past me, but Ryan could see since he was facing in that direction.

"Well apparently he knows Jason." I turned around to see the two hugging and it clicked. My jaw dropped when I watched them hug and smile. I know why he looked familiar. I'd seen him on the Gay.com chat one night and we spoke briefly. He has a couple of small dogs and really struck me as the homebody type. He mentioned the fact that he worked in retail and it eventually came out that he is the man that Jason (my ex-boyfriend) answers to. I quickly told Jason who this mystery man was and told Frank I wanted to talk to him at the other end of the bar. Frank was in the middle of pouring a drink.

"Is this one from you?" he asked, holding up a glass and motioning over to the mystery man.

"Yeah, go ahead and put it on my tab." I just wanted to be nice, but now it was starting to be more out of spite than anything. Frank dropped the drink and informed him that the gentleman at the other end of the bar had got the drink for him. I showed no emotion on my face, nor did I even look at him to see if he was looking at me. I'm sure Jason immediately made comments seeing as his ex-boyfriend, yours truly, had purchased his boss a cocktail. Frank came over to me and I spilled the beans. "THAT is why he looked so familiar. I bet you Jason is over there talking shit about me right now."

"Oh no baby, I really don't think he'd do that. He really just wants everyone to get along. He and I had a very long conversation the other day. He called me and we talked." Frank could have really had me going if I had let him, but not that night. Before the conversation could be continued, this man came up to me and put his hand on my back as I leaned over a bar table facing Frank.

"Did you buy me a drink?" he asked.

"Yes, I did." I don't think I hardly made eye contact with him. He shook my hand and thanked me, claiming to be "very appreciative," and that hopefully he could sometime "return the favor." He walked off without ever saying his name or mentioning the fact that we'd spoke online before. It was the most terrible performance of gratitude I think I've ever been forced to witness.

I walked across the bar to where Lenny was standing at the time and we lit up cigarettes and spoke briefly about nothing particularly important. When I turned back to the bar, I saw Ryan sitting and staring in the direction of Jason and his boss. Ryan didn't look happy. His eyes were sharp and somewhat squinted. His arms were folded. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"They're talkin' shit." He looked at me then. "You wanna know how I know? Because when you walked over there to talk to Lenny, they were talking and both turned and looked at you the same time and started laughing."

My blood started boiling. My smile straightened out and the light in my eyes went out and was replaced by fire. "I'm going to say something. I'm fucking pissed!" I was about to go over to them when Ryan grabbed my wrist.

"No, don't say anything. Just calm down, it's not worth it." I'm so non-confrontational it's not even funny. That evening was entirely unlike all the other nights. This time, I felt like I couldn't take it any more. I wasn't going to sit around and have my good deeds turned around in my face. Jason had ruined my reputation to that man at least.

Ryan followed me to the other end of the bar. Frank came up to us. I was staring at Jason and the other guy. "What's wrong fellas?" Frank did look genuinely concerned as he spoke to us. We tried to simplify the story. Frank went on and on about how "Jason wouldn't do that. He really wouldn't. He wants everyone to get along. I spoke with him." He went on and on about it until I just cut him off.

"Frank, people will blindly betray your trust... He's smarter than that Frank. You know he knows better than to talk about us around you. He's smarter than to do that." Frank shut up. Ryan went on to tell him that we had a lot of history with Jason between the two of us. My drag queen CoraVette Colby was in the house in her guy form that night (Omar). He was more concerned about my well being than I was at that point.

"I don't like to see you sad like this boo."

"I'm not sad, I'm just really pissed off."

"Who pissed you off? I'll take care of it!" Cora means well but I wasn't about to have her making a fool out of herself just for my sake. It was sweet though. Omar/Cora even bought me a drink. After I finished that, I decided I was too angry and just needed to leave.

I was two seconds away from walking out the door when Ryan stopped me.

"Aren't you taking Lenny home tonight?"

"Oh SHIT! Yeah, I am. Thanks for reminding me. That would've been pretty bad."

He put his hand over his mouth and laughed and so did I. It was pretty bad. We looked over to see Lenny talking to this guy with a shaved head and a goatee. He was obviously interested but the guy had had it with Lenny's intoxicated state. When I told Lenny I was ready to go, he said he was too and mumbled something about the guy next to him hating him, so he was ready to leave anyways. After ten minutes, his drink was still at the same level and he was still working on this guy who he claimed hated him. He was overboard at that point. Lenny finally got away and we left. Ryan went home, and I took Lenny home before returning myself back to my bed.

Weekend, and the CoPo Reunion

2008-03-10T19:05:00.006-04:00

After working for a week straight at the bank, it was no secret that I was in need of leaving town since it was technically my spring break week. By a series of fortunate events, I was able to forego working on Saturday morning. It just so happened that a coworkers son was ill at school on Friday, which caused her to be dismissed from work early. In turn, my boss made her go in on Saturday and I was given the day off.

I had a dinner date with my friend Mark on Friday night, and since I was off the hook for Saturday morning, I could stay out late if I wanted to. Mark and I met for dinner a little after seven. We both sat down and started talking while we waited to be greeted in the bar-like atmosphere. Mark ordered a New Castle beer and I had diet coke. The conversation started casual enough, but we really dove deep into some serious topics and dinner progressed. We talked about work and coming out stories, embarrassing moments, and family relations. One beer turned into a couple for Mark. I talked more once I finished my chicken alfredo. I only managed to eat half before asking for a box. Mark and I talked and laughed and took turns talking. He would warn me when I spoke too loudly. We'd laugh, both decide we didn't give a fuck, and that I would back Mark up if he had to fight the guy in the booth behind me. We both finished, and I drank a couple cups of coffee as a band set up their equipment in the restaurant. We listened to them play a couple songs before deciding that we had to leave. We left Mark's car there and I drove us both back to my house so I could use the bathroom (since the one at the restaurant was very small and exposed and I didn't feel comfortable using it since it was a straight bar/restaurant). We left Hampton in my car and headed down to Skip's in Norfolk.

At Skips, Mark taught me how to play darts. I would have really good throws, and throws that would land two darts on the floor and one on the outskirts of the board. It was looking close towards the end, but Mark's accuracy won him the game of 301 that we played together. We didn't hang out too long before we went back home. I took him to his car, said goodnight, and headed back home.

I left home on Saturday morning around eleven. I made pretty good time getting down to the Outer Banks. I got to Manteo two hours after I left my house. Victoria greeted me from the second story balcony of her uncle's beach house. It was really windy, but would have otherwise been a very comfortable day. Her hair was wavy and unkempt in the wind although it was clearly clean and natural. She hadn't put on her makeup yet. She crossed her arms in an attempt to conserve body heat. She looked so great. I hugged her and pulled my back up to the front door. I finished a cigarette to help de-stress me from the easy but hectic drive. Vic ran in to beat the cold and I stayed until I finished the cig.

When I came inside, I was greeted by Michael, Victoria's boyfriend, who was setting up an elaborate board game called HeroScape. I claimed a bed before anyone else got to the house and hung out at the kitchen table with Vic and Mike. Michael finally got the board set up. I played a game with small figures that looked like samurai's and vikings. I was the viking team and Michael was the samurai's. He kicked my ass and killed every one of my army before I killed the first on his team. It was all about rolling dice and the combination of skulls and shields each player rolled. Apparently someone shit on my dice before I would roll.

Victoria's sister Caitlin was the first to walk through the door after my entrance. After Cait, Cait's boyfriend John came in, and then his friends Lee and Miles (both guys). Victoria's cousin Sarah showed up with a younger unidentified male. Sarah's uncle owns the house. Sarah's guest was none other than her younger brother Roy. Roy was quite a character. Sarah had warned Roy that there would be a gay guy in the house but told him that I was pretty cool and that he'd get along fine with me. After the first few minutes, Roy found Sarah in the crowded house and told him that I was quite possibly the coolest one in the whole house. I was really glad that this small minded Poquoson guy thought I was a pretty fun guy. I worked extra hard for the rest of the evening to keep everyone laughing and having a good time. I felt like I really had to work on Roy to make him realize that all gay people aren't terrible people.

The whole gang emptied plastic and paper bags out into the freezer as soon as they got to the house. There was a rather fast-growing collection of liquor. The freezer became quite the liquor museum. Bottles gathered in the door on three shelves. Two shelves on the interior were inhabited by good men such as Jim, Jose, Jack, and our feathered friend Gray. Malibu was also in the ranks followed by some amaretto and Bacardi Superior. Everyone was getting hungry for dinner but John first wanted to do a shot. He convinced me to do it, claiming it wasn't that bad and that his girlfriend Caitlin had even tried it. Upon this remark of his she spoke up, "It tastes like fingernail polish remover." This was the comfort I'm sure I needed at the moment but I fixed a chaser of orange juice and prepared myself anyways. I had to prove to the guys early on that I was an equal contender and that I was man enough too.

John fixed up five shots for most of the guys. The four horsemen, as it's called, is made of Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Jose Cuervo, and Bacardi 151 (quite the surprise that this lethal liquor-wonder found it's way to the freezer). The shots were small thankfully. The red solo cups gathered in the center of the kitchen for a quick cheers before their liquid interiors disappeared into separate stomachs to work on and burn. I finished all but a tiny swig on the first gulp. I chased it quickly as a drop or two left the corner of my mouth. It was tough to keep down, but I managed. Sarah found some Duck tape that we used to write our names on and affix to the now empty cups so they wouldn't get mixed up when the real party started after our dinner out.

Five of us piled into John's SUV. Victoria's car contained her and Michael, Sarah and Roy. John's whole crew was in his vehicle and it just so happened that I rode with them to break up the two groups of people. We didn't drive too far down the main road in Manteo before parking in the small parking lot of a tiny independent seafood joint. Nine of us loudly entered making our entrance quite an interesting sight for the staff I'm sure. It's the off season, so I'm sure they aren't used to having parties larger than three or four. We were seated at the back of the restaurant in a larger room. We were getting a little loud. The guys were the main concern since we had quite a high concentration of booze swimming around in our stomachs being soaked up by nothing at all other than our stomach walls. Out empty stomachs growled as we quickly raped the menu's contents and picked the first appealing entree. Orders were placed and a couple salads were dropped in front of the proper females. Before salads were even finished the entrees arrived. Everyone ate and laughed and was entertain. Other tables started to fill up in the room and the staring match began. Other tables in the vicinity started taking an active interest in our table. We finished the food quickly. Victoria passed her uneaten shrimp to Roy who hadn't ordered any food. Sarah and I split the chicken fingers and split the rest of Caitlin's shrimp. Michael's skinny body had already felt the effects of the alcohol. He tipped his empty plate towards his face and slurped the rest of the gravy from his hamburger steak as his girlfriend Victoria tried to not watch but focused her efforts mainly in contorting her face into positions that made me want to vomit more than the sheer fact that Michael was drinking gravy off his plate. Everyone had finished eating but before the checks were dropped, one more surprise would surface. Five servers walked up, one holding a goblet of ice cream and cake with a single candle on top. Everyone sang happy birthday to Victoria. Her 21st is on the 13th but this was the early celebration. Her sister Caitlin had worked out the secret deal with the server somehow without ever being noticed. It was good. Everyone in the dining room watched us, and I didn't feel so guilty for being so loud anymore. It was a celebration and we were here for Victoria. We cashed out and left.

Once back at the house, the drinks started being poured. I decided I was going to pace myself. It was only six or six thirty when we started drinking. We played several rounds of the card game "Kings" and all had quite a few laughs in between. I grabbed beer out of the fridge for Roy, opening each one to prove to him how great of a guy I was, but also pushing him to see if he'd draw a line. He never did, but I wasn't hitting on him either. During a cigarette break, Roy's sister Sarah joined me outside.

"Roy is so crazy, he's a trip. Is he only like this when he drinks?" I asked.

"No, he's like this all the time."

"He's a Leo isn't he?" I asked.

"Yeah, how'd you know?! That's crazy!"

Roy was obviously a Leo. He wasn't even that drunk when he started ignoring the rules to the game, making a scene, and hogging all the spotlight. He was definitely the ferocious Leo that had to have the spotlight. My best friend Ryan is a Leo, so I know enough about them to be able to readily identify them. We went back inside to keep playing. We refilled and refilled and refilled as the drinking game quickly lowered our drinks even though they somehow magically recovered and I never saw the bottom of a Solo cup throughout the night. I was drinking Jack and coke for most of the evening. I mixed them weak so I could last through the night and not throw up. It's a good thing I paced myself, otherwise I'd have never made it through.

Drama sprung up eventually as it does in the middle of all good times. Michael is so thin, he became so drunk he could hardly keep his head up. Roy was being obnoxious and made the poor move of bringing up the subject of Victoria's ex boyfriend. Vic ended up crying at that point but I just ignored it and talked to Caitlin, Lee, and Miles to try to at least keep us buzzed. They worked out their stuff and Vic turned off the tears. Later, on another cig break, I held my cigarette up to Caitlin's lips to ask her if she wanted a drag, but before she could decide, she looked into the house to see her boyfriend looking right at her and he was obviously furious. She ran inside and the second battle broke out. It took a good half hour for those two to recover. The music kept playing and we had a great time. 'Gray Goose' played and we all danced like birds and took pictures of each other taking swigs out of the GG bottle. We drank it straight. That was a trip.

The final round of drama was the sobering moment for everyone. Roy had drank more than his fair share. The next morning, it was determined that he drank about sixteen beers and two to three shots. Roy decided he wanted to fight John. Naturally, John wasn't going to fight. Roy was smiling about it, saying he just wanted to 'throw down'. I tried to level with him once he didn't stop. "Roy, if you want to hit someone, just hit me." He smiled and said he didn't want to fight me. Michael sat him down after another ten minutes of him trying to get John to fight with him. I was starting to get mad so I went to the fridge and grabbed a box of beer. I passed out full cans to everyone in the room as Michael continued to talk to Roy. It was understood that if Roy tried to hit anyone, we would beat him repeatedly in the head with full beer cans until he was out cold. Of course this would have probably never happened but this was my drunken idea of a scare tactic. It was more like a silent protest. I told everyone to just shut up and hold onto the beer.

Then Roy got sloppy. He got up and fell down a couple times. I decided I'd seen enough. Everyone was sitting on couches and we were pissed and quickly sobering up. I went to the bedroom. I was drunk, but still able to lay down. I heard things escalate to new levels as everyone moved outside. Sarah, Roy's brother, who had been in bed was now awake and moving her shit out to the car to take Roy and her home at three in the morning. Victoria was crying hysterically and shouting to Sarah and Roy, "If anything ever happens, I'll never forgive myself!" They didn't leave. I don't know why they stayed, but they did. I heard Michael pull Roy into the back bedroom next to mine. He was telling him that the cops had been called and that the neighbors called to let them know they'd be showing up. The cops never were called, and since the house had no land line, there was no possible way the neighbors could have called to warn us. Michael was obviously tired of putting up with Roy.

"You stay inside this room and if you come out I'm going to beat the shit out of you!" he was yelling now. "If you want to fight somebody, you're going to fight me right now!" That was it. He stayed, and I fell asleep.

The next day I was up around ten. I ate a bowl of Reese's Pieces with Vic. A few other people were awake including Roy, who was laughing and smiling like nothing happened the night before. I tried to joke about it to play it down, but it was obvious that more people than just myself were holding secret grudges. I told Roy, "Man, even I was starting to get pissed. I was literally two seconds away from getting out of bed, putting my clothes on and coming out there to riverdance on your fuckin' face until you bled from the ears!" I shuffled my boots on the floor, made a funny face, and started whipping my head around. Everyone laughed, and I did too until I pulled a muscle in my neck. Victoria showed me the parrot sculpture that she broke the night before when she was cleaning up the piss that was all over the bathroom floor thanks to Roy. She'd already decided that Roy was going to take the fall for the broken parrot, and everyone else quickly agreed that if anything had gone wrong at all, Roy deserved to take full responsibility for everything.

I gathered my things and drove home with one very sore neck. I couldn't even turn it. I had to hold up a compact mirror to check my blind spot before making lane changes. I got home in two hours and fell onto my bed. I had called his guy Ryan on Saturday night to set up a hang-out date on Sunday once I got back. I called him around two when I was almost home. I left a voicemail but never heard back from him. I slept from two until seven. I called him when I got up after I saw that he hadn't returned my call. His phone went straight to voicemail and I was suddenly ready to write him off.

I was wide awake after taking the extended nap. I picked up Miranda and drove down to Norfolk to go to Skips. This time there was a different bartender who decided to be a dick. I ordered a diet coke and he carded me. I was ordering a coke, I mean, was he serious? He told me it was a 21 and up bar. "But I don't want to drink, I was just going to have a diet coke, and you're telling me I can't even just hang out?" I put my cigarette out on a bar chair just to prove a point and it caught on fire. Just kidding. I was pissed but I took my cigarette back outside with me before I put it out in the parking lot. I drove Miranda home but I was still hell bent on going out. I drove to the Corner Pocket. I know I wasn't supposed to go, but it was my last option, and I was not going home. I got there at one.

Frank: NO WAY! (smiling brightly) Baby, where have you been?

I hugged him. I was smiling and I wasn't about to be mean about it. I hung out with Frank and talked to him for the remaining open hour at the bar. I drank two drinks and Frank wouldn't let me pay, but said he'd missed me and it was on him. I smiled and thanked him. We had a really good chat, and since there were only two other people in the bar, we got a lot of bases covered. I left at quarter to two.

I woke up late today but still managed to get to work on time. My neck was still locked up. The bank was all sorts of short staffed and I was actually made to do work. I was pretty pissed about it, but managed to make it through the day without moving my neck too much. I went to my pilates class and got to leave early since I was unable to do the normal movements. I went to my second job and while there, called and set up a doctor's appointment on Thursday morning. I can't wait to get there, I'm in so much pain.

After work, I was laying down taking a nap when I heard my phone ring. It was a text message notification. I had sent Ryan a text today since I didn't hear from him Sunday and a one time last stand just to say what's up and how he was doing. He wrote me saying his phone went dead on Sunday and he was really sorry. I told him to call, and after a few minutes, he did. I smiled and joked as I talked to him, and I could hear him smiling too. He said he was going to be watching movies and just hanging out tonight. He was in his PJ's. He said he didn't really want to watch any of his DVD's since he'd seen them all already. I offered to come over and bring mine and hang out for a while. I have to be at class at 8AM tomorrow, but I did manage to work in a quick nap again today, so I think I'll be fine. He said he'd have to shower and the place was a wreck. At first he said he just couldn't (I could hear him smiling) but eventually said he was going to straighten up and give me a call back. I'm waiting right now. He's been cleaning for a few minutes and may even be in the shower. If he doesn't call me back, that's the last hair. We'll see how it plays out.

Maxi-Pregaming

2008-03-05T17:08:00.006-05:00

Last night I got back in the game. It wasn't a very classy game, but I was still in it nonetheless. I spoke with Ryan on a cigarette break early on in the day. It's spring break week, so naturally he was home and enjoying the down time (me, on the other hand, slaving away at work). He told me to call him at five after I was off work, so I cut the call short and stepped back inside to finish off the work day.

I had met a guy in the Gay.com chat room named Scott. Unlike most of the men I talk to, Scott was much closer to my own age. Scott is 21 and he lives in Virginia Beach (30-45 minutes from me). His pictures looked good on Gay.com but upon further investigation via Myspace, I started having doubts. We only chatted one night but had exchanged numbers. He'd been texting me nonstop for days. It was fine and I didn't seem to mind too much--at first. It progressed to where I had a string of over 80 messages in my BlackBerry between the his incoming messages to me and my outgoing ones to him. This shit was out of hand. The idea was that I'd go out to Klub Ambush on Tuesday night and he'd meet me out. I was going to spring the idea on Ryan when I got off work and see if he'd take the bait. After texting Scott some more, I learned that afternoon that he was only 5'8" which isn't necessarily too bad, but his weight was the deciding factor that made me stop and say, "Wait a minute, this isn't going to be pretty." Scott is 200 lbs. NOT HOT. He has a decent face, but I double checked the photos to confirm that YES, his clothes were hiding something, and a LOT of that something (AKA- LARD). Scott is a great guy, sweet face, deep voice, but I'm not going there. I can't. I won't. I'd already dropped a hint that I may be going to Ambush, so his ears were already perked. Work ended and I rushed home.

I ate quickly and changed my clothes. Ryan and I had a mission, and though it was only six, we were already in a bind for time. I darted up to Newport News as quickly as my car would allow legally and made it there in record time. Ryan and I smoked a cigarette before leaving his place. Rob asked if we were coming back, and mentioned something about, "You're going to Ambush tonight right?" I was slightly confused.

"Yes but I hadn't mentioned that to Ryan yet," Ryan replied.

"I didn't say anything to you about Ambush earlier today did I? Because I was going to ask you if you wanted to go tonight!" I was in a haze. The funny thing is that Ryan and I haven't been to Ambush together before ever, and it's quite a long haul, so it was more than a strange coincidence that we both had this idea implanted in our heads on this random Tuesday night. Ryan and I extinguished our glowing cigarette embers and headed out the door, leaving behind Rob to the television and his Playstation 3.

Ryan and I first ran to Off Broadway Shoes. I had this craving for pointy-toed leather boots, and I wanted them in black. I knew that Off Broadway carried this funky brand named Robert Wayne. Mr. Wayne makes some killer boots and is all about the pointy toes, so I just knew I'd find something there. Ryan and I found nothing. All I saw was a halfway decent pair of khaki colored canvas boots by Robert Wayne and they weren't even both the same size. The pair was on clearance for over sixty dollars STILL and consisted of one size nine boot and one size eight boot. The eight was fine, the nine was too large. It wasn't worth it, so we left, both empty handed.

Ryan and I walked a couple doors down to T.J. Maxx to see if our luck would somehow magically change. Mine did, I don't know if Ryan's did. At first I had a hard time finding something. There's always so much in discount stores like that, so it requires patience and a watchful eye. I started fishing through the condensed "small" section. For some reason, every one of these stores has less than twenty shirts in size small. I guess the demographic for the area only calls for sizes large to triple XL. I found a heather gray American Eagle tee that looked like Am. Eagle had been scribbled across the front in a large Sharpie and then faded and aged. It had some other distressed stuff on it but it wasn't obnoxiously ad-like. I don't like to advertise labels on tees, so I usually stick to something classic that doesn't pull the focus off my face. Around the time I picked this up, I heard Ryan holler to me from behind. He was fishing through a rack and found a pink tee in my size. "Read this." He pointed to a circular sticker on the bottom of the shirt. 'This is a unique Juicy garment..." It was a one-of-a-kind Juicy Couture tee shirt. I nearly shit twice and died. I snatched it out of his hands, smiling from ear to ear. I looked a little more but to no avail; I'd already found more than what I was looking for.

We walked to a store or two more in the strip but found nothing, so we left for the mall. I was disappointed in our poor luck with the black pointy boots, but I knew ALDO had something like what I was in need of. We went into ALDO first. I'm a bargain shopper, so I immediately checked the bottom shelf with the marked down shoes. I found a pair of black mock-snake skin leather boots with gold flecks embossed on top of the black snake skin texture. They were about $70 on sale. The gentleman working the store asked if we needed help and also told us that "It's fifty percent off of the yellow ticketed price." Ryan and I looked at each other wide-eyed, our hair nearly standing on end. We both tried on about three pairs before leaving. I left with two boxes, and Ryan with one. I bought a pair of dark dark dark chocolate brown pointy toed boots and the black and gold pointy snake skin boots. They both have a small stacked heel, so I get added height and I LOVE the pointy toes (if you haven't figured that out by now, you're just thick-headed). We hit a couple more stores in the mall, but I was done. Ryan picked up a couple tee shirts before he was ready to get out.

We went to the ABC store before they closed. Ryan came out with a brown paper bag, what it concealed was a force so strong, it would rock my night. He bought Absolut Pear. We hit Taco Bell up to get a grande combo for Rob and his friend Angie. The guy at the drive through window was extremely attractive and fell under 'fantasy-matial' in my book as he was wearing a uniform and had a great body and matching face. He was thin, with short dark hair and big fake diamonds in both ears. He had facial hair running in a single neat line running across his jawbone. He had dark hair and sparkling green eyes. He made great eye contact when the window opened. Ryan gave me the money for the food from the passenger seat and I passed it over. The guy handed me the change back and started speaking again. He asked if we would stay parked at the first window since the food wasn't ready and he'd motion for us to pull up when it was. His voice was so damn southern it didn't remotely match the white-thug image he seemed to portray. He was a diamond in the rough though for sure. "Do you think he's family, Ryan?" I asked.

"Definitely. He was hitting on us." Ryan said that when we pulled forward he leaned out the window to look back at us. Strange.

We then swung by Target to pick up some Sprite to mix with the pear vodka. We headed back to Ryan's. It took two of us to get everything in the house. It was a sight. I'm sure we looked like shopping addicts. Rob immediately smiled sarcastically and asked what the damage was. The attitude was equally matched by Ryan who grew defensive at Ryan's moodiness. Minutes passed and Rob mentioned that Chris had called for Ryan. I heard Rob say something about Chris and I heard my name. I turned and saw him covering his mouth with his hand and he said, "Oops."

"That was just rude." Ryan was upset. Rob said something about me and I don't know what it was. Ryan scolded him for not using more tact in his timing. I don't know what was said but I was a little uncomfortable for a while. Ryan and I changed and I slipped on my new boots and my pink Juicy tee shirt. I smoked a cigarette and started working on Ryan's face. Concealer, tinted moisturizer, and he was flawless in all aspects of the word. Ryan put on his new boots, the same as mine but with silver instead of gold. He wore a white tee with a black suit vest on top, and some great dark jeans. I decided it was time to start pregaming. I pulled out the French crystal cocktail classes that I bought for Ryan and Rob for Christmas. They hadn't been used once yet. I pulled off the stickers and went to put the ice cubes in them. There was no ice. The soda was room temperature and so was the vodka. It wasn't a great sign, but Ryan poured the drinks anyway. He said, "You'll need a lot, and I'll need a little." I didn't plan on spending any more money out, so it was up to Ryan and the Absolut Pear to take care of me and do me off early in the evening. The mission was to do a little mini-pregaming and get a good buzz that would last for a while. Ryan's idea of the pregaming quickly extended from mini-pregaming to MAXI-pregaming. Ryan said he would drive us down to the club and he would take my car. He would pick up Chris since he needed a ride, but I told him Chris would have to find his own ride home because I hate having to round people up at the end of the night to get them home. I had two cocktails at Ryan's house. Ryan told me to get my water bottle out of the car. Ryan mixed my third and final/strongest drink which was to be finished off before arriving to our final destination.

Ryan and I rocked out in the car to "Out Anthems" from Ultra Records. The CD was nonstop club anthems engineered and mix to every gay man's liking. Ryan and I sang out loud, and I danced in the passenger seat while I nursed my drink. We got to Chris's house and went inside. Ryan had left a bottle of Absolute Pear there, so he mixed me one more drink and topped off the bottle I had. When we got there, I was feeling very nice. It wasn't very busy at all. The three of us found a table off to the side. We smoked cigarettes and talked. I walked around a little bit to give Chris and Ryan a little more privacy to talk.

The history between Chris and Ryan is very strange. It's a twisted story, but I'll do my best to fill you in. Ryan and Chris used to be best friends and roommates. Chris liked Ryan in a strange way. He would say hurtful things and be overall quite nasty to Ryan, but there were always sexual undertones (this is what I have come to understand on my own). There was some sort of jealousy or tension there on Chris's part. Ryan wasn't interested in Chris romantically. Chris was dating this guy Rob. Rob and Chris were living there and so was Ryan. Chris left town for a while with work, and subsequently this left Rob and Ryan in the house together. Chris had been bullying his boyfriend Rob and Ryan had to intervene on several occasions. Chris can be a violent and abusive person at times. I think that he has since calmed down and changed his ways a lot. Rob split from Chris at this point while Chris was still gone. It was pretty impersonal from what I understand. Ryan then started dating Rob. They're still together too, might I add. I know it sounds a little weird. Well, Chris found out about this and came home livid of course. Ryan and Rob moved out and got their own place. Ryan cut off his cell phone, he changed his phone number, and didn't mention to anyone where he was living. At this point in time, I lost contact with Ryan. He would block his number if he happened to call (on rare occasions). Chris tried to hunt them down. He was violently angry and would harass Ryan at his work place. Ryan eventually got in contact with me and I got the new home phone number. Ryan and I reunited and sewed our friendship back together. It was a big loss not having him for those months. He was my single best friend at that time, so I was a little bitter with him for leaving for so long. We were fine and things went back to almost-normal. Things with Chris eventually died down. I am still ignorant on when their rapport improved and they became friends again. So with all that said, this is why I tried to give them a little space to talk.

I became a little sloppy as my blood alcohol content increased. I became a little friendly with Chris. I normally would have had beef with him. I'd heard the stories and heard what he was capable of, and after knowing this, what he'd done in the past never really settled well with me. Last night I buried the hatched and pretended as if I were meeting him all over again for the first time. We were cordial and I was friendlier than normal thanks to the vodka. I started leaning on Chris. I started rubbing his back as I stumbled from one side of the table to the other (moving from Chris to Ryan and from Ryan back to Chris). Chris was equally friendly. He'd wrap his arms around me from behind, and I kissed him a couple of times. I mean, I KISSED HIM, and not just a peck. Thinking of this now, soberly, my stomach twists and I'm embarrassed that it happened. I'm sure I must have been QUITE a sight. Ryan moved his arms and spilled his rum and diet. The waitress came over and cleaned the bar table off as Ryan apologized profusely throughout the scene. Not even twenty minutes later, I reached across the table for some reason for another, and in a drunken fit of clumsiness, managed to knock over Ryan's glass a SECOND time after it had just been refilled. I went to pick up the ice cubes. Ryan and Chris both warned me to stop at once since the glass hadn't simply fallen over, but I'd managed to break it. I picked up the pieces delicately figuring that I was invincible at this point and no freak accidents would occur. I wouldn't lose a finger, and I wouldn't end up with stitches or even a scrape. Luck WAS on my side fortunately enough. I went to tell the waitress that I'd done it this time. I smiled and apologized. I bought Ryan's next drink.

We moved to the other side of the bar. Ryan pointed out this guy in a green striped polo sitting at the end of the bar, exclaiming several times how cute he was. I walked over to him after a while just so Ryan would leave it be. I introduced myself. His name was Gary. I stumbled and had to take a step to the left to compensate for my poor footing as I extended my hand to meet his in a traditional American introduction kind of way. I asked a couple questions, he feigned interest. I'm sure I was just too intoxicated to appeal to him, but truth-be-told, I looked damn good. My hair was wind blown and swept gently across my brows.

Chris had his ride home. I waited for Ryan to finish saying goodbye to everyone he needed to. Ryan too my keys and escorted me back to the car. He started driving back home and then it's a blur. I guess I kinda grayed out, not blacked out. The rain started coming down so hard, we had to slow down to 25 miles per hour on the interstate. It pounded on the roof of the car with such intensity, I expected to see dents all over my car today as if we'd weathered baseball-sized hail. It let up after I prayed. Ryan laughed and told me to pray, and in my drunken state, I still managed to get one good prayer out. I dozed off several times. Ryan was well aware of my state at this point. I tried to hold everything down and make it back. The rain let up and we did manage to make it back to Newport News where it was hardly sprinkling at all. Ryan stopped at a 7 Eleven, refusing to let me carry on without filling me with cheap ready-made food. Ryan came back to the car and woke me up again. I smiled weakly as he passed me the plastic bag, handing me a Dasani bottle of water, a turkey sandwich, and some veggie chips that tasted pretty good. Ryan made me come inside to eat. I finished the food quickly and surprisingly was able to hold my eyes open for the first time in almost an hour. I drank all the water and got into my car. I drove home, ever-vigilant. I pulled into the driveway and made it inside at 3:15AM. I stripped down and fell asleep quickly.

I woke up early this morning to get ready for work. I had earned myself four lousy hours of sleep last night. I found a bottle of water next to me from who-knows-when and immediately drank the whole thing hoping it would take away my terrible headache. It worked for a few minutes. I grabbed a banana nut bread muffin that my mom had made and ran out the door for work, already ten minutes late. I felt terrible all morning. I painstakingly smoked cigarettes with Nicole even though I was still over-smoked from the night before. My legs felt weak as if they would give out at any moment. I worked in the filing room all morning and managed to leave by 12:15PM. I came home and changed my clothes. I left after one to meet my boss from my second job.

The two of us met up at JCPenney because we were going to SEPHORA inside Penneys. Bosslady and I talked about makeup and I recited all of the information that I learned in training when I worked for SEPHORA. We picked out a liquid foundation for her but she wanted to see what it looked like when she wore it. Unfortunately the associate assisting us was none other than my boss who was the ultimate reason that I quit. She is this young Puerto Rican girl that is all attitude and is on a power trip 7 days a week. She was promoted to manager after the former one left due to pregnancy complications. Jackie was the PR girl that I had grown to hate. I had been back several times after I quit but had managed to avoid her altogether up until today. Bosslady and I snuck samples out of the drawers where I knew they still were hiding. I tried to be very discreet. Jackie later on approached me and asked me if I'd like a bag for my samples. This is her nonchalant way of being a total raging bitch. She says these things with the utmost stuck-up and serious voice. She's the queen of shooting looks that can bore holes through your soul. This girl is nuts. She started the demonstration, applying the makeup to my boss. She put on the liquid foundation by Cargo. Bosslady (I'll call her BL from here on out) felt like she had some redness still showing. Because of this, Jackie went and got a redness corrector, wiped her slate clear and started over again. This worked out a little better. BL wanted to try out the new Cargo Blu Ray collection of makeup designed for actors and actresses being filmed in high definition. This professional grade makeup turned out pretty good. The blush was a good match and the pressed powder worked out pretty fine too. BL found a lipstick to try but it wasn't what she had expected. Jackie went and grabbed another color. BL hated that too, claiming it was too pink, or it just didn't look right. I know that BL can be pretty tough to handle at times, but she keeps it real, she's honest, and she'll always come through if you help her out. Since BL didn't like the lipstick, she wiped that one off and asked Jackie, "What color do you recommend. You have free reign, pick whatever you think would work."

Jackie looked at her in a very bored but slightly serious sort of way, started to squint her eyes, and replied, "Well you didn't like the one I just picked out, so what do you want? You want lighter or darker or what?" It didn't really SOUND rude, but it was close enough to it that my blood started boiling. I kept it cool until we left after making Jackie write down everything that she used on BL. She didn't even buy anything, but I'm sure she'll be back tomorrow to get that foundation and the Blu Ray Cargo set. We jumped over to Target after SEPHORA and managed to pick up some skin care items to test out and write about for April. We bummed around there and looked at makeup lines for a bit too. Our last stop for the afternoon was Dunkin Donuts. We grabbed iced coffee and left, not staying inside to drink, but just leaving. We spoke in the parking lot for a while, and I did a lot of reflecting about my relationship with this 42 year old woman that has become my favorite adult diva. She's such an amazing woman; she is an inspiration to all who come in contact with her. I smiled at her one last time before sliding down onto the leather seats of my car, opening the sunroof and rolling down the windows, and turning my key in the ignition and pulling away from her. The sun was shining all day. It was warm on my face. It was 68 degrees all day long but has cooled down this evening. Daylight savings time is on Sunday. I'll be in Manteo down in the outer banks of North Carolina on Saturday and Sunday. I'm ready for a vacation.

The Male Review:

The 200 lb 21 year old Scott in Virginia Beach has been blowing up my phone nonstop. He texts all day and just called. I igged his call purposefully since writing is my sole desire at the moment. I don't plan on returning it either. Instead of being forthright and telling him that his weight will be an issue, I am going to just fade away gracefully. He sent me a message today saying, "Can I call you sexy or sweetie?" I never responded. I don't even want to get into it and have to be ugly about it, because ugly or not, it's not going to sound very nice. He kept asking when we'd be able to meet up. I avoided the issue saying that I work until five, he goes in at four, it's just not looking good. He suggested calling out of work to be able to meet, I said NO. I'm going to just play the 'busy' card until he gets the idea. He asked about Thursday night and if I'd meet him out at the bar; I said I had plans. SCORE! Gained myself a little more time. A few more 'busy' days and he'll bail.

This guy named Terrell who is 20 I think and lives in Williamsburg has been texting my phone morning and night for close to a week now. I usually don't respond mainly because

1. I am not attracted to black guys (but somehow I gave him my number thinking we'd be friends)

2. He is young and I'd honestly prefer a more mature man

and finally 3. The bitch works at McDonalds.

He kept on asking when we'd be able to hang out. He wouldn't let it rest. Finally I said "baby doll this isn't going to happen. i work two jobs and go to school full time. i just don't have the time for this right now." He got the idea. I wished him luck and said goodbye. Thank God, that's one down, now to get rid of my big boy.

I talked to a Jewish man named Lucien who was very nice. He is older, retired very early, and has a good personality. His big drawback is that he carries a little extra weight on him. It is fixable, but I don't know how much weight he's working with. The picture I saw looked pretty decent to me, but even I am very aware of clothes' ability to hide flaws and accentuate assets. I stupidly forgot to save his number after we got off the phone the other night, so I shot him an e-mail asking for the number. No response. Maybe this is a good thing.

That's it. Nothing else. I have my eyes peeled.

Social Obligations and the like.

2008-03-01T09:08:00.007-05:00

Thursday night was a nightmare. The original plans for Thursday were to go shopping with Ryan after class and then go to 80's Night at the Wave down in Norfolk with Andrew (Ryan too of course). Last week when Ryan had bailed, he agreed to make it out the following Thursday. Naturally he was looking forward to it as far as I was concerned, and no clouds were in sight. I got a phone call from Ryan when I was between classes. He said he wasn't going to be able to make it out. Surprise surprise. "That's okay, just call me later." Ryan offered to still meet me out and do a little shirt shopping. I just figured Andrew and I would still be going, we'd have a remarkable time, and it'd be another legendary night. Not too long after Ryan's call, I received one from Andrew.

"I'm not going to be able to make it tonight. I was out really late last night and I slept until one today." Well, this was the last thing I wanted to hear. Thursday night was shot. I had had it. What are the chances of them BOTH canceling just hours apart for no real apparent reason? When I got out of my English class around 7PM, I sat in my car making phone calls. I called Justin from my chemistry lab group. He was playing volleyball on a church league. I called Brent. He didn't answer and the call forwarded directly to voice mail. I called Ryan, and I told him that Andrew bailed on me too. I just decided to go home since I couldn't work up any last minute plans. I didn't want to go home. I was supposed to be out having a great time, and instead, tragedy had struck.

I came home from class and changed my clothes and ate. My dad was watching Syriana in the den on that 50" THING hanging above our fireplace. I wasn't entertained. I took my laptop out of it's case and put it down on the kitchen table. I got onto the gay.com chat room and tried to see if I could find a decent guy. This guy named Brandon wrote to me. His profile mentioned something about loving deeply and about him being burned pretty bad. He was 26, pretty blue eyes, and had a goatee that was perfect. He wore a hat in his picture. He looked like a pretty butch guy. He was military, 26, and didn't live on the other side of the water (which is always a plus). I met a guy named Thomas that was 29. He was Italian, Latino, and something else. I don't remember what he was exactly, but it was the hottest combination I'd ever heard of. I also talked to a guy named Scott that lives five minutes from my house, he's 33, and a real big homebody. He just works, then comes home, strips naked, and watches TV or plays video games. Obviously the 33 year old slacker wasn't at the top of my list. He did a great job of keeping the conversation lively so I must give credit where credit is due.

After having talked long enough to have exchanged names, occupations, likes and dislikes, and not to mention deciding whether or not these men were capable of being axe murderers, rapists, or serial killers, I decided to drop the bomb on one. I was speaking with the triple delight named Thomas. I asked him if he'd want to catch a late movie with me. He was somewhat of a homebody too. At first he protested due to the time, but after that, quickly followed up with a comment about me being rather young. It's not even worth wasting my breath. Ryan is 29 and he's my best friend. It's kind of offensive when people use my age against me. It's nothing I can really change. Thomas was very good looking. He was average in weight, borderline husky. He had black hair, an amazing five o'clock shadow, gentle eyes, and supple lips that was just full enough. He seemed like a really grounded stable guy. After I knew I wasn't going to be able to budge him, I decided to go work on Brandon. He was already starting to ask me what I had going on anyway. So I asked him if he wanted to meet me out for a movie.

Brandon had to work at 5AM the following day (Friday) so he opted for a meeting at a bowling alley in an attached bar. I was thrilled. I got dressed quickly while talking to him on the phone for the first time. He sounded like a real down to earth man. He beat me there by a long shot. I had him meet me in the parking lot. He was a little shorter than me. I'm not really keen on that, but I'm willing to compromise. I was introduced to a whole table of people that were his friends. Everyone was friendly, even the rougher looking guys that were attached to some of Brandon's female friends. It was karaoke night in this bar. The only thing good about the entire damn place was that I could smoke inside it. We told jokes with Brandon's friends, and I smoked cigarettes uncomfortably until I loosened up some. Brandon sang a country song and did better than I would have expected. We didn't stay too long because of Brandon's next day work schedule. In the parking lot he walked me over to my car. He hugged me awkwardly and looked at me. I looked at him. Neither of us spoke so I decided to say something, "Well?" I smiled at him.

"I don't know what to do, I mean, am I supposed to ask you back to my place or am I supposed to ask when I'll see you again?" He smiled and looked down with his hands in his pockets. It was a cute gesture, YES, but also, what about me needing to be with a man? I need to be with someone who isn't just going to pussyfoot around the issue and be cutesy about this shit. I need someone who is dominant. But anyways, I said we would hang out again soon, and he walked off to his car. I got in mine, and started driving home. It was still early. I got home around 10:30PM. It was a terrible feeling to think I was almost out of the woods for the night, only to get away for a small portion of the evening. I got back online. Scott the naked couch potato immediately wrote back to me when I got back online. I chatted with him until after midnight. We exchanged numbers and agreed to meet up the next day.

I did some astrological research on this Scott guy. He's a cancer, I'm a taurus. The cancer/taurus compatibility ranks 10 out of 10. It's quite possibly the strongest bond between all signs on the zodiac. Well, all of this stuff sounded great. Scott acted like he was the tall muscular man that I needed. Well, Friday rolled around, and let me tell you. Friday started out with work at the bank, then pilates class, but my second job was called off. I didn't have to show up. I was given a list of things to do from home or wherever. Since I had some free time, I went up to Yorktown to Michael Hickman the Salon. I had my friend Dallas color, highlight, and cut my hair. She colored it really dark and put a few fine caramel highlights throughout on the top. It turned out great. It was really stunning and was exactly what I needed. After my hair, I went over to Victoria's house to get ready for our arranged birthday dinner for her boyfriend Michael. We all gathered outside. Everyone piled into one car, and I drove separate because I knew that being stuck in Chesapeake was the last thing I needed for my Friday night. I had plans with Scott and I had every intention of keeping them. The crew finally got to the wings restaurant/bar and we ate wings. We ate hot wings, and mild wings, and suicide wings that made our lips swell and our tongues tingle. I drank a lot of water. Michael took shots and Victoria's sister Caitlin drank a cosmo. It was a decent time for a small party of us. I bailed early and booked back towards Hampton to meet up with Scott.

I asked Scott earlier on in the day to think of what he'd like to do when we met up. After much thinking, he decided there was nothing he'd rather do than hang out on the couch and do pretty much.....nothing. Disappointing for me, yes, but I figured I'd give it a shot. By the time I pulled up to Scott's apartment complex, night had already fallen. He put on clothes as I told him I was out front. I walked upstairs and he came to the door. He was wearing a tee shirt and some gym pants. I was terribly unimpressed. His smile was just as I had imagined, but he wasn't as then and rock solid as I would have imagined his physique to be. It was fine. I wouldn't have called him fat, but merely average. He was average in many ways. I guess they say opposites attract, but I really can't say I've had experience with this concept.

Scott warmed my hands in his when I first got there. He was friendly. We watched an enormous TV that was over 60". I wasn't too entertained, and wanted to lay down. He moved over to another couch in the room and laid down. I curled up in front of him. I was comfortable until he started rubbing up on me. He started grinding and moving his hands over my body. I would never be that forward with someone on a first meeting. It just sends these horrible messages that all you want is sex, and that it doesn't matter what you look like or what your personality is like. It was rather disappointing. I didn't stay too much longer than that. I had to move his hands off of me several times. I left around eleven-ish. I called Ryan as I stood downstairs under an overhang at his complex, smoking a cigarette. It was a waste of a Friday night. Brandon had been average on Thursday, and Scott had practically been nothing but a sex-crazed bum on Friday.

Saturday rolled around with ease and I hardly realized it had arrived. I worked in the morning. After work I went by Starbucks; I planned to get some work done on my laptop. I got there, ordered my grande skinny vanilla latte and sat down after it was ready. I opened my laptop case and pulled out my laptop. I went to open it, but it was dead. There were no outlets in sight. I closed it back up and put everything away. I sat there for a while just drinking my coffee and listening to my iPod. I watched the people. I kept my eyes on a middle aged woman with great hair who looked like she was avoiding aging pretty well. I watched a gorgeous guy pull up in a new Saab with European plates. He came in, ordered, and disappeared. I smoked a cigarette outside and left. I swung by my grandparents' house but they weren't there, so I came home. My grandparents were already at the house. I found them in the kitchen sitting at the table talking about drama revolving around my aunt and uncle. It was a messy situation, but I sat down and listened to what was said. They left and I hung out. I went to a fish fry with my parents for a while and then left to go to a dinner party. My friend Muning had been cooking all day. She made amazing home made chinese food. We had so much food! I ate a second dinner and nearly exploded. I drank a few beers and met some pretty neat people. Everyone eventually left and I got home myself close to 1AM.

Sunday I did laundry for most of the day. I went out and met Dallas and her man Brian at the mall in Newport News. Dallas had a $10 off coupon at Victoria's Secret, so after she used that, we left and went to Barnes and Noble. I told Dallas, "I never come here. I don't buy books." Strangely enough, I hit the Sale section and picked up four books that sounded pretty good that were newer books. I also grabbed a teach-yourself-to-speed-read kind of book and headed for the register. I paid, Dallas paid, we found Brian, and we left. I drove to Norfolk to hang out with this guy named Jay. I pulled up uncomfortably to a dark house. He was on the phone with me when I pulled up. I wasn't sure it was the right place. I watched the door open but no lights were turned on. I stepped out of the car hesitantly, not daring to step any closer to the gaping darkness that was the front door. Jay stepped out and I felt a little better. He was nice. We went in and he turned on the TV. We watched a little bit of America's Next Top Model on his huge TV. He drove me to Taco Bell and I got some food. We came back, I ate, and then we watched the second Matrix movie. It was overall very uncomfortable. He was nice, but I wasn't into him at all. I left and came home after ten.

It's been a very uneventful weekend. I've done things, but no massive reward-reaping has taken place. I'm still looking for a good man. I'm still single, and still very busy at the moment.

Songs That are [S]HOT

2008-02-27T20:18:00.007-05:00

I have to tell you, I've chosen some of the most beautiful songs to tie me to some of the people I've cared for the most in the past. Almost every couple has their own song. You know the type, it's one with great lyrics, a catchy melody, and every time you hear it on the radio, you have to turn it up and sing along, calling your partner at that moment so you can share part of that fleeting moment. It's great to have something as a reminder to make you think of that person. The real issue that follows is this: What do you do after you've severed ties with that person? What happens to the music?

It's not always a love song though. Sometimes it's a song that reminds you of a certain moment in time. Just as tattoos are said to be 'a permanent reminder of a temporary feeling,' I look at these songs in the same way.

Song One: "Mad World" by Gary Jules

One of the first songs I can remember having this connection to is one by Gary Jules titled "Mad World." The song was used in the movie "Donnie Darko." The film chronicles the life of a disturbed youth (played by Jake Gyllenhall) who experiences strange paranormal events leading up to his ultimately untimely death. The closing credits roll as this dark and dreary film comes to an end. The accompanying tune: "Mad World" sung by Gary Jules. My first boyfriend committed suicide. I dated him briefly when I was in middle school. He was a year or two older than myself and had been introduced through a mutual friend. He was my first kiss. I spoke briefly of him in my entry describing my coming out experience. When Nick (Brian Nicholas Wood) committed suicide, it had been months since we'd last spoke. He had earned his GED, and at one point was working for K-Mart. I don't think this was where he was working when he passed. His home life was not a healthy one. His mother was a lesbian who didn't seem to mind what her children did, and in my opinion, she didn't keep track of their personal lives either. I remember going to their house one time. She sat on the couch with her partner, never turning their heads as Nick briefly tried to introduce me. Nick's brother was the only heterosexual in the family. Nick's mom was a lesbian, and Nick's grandmother was also a lesbian. Don't ask me how all of this happens. Three generations of a family all attracted to the same sex. Nick was bisexual which only seemed to complicate things. He cheated on me with the mutual friend (my best friend throughout the most delicate years of my life). Nick's brother was involved in a tragic situation where a group of people played Russian roulette. The trigger was pulled and a bullet fired. The bullet didn't hit Nick's brother though. The trigger had been pulled by a friend who was playing. This landed the friend in the hospital. Talks were made of bringing Nick's brother to court. The friend was in intensive care and it wasn't looking good. With things seeming terribly unfavorable, Nick's brother took his own life with a bullet to the head. The blood splashed onto the back of an American flag in his room. Nick's mother was now down one of her two sons. Nick's life had been rather uneventful. His greatest experiences were that of earning his GED and acquiring his driver's license. Nick had a hard time dealing with the situation. I'm sure his mother wasn't a help either. Nick took his own life. He missed his brother so much. Nick's brother was the straight one; he was the only sane one in the family. Nick was in his bedroom. He had prepared a list of songs he wanted played at his funeral. He turned on music. Nick wrapped himself in the American flag that was covered in his brother's blood. He played "Mad World" on repeat. He took four or five zip ties and put them around his neck, pulling them tight. Nick suffocated slowly. His body was found by his mother. "Mad World" was still playing on repeat. At his funeral his requests were honored. "Love Me When I'm Gone" played in the small church sanctuary. I was surrounded by young friends who shed many tears. "Mad World" started playing. I had never heard this song before. I noticed that the sobbing worsened as the song played. I had to ask someone what the significance was. It was terrible, truly terrible. At the viewing, Nick's mother had grown very defensive, threatening guests to not blame her because she'd already heard enough. She seemed stoic, completely void of all emotion. I could see it though. I could see the emptiness in her eyes and a reflection of the void in her soul. After all was over with, I found myself listening to the radio in random places. I'd hear it. I would be in my bed at night listening to songs softly and I'd hear Gary Jules. I was on a marketing field trip for a state competition. We walked into a restaurant to eat and I heard Gary Jules singing from above again. I'd never heard the song before, and certainly never on the radio. It haunted me for months. Just as swiftly as the song came into my life, it left. I felt that Nick had left finally and finished tormenting everyone.

Nifty Fact:

At Nick's viewing I noticed a boy. He was years older than me, tall, thin, and attractive. I was immediately lured by his bright blue eyes. Months later, a mutual friend actually connected the two of us. Derek was the second guy I dated, and to this date he is the only person I've ever dated and slept with quite regularly. I met my next boyfriend at my first boyfriend's funeral (indirectly though).

Song Two & Three: "Breathe Me" by Sia / "Bubbly" by Colby Caillat

A lot of time passed between the memory of "Mad World" and of this next song. It's been a somewhat rare occurrence that I share a song with a man because my relationships have been quite short-lived on the whole. Years ago I met a guy online named Jason. Jason and I met for the first time when I was about to graduate high school in 2005. I remember this vividly because we met at TGIFridays for dinner and my cousin Adrienne (who was in town for my graduation) came with me to meet him. Jason and I met that once, never kissed, and just like that, he disappeared and moved. Jason moved off to New York city for a year and a half, pursuing a career in modeling, in film, and (on the down low) RETAIL. Jason worked on the management team at Gap in Times Square. I lost touch with him, but somehow I'd still receive instant messages from him online about once or twice a month. He managed to keep in touch with me even when I didn't really pursue him. I found this intriguing but never really dived into the subject. While speaking online, it all came out that Jason had kept in touch because he had the hots for me. We both decided it would be healthy to start getting to know each other. We spoke on the phone regularly for hours. He came to town to visit his family since he's originally from Gloucester. There were visits when I'd see him only once, but towards the end of these visits, I felt as if I was the only reason he came down. We started dating seriously. He came down to visit one time. We spent all the time together. When he left, I didn't want him to leave, nor did he. I heard about this the next day, but the story goes along these lines: Jason got back on his plane heading for NYC. While he was on the tarmac, there was some sort of back up and the flight out had been delayed for several minutes. He started to have a panic attack. He caused a scene. He started crying hysterically. He called over a flight attendant and told her his mother had been in a terrible accident was was currently in critical condition. They let him off the plane while it was still on the tarmac. He stayed. He eventually went back to bring his belongings home, and he came back here. He stayed with his grandmother who gave him his space. When my birthday rolled around, one of our friends was generous enough to get us a hotel room for the evening. Jason bought the liquor and I brought the mixers. My friend Dia bought me a bottle of Asti Spimanti. The evening started with alcohol, and you can guess how it ultimately ended. I brought my laptop that night. I played Sia's "Breathe Me" on repeat practically the whole night. Her soft airy voice reverberated off of the walls and filled the room with an indescribable calm. That night I got a silver Tiffany's ID bracelet with Ryan Scott engraved across the top. Jason had special ordered and designed it while he was still in New York. This is still the best birthday present I've ever received. When I saw the little blue box in that bag I was speechless. The night ended and the next day came. I remember packing up my midnight blue Saab 9-5 sedan the next morning. I don't have that car anymore. I don't have hotel fun like that anymore, and up to that point, never had that kind of fun. Jason's ringtone on my phone was "Bubbly" by Colbie Caillat. It still echoes in my head, bringing back feelings of oncoming vicious bouts of vomiting (NO, not from drinking that night, but rather at the thought of Jason). Jason and I severed ties on extremely horrific terms. The gentleman who had purchased the hotel room at the Embassy Suites for my birthday night was a very good friend of mine before Jason came back to the area and into my life. This man's name is Gary. I haven't seen him in months, and if I ever saw him again, I'm fairly sure I'd stomp on his foot, spit in his face, and put my cigarette out in his eye. Gary and I would go out for dinner on some occasions. We sat next to each other in the bar almost every night. We would bar-hop together at times. I had to call that quits though after he left his lights of his oversized red Ford Expedition on all night while we were in a bar and the male dancer had to give us a jump. That night Gary fell in the parking lot in a drunken stupor and managed to cut up his ear and one entire side of his face. I had to drive home...But back to the rapport I had with Gary. We were great friends. He even helped orchestrate the surprise arrival of Jason one night. I had no clue he was going to walk through the door of the bar when he did. Gary beamed a great smile and I'd never been so happy. When I grew somewhat distant, working many hours and trying to balance my time with friends, it was only natural that Jason tried to find ways to spend his own free time. Gary was more than happy to take him out to dinner. Ryan was still my best friend at this time and had confronted me on several occasions that something was going on between Jason and I. Why I did not heed his warnings, I'll never know. I'm notorious for always giving the benefit of the doubt when it shouldn't be offered. It wasn't until Ryan overheard Gary's friend Pam and Jason speaking in the bathroom about Gary's recent poor treatment of Jason that my ears perked up. Jason and I were over. Gary had been dating Jason right under my face. I was shocked by the both of them. I stopped talking to Jason, and I stopped talking to Gary. Of course when things like this happen Ryan doesn't just sit back and watch. Mouths ran. Jason and Ryan had it out one night on my cell phone. They had a text message war that was so big it made the Civil War look like a quaint family picnic. It got ugly for a couple months as looks were shot from across the bar. I received a call at my job threatening to kill me if I didn't leave Jason alone. The voice was a thick New York accented man who threatened to have me "swimmin' with the fishes." Ryan was next. Gary and Jason showed up at his work and Gary told him that if he didn't keep his mouth shut, he'd make sure it'd stay shut. Ryan took the threat seriously. I even called the police anonymously asking what would need to be done. I called Jason and left him a voice mail telling him it had gone too far and that I would take out a restraining order and contact an attorney if he didn't knock it off. It's one thing to threaten to shove a boot up someone's ass, and completely another to threaten someone's life. After they had been involved for a short while, Jason was seen in a BMW Z3. I heard the stories. I don't have to ask people this shit, they just put it in my hand. I always get the 411. I heard that Gary bought him the car. As time would tell, Gary made the down payment on the car. The $5,000.00 check bounced. When it did, Jason and Gary were going through a rocky period. Gary got really nasty about the whole thing. "I guess you got yourself into a pickle now," Gary told Jason. Gary even went as far as to use his spare set of keys to kidnap that little Z3 in the middle of the night and take it back to the bank to have it repossessed. Jason called the bank, made the back payments on the loan, and worked out an agreement with the dealership in regards to the bounced $5K check. Jason started text messaging me again. He tried really hard too. I'll give him that. He tried to get my attention and mend the broken bridge between us. In all honestly, we've been oceans apart ever since. He called after I ignored those texts and wanted to know if he'd offended me. We met up for cocktails and I hesitantly listened to what he had to say. Gary apologized eventually too, but his apology fell on deaf ears. I say I forgave him, and maybe I did, but things like that can never be forgot. Gary was the one who had his best friend call my job, use a fake accent, and claim to be Dominic who could somehow send his boys to make me swim with the fishes. Jason wasn't aware of the threats that went over so poorly with Ryan and myself. He used that as leverage a lot. I don't know if he knew about it or not, but Ryan seems willing to bet his life that he knew exactly what was going on. I did get back together with Jason for a brief period after all the mess had gone down. Gary hadn't been seen for a while, and to this day, it's been months since I've seen his overly tanned face and that cheaply colored blonde hair. Jason and I came to our final destination of calling it quits shortly before Christmas. He started hanging out with Ryan and Rob through me and ultimately ended up spending more time with them than I did. I started to resent him. I hated going to Ryan's house and seeing him there. I hated those droopy eyes and that pouty face. I looked at him as filth. I was tired of his poor portrayal of a confident actor. His pictures were good, but never model-quality. He tried to exude confidence, but it was only a vain effort to compensate for the lack thereof. Ryan still greeted him in passing. They actually spoke a couple weeks ago. I don't acknowledge his presence anymore. I walk past him. I look through him. I ignore his very existence. One night I was tanked and drank a little too much. I walked out of the bathroom at the bar and almost smiled and said, "Hey!" to him. I quickly realized the gravity of the situation and nearly kicked myself in the head for almost getting that close to blowing it. I've been listening to Sia recently. I downloaded everything of hers that I possibly could. She came out as a lesbian not long ago. This was exciting news. I listen to "Breathe Me" not but not the original. I can't listen to the original anymore. I listen to the FourTet remix now. The original version was the melody that played in my ear every time I called Jason. I can't listen to "Bubbly" either because every time Jason would call, that's what would play. In a copycat fashion, he set his phone to play the same song when I would call him. I'm sick just thinking of him now. I must congratulate myself for rehashing this without vomiting all over myself and my laptop.

Song Four and Five and Six: "PDA" by John Legend / "Just the Way You Are" by Diana Krall / "P.S. I Love You" by Diana Krall

It is truly a small miracle that Donnie and I even found each other. I can't tell you how many online efforts I have made to find the perfect man. After years of being out at bars and clubs, I realized that the great men aren't in the bars. They're not drinking or staying up late. They're at home. They have real jobs. They have real security. Donnie and I met through SinglesNet.com. He sent me a message and I sent him my phone number. We talked that first night for a long time. I was speaking to my best friend. He loved everything that I did and knew every word to every song just like me. We laughed and I smiled as I hung up my clean laundry that night. I called him again the next day and spoke for a long time with him. It became crazy to me that we had so much in common and I started wondering if all we'd ever amount to would be best friends. I asked him, "Do you get a friend vibe from me?" Donnie always brought this line up to me. He said it was the first moment when he realized that he was falling for me. He told me no he didn't get that friend vibe. He wanted more, and so did I. After speaking over the phone for not even two weeks, I decided I was so comfortable with this man that I couldn't possibly wait any longer to see him. I packed up a weekend bag and decided to spend some time with him. I got off of work on a Saturday afternoon and drove up to Baltimore, Maryland. It was over four hours away. I told my parents I had met him at the bar when he was visiting on business, but only my mom knows how we really met. It wasn't until I was halfway to Baltimore that I realized how crazy my actions were. I was driving to meet a man in his thirties in a whole other state and I had never even seen him before. It could have turned out really bad. It honestly could have cost me my life. I trusted my instincts though. I got to his house after driving through downtown Baltimore like a doe in headlights. I was terrified to miss a turn. I made it to his house. I was so happy to see him. He looked adorable. he was standing on the curb waiting for me, talking to me on his phone. I made him parallel park my car since I don't know how. I hugged him for the first time and it fit. It felt like home. I walked into his home to find it just as I would have wanted it. His color choices were bright and modern. It was surprisingly minimal. It was meticulously cleaned. I fell in love with his sense of style. I loved every single DVD on his rack. We smoked cigarettes together. We played songs on his computer and we took turns choosing them. I danced with him in his dining room. Nobody saw but us. We smiled and kissed and enjoyed moments of short-lived bliss. He played "PDA" by John Legend. I played "P.S. I Love You" by Diana Krall. He played something else and I played "Your Song" by Elton. I stayed that Saturday night with Donnie, and I also spent part of that Sunday with him as well. I came home Sunday night. All of that just for a Saturday night and a Sunday morning. I went back the next weekend. This time he planned out meals to cook for the two of us. We ate by candlelight. We played the same songs from the weekend before. We killed a couple bottles of wine and headed out to the bars. We went to Grand Central and snuck in the side entrance to avoid paying any cover. We stayed upstairs in the dimly-lit lesbian bar. We smoked cigs and drank cocktails. After three glasses of wine at his house and two rum and diets at Grand Central, I was feeling a heavy buzz. I met a few lesbians at Central and laughed and hugged them. We left, taking with us a wonderful lipstick lesbian (meaning she was girly and not butch) named Katie Arnold. We went to The Hippo across the street (another gay bar). I got in and before I could tell Donnie to stop, he passed me another drink. I got so drunk I wanted to tell him we had to leave. I should have. But I lasted as long as I could before telling him I was ready. I danced drunkly with Katie and with an older woman with what I thought to be a killer haircut at the time. Donnie and I went home. We played and then we passed out. We woke up the next morning on his stark white sheets. They were softer than flannel and nicer than any hotel sheets I've ever rested my weary body on. I immediately felt the throbbing head ache. Through the darkness of the room I could see a dark spot on the sheets. I had slept on Donnie's chest that night. I spoke, "I think I threw up last night."

"No, I think I had a nose bleed." It turns out that I had threw up. Donnie thought it was a nose bleed because somehow it ended up on the side of his face, his chest, and his boxers. It was terribly embarrassing. It was nothing but red wine. It wasn't full of chunks or anything terribly gross, but I promise, it wasn't a pleasant realization on his part either. He made me feel okay about it. He cleaned the floor (I had made a futile attempt to land the vomit in the trash can apparently) and put the sheets in the wash to be cleaned on the 2 hour white cycle. The stains came out. It was amazing. He came down and met my family a week or two after that. Everyone loved him. My sister still talks about him to this day. Donnie and I dated over Christmas time. I even started looking at what I would need to do to transfer to Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore so I could move in with him this summer. I visited a couple more times and my schedule changed, putting a small damper on my ability to meet him. We started falling apart. One night I thought it would be good to come clean of my doubts and be honest with him. He came clean with his, and we both walked away from that conversation hurt. We had mortally wounded each other with our own words. He cancelled my trip up to Baltimore that weekend. He didn't think it would be good. He said we'd just fall in love all over again and ignore that elephant that we just invited into our relationship. I would call him and he wouldn't answer. I would call the house and he wouldn't answer. Hours would go by to the point where I was so sure he had to at least see that he had missed my calls. He didn't return them. I would call and finally snag him. I'd ream him in and out over his inability to return my calls in a timely manner. Let's face it, Donnie wasn't used to answering to anyone since he lived by himself. It was a feat that he even shared his space with me when I visited. We stopped speaking and decided mutually that we were both in far different places in our lives. We had irreconcilable differences. He called me later to ask if I was still coming up to Baltimore like we had planned for his birthday. We were supposed to still keep in touch and be best friends, but that was falling apart at this point as well. I told him that it wouldn't be right and that I couldn't. I checked my Facebook account to see that he had dropped me from his relationship listing before I did. It was not a pleasant feeling. I knew it was coming, but I felt very detached for days. He took me off his top friends on Myspace and eventually I stopped hearing from him altogether. He burned me a CD with our songs on it. There are too many. He spoiled more songs than anyone I've ever been with. He ruined the following:

"PDA" by John Legend

"Your Song" by Elton John

"Just the Way You Are" by Diana Krall

"P.S. I Love You" by Diana Krall

"Evil Woman" by Electric Light Orchestra

I can't think of any more off the top of my head. It makes me sick to think of them. After we split, he told me that the most fitting song was "For Good" from Wicked, the broadway musical. I listened to it and cried. I called him up and he chastised me for phoning in for his sympathy. He fussed me out asking me if I didn't think he was hurt either. He made me feel terrible about even calling and I really just wanted to say I missed him. He beat me up emotionally in ways that still haunt me to this day. "What do you have to offer these older men? You have nothing to offer them! Are you just going to keep showing up at their houses, play house and then go home to your parents?!" He broke me down bad. He hung up on me. It was definitely ugly from here on out. I wanted to stay friends, but it's not worth it. There were several small aspects about Donnie that I overlooked purposefully that really should have been deal-breakers from the start. You do crazy things for love though. There are many people you can live with, but the hard thing is to find that one person you can't live without. Donnie could have been one of those people.

It's a shame that I've been forced to bury so many great songs alive. I can't even listen to them and enjoy them anymore. I can't bear to lose any more of my favorites, so from now on I'll keep my favorites to myself and not let anyone take them away.

A Night to [not want to] Remember

2008-02-27T08:59:00.007-05:00

I called Scott after five when I was between classes. I knew he said he'd be staying late for work to work on some sort of contract, but I figured there'd be a small chance he'd be able to answer. I wasn't surprised when the unanswered rings led to his voicemail. I left him a brief casual message, not really saying too much, just to call me or text me to let me know what the deal was and I'd call him when I got out of my class. After my english class ended at 6:45PM, I peeked at my phone expecting to see a small image of an envelope so signify some sort of message or a picture of a cassette tape to let me know I have a waiting voice mail.

Strangely, my phone showed no signs of new text messages, missed phone calls, or voicemails waiting. I figured he must've really been working longer than anticipated, or possibly dealing with car troubles. I know he must have been having quite a day after all of these events had popped up on him. I am still convincing myself not to get too worked up about the whole situation. He was the one who asked if I had plans to begin with. I had no preconceived notions of meeting up with him last night. He sprung it up and was the first to suggest a meeting possibly cocktails. Hours and hours passed. I had since came home from school, changing my outfit meticulously and flattening my hair, throwing on a hat, and changing my shoes. I ate tofu again. I received text messages from everyone in my phone book except for "Scott Norfolk." Nicole wanted to know what I was doing. Janel (Ryan's sister) wanted to know if I had plans, and Robert (Ryan's boyfriend) called me to invite me over to watch "30 Days of Night" with him and Ryan. After enough time had passed, it was after nine and I was ready to leave my house. All dressed up and nowhere to go, I called Robert, who I had cancelled on originally and told him I'd be over. I drove up to Newport News. If Scott called, I would drive all the way down to Norfolk, because after all, I have been really excited about this.

Ryan was already back from class by the time I showed up. He let me in when I knocked and walked back to his computer, phone glued to head. He was speaking with his former best friend Chris. Ryan was reading his blog entries out loud. I pulled my laptop out of my bag and started messing around, playing video clips, and keeping myself occupied. Ryan finally got off the phone. Rob came home with his friend Angie and started tinkering in the kitchen. A while later, the two emerged with an enormous bowl of some sort of queso dip and a bag of tortilla chips. I ate a few, and the hot queso was wonderful (not too watery or too thick). Ryan started playing some video game in the other room. He finished his level or whatever and saved the damn thing. We unwrapped the new DVD and popped it in. Ryan sat on the floor, as did I, resting my back against the sofa. Rob and Angie stole the couch. "30 Days of Night"was exciting to say the least. The plot was decent, and there was enough gore to satisfy that side of me that loves a good horror flick. The ending sucked. I was very disappointed. If you ask me, it would have been a great opportunity for a sequal. The ideal plot would be if Evan (Josh Hartnett) went on to be the leader of the Vampires, taking over the next town over the following year. The girlfriend or wife that he was having issues with would then have to help save the town, and in the process, kill Evan to save the town. It would make for great drama and would have been an ending I'd have loved to see. The movie really wasn't that great, and even if there was a sequal, I wouldn't go to see it.

After the movie, I smoked one last cigarette. I gathered my laptop and new W magazine I just got in the mail yesterday (that bitch is huge! It's the biggest issue I've received in a while). I left without giving any hugs. I just told them I'd talk to them later. I drove home in the dark. It was 1AM when I pulled back into my driveway. I was rather disappointed that I missed out on Scott, but I'm sure I'll hear a full blown excuse today, and if not today, hopefully tomorrow. I am not going to call him. He seemed interested enough to begin with, and even if I don't talk to him today, we still have plans for dinner next week when things cool off. I'm still debating on whether I'll call him after my pilates class today when I drive to work in Portsmouth.

I have my fingers crossed, but on this one, I think I'll let him come to me. Good things come to those who wait. I can't wait to see how this one plays out.

"Gonna Make this a Night to Remember"

2008-02-26T17:30:00.002-05:00

"Get ready...tonight. Gonna make this a night to remember!" Shalamar is amazing. My mom has the record from back in the day. I used to put it on the record player and put it on 45 speed. I loved listening to that song fast.

Tonight should be a night to remember. The past few days have brought horoscopes into my inbox speaking of nothing but love. I'm on the verge of something big and new. Love is looking really good. Today my horoscope told me that whatever I wanted, I should ask for because chances are I'll get it. It also said that I should be careful and think through things carefully. It said that I can put myself in situations when seeking attention. I'm a little hesitant but willing to keep my eyes and ears open.

I've had a hard time concentrating in class all day. I have had my head in the clouds. My thoughts have been elsewhere. Last night I stayed home. The conversations on the Gay.com chat room led me to Scott. Scott is in his thirties. He just moved to Norfolk all of seven days ago today. We talked about Norfolk, and about food, and before I could even suggest it, he invited me to his condo next week to cook dinner for me. It will be perfect. We'll spend an evening in, share great conversation, and get to know each other in a comfortable setting. I read his profile carefully. It read like a recipe including all great traits under the ingredients section. There was even a warning against bitter, jealous, and mean people. It was clever, and kind, and spoke volumes to his character. I was entirely impressed. He gave me his e-mail, but figuring it'd be a nightmare trying to orchestrate dinner plans through such an inconvenient medium, I gave him my cell number. He gave me his, having to look it up since it's a new number for him. His parents are in town for a few more days, so once he's situated, I'll go over. I told him I could show up early and help him cook. He suggested I hang out and drink wine and let him do all the work. I offered to bring over my iPod and my jack so I could hook it up to his speakers. He said he has XM, so I'm sure I'll be able to find a good smooth jazz channel. I envisioned myself sitting comfortably, wine in hand, smiling and talking to Scott as he cooked. I'd walk up from behind, set my class down, and wrap my arms around him from the back. He'd look over his shoulder, smiling, setting down his cooking utensils, and kiss me sweetly. I'm horribly romantic I'm afraid.

I looked back over Scott's profile today. I was skimming it and saw that he is a lawyer. His weaknesses included blue-eyed southern boys. That's not me, but I am southern by birth. How does the saying go? "American by birth, Southern by the grace of God." It brings to my head a quote from "Sweet Home Alabama." "Go back to your double wide and deep fry somethin'!"

I called him as planned on his lunch break. I was between classes, so it worked out beautifully. He was waiting to have his car towed. His tire was flat. He removed the lug nuts himself but wasn't able to get the tire off, so he had to call a towing company. The phone call was cut short so he could insure that the towing people get into the gate of his complex. Apparently he lives in a condo in a gated community. He asked if I had plans tonight and I said no. He said he may have to stay late to work on a contract, but he'd like to get together for drinks or something. I guess this pushes the date a little bit forward. I'm still banking on next week being amazing. I almost don't want to go to his condo tonight because I don't want to spoil the future magic.

He's gorgeous. Half Puerto Rican and half mutt (as he referred to his father's nationality in his profile). He's my height but weighs in about thirty pounds heavier than myself. He hits the gym regularly. He walks to work since it's less than five minutes away. This is great. I really like that. I'm so impressed by him with the little bit I know so far. His voice is deep and calming. His arms are bulky and scream to be around me (if I do say so myself).

When the evening is finished and everything has unfolded, I'll be sure to write in agonizing detail the events of the evening. I can't wait. I'm breathless and on cloud nine. I shouldn't put all my eggs in one basket, I know. Love deeply. It's the only way to live. What do I have to lose?

Shitty Mondays

2008-02-25T19:35:00.004-05:00

I can't believe that Ryan already has comments from complete strangers popping up on his blog after starting it only a whopping two days ago! I'm a little irritated by this. I feel like my blog is going on quite unnoticed. I need to get readers, and normally I'd pull a stunt like advertising it from my Myspace account, but if I did, then everyone I wouldn't want to read it would have equal access. Oh well, I'll just have to keep spreading it by word of mouth. One day you'll see all my words wrapped up tightly in a hard bound book on the New York Times bestseller list. Then you'll appreciate me. What a joke to think I'd hit NYT status from writing about drunken stupors and social misunderstandings.

I worked this morning, but in reality, I did nothing. I fielded phone calls for the larger part of the morning. I had a pretty great pilates session at 12:00PM and finished in an hour. I drove out on Fort Monroe to meet up with Kasey, boss-lady/superstar diva. She's like a nice, well-mannered, Southern version of Miranda Priestly from "The Devil Wears Prada." This would make me Anne Hathaway but let it be said that I started out looking the way she ended up in the movie. I've been the fashionisto from day one. I met her out for a PR event for the Credit Union. I was introduced to everyone as I entered the room. Kasey smiled and walked me from one impeccably dressed woman to the next. "This is my assistant, Ryan."

"Pleasure...Nice to meet you...How do you do?" I am well versed in social etiquette, so I really had a field day with the whole thing. I ate complimentary Chick-fil-A and drank a bottle of water. I chatted with a German woman in the next booth over briefly. We passed out fliers for a while before packing up and heading out. We stopped by the bank branch on post and spoke briefly with my normal bank boss who was filling in out there for the day since that particular branch manager was out sick. We stayed for a good while discussing the business practices that have been so poorly implemented within our institution. Kasey is our marketing director and also the CEO of her own new company. I'm the Social Media Coordinator for Cosmetic Procedure Resource Alliance. The website is listed in my links if you'd like to check it out. Her new baby is spreading it's wings and I'm helping her as much as I can. My mission for the day was to go by salons and spas to lay out fliers, but since it was a Monday, most salons stayed closed. I didn't have to go to Portsmouth with Kasey. She had events planned that needed tending to. I headed back home. I ran to Bank of America, did some minor business and also made a call to T-Mobile. I bitched them out for poor customer service and threatened to cancel my service. I really expected them to give me that damn BlackBerry Curve to keep me but they really didn't try too hard. Some tragic sounding guy (probably fat, wearing glasses, and sweating profusely in some cheap short sleeve white oxford in a cubicle) made it a point to apologize, but it was obviously not within his limits to give me what I asked.

"That's a fairly recent phone, so that's going to be a little more expensive. I could get you the Pearl for $199."

"No, that's quite alright." I practically slammed the receiver down (in this case, I just punched the end call button as hard as I could.

Oh well, I just got my taxes back anyways. I carried myself up to the T-Mobile store. I hate going in there. The employees are so detached. There's a ghetto white girl that was obviously spawned from white trash, a clueless back guy that I'm sure is still a trainee after six months, and a nice guy named Jovan that I knew from the mall T-Mobile kiosk from years ago. He would've hooked it up but he really couldn't.

"$369. But three hundred dollars isn't too bad for a cell phone. I have that phone."

I wasn't going to do it. I almost did before slapping myself mentally and thinking, 'what in fuck's name were you about to go do, spending all that money on that damn phone.' I left empty-handed.

I came home, put away clean dishes from the dishwasher, and retreated to my room. I talked to Andrew, and he swung by my house to drop off a DVD he said I would love with acclaimed French porn star Francois Sagat. I didn't know what to say really. Andrew and I smoked a cigarette outside before he left. He's just staying in tonight. It's Monday, and I can't blame him. This is a really shitty Monday. There's nothing to do. I feel tired and lazy. I've still got the itch though. I haven't been out since Friday and I'm itchin' hard. My stomach is screaming for booze. I need liquor. I feel naked and empty. As terribly bad as I'd like to drop by the Pocket, drink, and chain smoke, I know I have to stay home. I'm five minutes away from popping open a beer though.

My history class is canceled tomorrow since the class is ahead. The test is scheduled for Thursday morning at 8AM but it has been available online since Saturday. I'm going to still wake up early tomorrow, get dressed, and take the online version from home.

I'm going to get that beer now. I'm so depleted of alcohol at this point it's not even funny. Mild alcoholism? No. Major barfly-ism. It's not all about the booze; it's about the accompanying cigarettes, bar drama, and all the mess that comes with the scene.

The Lunch Boy Event

2008-02-25T00:51:00.004-05:00

I shot lunch boy a text earlier and he said he was pretty free today. After over three hours had passed since his last text message, I decided to meet Dallas out in Gloucester and see where she's living now (her aunt's house). I drove out there, carting my hookah with me. Dallas met me at a Wendy's and I followed her to her boyfriend's house before going to her aunt's. I met Brian's parents and brother. We ate reuben's and smoked cigarettes on the front porch. We left to head over to Dallas's new home. She drove, leaving my car at Brian's. On the way there I got a phone call. I yelled at Dallas to turn down the music from her back seat. It was him. He was actually calling. I answered. He was in Yorktown and wanted to hang out. I told him the deal and that I'd call him on my way back home later on. We smoked hookah at Dallas's aunt's home and left shortly after. I got back to my car and darted back home. I went directly to his house to pick him up. He met me in my car. I took the two of us back to my house. I took him to my room and showed him my DVD collection. He chose "Saved" with Mandy Moore. He said he wanted to smoke hookah first, so the two of us smoked in the garage since I can't smoke in the house. We smoked cigarettes out back between hookah hits. We came back upstairs after fixing ice cream (he was craving it and asked if we had any). We ate our ice cream and watched the movie, laying side by side on my bed. It was surreal. Conversation revealed that he was bisexual but didn't like being asked about his sexuality. I was glad I never asked, and even more glad that he said he was comfortable around me. I didn't put any moves on him because I didn't want to force anything or make him uncomfortable. I slid closer to him to where our arms brushed and stayed touching. He didn't say anything. He talked during the movie and made me laugh. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to wrap my arm around him and rub his broad back. I didn't want to make him nervous. It will come if it is supposed to come. We smoked another cigarette and I took him home. Our empty ice cream bowls and glasses are still sitting beside me right now. I didn't kiss him or even hug him when he got out of the car, but it wasn't awkward. I asked him if he wanted to do something Wednesday, and he told me he will be off. He told me to call or text him, so I will. I'm excited. I apologized for not getting out and doing something tonight but he was glad we stayed in. He said it was nice and that he had a great time. I'm pleased. I'm light. I'm airy inside. I'm being real about this though and won't put all my eggs in one basket. I'm comfortable around him, but I'm keeping an open eye for flaws. There are deal breakers, and when he said he'd been to the Garage down in Norfolk (a grungy 21+ gay bar) and that he'd met Skip and been into his office to say hello, I almost cut him loose mentally then and there. Skip is a dirty old man who likes young boys. He's nice and cordial, but I've heard enough to know that he just wants to get his socks blown, and I'd hate to think of my friend getting tied up in any of that. Well, Wednesday will be here before I know it. I'll have to come up with a great plan.

First Decent Saturday Night / The Unexpected Talk

2008-02-24T14:33:00.011-05:00

I spent my Saturday night in a way I can't ever remember having done before. Ryan had called earlier in the afternoon, being one of at least five people to wake me from my much needed nap (making up for lost sleep- 10 hours in two days to be exact). The phone rang loud in my ear as I lay horizontally across the bed, my arms hanging off the edge. I cracked open my eyes and lifted my head out of a puddle of drool that had gathered beneath my mouth. Incoming call from Ryan. I had already taken calls from Miranda, Andrew, and so I had no problems taking one more. Ryan was in the middle of completing some school work. He didn't mention going out, and when it was brought up, he shook off the idea quickly. I let it slide, figuring he'd call me later on in the evening with the itch. You know the kind; it's the itch that starts in your stomach gently whispering, "Fill me with liquor, I'm thirsty," and eventually works it's way up to your brain, making you realize, "I should be getting dressed, I should be fixing up my hair, I should be painting on my face." Well, I clicked the "end call" button and plopped my head down again. I woke up around 6:00PM, preparing myself to drive up to Ryan's place. I got dressed, and though it wasn't mentioned that we would go out, I dressed up ANYWAYS just to be safe. I donned Gap's long and lean boot cut jeans, black Zegna dress shoes (square toed of course, I AM gay you know!), and a red stretch Express oxford, unbuttoned towards the top with a black necklace, black belt, and black hat to pull it all together. I drove to Ryan's house, knocking on the door to hear him yell, "Come in!"

The apartment was being cleaned. Ryan's sleeves were pushed back and he was spraying down everything in the kitchen with chemicals. I lit up a cigarette. Ryan's place is quite possibly my only sanctuary that allows me to smoke inside. My favorite thing to do is smoke cigarettes in bed. I love doing this because I'm never allowed to do this. I have never smoked in my house, so it's always a treat to be at Ryan's house. Ryan complained about the dishes.

"When Rob cooked dinner the other night, those dishes sat in the sink from Thursday until today." Today was Saturday, and I was there when he cooked that meal. I helped him make it, dirtying literally every pot, pan, and skillet in the whole place. Ryan was exhausted, I could see it in his eyes.

Ryan works every day and has Tuesdays and Thursdays off since he has school on those days. I feel like he works way too hard to have to be concerned with cleaning the way he does. It's pretty ridiculous how I'll show up at the house, and Rob will be on the couch playing video games, surrounded by overflowing ash trays, empty soda cans, and spent packs of cigarettes. My mom has always been such a neat freak, it drives me mad having any clutter around at all. Rob apparently has never been driven enough to clean up after himself unless you light a fire under his ass and force him, and even then, I'm sure he bitches the whole time. I try really hard not to be too hard on Rob because:

1) He really is a great guy

2) He has a great personality

3) He has his moments where he's all smiles and is fun to be around

But it gets really difficult for me to keep my mouth shut because:

1) Rob can be extremely lazy and unmotivated

2) He can get angry for no apparent reasons

3) His bad moods have recently been outweighing his good ones

4) I don't see him treating Ryan as good as Ryan treats him

So Ryan finished up in the kitchen; I emptied two ash trays that were full. Ryan's mission for the evening was as follows:

A. Go to Target or Wal*Mart

B. Buy large plastic bins to aid in the sorting of their laundry (which up to this point has littered almost every room upstairs)

C. Get food (Ryan had been craving corn on the cob for at least a month and a half now)

Ryan and I smoked one last cigarette on his front steps before getting into my car (which is not smoked in, mind you). We talked about Rob briefly. I know Ryan is frustrated. Ryan at least has a boyfriend, while I do not, but even then, I would never want to put myself in the position Ryan is currently in. I deal with matters independently. I have Ryan as my best friend, and I tolerate Rob. There are good times when I really do have fun with Rob, but I've just seen him get more and more out of line recently.

Ryan and I got into the car and took the back roads to get to Target. They had been remodeling the inside. Ryan grabbed a cart and looked at the empty space and stains on the floors and walls.

"Can you smell the fungus?" he commented.

"Can you smell the asbestos?" I asked back.

We browsed pet items, Ryan buying a scratching thing for the cats, and looked at wall decor. We found the big plastic bins. Ryan bought four plum colored bins to sort clothes. If I remember right, they were for whites, darks, sweaters, and work clothes maybe? While walking to electronics and the CD section I spotted an attractive man. He was wearing pointy leather boots, dark jeans, and a green oxford covered by a dark sweater vest that fit snugly above.

"Look at that guy Ryan," I spoke.

"Doesn't he scream 'fag'?" Ryan responded.

"Doesn't he scream 'my next boyfriend'?" We laughed. The man was oblivious to our presence, obviously wrapped up in selecting the perfect DVD.

I found a ethernet cable in the electronics department. I had lost mine and never replaced it. Usually I use wireless and have no problems, but a lot of hotels have wall jacks only, and my school has the shittiest wireless I've ever received.

Ryan found a killer tinted moisturizer that he loves and threw it in the cart. We went to check out. Ryan's debit card was demagnetized. The damn trainee had to gather a herd of at least three other cashiers to help her manually enter the card.

"Would you be interested in saving $6.32 on your purchase today?" she asked, definitely living up to her trainee responsibilities.

"No thanks," Ryan spoke rather unenthusiastically. They finished fixing him up, and I moved up to make my single purchase.

SIDE NOTE:

Earlier on that day (Saturday afternoon) I received a stack of mail. I opened it all, finding credit card offers, magazines, and bank statements. One statement was that of my credit card from Bank of America that I'd been practically melting for the past couple months. I've been putting gas on it, and booze on it, and food on it. I figured, Hell, I have a fifteen hundred dollar limit, I'm just using it on piddly purchases, I'll be good for a while. That statement showed my current balance. It was over $1,300, and If I remember correctly, I only had like $178 available on it. I knew it was close. I also have two paychecks and a small stash of cash I've been waiting to throw down on the card, but I hadn't been able to get to the bank since I work during normal banking hours.

At the register I inserted my card into the reader. I waited for the box to pop up for me to sign. She turned her screen towards me,

"Your card was declined."

I'm sure my face was quite the sight at that moment, but I had been expecting it sooner or later. I tried to stay calm. I pulled out a ten and a five from my pocked to pay for the $10.58 purchase.

Ryan and I loaded the stuff in the back seat of the car. Pulling out of the parking lot I asked him, "So what do you want to eat? There's Chick-fil-A and a Taco Bell right here."

"Wait, I think that's a KFC over there, I want corn on the cobb. Take a left."

We drove over and found a cut through in the parking lot to get us there. There was a curb preventing us from leaving the Mattress store's parking lot and entering the KFC lot. We parked as close as we could and got out and walked. Ryan decided to order the 8 piece dinner. We got it extra crispy, with mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and corn on the cob. They made us wait forever. I pulled out my BlackBerry and opened up PerezHilton.com and read Ryan all of the recent celebrity dirt. When we got back to the car with the bags of steaming all-American goodness, I turned to Ryan. "Reading about how fucked up all these celebrities lives are makes me feel a little better about my own. I guess that' why I love Perez Hilton so much."

Ryan laughed for a while. We talked shit about Perez for the next ten minutes between eating buttery biscuits in the car. "He's such a fat ass. They have him animated in the picture at the top to make him look skinny."

Back at the house Ryan fixed me a plate with everything. I had a drumstick and something else. I think it was a breast. I don't usually eat fried chicken because I'm terrified of any meat that still has bones in it. I never know where the bones are (unless it's a drumstick, which I normally stick to). I ate everything and picked as much meat as I could off of the breast. Ryan swallowed down that damn corn so fast I was waiting for him to choke. He ate two ears. Rob called saying he was on his way home. Ryan read a Word document out loud to me that he's been working on for his class. It was really great. He spoke about his family ties and gave background on the relationships that he's been surrounded by. I read Ryan the last two entries from my blog out loud, reading them off of my BlackBerry.

Ryan liked the concept and spoke about collaborating and writing something together. He went to the Blogger.com site and started his own blog up. I helped him pick out a format and load it up. He's written a couple entries so far. It will be really interesting now to read things from my point of view and then read his blog to see what his perception on things was. The link to Ryan's new blog is http://ryerye78.blogspot.com/ The link has also been posted on the right side of this page.

Ryan wrote in his blog, asking my advice to help list the top five songs of the week and adding five close runners up. We did that.

"I feel like I should be upstairs and getting ready." I knew what Ryan meant and I was itching so bad for it myself, I didn't know what to honestly do.

I told him, "I feel like I'm denying my body it's natural right to get fucked up." He looked at me like I was stupid.

"How is it a natural right?" he said. I laughed.

"You know what I mean." I left it at that.

It was twelve, then twelve forty. Ryan had mentioned showing up at the pocket and tipping every drag queen but Naomi. I'm sure he wasn't serious. I'm never going back, and he doesn't want to either. I just don't want to be that weak. I don't want to show back up and smile for them all over again. It was too late anyways.

I put on my coat, now newly motivated to redo the formatting on my own blog. Rob was home now, sitting in the corner wearing a wife beater and his slacks from work. I told them both goodnight and made for the door.

I didn't last very long before falling asleep. I was woken this morning by my mom.

"We're getting ready to go to the 8:30 service at church."

"It's too early, can we do eleven?"

"No, I have to show property today."

I passed back out. Dad woke me up later. I went back to sleep. Then I hear two girls voices. One is my sister. The other was a friend I guess.

"Dammit, I'm in my underwear and my hair is all jacked up. I can't even walk to the shower now without them seeing," I thought to myself. Instead of making any great effort, I got out of bed, turned on several lights in my room, and played some music on my iPod. I hung up the clothes that had been clean and laying neatly on my floor for almost a week. I'd just been too busy, running from work and school and to social functions. I hung up everything, organizing and separating jeans from khakis from black and gray slacks. I hunt up all my oxfords on one side of the closet, separating solid dress shirts from patterned dress shirts. I hung all the polo shirts together and all the tees side by side. I cleaned out the bottom of my closet, clearing out old school notebooks and throwing out unnecessary papers and old work schedules. I pulled out two canvas messenger bags and one Ralph Lauren carry-on sized bag. I emptied out the contents of all three, sorting through bottles of water, old check stubs, broken pencils, and tanning bed lotions. In one of the canvas bags I found a stack of OLD SCHOOL Penthouse magazines that someone had given me years ago. I don't know who even gave them to me, but I never even opened them. I just stashed them. I put them in a different, more disposable bag and stuck them back at the bottom of the closet. I put all the empty messenger bags inside of the big Polo bag and put it back inside the closet as well. All of this closet and clothes business took up over an hour. I took a shower and dressed in shorts and an old tee. I threw on some flip flops and my big Abercrombie coat. I grabbed a Camel Menthol Light out of the pocket and stepped out the back door.

"Hey Ryan." My dad was sitting on the steps. He scared the shit out of me.

"I didn't even see you there." I lit up my cigarette. He was tinkering with the chain from the chain saw. I had seen him outside cutting back the crepe myrtle tree earlier.

My dad and I don't have conversations. We see each other in passing and are cordial towards each other.

"Chad didn't come home last night?" I asked.

"No, he spent the night at Alex's."

"Have you ever seen that apartment complex?" the corners of my mouth turned down as I spoke.

"Yeah, they live in shit." Dad was obviously disappointed.

The following ten minutes revolved around the people that Chad has been hanging around with. It wasn't good.

"I'm really disappointed in him." My dad looked down at the chain again.

"You know, I can party just as hard as him but in a different way, and I still pull B's and A's."

"I know, and I'm so proud of you. I never have to worry about you. You'll be fine. You can come home at two and three in the morning, but you still get up at seven to go to work the next day. You have a drive and that's great." I beamed. My dad really loves me. I shared his opinions on my brother. There's no talking any sense into him though. He's just going to keep smoking weed everyday and failing out of school. He's failing Biology and everyone is convinced he's just not putting forth any effort. It's been over six weeks and he hasn't even opened the book. My dad wasn't pleased. I feel bad for my brother, but he's done all of this to himself. He's let everything go. He doesn't care. He will stay out for three nights back to back, spending the night at Alex's house and getting fucked up with him and his friends. I know he doesn't have a toothbrush in his car or at their house. It's disgusting. When Chad demand his braces be took off, the dentist was very concerned about Chad's dental health. The boy hardly brushes his teeth. He had terrible build up and decay at the gum line all around. My parents have just had it with him. Dad says he should take his tax money (Chad's) and get his teeth fixed finally. You can't talk sense into him though. I suggested Chad join the air force since they really don't get deployed too much and they're unofficially known as the "chair force." It isn't a bad idea. He'd at least have a government job and benefits. The conversation finally migrated away from my brother and his financial problems, drug abuse, and educational issues. My dad and I talked about my educational path and projected transfer date. I talked about post-college plans.

"I don't know why but I keep thinking about Texas, even though I've never been. I also really like Tennessee and I never thought I would until we went last year."

"I've been looking at Tennessee a lot too. We're going to retire there. I keep looking at property on Craigslist." I knew he had been looking for a while. My dad could transfer work out there now but he wouldn't have the same health benefits and wouldn't be able to retire as early as he can here. So it looks like a ten year plan. He'll retire in ten, and then get out to Tennessee.

I finished my cigarette and put it out. My dad walked back around the house to get to the front side where he'd been cutting down the tree's dead limbs. I felt great about myself, and somehow felt even sorrier for my brother. It sounds like he has a year or less to clean his shit up or he's getting kicked out. My parent's can't just keep giving him gas and cigarette money while he stays home sleeping all day or smoking all night. He goes to school now because he's forced to, but he shows no initiative at all. I walked into the house and tried to clear my mind.

I sent Lunch Boy a text message asking him if he had plans for this 'otherwise uneventful sunday.'He had to visit his dad and said he had no other plans. I asked him if he wanted to hang out. He said "if i have time yea." I told him I had a hookah we could smoke and I also had two random tickets to the Virginia Air and Space Center (museum AND IMAX). His response, "word." That was at 1:42PM, it's now 4:20PM. I just got off the phone with Jimbo. We talked for a while about recent news that included the fall out at the Pocket, and other minor drama. I don't know what to do now. I want to smoke hookah but I need to figure out who I want to come over and enjoy it with. I'm going to make some phone calls. Maybe later on tonight I'll head down to Norfolk and see what's going on at Skip's. It's a neighborhood gay bar similar to the Pocket but bigger, with more people, and a small dance floor (I've rarely seen it used). I'll call Ryan later on and see if he'd be up to it.

Anyways, I need to go do something productive.

Secret Dance Night

2008-02-23T09:58:00.009-05:00

Friday's at the Wave are called "Indie Night" or "Secret Dance Night." DJ Danny always spins a great mix of electro, 80's, and really good indie rock that everyone loves to dance to. I somehow ended up at the Wave again last night.

Let me preface this club experience by the evening's earlier events. I worked until five. I had a beer with my entreprenuer boss lady and her husband. "It's Friday!" she screamed, making the beers a necessary ritual, completely right and justified by a week's worth of hard toiling in her upstairs office. I finished the beer and a cigarette out back before returning to the interior of the house. We spoke in the kitchen about the ab's diet and how well it worked. Her husband cut out to pick up Chinese take out for dinner, and I left at the same time, leaving her to her family.

I drove directly to Victoria's house, beating her there. Her mother let me in. I was still in my work clothes, and quite uncomfortable at this point. I was wet, tired, and hungry.
"Are you hungry?" she asked.
"I'm starved actually, but I have a pear and some bottled water."
"We had pancakes tonight, you sure you don't want me to fix you some?" Lord, I love this woman.
"Okay, that sounds great." I was thrilled to learn I'd be refuelling.
I went upstairs and changed my clothes. I ate those two pancakes that were not leftovers as I had suspected, but made from leftover batter. I finished those as Victoria came home. The plan was that we (Victoria, her sister Caitlin, LeeAnn, and me) would ride together to go to a sex toy party being thrown by one of Caitlin's long time friends.

Victoria drove my car when we learned that there would be alcohol at the party. She had never driven my car before, and was a little hesitant having that liability. She drove, and I programmed the in-dash navigation to take us to this foreign destination. We got to the party early. I quickly began devouring mexican bean dip with tortilla chips, fixing a margarita and grabbing a seat on the black leather sectional.

I entertained the women who put on the party. I watched as other girls spilled their drinks on the floor in the cramped room. The large girl speaking about the products tripped over my feet twice. She shouldn't have worn those metallic gold pointy stilettos. The dog Missy walked by, wagging her bony little tail, taking out one margarita on the table in the process. It was the second drink down. The girl who hosted was surely relieved to have hard wood floors. She had to take the Swiffer mop out not once but twice. The show and tell portion of the presentation was wrapped up, and one by one, individual orders were placed in the privacy of a seperate room. The girls ordered and I ate some taquitos.

The plan was to go to the Wave for Secret Dance Night. A truck pulled up with John and Michael inside. Victoria was in the driver's seat of my car, letting it warm up quietly in the dark. Caitlin's boyfriend brought her money to pay her cover charge, and Michael, Victoria's man, joined in my car, seating now at maximum capacity. Victoria took me back to my house and dropped me off. She took Michael back to John's house to grab his ID and was supposed to come back to get me after he retrieved it. She came back to get me with no Michael. LeeAnn was taken to her car so she could get ready. I had changed and resituated my face, accenting minor details in ways far too subtle to be noticeable in low light. Victoria and Caitlin got dressed and I sat on Vic's bed, watching the metamorphosis. Victoria tried on several things before settling on a pair of light gray skinny leg jeans, black patent leather pointy stilettos, and a bright orange long tank top. She coupled her ensemble with silver earrings that looked like wings, one in each ear. Vic teased her hair, messing it up just enough to look like she had a night of rough, but amazing sex. I painted her eyelids, giving her a smokey sultry look. She finished her makeup, and gave Caitlin a set of pearls to wear.

We arrived a little after eleven. It was dead. There was no line to get in. We walked around and waited in the back bar area for a crowd to gather. After midnight the bodies started filling the bar. Girls in dual colored leggings and miniskirts littered the bar. The guys with the longneck beers weren't far behind, checking out every skinny girl's ass in a 20 ft. radius.

I spotted a small sector of the small high school crew. There was the skinny tall straight girl, a shorter lesbian that I used to work with, and my 105% gay. The 105 guy cozied up to me like he was a long lost best friend, but nothing of the sort. I dislike him for denying his sexuality in highschool, being difficult, and not accepting himself. He's fine now and doesn't bring up the sexuality issue. It's just an assumed thing that doesn't come up anymore. I talked briefly and asked if the boys had fun the night before. They walked off after a few minutes. I hit the dance floor with the girls and we rocked out. Even without being lit, I had a good time. The music was a good mix, so it made for a decent night. While dancing, I looked over to see my lunch-mate. This time he was dancing on 105. The two were grinding in ways that would make any nun pass out and vomit on themself. I was happy to see that he was definitely feelin' men, but concerned that he was dancing with 105. I ignored the two and kept on dancing, smiling as much as I could. The time progressed and the girls and I found ourselves at a back bar table. Lunch boy came up to our group, all by himself. He took an active interest, asking me about my brother and my best friend from high school. He lit up a Marlboro red and I lit up a Marlboro menthol. He asked me if I wanted to step out to the patio. I found it strange, but honored his request. It was cold out. He sat in a chair and pulled one over close to him for me to park myself in. I listened to him. He told me his work schedule. He told me, "I meant to get back with you," talking about when we used to message each other. I wanted to smile, but held it in. He said when he'd be available for lunch or dinner. He paid attention to me and only me for those few minutes. I asked him what he was doing the next day since he said he is off on Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays. He said, "I have a date at four. Dinner and a movie." He didn't say whether it was with a guy or a girl, and I didn't want to push the envelope. "Are you seeing anyone?" he asked curiously, not inquisitively.
"No, I'm not," I didn't look at him in the eyes (I didn't want to look overly interested), "I just got out of a relationship."
"Was it long-term?" he asked.
I thought for a second and responded, "Well, it was supposed to be." I smiled and he laughed out loud. I joined in for a while.
I told him I'd most likely be at the Wave again since I'm sure Ryan will want to go tonight. He said that when he's done with his date, he'll give me a call and hang out. I'm not holding my breath. Lunch boy is a year younger than me. He's taller than me. He's built husky. He's got muscles, and a comfortable body at the same time. He's the kind of guy I'd love to fall asleep with. He has arms that would feel great around me. I can't think of such things though. After a while, he went back in to see what his friends were up to. The club was dying slowly. The music got progressively worse.
"I'm ready to go when you are." Victoria was the first to speak when I met back up with her.
I grabbed her hand and motioned to her sister. Before saying any goodbyes to 105 or lunch boy, we slipped out.

In the car I joked with Vic about the lunch boy.
"I never thought he was like that. You can't even tell," said Vic.
"I know, but that's exactly the kind of guy I want to be with," I replied. I changed my voice and spoke sweetly, "I'd cook for him and clean up after him and make him the happiest man alive."
I laughed.
"Don't force it!" Victoria joked.
But in all honestly, ever since I heard the rumor that this friend was a big closet case, he's been on my mind. A lot at first, but I lost touch with him and put him on the back burner. Now that burner is boiling over and I don't know what to do. I'm going to play it by ear, be casual and friendly, and keep the door open for him in case he wants to come in and keep me company for a while. He seemed interested enough. On the way home I sent him a text message telling him that it was good seeing him out again and to drive home safely. Goodnight. He responded.
"u too. nite bud" I beamed from ear to ear and read it aloud to Victoria and Caitlin. LeeAnn had driven seperately. She danced a bit that night but cut out early.

I dropped Vic and her sister back at their house. I came home and crashed.

80's Night

2008-02-22T08:56:00.010-05:00

Yesterday was Thursday. It was the day that Ryan, Robert and I had planned on going to the Wave with Andrew for 80's night. Ryan called early on in the afternoon and told me that he and Rob wouldn't be joining us. BLAH. Quite unfortunate, but the news has no impact on me. I was going, with or without Ryan. I called Andrew and confirmed the 'evening appointment' and we were still on.

I got out of class at 6:45PM. Andrew was at a friend's house, but somehow conned me into picking him up back at his house so he could join me in the hunt for a new shirt to wear for the night out. I arrived, picking him up, and carted the two of us up to Marshall's. I was looking for something unique and inexpensive, not really knowing how the evening would play out. At Marshall's the pickin's were slim. I was confronted with having to shop in the smallest men's department I've possibly ever seen. The clearance racks weren't promising either. I tried to force myself to be attracted to something, but the plain oxfords weren't singing my name from the racks. Walking towards the front door, I saw a small table with a few hair products and quickly grabbed a bright banana yellow BedHead brush infused with tourmaline. $8 was spent at Marshall's and yet no clothes filled the cheap plastic bag when we left. In the parking lot, a young latino man walked towards the door. Andrew's biggest weakness is latin men, so I immediately glanced at him to see his eyes glued to the guy. "You want to go back in?" I smiled at him.

I decided to make one last stand and try my chances at TJ Maxx. Jackpot. I looked for a while before settling on an olive colored Polo Ralph Lauren tee shirt with a splashed on graphic starting on the chest moving directly up to the neckline. It was a small, and it looked pretty decent, so for $13, I figured I'd try it out, and if it didn't work, I had more than enough options back at the house.

Andrew and I drove back to my house since it was still early. I sprayed my hair one more time, pushing it up from the back making sure that I owned every inch of heaping volume piled up at the back of my head. While this went on, I received a phone call from my lab partner Emily. Em needed some chem lecture notes and was on her way over. She showed up. I pulled the pages out of my notebook and gently arranged them in the three prong folder I had put the first test's notes in for her to borrow. She really started to wear out her welcome. She told the whole story of her ex boyfriend and how he cheated on her and wanted her back and wouldn't stop calling her and yadda yadda yadda. Every time I looked at Andrew, he rolled his eyes, obviously sharing my thoughts at the moment. I finished my face work, filling in my eyebrows and mustache, using bronzer on my cheeks to give me added depth.

Emily walked out of the door with Andrew and me. I waited for her to hurry up while she started chatting leisurely with my mom before hitting the front door. Andrew was restless again. We left, severing ties to the house. I went and gassed up. Andrew went in to the convenient store to buy one of those "5 Hour Energy" drinks. I picked up the small bottle while he used the ATM machine. Nutrition facts: Vitamin B6- Daily % . . . . . 2,000%! Vitamin B12. . . . . 8,333%!!!
"Five hours will put you to 3AM!"
"Okay, well you drink half and I'll drink half," Andrew protested.
I drove to pick up Andrew's friend Terry. We grabbed Terry and headed to the closest interstate on-ramp. Andrew drank half of the bottle. He passed the minature bottle to me. I finished it up, feeling like Alice in Wonderland drinking the growing and shrinking potions. It tasted like extremely concentrated and uncarbonated Red Bull, but not intolerable altogether.

The drive went well. We rocked out to new Hot Chip and Kylie Minogue, Seal, and one really really gay song by RuPaul that went something like this:
"How do I look?!"
"You look good!"
"How do I feel?!"
"You feel good!"
"How do I look?!"
"You look good! Lookin' good and feelin' gorgeous!"
RuPaul sang on and on about looking legendary, and having to send text messages from her Blackberry to her agency, not the escort agency, the modeling agency, "I have coins to make gurrrl!" Andrew and I laughed, and Terry joined in. I acted as gay as I could, living up ever minute of the drive trying to get all three of us pumped and motivated for the night ahead.

The three of us crossed the street after parking and got through the front door without having to wait in any line. Andrew paid my cover charge, as planned, and we lit up cigarettes simultaneously. Terry doesn't smoke, so he just hung out. Andrew went to pick up a Long Island Ice Tea from the bar, obviously planning on getting pretty shitty. The bar didn't pick up until closer to midnight.

The crowd was young. It was very mixed also. 80's night at the Wave used to be an overflow of the Saturday crowd; gay men came in wearing all kinds of skinny leg jeans and Chuck Taylor Converse shoes. An article hit in the paper, The Virginian Pilot to be exact, giving great reviews of the Wave's weekly Thursday night bash. It was half and half for a while. Now, I'd almost venture to say it's about 60% hetero and 40% homo IF that. The usual crowd tends to consist of young trendy girls, queeny gay guys, and a few straight men lookin' for a piece (if you know what I mean). They're the type of guys who rarely dance, clinging to their longneck beers and smoking way too many cigarettes. I can't say I'm not guilty of consuming more than my fair share of nicoteine when I go to the Wave. I'm usually nervous since I'm not the hottest meat in town (like at the Pocket). I smoke profusely, unable to dance without a glowing ember waving around along with my left hand.

Andrew mentioned on the car ride over that we had to look extra good because, "I was pretty sloppy last week and made out with some fat guy. The next day I get this phone call from some guy who tells me he's in his thirties, he's a male nurse, and he lives with his parents. I mean, is that supposed to impress me?" After a while, he turned to me in the bar, "That fat guy's here."
"Where is he?" I asked
"I would never point him out because you'd loose too much respect for me."
Like all opposite ended magnets, somehow they still managed to connect that night. Andrew never bought another drink after his initial Long Island. "The fat guy" had a name, and that name was Rudy. I was introduced, but not on my own accord. I'd seen this guy before. He rolls with a nice crew. The men he keeps close are far thinner than him, and usually hit the gym at least five more times a week than he does. The men he hands around have chiseled bodies, great teeth, and sparkling eyes. I mean, GQ was created because of men like these. Later after hearing about all the drinks he'd purchased Andrew, I decided that the only reason the GQ crew stuck to him like flies to shit was because of his uncanny ability to buy rounds for everyone. I guess when you live with your parents, you don't pay the mortgage and can afford to splurge to aid in your lack of social abilities.

I walked to the back bar and managed to accidentally strike up a conversation with the bartender. I've seem him countless times before. This was two years ago when Ryan and I stayed hitting the Wave steadily every Thursday and Saturday for months on end. This bartender had a thing for Ryan, and so did everyone else. He would carry himself with so much confidence, I always felt like I was just following Ryan, trying to mimick his stance, his eyes, his wit. This particular bartender commented once that he loved the way Ryan would step down the stairs to the back bar, scanning the area, noting every face. Ryan always played the game, and he was damn good at it too. It was actually a copycat move for me to buy a new top to go out in. Ryan would buy a new outfit every single Saturday. I tell you what though, that new shirt made me keep my shoulders back, my stomach in, and I never felt more attractive. The bartender Gerard and I talked about cars, about Honda products, and gas mileage. I would try to walk away to get back to Andrew and Terry, but somehow couldn't. He smiled and did most of the talking. It was hard to get any words in, but I guess he just really needed an ear at that moment. The bar was crowding with needy dunks, and when they started slamming their glasses on the bar top, I patted Gerard's hand and told him I'd talk to him later.

Andrew was constantly disappearing. I'd turn to look at Terry to see if he could point me in the direction, and he would. He would point a finger and there Andrew would be, nestled in small circles of gay men all over the bar, bouncing from one to the next. I walked up behind him, waiting for an opportune moment to jump in and grab his attention, trying not to distract everyone else's. I felt more awkward than anything. I'm sure those guys he was talking to were wondering who that guy was that was standing so close to their circle for no apparent reason. Andrew was good about not talking too long though. He has the attention span of a gnat.

Terry, Andrew, and I ended up on the dance floor. For some reason Andrew's belt kept coming undone (I wondered whether this was planned or honestly accidental). Every two minutes Andrew would turn to Terry and say, "Hold this," and pass Terry is bought-and-paid for drink, courtesy of the hefty male nurse. Terry protested after about the fourth time. He was a good sport about it though.

During the evening, somehow I ran into a small army of people I went to high school with. One of them I'm 105% sure is gay. The other was a girl friend of theirs that I know is staight. The other guy that was with them used to be a regular friend. He used to eat lunch with my best friend and me when we were seniors. He is a year younger than us though. I always assumed him to be straight until I dated a guy who worked with him that claimed he was a "major closet case." My ears had been perked since then. He was the first from their group to come up to me and enthusiastically ask how I had been. I had exchanged a couple messages online with him after I heard he may in fact be gay. I didn't think anything of their group because it was 80's night and is perfectly acceptable to be straight and at the Wave on a Thursday. Had I seen him on a Saturday, it would have been a different story and a far more compromising situation. The night progressed and they tended to each other as I tended to Andrew and Terry on the dance floor.

I saw my lunch-time friend dancing on a girl, which is fine. What caught me off guard was the really gay guy dancing on his ass while he danced with the girl. He didn't look like he minded it or was just tolerating it. He was having a good time. I tried to ignore it and get on with the night as best I could. Andrew would wander off and I danced by myself for a while. I kept my head up, dancing and smiling in my own little world. I had a great time. An 80's song I didn't recognize started playing and I danced on. A very attractive man that wouldn't strike me as being gay walked past me, stopping to tell me, "I have a crush on this song."
"Oh really?" I stopped, smiling at him. He kept on walking and I went back to dancing. In retrospect, I wish I had grabbed his arm, pulled him back to me, and asked him if he'd mind enjoying it with me.

"Last call for alcohol!" boomed over the speakers. I gathered my ducklings seeing as I was the designated driver. I found Andrew, and Terry walked up at the same time. The lights came on and I hurried Andrew to pay out and leave with us. I didn't want to get caught up in the crowd waiting to get their ID's back at the door. Terry and I walked out after Andrew said he had to say his goodbyes. He said he'd meet us back at the car. The front door opened as other people filed out. It was cold, and there was no denying the fact that it was raining pretty hard. Terry and I held out breaths and took off, running all the way to the car. Mid-jog he spoke, "I hate this damn rain, you think white people hate getting their hair wet? My hair it like a sponge. Black people hate getting wet!" We finally made it back to the car on the other side of the street. I started the car and let it warm up while we waited for a shitty Andrew to get to the car. He was five to ten minutes behind us. He clumsily ran to the car, falling into the front seat.

The ride home was eventful to say the least. We argued the whole way jokingly. I ganged up with Terry, telling Andrew how shitty his boyfriend was for not drinking and never going out with him. Terry complained that Andrew's boyfriend was a racist, and Andrew's response was, "Everybody is a racist!" Andrew tried to protect the reputation of his boyfriend, but in the process his own ethics were put on trial. I chastised Andrew for making out with other men and letting them buy him drinks.
"Does that guy Rudy know you have a boyfriend!?" I asked (Rudy is the nurse).
"Yeah. I told him."
I asked him how he would feel if his boyfriend went out, kissing other men and letting them serve him alcohol superfluously. He didn't like that concept, and I'm hoping he learned that his boyfriend really wouldn't appreciate his actions either.
"You're just mad because you can't even keep a man!" Andrew was bringing me into this now.
"It's not that I can't keep a man, I just get bored easily, and then they have to go." I tried to keep my composure and not feel back about the fact that none of my boyfriends in the past two years have lasted for more than two months, or even two weeks in most cases. I held up and brushed it off since we were really just playing along and taking advantage of Andrew's blood alcohol content levels at this point.

I dropped off Terry. I dropped off Andrew. I dropped myself off, and stripped off my clothes in my room. I laid my head down, my body ready to recharge. My mind raced. I sang songs in my head. I thought about the night. I thought about that damn 5 hour energy shit that now kept me from my sleep. I don't remember falling asleep but I do remember waking up the next day at 7:45AM to start getting ready for a Friday morning of work.

Wednesday Night Follow Up

2008-02-20T23:41:00.004-05:00

In my previous entry, I mentioned a graphic dream. I retold this story while at work this morning. When I left work, a car pulled out behind me, following me briefly on the road. It was a metallic light blue Volkswagon Passat. I called my mom, terrified, and told her about my dream. She told me to get away from the car, but it had already turned down a side road.

I met Koi for dinner at a Japanese sushi place. We ran into his friend Mina who owns a hair salon next to the restaurant. We sat at the adjacent table and shared stories (Mina, husband Brian, Koi, and myself). Koi and I ate tempura, miso soup, and a small salad. We both ordered sashimi. We stared at the raw fish when it landed in front of the two of us. I wanted to poke at it and play with it instead of eating it. I closed my eyes and took a bite of the white fish. The consistency was unlike anything I've ever eaten. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't amazing. I hardly ate any of it, and neither did Koi. We laughed and took it home in boxes. I gave my box to Koi to feed to his dog. Koi and I smoked a cigarette in the parking lot, talking briefly before he left, and I followed suit.

Instead of driving home, I called my friend Warren who I hadn't seen in months. He was home, and he answered, so I went. I showed up at his back door. We smoked cigarettes and I joined him in a cocktail. We watched American Idol, and during commercial breaks, I filled him in on recent drama. After Idol, we watched the end of a filmed broadway musical entitled "Company." I loved it. It was so unique; it was truly a timeless piece. Company is about a group of friends, some married, and one single man named Bob who doesn't want to get married. The musical follows his character, and his progress. At the end, he realizes what it means to be married, and decides that he needs that in his life to make him alive. I left Warren's house sometime after 11PM. I drove home, thinking it was raining, but upon further inspection, decided that it was snowing. I could only see white gusts in my headlights. Nothing hit the windshield. I gazed up towards the street lamps to see clouds of white billowing and dancing slowly downwards. It wasn't sticking, but it was beautiful.

I'm home now. I'm restless. I want to be in love...

End of a Good Thing

2008-02-20T09:18:00.004-05:00

I had a dream last night. Driving to work, I suddenly saw the images flood into my head and remembered the details. It was the most vivid dream I have had in months. The sun shone brightly on a summer day. I was driving behind a motorcycle. The driver did a wheelie, pulling the bike up almost completely perpendicular to the road. A metallic light blue Volkswagon Passat in the oncoming lane ran into the biker while he was mid-wheelie. I slammed on the breaks, swinging my car over into the right hand lane and stopping in front of the curb. I looked down and to the left and nearly threw up. The motorcyclist's helmet had disappeared; he lay there motionless, in a contorted manner so grusome, I could barely look. His body was three or four feet from my car, underneath the driver's front wheel of the Volkswagon. His legs were limp, and is upper body was bent in half over top of himself. He wasn't bent at the waist though, he was bent at the bottom of his ribcage, his upperbody laying on top of his lower abdomen and hipbone. I stared on in horror as the middle aged man with reddish colored hair in the VW leaned his head out the window, looked as if he was going to be ill, and then backed his car up off of the body.

I don't know the meaning of this dream. I don't want to know. Last night was bad news, so maybe it's linked to that. After I got out of my night class, I started to pull out of the parking lot only to see Ryan pulling in. I flashed my brights at him and he told me to loop back into the parking lot. I turned around and proceeded to drive down three or four rows of cars before finding his. We both got out of our cars and smoked a cigarette together. He invited me to with him and Rob. He called Rob from my phone, got the okay, and that was settled. He made me call the movie theaters too to see what time Diary of the Dead is playing. I listened to a menu longer than the New Testament before Ryan decided it was too cold to stand there, turning into pilars of ice in the parking lot. I got into my car, hung up on the robotic voice, and headed to Ryan and Rob's place.

Rob greeted me at the door, smiling. "I'm making chicken with saffron sauce." I followed him into the kitchen. I skinned three carrots, boiled green beans for ten minues, and sauteed carrots in butter. We added in turnips to the carrots, and cooked those down in the butter too. We threw all the vegetables together, and rob popped the chicken in the oven. That's when I gave up and resigned to the couch to smoke cigarettes and gently nurse the class of sauvignon blanc that Rob had poured me. Rob finished prepping the saffron sauce. Ryan got home at quarter to ten.

"The house smells wonderful," he proclaimed, wide-eyed at the front door. Rob ran into the kitchen, pulled out three beautiful plates, and laid a big red lettuce leaf on each one. He heaped a mound of the mix of turnips, carrots, string beans, and peas. Onto that he laid a layer of thinkly sliced chicken, and topped it all with a white sauce made of saffron and shallots. It was fabulous. All three of us sat on the couch and devoured it while Linda Blair hosted "Scariest Places on Earth" on the Travel Channel. The midget woman still did the voices inbetween scenes describing events and places being toured. "That bitch is still alive?" Ryan spat out.

After dinner we all showered Rob with compliments on his great success. He beamed with joy. He wants to go back to culinary school, so tonight was not only a nice dinner for Ryan, but a test for himself to see if he could do it and do it better than just good. It was great. I'll give him that. Ryan grabbed the remote and proceeded to flip through the Verizon OnDemand section. I was in the mood for a really good suspense/horror movie. We would watch a preview that looked fantastic, and I'd say something like, "Oooh, that looks good!" and Ryan would say something to the extent of, "Nah, I think I'll pass." He'd make looks of disapproval and switch back to the main menu over and over again. He finally decided that at 10:00PM it was already too late to start a movie.

"I wonder who's at the Pocket tonight." He didn't take his eyes off the television. Personally, I hadn't planned on showing face last night. I had made up my mind that it was going to be a dinner and a movie kind of night. "I really want to see Lenny and Rob. I haven't seen either of them in so long."

I didn't say too much. I kept my damn mouth shut. Finally Ryan broke down close to 10:25PM and asked Rob if he wanted to go, and asked me too. I shook my head yes, but it really would've been fine either way to me. I knew Ryan wanted to go though, so there was no use stopping it.

Ryan turned to Rob, "Get dressed."

Rob to Ryan, "I am dressed."

Ryan to Rob, "Then put your shoes on."

Ryan was getting irritated with Rob because when I told Rob to get ready, he flipped into bar mode and reared up to go. Ryan acted like he'd been begging Rob for weeks to go to the bar, him never wanting to go, and then me telling him one time changed his mind.

"I'm going to go outside and start the car." I had no intention of watching the apocalypse unfold inside Ryan's den. They emerged together after about ten minutes, both winding the way through the parking lot with lit cigarettes in hand. I could just see their dark forms and the burning cherries of the cigarettes. They flicked them both and got in the car.

The bar was dead, but Rob and Lenny were there, so Ryan was good with that. I ran to Lenny, hugged him, and set my jacket on the back of a chair.

"Well fine, don't say hi to me!" Rob kidded. I went over and gave him a hug, but he pushed me off. I grabbed him and leached myself onto him. He let me hug him and we laughed. Rob and Lenny didn't stay long. They usually ride together because Lenny isn't too fond of driving. I was drinking the same kind of beer that Rob had been drinking. Before he walked out, I set my beer down on the bar to go move my coat to my newly freed chair. I watched Rob pick up my beer, look at it once, and then pound it. He drank the rest of it. I didn't say anything. I jokingly told Frank and he gave me another one, not charging. I tipped him nearly a 50% tip

The bar started to fill with a couple new faces. Two of those faces were that of two underage guys from North Carolina who just moved to the area. Frank told us to go introduce ourselves. I would've done it, but Ryan said, "No," shooting a disapproving look at me, "We don't do that." He turned to Rob, "Do you want to play pool?"

"Not really."

"Come on," and Ryan led him, quarters in hand, to the pool table next to where the Carolina boys were sitting. Rob and Ryan played each other. The game was close. One would win by default, and they'd pretend they didn't see each other scratch on the 8, or accidently sink it in. The two boys laughed as they overheard our conversations. Ryan did introduce himself, Rob, and me. We ended back at the other side of the bar. The fatter of the two boys came and sat by Ryan for a while. Frank was talking to us, and at first, I thought he was just coming to get Frank's attention, but he stayed. I could get a better look at him now. He was wearing a black belt with silver studs on it, and a pink belt underneath it. He was crosseyed, and he had petite tits. As far as I was concerned, nothing was out of the ordinary. Frank and Ryan and I carried on, this guy listened. He left after a while. Ryan turned to me with his paranoid face on. "They're talkin' shit."

"Who?" I asked.

"Those two guys. That one just went over there and said 'I couldn't stand over there another second, they're so obnoxious'."

I was done with that bullshit from the moment I heard what Ryan had to say. "I couldn't stand lookin' at the bitch anyways. If I looked at his cross eyes any more, I was about to loose my saffron chicken." We laughed.

Ryan got real witty for a second. "At least we don't have to look at our bar tabs like this," and he held up a napkin, crossing his eyes and pretending to look really hard at it. We laughed. He can be such a bitch and I love it. He lights up my life, radiating with confidence and always knowing when and how to put people in their places.

Naomi Black and Jason showed up. Fushia, our two tons of fun drag queen was there too. She kept us company early on in the evening, but eventually retreated to talk with Naomi about God only knows what. After the incident with the two fairies from North Carolina, Ryan had his ears perked up, receiving everything from local conversation, to outer space noise.

Somewhere along the way, Lon came in. I talked to him for a while. I turned back around to see Ryan and Frank arguing. Ryan was calm but firm in his voice. Frank's eyebrows were raised in defense. I couldn't tell what was going on. I turned back to keep talking with Lon about Texas and how Texans can party so hard, but if you live there you have to tolerate country music. Rob tapped me on the shoulder. I paid my tab. I looked over to Ryan. He was quiet and staring off into space. "Oh lord," I thought.

Rob spoke, "We need to leave before he spills blood." Ryan didn't batt a lash.

The three R's (Rob, Ryan, and Ryan) left the bar. Ryan stopped walking halfway through the lot and yelled at me. "Ryan, do you promise me you will never come here again? And if you ever convince me to come back to this hell hole, I will never speak to you again! I'm serious." And he was, he really was. I told him yes, wholeheartedly. We got in the car and closed the doors.

"Frank is playing both sides of the field. He was down there at the other end of the bar talking shit. I know he was talking shit," he started, "He said something to them and made a hand gesture, then Naomi and Jason both looked down at us at the same time." Ryan was livid. "You know how I know? because when Naomi and Jason looked at us and saw that I saw, Fushia was right there and she just put her hand over her mouth." Okay, so she put her hand over her mouth. She knew it wasn't right, but Ryan went on to explain something I never knew. "Do you know what that means when someone puts their hand over their mouth like that?" He didn't give me a chance to respond. "Back in the 1990's, if you had a social alliance or friendship with anyone and you heard someone talkin' shit, you put your hand over your mouth as a sign that said, 'they're talking shit'."

We're never going back. Ryan told me he'd run to the liquor store anytime I want him to. We're going to start hitting up the southside and finding a new place there. We'll start going to the Wave again. We'll go this Thursday and probably Saturday, but I don't always like that big dance bar where everyone stands and models. I want a neighborhood bar like the Pocket, where I don't have to dress nice or do my hair or worry about who will be there. There are a couple places like that in Norfolk, but it will be like having to find a new family. It's hard to do. My alliances have built up over years at the Pocket, and it's become a second home, a refuge, a place to hide away and feel loved, no matter how bad my day, week, or month had been. I love that. I will miss that. But Frank is too bitter. He's done. I'm too nice of a person to fuck over like that. He knows damn well that I'm one of his few loyal supporters.

We went to 7Eleven afterwards. Ryan bought fake flowers made of dyed feathers that looked like roses. He gave them to Rob and I. He smiled, feeling newly liberated about venting and washing his hands clean of that shit hole. We left 7Eleven's parking lot and headed next door to the Taco Bell. The "Drive Thru Open" light was illuminated in the windows but nobody answered at the box when I yelled out, "Are you serving fourth meal!?" We went to Wendy's, no luck there either. We settled for McDonalds. We ate back at Ryan's house. I left at 1:40AM and was home and sound asleep by 2AM.

I'm really sad to say that the Pocket days have come to an end. It's a sad realization that it's over. My dream may signify a death of one phase of my life, and a beginning of a new one. It's surreal though, just watching everything unfold in front of me and being completely unable to do anything about it. Just like the motorcyclist in my dream, there's nothing I can do to save him, and there's nothing I can do to save myself this time.

Crash and Burn Saturday

2008-02-17T11:16:00.005-05:00

It takes a lot to make me angry. By nature, I'm just not a very angry person. I am very non-confrontational. Last night, LIVID doesn't begin to describe my emotions.

Let's begin:

The standing plans were this: Ryan and I were planning on going to the Wave. Ryan needed me to pick him up from work so Rob could keep the car to drive home since he was getting off later. I was supposed to pick up Ryan, and we'd go back to his house to get ready.

This is how it actually went. A woman I know through church and through community theater productions recently asked me if I would be willing to help out in a play. The play is called "Inherit The Wind," and it's about the SCOPES trial. It's about a court trial dealing with teaching Darwinism in school. It takes place in the 1920s. They needed 12 men to sit on this jury, no speaking roles, just sitting. I told the woman I would do it. So she told me to be at the theater by 6:30PM. Everyone else didn't show up until 7:00PM and the show didn't even start until 8:00PM

I showed up super early, around six. I sat in my car, nodding off. My head kept rolling down, and I'd yank it back up. Koi got off work at six and came by to see me at the theater. I was parked right out front, and I just remember nodding off and waking up to see him pointing and laughing at me in my car.

"You pulling a George Michael there?" he asked. We laughed. Koi towered over me. He's so tall, I love it. I looked him up and down. Flip flops. It was in the forties, and even I, bundled up five times more heavily than Koi, managed to still feel the cold winds. He had his toenails done in a midnight blue color that is supposed to be the new "it" color according to Allure. Koi does nails, and facials, and spa treatments. He walked closer to me and clumsily spilt what looked like coffee in a travel mug.

"Ooh, was that hot?" I asked, hoping it hadn't landed on his bare feet (not that it would've been a bad thing seeing as heat sounded pretty good right then).

Koi just shook his head no.

"What is that?" I asked, now noticing two straws sticking out of the top of the mug.

"Vodka and diet." So smooth. He didn't even bat an eyelash. I took a sip. We stood outside, smoked a cigarette and chatted. He leaned in and kissed me twice for no reason. I just kept talking like it never happened. We sat in my car briefly before Koi left. I went inside the theater. That's when I realized I was extremely early. I didn't know anyone. I waited for the costumer to arrive. She fitted me in a blue shirt with a white collar, blue bow tie, and some suspenders. A young girl did my hair. She flat ironed out the flips and curls and proceeded to pin in with bobby pins and spray it (holding the spray can one inch from my head). I could feel the cold liquid from the spray on my head. I could almost hear each individual piece of my hair screaming out, "Please Ryan! Don't let her do this to us!!" I looked in the mirror to see a 1920's slicked side part. I immediately wanted to find the nearest trash can and vomit. I dealt with it. I waited with other people; they told me what to do. I was quiet. Upstairs in the dressing room, I was introduced to quite possibly the largest gay man I've ever met before. He was very very round, semi-young (I'd say mid to late twenties), but very nice. He smiled a lot and asked me about myself being a juror. He spoke briefly of a director I had worked with before, and told me how he saw my performance in A Chorus Line, and how it was the only REAL part in the whole production to him at least anyways. He was very intrusive. I didn't like the way he felt so close to me and didn't know me at all. He even had the audacity to ask what I was doing later on that night (as if I would've gone with him and a group of complete strangers to get trashed and sing karaoke!). I told him I had plans, and somehow managed to slip past him and head downstairs. One woman named Erica introduced herself out of the blue and started talking about her son. He's normally one of the jury members but was spending the evening with friends. He's an art student at TNCC where I go currently. He wants to transfer to VCU. I got the feeling that Erica was trying to play match maker. She kept telling me I'd have to come back to meet her son (I think his name was Kevin). I appreciated the gesture, and I wouldn't mind if my mom outsourced for me, but let's be honest, I don't know what Erica's son looks like. It would be completely different if she whipped a cut out picture from her pocketbook and said, this is him. I would've either immediately shown interest, or immediately said, "Oh that's nice, but I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate that. He's very jealous," lying of course. Erica left me alone after a while.

I was under the impression that this jury scene was just in the first act or just in the second act, or just for a short while. It was the entire duration of the play. It was horrible. My bony ass was becoming bruised from sitting in the hard wooden chair. The man that played the juror next to me was attractive. He had a little stomach on him, but he was built husky. He was tall and hairy and had dark brown hair with electric blue eyes. His facial hair showed a lot of regrowth, and I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. He wore a ring around his ring finger but it really didn't look like a wedding band. I couldn't see it to well in the dark behind stage. I'm not worried about it though, but he kinda told me what to do and pushed me around a little bit. He didn't really show any emotion at all, but I liked it. He was the only decent thing there. Since the play started at 8PM, intermission hit at 9PM. I checked my voicemail.

"Hey it's me, I'm ready, you can come get me. Call me, bye." It was Ryan.

"FUCK," I thought to myself. I called him up at work. I told him that I still had another hour to go, but I would leave as soon as I could. I was starting to feel the crunch. Act two went by fairly quickly, and before I could go out to take my bows with everyone else, I ran upstairs to change. I pulled out the bobby pins, but none of my hair moved. I was not very happy about this. I walked out the back door with my bags full of clothes and makeup. I walked behind the theater to get back around front. I walked through headlights of a parked police car that was monitoring the alleyway. I felt safe. I called Ryan.

"Hey, we're not gonna have time to go to The Wave, let's just go to the Pocket. By the time we get to the Wave it's gonna be one thirty and everyone leaves at two anyways."

My jaw hit the floor. Ryan was the one who so adamantly made me agree to not fall back on my plans of swearing off the Pocket. I was heated now. There was no convincing Ryan though.

"Just go to Janel's house, get ready. I'll bring the car back to Rob and you can meet me at work."

I agreed. I headed quickly to Janel's house. It was already ten thirty. I walked past some of Janel's husband's family members as they watched a movie in the den. Janel let me use her bathroom. I leaned over the tub and released my hair from the Aquanet shackles that had been holding it down. I blow dried quickly, sprayed quickly, and changed so fast, it was a blur. I ran out of Janel's as quickly as I arrived. I called Ryan again at his work now. He told me Rob was almost done and ready to leave. I told him I was on my way though. I pulled into the parking lot and called inside on my cell. The girl that answered said that I just missed him.

"No, he just called me from here a second ago," I protested, now increasingly irritated by the blone bimbo bitch I was imagining on the other end of the line.

"Sorry honey, he left like five minutes ago."

CLICK. I didn't want to hear it.

Ryan and Rob don't have cell phones, so I called the house. Voicemail. I'm so hot, my blood is boiling at this point. I've driven all over God's green Earth trying to coordinate the rides and the prep time and this and that. Ryan has changed the original plan from one great bar to one shitty bar. I'm hot. I leave a message on the home phone and told him flat out, "I'm going to the Pocket, just meet me there."

I received a phone call a few minutes after.

"Didn't you hear a car horn when you were pulling into my work?" Ryan asked.

"No, I'm sure my music was loud."

"Well we were pushed out of the parking lot before I could get your attention... Where are you at now?"

"I'm on 64, heading towards the Pocket." At this point, it's 11:40PM. The drag show and male dancers start at midnight.

"Why don't you just come to the house?" he asked.

"Ryan, it's already so late, I'm going out."

"Fine, have a great night." He said this with no enthusiasm at all.

"But Ryan, don't you want to--" CLICK.

I didn't even get to finish. He hung up on me. You can paint a mental image of me driving down the interstate. I'm going fifteen miles per hour in excess of the limit. My hair is fierce and I'm dressed to kill. My best friend just hung up on me after I've jumped through flaming hoops all night. I gripped the steering wheel so tight, if I pulled my hands away from it, I would've expected to see my fingernails ripped off and stuck on the wheel. I clenched my teeth so tight, I was waiting for them to shatter and explode into a million tiny pieces, sending shards of enamel and fine sprays of blood all over my windshield.

I tried to count. I tried to level with myself. I knew Koi was still meeting me out, so I still had a chance to redeem the evening. Ryan called back. I answered reluctantly.

"We'll meet you out, I'm just waiting for Rob to get ready, he wanted to go."

"That wasn't part of the plan," I spat at him.

"I know." So they were going to come out after all.

Ryan managed to bitch me out over the phone before ending that call about how my overbooking with this play ordeal caused this whole mess and ruined the whole night. I tried to explain that I had no idea about the level of this commitment and it was out of my hands.

I got to the Pocket in one piece, and pulled myself together enough to keep cool on the outside. I was short with everyone I ran into at first. I chain smoked silently, keeping to myself and trying to pace myself on the liquor.

I stood to the side and talked to a lesbian friend I know from school. I met her girlfriend and I loosened up. Ryan and Robert showed up after a little while. I hugged them both sweetly, making sure to ask Robert how his shift was. I didn't want him to feel unwelcome, and anyways, there are certain social obligations and appearances to maintain. I love Rob to death, but he has some facets of his personality that I don't quite care for. When these become visible to me, I loose all interest in being around him at any level. He made it though last night fine though. Koi showed up later after not responding to two of my text messages. The show didn't even start until 12:25PM. The bar was SLAMMED. There were tons of new faces, straight couples, gay couples, girls even. I was surprised at how young the crowd was. We didn't have our regular Saturday night buddies Rob and Lenny. We made the best of the evening, sticking to our circle of Ryan, Rob, me, and Koi. Our mutual friend Jimmy found his was over to us and stuck by us for a while too, eventually treating us to another round. My drinks were served in short plastic SOLO cocktail glasses. I always get normal drinking glasses there. It's a known fact that more liquor fits in the glasses. I guess it was just so crowded, he didn't feel like doing dishes last night. I was pissed though. I looked at it and thought, "This is my punishment for standing behind the bar again," because I sure as hell was. I moved out of the way. Ryan had one of these plastic cups too, but halfway through the night, he came up to me with a REAL glass and said, "Haha, look, I graduated!" pointing to the glass and laughing at me. Just because my drink was in plastic doesn't mean it wasn't any stronger than normal. In fact, I think my drinks were much stronger last night. By the time I finished number two, I was completely LIT. I love it. I was dancing and moving my head. I even hollered out at the drag queens. Cora would beg for dollars and I'd scream out "You needy bitch!" I'd mock her, "Can I get a dolla? Five dollas?" Cora came over to us (Ryan and I) during the show. She's blind as a bat without her glasses, and I mean that. She can take a dollar bill and hold it three inches from her face before realizing, Ooooh, that's a ten. She moved close to Ryan, getting a foot from his face before realizing it was the other Ryan. I turned to Cora, "I'm right here!"

"Oh there ya are hunnay!" She turned to Ryan, "Give me a dolla."

Ryan spat back, "He's got it," and pointed to me.

"He don't have to pay me." Cora knows I got mad love for her, and that love has never included the transfer of money from my wallet to hers, and never will. I simply don't carry cash, so all the queens know, I love them to death, but I don't tip.

CoraVette Colby went back to the stage.

"Can I get a dolla hunny!?" And let me tell you, that bitch stood up there and begged for dollas for at least TWENTY MINUTES. She walked by every person in the bar asking for one dolla, two dollas, and some people gave her more. She's funny about it though. Nobody really minds. It's stupid really, but by doing it that way, she makes a lot of money. The bar was so full she had a hard time moving from the back to the stage. I didn't even watch the male dancer, and by the end of the second half of the show, I had drank 4 rum and diets.

Ryan gave me the official intoxication test. He said, "You're not drunk until you're on the floor under a pool table." I sat down my drink and fell to the floor, rolling under the pool table and then getting back up. Ryan just held his hand over his mouth and laughed. I was laughing so hard. I do shit like that just to make him laugh. "That's how I know you're drunk," he told me.

"You know that carpet hasn't been vacuumed since the day he bought this place," Ryan joked. I still don't really think that's a joke though. I've never once even seen a vacuum cleaner in there. I heard someone brought in a Dyson, but some idiot broke it. Five hundred dollars of guaranteed suction, WASTED. Frank bitches at people when they ash their cigarettes on his floor. I do it when it's crowded and I can't get to an ash tray, but I normally find an ash tray. The carpet he has in that bar is INDOOR/OUTDOOR carpet. You could literally shit on it and hose it off. I'm sure of it. I haven't seen it done, but I think that's what you do with indoor/outdoor carpet. It makes me think of astroturf.

I opted to buy the breakfast buffet. This is a first for me. Frank rung me up and told me to help myself.

"I can't believe it. I need to get my camera, she does eat!" Frank hooted.

"I've never seen her eat before!" and he pretended to take pictures of me shoveling food into my mouth with an imaginary camera. Ryan's eyes widened as he took a look at what was on my plate. Tons of scrambles eggs, at least five pieces of jumbo sausage, bacon, biscuits, and potatoes. I ate it all and went back for a second helping.

Ryan turned to me, "Rob took a look at your plate and said he wanted to get the buffet too." We laughed. I knew his ass was out there in the parking lot smokin' weed at half time between the shows. His eyes were bloodshot. He filled his plate up slowly with great care, smiling the entire time. It was nothing like my mahem-method of filling my plate. I shoveled it onto the plate as quickly as I could, and stood over it with my mouth open, shoveling it back with a plastic fork. I finished my second plate and walked over to Ryan who was standing next to Rob. Ryan picked a piece of scrambled eggs off Rob's plate and threw them on the floor.

"This is a test, we'll come back next week to see if those eggs are still on the floor." I nearly died right there on the spot. The mental image of moldy eggs covered in cigarette ash and dust filled my head. I know that those eggs will be there on Tuesday.

You know, it really didn't even taste that bad, the buffet that is. It wasn't until this morning that I woke up with the BG's (bubbly gut). I ran to the bathroom and released the demons (as my girl Dallas would say). I missed the 11AM church service this morning. I spent the night out (but I will not disclose my whereabouts for fear of tainting my shining reputation--yeah right), arriving home at 10:30AM. I knew Chad had people over last night. He had warned me.

Bad Signs (in order of sighting upon arriving home):

1. At least three cigarette buts found scattered on the walkway, front steps, and lawn

2. A bottle of cheap watermelon vodka and Jose Cuervo on the kitchen counter

3. A sink full of at least ten drinking glasses/McDonald's cup/Ravioli can

4. Fridge full of leftover beer

5. The trash can was overloaded with Taco Bell to go bags

Chad's car was in the driveway, but he wasn't here this morning. In fact, he's still not here now and it's 1:13PM already. Mom and dad don't come home until tomorrow, and Chad has already been informed that last night was his night, TONIGHT IS MINE. He said there were a couple girls at his party, well I'm going to have a couple guys at mine.

I spent my first moments in the house rinsing out the sink, filling the dishwasher, and throwing out the trash. I really shouldn't have even done that for him, but I don't want my friends to come over to a disaster area this evening. I need to make more phone calls. I want an all out house party. The new 2 hour made-for-TV movie Night Rider comes on tonight for the first time on NBC at 9PM. I want to drink some and watch that with friends, then shoot the shit, lay low, listen to music, play some drinking games, maybe fuck with that old Ouija board that belonged to my aunt that I have in my car trunk right now (don't ask).

I'm going to make some telephone calls, start this dirty laundry, and see if I can't hunt down Chad. I don't know where he could be. Ryan's off work until five tonight, so I need to call him too and give him a nice little recap.

Martian Child

2008-02-16T09:53:00.002-05:00

I was off work by four yesterday. Afterwards I had a beer with a good friend and her husband at their house, smoked a couple cigarettes, and talked a lot of shit. It felt great to just have leisure time for once. Her husband started cooking, and I went on my merry way, making one pit stop in Hampton before high-tailing it up to Williamsburg. Ryan's sister Janel had asked me before Valentine's Day if I had any plans. Her husband is deployed, so she was Valentine-less. I had no plans, so I told her I would be her Valentine. We both had classes late in the evening on Thursday (V-Day) but were both relatively free on Friday, so that was the plan. I got to her house and had a white russian. We listened to Sublime and Creedance Clearwater Revival and Eliot Yamin and Seal. Janel breaded chicken breasts that had been cut into strips. She baked the chicken, and cooked baked beans and some Scooby Doo Mac N Cheese. We ate on paper plates and I congratulated Janel on her incredible ability to avoid washing dishes. Ryan got off work and came by in his work clothes for a little bit. He convinced us to watch this movie on OnDemand called "Martian Boy." It's about John Cusack's character who is a recent widower. He and his deceased wife had wanted to adopt a child when she was alive, and never did. She's dead at the start of the movie, and he is considering the adoption process. He is referred to a child that is socially ostracised, spending all his time inside a cardboard box with a slit to see out of. He adopts this child named Dennis. Dennis is convinced that he is a Martian sent to Earth to learn the Earthling way of life. He takes pictures with a polaroid camera and steals things from other people. John Cusack ends up believing that Dennis is from Mars after strange things happen. The movie follows John's process of learning how to be a father and teach Dennis how to live like normal people. It's a good drama film. The movie ended, I hung out for a little bit longer, and then drove home after midnight. On my way home, I received a phone call from my brother.

"Can you do me a big favor?" he slurred into the phone. "Can you come pick me up on your way home?"

I thought about it for a second and remembered the last time this shit happened. I had been at Ryan's house in Newport News. I had driven home, and made it two minutes from the house when he called me back to Newport News to pick him up. I drove there, finding the large party where he had been. There were punk ass kids outside smoking and being noisy. They all started at me when I parked out front, waiting for my brother. I called him at least fifteen times before he got the call and came to the car. I cursed him out the entire ride home. I was livid. SO, thinking of this, I told Chad, "I'll come get you, but I'm only going to call you once when I get there. If you don't answer on the first ring, I'm going home."

"Okay. I'll keep my phone on me."

I pulled into the apartment complex. The cars were beat up and old. The lighting in the parking lot was nothing but cheap fluorescent bulbs, no covers, just exposed. I pulled up behind his car, leaving mine running in the middle of the road. I made the call. The one call. The phone rang one time, two times, three times. He answered on the fourth.

"I'm out front."

"Did you find my car?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm parked right in front of it. Come on."

I sat in the car. The car purred and my headlights beamed on into infinity, catching nothing in their wake other than piece of shit cars and broken glass scattered across beat up asphault. I waited for close to five mintutes before my brother appeared, playing around on his cell phone. He fell into the car, grinning from ear to ear. "Thanks for coming to get me bro. You're a good man." As mad as I wanted to be for having waited longer than a split second, I couldn't help but smile. He looked so goofy. Over six feet of absolute drunkenness. I smiled as I drove, trying to keep my eyes on the road and off of him. He was thoroughly saturated with the smell of cigarette smoke. I knew at that moment why my mom makes that face at my brother and me when we come inside after cigarettes. He told me about drinking half a bottle of Bacardi Limon all by himself, and named off at least four other things he was intoxicated by.

He said to me, "Can I tell you something if you promise not to get mad at me?"

"Sure," I replied.

He told me he took so long getting out for a reason. He didn't want anyone to know he was leaving. He slipped out, heading towards the car. He was stopped by a girl that followed him outside. Here's where it gets twisted. He tells her that he's leaving and that his brother is waiting for him out front. She pushed Chad up against the nearest brick wall and starts making out with him. He's already drunk as it is, and although he'd like to have enjoyed the moment, he couldn't stop thinking that if he didn't hurry up, his carriage would turn into a pumpkin and roll back home without his ass in it. He got her phone number and left. She is my brother's best friend's ex-girlfriend. Chad felt really bad about it and didn't feel right about the whole situation. It really wasn't his fault though. He wouldn't intentionally do that to his friend. The girl forced himself on him too. I felt sorry for him, knowing he had to process thoughts like this while he was so incapacitated.

We made it home fine. He went to his room, and I, to mine. I slept like a rock and hit snooze a total of eight times. It takes a lot to wake me up. I enjoy sleep far too much.

My parents' wedding anniversary is today. They've booked a room less than an hour away and will hide away until Monday. My brother and I have the house. I'm sure my sister will be at the grandparents' house. Chad is already brainstorming plans I'm sure. I'll come home from the bar one night this weekend to find him laughing and crawling to the toilet with a liquor bottle in hand and a slew of girls draped across the couch. I'm crossing my fingers that I won't have that issue this weekend.

Ryan and I decided that we're not going to go to our normal bar anymore. We may still pop in every once in a while, but we're done. The owner has just gotten increasingly rude. He isn't happy at all. I walked on the back side of the bar but not behind the actual bar. The owner became grumpy and rude, not asking, but telling me to move because I was in the way and he was trying to work. I just smiled at him. He didn't return the smile. I moved aside. I am not going to say anything about it. I'd rather just let it go and gracefully fade away. He'll miss me when he can't pay the electricity bill next month. I'm one of the few regulars that are bold enough to show their faces in that shit hole. It's just falling apart. The roof in the women's room leaked so bad when it rained one time. I opened the door because the men's room was taken. Everything was wet, including the walls, toilet, mirror, and floor. It looked like someone pissed all over the place. I came out and told the owner. He said he wasn't charging any extra, and that it was 'waterfront property.'

Anyways, Ryan and I are going to the Wave in Norfolk tonight. It will be a little drive, but it will be more crowded, and the scenery will improve as well. There will be shirtless men showing off their muscles, glistening from the perspiration. I'm looking forward to it. I may not be the best looking guy in that bar, and that has been why I like the normal bar. I'm the best looking guy there, Ryan as well, and I thrive off that confidence boost. I don't get that anywhere else. We'll see how it plays out tonight. I hope it's everything I'm wishing for. If it is, you'll be reading the post by next week.

Best Little Whorehouse in Texas / Steel Magnolias

2008-02-11T09:17:00.000-05:00

After passing out on Ryan's couch Saturday night, I woke up pretty early on Sunday. Ryan had to work at 12:00PM. He told me to get ready, I had to get back to my car. I threw on my flip flops and pants, and pulled my coat up over my shoulders. I pushed open the front door and recoiled immediately as the sun pierced my eyes. I pulled out a cigarette and lit up as I fell into the passenger seat of Ryan's car. We drove with the windows partially down. It was cool, but not too cold. We pulled into the bar parking lot and my car was still there. I was secretly hoping someone had stole it and drove it off a bridge so my insurance would write it off and I wouldn't have to make payments on the damn thing anymore. I thanked Ryan for doing all he did for me the night before and he left. I drove home, breaking concentration only once to look at how terrible my hair really was. I'm sure I was a sight for sore eyes. "The Sunday Recovery Sessions." That's the name of the Sunday radio broadcast on the gay dance channel on Sirius satellite radio. I think of that a lot on Sundays. I imagine gay men all over the country, pulling on their underwear and jeans and driving home from being in another man's bed the night before (stranger or not). It makes me sad. I couldn't do that.

I got home at 10:00AM, went upstairs and stripped down. I threw the cigarette smoke laden clothes in the laundry basket and jumped in the shower, attempting to cleanse the filth off me from yet another Saturday night out. I wanted to go to church so bad. I hadn't been in years. I contemplated it as I drove home and had made my mind up by the time I arrived home. I didn't tell my parents until I came downstairs dressed. I looked great. The hair was just right. The cologne radiated off my pulse points, filling the air with the sweet smell of Burberry Touch. Mom asked where I was going. She was in her PJ's, still recovering from the FLU that my father just finished getting over and that he gave her. Her face contorted into a great big smile. She was upset she couldn't go with me, but told me we'd go again next Sunday. I was scared to go alone, especially since I was alone and hadn't been to this church in years. It's the church I was raised in, baptized in, and confirmed in. I'm a legit member. I pulled up to a parking space at the back of the furthest lot. I walked in quickly, smiling sweetly at anyone that looked in my direction. I darted in and out of the members in the Narthex (foyer area). I dodged them all and entered the Sanctuary. One woman I knew came over and hugged me. She held me tight and told me how much she missed me and how good it was to see me, and even how good I looked. I wanted to cry. I sat down by myself just one row from the back. I saw the new pastor, a woman. She smiled and greeted me when I first walked into the Sanctuary but I didn't piece it together until she was standing at the front. She made it clear that if there were any visitors, fill out all the information sitting in the pew in front of you. I think she was referring to me, not having met me before. I ignored it and smiled. I looked out the windows and could see the sun shining. The choir filed in, singing, in their green robes. The pianist played on a black grand piano that I hadn't seen before. My eyes welled with tears but I held them back. I wanted to cry the whole time I was there. The message was about temptation and was just what I needed to hear. It was the quickest I've ever remembered a church service to be. I watched as other people looked bored, and tired, and I was quite the opposite. I wanted to hang on every word. I felt the inside of my heart welling up with joy. My cup overflowed and I wanted to cry. It was great. After the service, I slipped out quickly and drove back home. I ate a small bit, and finished watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory with my parents in the den. They had a fire going. It was so nice and warm. I became tired and retired to my room. I slept for hours, not waking back up until 6:00PM. I had promised Boyd since before Christmas that I would come out and watch Steel Magnolias. I've never watched Steel Magnolias before yesterday. I pulled myself out of bed. I threw on a pair of Ryan's old American Eagle jeans. They fit snugly on my legs, widening into boot cut at the feet. I took off my dress shirt but kept on my "Youth Large" undershirt. I grabbed my Abercrombie and Fitch kids size Large jean jacket. It looked as if it had been attacked by a large fleet of Exacto knife razors. I love the broken in distressed look. I threw on my baby blue Sperry Topsider boating shoes and pulled on a straw hat that looked somewhat similar to a fedora. I gassed up and drove to the bar. I walked in to see a table full of door prizes, finger foods, and raffle tickets. Boyd greeted me with an enormous smile. I hugged him, so proud that he actually pulled all of this together. The TV was on a bar table that had been pulled up on stage. The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas was finishing up. Dolly and her girls sang "Hard Candy Christmas," which I had heard a thousand other times, never knowing it's true context. Dolly sang, "I Will Always Love You," and I cried when Burt Reynolds carried her into the truck at the end and drove off. I had been overly emotional that day, getting teary eyed at church, crying at the end of Willy Wonka, and now again at Whore House. I bought five raffle tickets for a gift basket provided by TACT (a local organization raising money for the gay community members living with HIV and AIDS). The basket was filled with tee shirts, lube, condoms, and other stuff. I bought one ticket first, then the guy next to me bought five. There weren't too many people in the bar, so I knew his chances were looking good. I bought four more. He won that raffle, and if I had bought five tickets to begin with instead of just one, I would've had that ticket.

We started the main event. We watched Steel Magnolias. We laughed at Ouisa and cried during all the right parts. I didn't cry though, because by that time, I was losing interest. Kevin came in late during the middle of the film. He bought me a drink before he said hello. I walked over and thanked him. We chatted for a while. He put his hand on my leg, then rubbed my back. I rubbed his. Jimbo came in and I flew to him like a magnet. I hugged him and we both beamed smiles at each other. He talked about how good K.D. Lang's new CD is. I'm scheduled to kill a bottle of white wine at his house on Wednesday and listen to the whole album, front to back.

SIDENOTE- SATURDAY MINI RECAP

I was pretty interested in what Kevin had to say. Besides the fact that I met him Saturday night and tolerated his beligerantly drunk nephew Phillip, I actually heard a lot about this man. Kevin is visiting his nephew Phillip, he is from North Carolina. His nephew had gone on and on, telling me in a drunken stupor that his uncle had over 1 billion dollars. He told me that his uncle played piano for the Clintons (which Kevin did confirm). Kevin isn't boastful at all. He looks like a normal guy. He kept telling Phillip, "Come on man, he just wants to play pool." I had been conned into playing and tried despirately to pretend anyone was my boyfriend to avoid Phillip. Evidently Phillip mistook me for some hairdresser on Saturday night. He twisted up this girls hair and put chopsticks in. He did it at least five times, making me touch to feel how tight it was done. I told him, "You're mistaking me for someone else, I don't do hair!" He continued anyways. He said, "Watch this," and as gayly as he could (which was coming off as pretty natural for him), he pulled at pieces with his hands as if to adjust them and mess it up just right. I was so over it. I walked off. Ryan told me later on that Phillip walked to him and moved a piece of his hair. He told Ryan he was so lucky to have just had his hair done by such a master, and that he wasn't going to charge him. Something Phillip said was along the lines of, "You can say whatever you want when you have a nine inch dick," and Frank just turned to him and said quickly, "Well that depends on what it's attached to." Frank immediately shot him a look as if to say, "Who do you think you are?" Ryan fell out and laughed histerically for the rest of that Saturday night. When it came time to pay my bar tab, I'd had a total of nearly seven drinks. Ryan saw how bad my signature was, so he grabbed the pen and said, "NO, I'm doing this, and you're not driving." He forged my signature and gave back the customer copy, saying I made a mistake on the last copy. Ryan took me to his house. Annnnnnnnnnddddd SCENE.

Back to Uncle Kevin and Jimbo. Kevin offered me another drink after I finished his first gift. I obliged. When Jimbo came in, a new rum and diet magically appeared in front of me. I thanked Jimbo. Kevin turned to me and said jokingly, "Oh, so you'll let him buy you a drink but you won't let me buy you one?"

"He didn't ask me. I'm just being polite."

From that point on, they took turns. It was another after another after another. The movie finished, and Boyd appeared dressed just like Dolly Parton herself. The hair was a real Dolly wig. The lips were overdrawn, and the mole was in the right place. It was amazing. Kevin fed me dollar bills, and fives, and small piles of ones. We repeatedly tipped the shit out of Boyd. I couldn't believe it. Kevin was burning through the cash. Boyd finished the raffle and I won a set of seven shot glasses in a small rack. Very modern. I liked it and was happy. I told Boyd how much fun I had.

"Baby, you were my inspiration. You gave me the idea." He looked just like Dolly. He kissed my cheek, and just like that, I got my gay card back. It had been revoked for not having seen Steel Magnolias. It's a right of passage in the gay community. I had been working off a gay permit for so long, and the moment Boyd kissed my cheek and sealed the deal, I was a practicing gay again.

He's going to do a themed night like the Dolly night once a month now. It was good. It was a great crowd. I forgot to get Kevin's phone number. He's going back to Carolina today too. I finished one last drink somehow and ran. I was so glad when I got home. I needed sleep so badly.

Alcohol and the Placement of Keys

2008-02-09T09:10:00.000-05:00

Cameron Foxx

Ryan (me) & Ryan

Rob (Ryan's)

Lenny & Rob (best friends)

Yesterday was Friday. This means the weekend had begun. I had been fielding calls all afternoon from everyone from Victoria, to Miranda, to Ryan, and Andrew. Andrew called me early on in the afternoon. He asked if I had plans, and it was a given that I'd be out. Andrew went out to eat dinner with someone. I had bad reception on my cellular at that time, and I couldn't hear him that well. He said he'd call me when he got back.

I talked to Ryan who called out of work because he was ill. I called him on the way to my pilates class. He told me he had been writing since he had nothing else to do. He typed up lyrics and had been brainstorming all morning. He said, "You're going to like it a lot, and if I sing it for you, you're really going to like it." Naturally, I was excited and wanted to hear it, but I waited.

After work, I took a nap for one hour. I laid down at 7:30PM and was up at 8:30PM. I groggily rubbed my eyes, fluffed my hair back up, and pulled out a pair of GAP jeans (boot cut, long and lean dark denim). I grabbed a velour long sleeved polo in a deep burgundy color by Penguin. Brown leather boots gave me an extra inch or so in height thanks to the short stacked heels. My phone rang. "Let me come to your house," it was Andrew's voice.
"I just got ready and I'm about to go to Ryan's house. You can come if you want though."
He was less than five minutes away. I waited for him. He pulled up, and I met him outside. Andrew was listening to music on his iPhone. I could see his face lit by the backlight when I looked at the window upon his arrival.

"Ryan, I'm on my way, and I have Andrew with me, is that cool?" I asked
"No, that's not cool. I am feeling better, but not good enough to have company." He sounded like hell again.
I thought for a second, "Well did you just want to meet us out tonight?"
Ryan laughed into the receiver, "What made you think I was going out tonight?" He paused, "Let me call you back."

I took Andrew past his house to grab a belt and a bottle of water. Remember this event in the timeline you're creating in your head right now. This trip back to his house proves to be a very pivotal point in this story. After Andrew rejoined me in the car, I knew it was only matter of time before Ryan called me back. I was waiting for him to tell me what time to meet up.

Calabria by Enur blasted out of my left hipbone where my phone rested. It was Ryan.
"Okay, you can meet me at my house but I need half an hour. I need to get in the bath, and don't push it either." I drove, carving my way through the night with my two headlights. We made it to Newport News in no time flat, but still, only thirteen minutes earlier than what Ryan's original request had been. It was only ten something, and every guest parking space in the complex was occupied. I parked next to the dumpster as close to the curb as my wheels would allow. Andrew and I smoked a cigarette outside of the car (I don't smoke in my car), and started to walk towards Ryan's door when my phone rang again. It was Ryan, and he was ready.
"Good, we're walking to your door right now."

Cigarettes burned, I read Ryan's lyrics. Some were better than others. Some contained more vulgar language than others. They were wonderful. I could almost hear them in my head. I could hear the disco strings, the R&B brass, and the electronic tones in other ones. Rob came home from work (Ryan's boyfriend). He doesn't normally come out, but seeing as it was going to be a small party (Ryan, myself, and Andrew), he decided he'd like to join. We waited for Rob to finish fighting the boss lady in his PS3 video game. By the time he was changed and ready, it was 11:00PM. Rob left his cigarettes in the house, so I had to stop so he could buy a new pack. The four of us piled into my car, and started driving. I was going to stop at the MillerMart across the street but Ryan told me to just go to the 7Eleven closer to the bar. I kept driving. We pulled up to seven eleven to see a small group of thugs waiting outside, a girl at an ATM, and a prostitute that I swore WAS A MAN. I told them, "Look, I tried to stop at the nice MillerMart but your boyfriend said to go to the 7eleven." Rob smiled sarcastically at Ryan and went and grabbed his cigarettes.

We got to the bar. It was dead but at least Lenny was there (pictured at top). Lenny and I have been friends since I was 17 when he used to come into where I worked at that time. He's 51 now and looks only 38, if that. He's great. He greeted us with his deep voice and eyes that were already starting to acquire a nice glazed effect. Bourbon and coke is his poison. Walking into that bar with Ryan makes me feel like a celebrity.
"The usual, baby?" the owner asked as I walked in. He was all smiles. Going into a bar that's typically full of older men is always a confidence booster. I automatically walk taller, my shoulders are back, and my head is high. It's great. I don't walk into the bars with the competition anymore. I don't play those games. I won't. I'm too nice (but working on getting bitchier every day. Ryan is training me and giving me tips and pointers on how to "reach diva-status").

Everything went well at the start of the night. Things were great. I didn't suck down my drinks and run up the usual tab. I made it to two and that was where I called it quits. Two drinks over the course of three hours is quite the accomplishment for me, mind you. Okay, so here's where it goes wrong. I was talking to Andrew for a little bit, but mainly talking to the drag queen Fushia DeVille. I noticed that Rob and Andrew ended up playing pool. I turned to look at Ryan for the first time in a while. His face didn't reflect the great time that I was having. Lenny turned to me, squinting his eyes and grunting, "What's wrong with him?" I moved in Ryan's direction and confronted him. "This is why I don't like bringing him out." Ryan complained that Rob always likes getting attention and sometimes doesn't mind if it's from the wrong sources. Ryan was clearly irritated with Rob. Apparently, this guy in the bar that was a newbie sitting alone was talking to Rob and trying to hit on him. Rob wasn't interested but it was Ryan who ended up stepping up to this guy. It started getting ugly. Rob walked to the bathroom, and came back out. He was smiling when I asked him what was going on.
"Nothing! I am fine," he smiled so big and so fake I wanted to smack the shit out of him.
"Are you bullshitting me?" I asked.
"Look who you're talking to, I'm not a bullshitter." He was not in the mood to talk. I was done with it. I really didn't want to get involved to begin with, but Ryan asked me to find out what was going on. There was a silent stare down going on twixt Ryan and Rob. Rob was speaking loudly to Andrew, "I'm FINE." He spoke loudly enough purposefully so that Ryan would hear. It was getting ugly. Next time I turned around, I saw Rob step out the front door. I walked out with my cigarette, leaving my drink behind, to see where he was and try to resolve whatever was going on.

I stepped out and took a long drag off my cigarette, my other hand on my hip as I surveyed the parking lot. I didn't see Rob anywhere. I drove, so I knew he hadn't left. Just as I had turned my head in both directions, the headlights of a BMW 3-series convertible crossed my path. Troy was pulling into the parking lot. I flipped out (not in a good way) and ran inside, screaming Ryan's name when I opened the door. "Troy just pulled in." This was too much for me. I looked out the window, anticipating his entry, but to my delight, saw his headlights as he turned around and pulled out. He saw me in the lot, and left because of me. I smiled to myself. Ryan followed me back out into the parking lot to look for Rob again.
"I hope he's not walking home." We looked down the street and didn't see him. I walked around the back side of the bar. It was so dark. Cameron Foxx (drag queen) was getting out of her car and gathering her luggage full of hair and outfits and makeup. I overheard the owner's voice, "What are you doing back here, baby?" He had found Robert in the shadows. Ryan walked back to meet Rob and I went back inside. Ryan and Rob made up to whatever extent they could and managed to keep things cool for the rest of the night. Andrew whined a little bit about not having anyone to talk to, and he would pull me onto his lap every once in a while, but he had a decent time as far as I'm concerned.

Cameron Foxx came inside and I talked to her. She told me she had been seeing a guy that I had been talking to last month for a while. I'd known this guy for a good while and was extremely upset, but not surprised, that he had been blowing up her phone with text messages and taking her out to dinner. I haven't talked to the guy in a while anyways, but it still got on my nerves. I let it go, but it really effected my mood for the rest of the night. I wasn't mad at Cameron. It wasn't her fault, and this guy wasn't my boyfriend anyways, so I wasn't too mad at him. It just really confirmed that he was the piece of shit that Ryan had been telling me that he was all along.

Mark made a late appearance. Mark is a long time friend at the bar who lives and works in North Carolina but comes in on rare occaisions now. Older guy as well. 40's if I had to guess. He's shorter than me but really buff. Built like a brick shit house. I hung out with him as he finished beer number one. Andrew had now twice asked me if I was ready to go, and everyone was getting antsy. I told Mark I didn't want to leave him, but to call me soon. Everyone hugged and kissed goodnight. I was the first out of the door to get to the car. I started up the car to get the cabin warm and comfortable. Ryan stood outside, smoking one last cigarette. I watched him dance around and make faces at me. He tapped my window. "Did you see Sonic and his boyfriend bring that young guy back into the DJ booth? They haven't been out in a while." I got it. It wouldn't be the first time. New Year's Eve this happened with four people including Sonic and his boyfriend. I don't want to know what happened. I did notice that as Ryan was finishing his cigarette, Rob and Andrew still hadn't came out. They came to the car a minute later. I didn't notice that they were fishing around in the seats, and then they grabbed my flashlight that I keep in the car for emergencies. The keys to Andrew's life were missing, and they weren't in my car. They were also not in the bar. Andrew figured, "They've got to be at your house," turning to Ryan. We got back to Ryan's. No keys.
"Ryan, you're going to have to drive back up to the bar," Ryan said, looking at me as if to say, "Sorry, tough luck."
I was mad, but I didn't say anything. I kept a straight face, but silently protested the entire way to the bar. I figured Andrew was just being drunk and irresponsible, and now it was quarter unil two AM and here I am driving all over God's green Earth, trying to keep my eyes open. I called the owner.
"Hey, it's Ryan. Has anyone turned in a set of keys? Andrew lost his."
He answered, "Nope, I didn't see any keys, baby. He didn't have any keys when he came in."
"Okay, well we're going to come back up anyways just to double check."
I waited in the car as Andrew went back in. I could barely see him through the mirrored glass as he walked back and forth, checking the floors, bar tables, and bathrooms. No luck.
I called Ryan back.
"I just looked again and there're not here."
I took Andrew back to his house to grab his spare keys. I had to listen to him apologize the whole way and tell me how big of a loser he was. I told him it wasn't his fault. It was fine.
He called his mom to let him back in the house since he no longer had a house key. He went inside, disappearing momentarily, returning to the car so I could take him to my house where his car had been parked. He came out of the house smiling, his keys in hand. The idiot left them inside when he was grabbing a belt at the beginning of the evening. I laughed. I was relieved for him. What a fool. I took him back to his car and went inside to go to bed. What a mess of a night.

Today I don't want to do anything. I am at work right now until 1:15PM. My lungs feel tight from last night's cigs. I want sleep so badly. I am going to recouperate at Ryan's sister Janel's house today I think. I just want to lounge on her couch and watch movies with her. I don't want to go out last night. Especially after that run in seeing Troy in the parking lot. That's a long story I'll save for another day....two timing whore.

It's Got to Get Better

2008-02-08T18:02:00.000-05:00

Inbox. I checked it this morning at work like I do every day that I work. I get finished with my opening chores at the credit union, and then I check my e-mail. The mornings at the bank are usually so slow, I can normally complete my morning verification of electronic mail by ten A.M. Today, I wasn't so lucky.

My coworker who works the member services desk was given today off. It threw the whole front office into chaos from the strike of nine A.M. when the lobby doors were unlocked. I processed the night drop deposits, sorted out the previous two days' work, and got situated. Every time a member would leave, I would go back to checking my e-mail and another member would walk in. It was extremely frustrating. I finally ducked out to head to my pilates class. It's been absolutely marvelous to be able to take a midday break and fill that break with physical activity. I work up a phenomenal appetite by the time I return to work. Today I prepped my salad in the back and came to eat it on the teller line so the other tellers could start lunches and take turns eating for our scheduled 30 minute lunches. Same ordeal. I would go to take a bite and I'd call up another member. I was furious by the time that my salad was gone. On a side note, the sesame mandarin dressing was fabulous!

I spent a good deal of time listening to the phone ceaselessly chiming out in agony to be answered by anyone. It fell on deaf ears. The line was to the door, the phone was on the highest volume setting, and all I wanted to do was remove all of the handsets and hide them so no calls would get in. I hated it. The real cherry on the top of this cake was two women who entered the building ten minutes before we closed to change a detail on an IRA. The credit union was closed the next time I looked at the clock. The tellers had all balanced their drawers (5:09PM). We pulled all of our work together and gathered our belongings (5:15PM).

"Someone will let you ladies out," my supervisor let them know (seeing as the doors had already been locked). It was 5:20PM now and we should've all been walking out those doors, not just those two women. The entire loan department left us in the dust. The tellers left around 5:30PM. I was so ready to be home all day long.

CHANGE OF SUBJECT:

So Mike....the guy that I met at the bar last Saturday. He said we would get together this week sometime. I got a few texts out of him before he informed me of his terribly busy schedule. I understand. I tried to tell him that I know what it's like, and that there was no rush because there's always the next week, and the week after that. He sent me a message saying he was sure I'm an amazing guy, but he can't give me the time that I deserve right now. He wished we hadn't met during such a hectic time in his life. He apologized and wanted me to know that he wasn't trying to be an ass. I was crushed for a full fifteen minutes. It passed pretty quickly. I just expect tragedy at this point when it comes to my love life. I really should just walk around covered in CAUTION tape. I had this idea in the back of my head that Mike was going to be my Valentine.

I do have a Valentine this year, but HE, is a SHE. Ryan's sister Janel is going to be my date! We both have late classes on Thursdays, so we're celebrating on Friday the 15th. She's going to cook us chicken parmesan (I LOVE IT!).

"Candlelit, or no deal," I told Janel. That girl has so many Yankee candles in her house, she could simulate daylight at midnight. So that's the V-Day deal. Her husband is still deployed, and I, as usual, am still single.

CHANGE OF SUBJECT:

Yesterday I got out of school at 6:45PM. I drove home, and dialed Brent. I hadn't seen him since New Years Eve. We met during A Chorus Line (theatrical production we did together two years ago). He played Alan Deluca, and I played Paul San Marco. He was the heterosexual married man from the Bronx, and I was the gay Puerto Rican who was ashamed of his homosexuality. When Brent and I get together, he turns more queer than a three dollar bill. He raises the tone of his voice, laughs hysterically, and grabs my arm. We always have a blast together. Anyways, I called him up and he was in the dressing room getting ready to do a show. He invited me out, so before I returned home from school, I turned around. I made one stop at 711 to pick up Marlboro Menthol Lights, and a pre-made turkey and colby jack sandwich. I ate in the car and high tailed it up to the theater (a good 30 minutes away). The show has a waiting list of over 100 people (A Chorus Line had a waiting list of over 400!), but I was able to purchase a single seat. I said hello to the director who was the same director, in fact, that directed A Chorus Line. He was so happy to see me, his face lit up as he waddled toward me in the lobby. This man, mind you, weighs over 400 pounds. He was wearing a Marva Maid polo shirt, a cap that men over 60 wear, and pants so round in circumference, I could've fit every best friend from Kindergarten until now inside comfortably. He's probably in his 50s. He is diabetic. He has a crazy New York accent. It's so much fun impersonating this man.

He kissed me on my cheek, uncomfortably close to my lips. He smiled and held the sides of my arms with his hands, stepping back and telling me how great I looked. He hugged me so tight, it was uncomfortable. He makes me laugh though.

"You make parts of me tingle that haven't tingled in so long." Add a Brooklyn accent to that, and it's hilarious and disgusting all at the same time. I played along. I acted interested in what he had to say. He wants to do The Producers and he wants me in it. Whatever. I'll do it when I see the cold hard cash. I can't do any more of this "pro bono" theater shit. It's not worth it. The last show I did there cost me $10 in gas every day to get there and back home, AND my car was towed in the process ($120), so it's not worth paying all that money just to make someone else's money and never see it.

I grabbed my seat. Of course I was wedged between two older women. I looked around the audience and decided that I was the only gentleman in the theater that was younger than 55. Great. I have come to expect that with community theater though. It would be great if younger people could take such an avid interest in the arts, but that's rare now.

The show started. I didn't realize that Brent had THE lead role. He was George M. Cohan in the play George M. He was magnificent! The facial expressions were killer. His lines sounded like they were truly being spoken for the very first time. There was singing and dancing, and even a couple of male characters that I suspected were painfully gay outside of this make believe life they were creating. One hour first half. Intermission. Cigarette. Ahhh, such a relief. Act two, one hour. ANNNNNNNNDDD SCENE. The show was over. The picture at the top of this entry is of the actual George M. Cohan (the man who owned Broadway) and his wife Ethel Levey.

I waited for everyone to leave the theater. I hung out and waited for Brent. He screamed when he saw me.

"TEXASSSSSSS!" He screamed, in a voice so high, he was lucky the front-row-glasses-wearing-federation-of-women-over-seventy had left, otherwise, I'd be in row two with shards of glass in my face. We hugged and there he was. My three dollar bill best friend. He told everyone in the cast about our run in A Chorus Line and we even put on a little dance snippet for them and laughed. It was great. Everyone was back in normal clothes and ready for some down time. Brent, myself, Tony, T.J., and a couple girls from the show went to Red Star for appetizers and cocktails. We were out pretty late. There were six of us sitting around ONE tall round bar table. Good times. We talked about everything from high school and coming out, to theater, and even a little football. We left. It was after midnight. I don't know what time it was to be honest.

Today was rough. I got up though. I made it to work on time. It just took a little extra coffee to get me fully functioning.

THE ILL:

Victoria- Strep

Ryan- Flu

Mom- Flu

Dad- Flu

Everyone is quarantined. Ryan called out of work today. He was sore all over his body. I feel bad for him, but as the afternoon progressed, he did say he was feeling a little better.

SO, it is Friday night. I was actually going to take a nap right now in preparation of tonight's festivities, but no. I'm blogging!

Andrew has called me, so he's coming out tonight.

Ryan, I think, will actually make an appearance out.

I owe Victoria a phone call, but she's not going anywhere. That's a give.

Exciting news. Ryan has written some lyrics and even has a chorus worked out in his head. I'm thrilled to hear it tonight when I go to his house. If he launched his performing career, this guy could have some multiplatinum dance hits. I know it. We just need to get someone to mix it, and Dave Aude to remix it. It's a start at least. I'm excited for him.

My drag queen friend Omar, AKA CoraVette Colby sent me the sweetest comment on myspace today telling me how glad he was to have me on his friends list now and how my hair always looks so fierce. SCORE! I love it, but more than that, I love it when Cora performs Whitney Houston songs. Cora is the shit. She screams out to the audience, "CAN I GET AN OH YEAH HUUUUNNY?" and we all just scream, "OH YEAH HONEY!" (CoraVette Colby is pictured above).

Naomi, the drag queen that Jason is now involved with, has a signature phrase that goes a little something like this:

"CAN I GET AN ATTITUDE CHECK!?"

Audience response- "FUCK YOU!" That's Naomi's thing.

Much to your pleasure, I would also like to mention the fact that Ryan's musical number he has put together is about none other than Jason himself. He says it's so true (what he sings) and that he knows I'm going to love it, especially when he sings it.

SO, with that said, I'm going to try to enjoy at least a piece of a nap before I fulfill my social obligations of the evening.

Coming Out Story

2008-02-06T09:18:00.000-05:00

Everyone is bound to go through trying times in their lives. There is always bad that trails shortly behind good. Most people go through these trying times in the forms of a midlife chrisis, the death of a parent, or the severing of partnerships. For me, I went through a good chunk of my bad times when I was in middle school.

I had to grow up very quickly. I don't mean to say I was cooking and cleaning and supporting siblings at age 15, but emotionally, I really had to clean up the broken pieces.

Let me paint you the picture. I was between the ages of twelve and thirteen . My best friend was a hippie named Sarah Dewey. She wore flannel shirts unbuttoned overtop of her tank tops, ratty jeans, and had short wavy brown hair. She was a year or two older than myself. Sarah lived in a house hidden by trees not too far from my own. I couldn't drive of course, so I would walk to Sarah's house a lot of the time. We would jump on her trampoline, and watch the horses that grazed in the fenced in pasture sharing a border with Sarah's yard.

Sarah was the only person I spent time with outside of school. I knew she was bisexual, and I stood up for her when I heard she came out when she was in eighth grade and I was in seventh. I knew something was different with me when I started sixth grade. I discovered, somehow but I'm still not exactly sure how, the wonders of internet porn. It became very clear to me that I was not aroused in any way at all by the female anatomy. I was absolutely crazy for the male's external plumbing on the other hand. There was a guy on a website called Bolt.com that I exchanged messages with frequently. His name was Darius Ciccine. He lived in England. He was the first person I told about my sexuality. It was a great relief. I told him about the first time I masturbated too. He became the dumping grounds for my secrets. I could tell him anything, and being oceans apart, I had no fear of those secrets ever finding their way back home.

Sarah was over at my house one day sitting in the plush blue recliner in the corner of my room (that has since found it's way to a dumpster somewhere in Hong Kong I'm sure). She sat indian style. I sat on the floor directly in front of her.
"I want to tell you something," I told her.
"What?" she responded.
"Guess."
"You're gay?"
I smiled. She told me how she already knew. She hugged me and told me she wasn't going anywhere. Days later, she introduced me to a friend of hers. His name was Brian "Nick" Wood.

Nick was Sarah's age. He would walk to her house from a good distance away. On rare occaision he would be at her house, jumping on her trampoline, smoking cigarettes. He was average weight, a little taller than myself. He had bright blue eyes and short black hair. I was so nervous I could barely speak the first time I met him. My first kiss was on that trampoline with Nick. I remember putting on the peach flavored Lipsmacker's chapstick right before he leaned in and closed his eyes. He used his tongue. I had never experienced that before. It was strange, but I liked it. I felt like I was in the movies.

Nick was my boyfriend. I don't know if it was official or not but I talked to him on the phone a lot and would see him at Sarah's house when he showed up. He came over to dinner one night. He sat next to me and ate at the table with my family. He smiled a lot, and didn't eat a lot. I made him laugh and he briefly touched my thigh beneath the table level. I flushed red immediately. We finished dinner and went to my room to hang out.

My dad was driving me over to Nick's house to hang out. I never made it through the front door though. Dad asked, "Is Nick a fruitcake?"
"What?" I acted stupid.
"Is he....gay?" he asked, almost whispering the word "gay" in a way that made it sound too abominable to even speak aloud.
I waited a moment and chose my words carefully, "Well, yeah.....he's bi."
"We're going home. We need to have a talk with your mother." I froze up and felt my stomach twist in knots so tight, I was sure every internal organ in my body was hemmoraging simultaneously. There wasn't much I could do or say.

We got home. Both siblings were instructed to leave the three of us alone as we sat and talked in the living room. That soom has since been remodeled into a small gym, but I can still see the blue and cream checkered couches, the large blue rug, and feel every emotion that the room brought out of me that day. The sitting positions were terrible. Looking back, I see a lot of symbolism in it. The room had one large couch on one side close to the front door, the other side had a small love seat. My parents sat side by side on that love seat on one side of the room. I sat dead center on the couch on the other side of the room.
"Ryan told me Nick was gay," he informed my mother.
She sat there thinking, the look on her face was agonizing. "Do you feel the same way?"
"Yes." I couldn't even hold my head up. I have never been so ashamed in my entire life as I was.
Strangely enough, one of the first things my mother asked was if I intended to have a sex change one day. It sounds strange, but a heterosexual parent with no homosexual experience comes across thoughts like these. I assured her that the thought had never crossed my mind.
"Well we would be lying if we told you we weren't upset or disappointed." My mom looked so sad. I'm sure they were both wondering what they had done wrong. They told me that they had seen it coming. When you take tap classes in elementary school and all of your friends have always been girls, the red warning flares are so numerable, everything surrounding the situation seemed to be a flammable substance, waiting to explode and erupt into flames at any moment. My parents slammed me with questions, making sure I realized how upset they were.

The day came to a close. They told me that I wasn't allowed to see Sarah Dewey anymore, seeing as she was a bad influence, introducing me to people they didn't want me to associate with. I spent days on end crying in my room. My parents would take turns coming to my room to talk to me. I would cling to the closest pillow I could find and just sob as I listened to them try to tell me it was a phase. My mother told me during one of these sessions, "God doesn't make gay people."
I sobbed sporatically, "then who made me?"
My father told me he didn't want to support this type of behavior. He told me I should keep my feelings to myself. I still never really forgave him for that. I'm sure he doesn't even remember ever telling me that, but I'll take it to the grave.
I spent most of my time reading, alone in my room, listening to Sarah McLaughlan's Mirrorball CD. I would sit on my dresser and look out the window at night. It was fall and the brown and orange leaves littered everything outside that window pane. I wanted my best friend back. I had nobody. Middle school was hell. I would walk the halls, people would yell "Faggot" out at me. The would mess with me in gym. One guy tried pulling down my boxers in the locker room. They would try to trip me when I ran around the gym for P.E. with everyone else. I was walked on a lot.

I found new friends, friends that knew Nick. I would try to meet at the friend's house and be discovered. Mom found out I was trying to see Nick behind her back. It didn't go over well. I was constantly breaking her trust. I would sneak phone calls. I would lie about where I was going and who was going to be there. I was under one of the stictest supervisions. I was absolutely miserable throughout the rest of those middle school days. Sarah went to high school before me, and I later joined her after having lost that contact with her. She was a different person, and I didn't go back to her in the way I had always imagined I would have.

Time went by with my parents, the talks ceased, and it went ignored for a while. I grew up more, becoming more and more independent mentally each day. I would go out to meet 'friends' and that was that. When I was seventeen, my parents went out of town, and my friend Justin took me out to The Wave, my first gay club experience. I used the fake ID I bought in Chinatown NYC when I was on a school field trip. I got in. My jaw dropped. There were so many beautiful gay men. They were dancing and smiling and drinking. Nobody was ashamed. I knew I was home. I didn't dance much that night. I was so self-conscious. I came back home late, and my parents never knew.

I didn't talk about my sexuality with my parents. It was a constant elephant in every room in the house that contained either of my parents and myself. My dad thought it was disgusting. He would make faces and tell me how repulsive the concept of man on man action was. He would try to ask if I didn't find females attractive in any way. I told him no over and over again. He just didn't want to believe it.

It was summer of my junior year in high school. I was at a three week camp for foreign language. I spent the night at the VCU dorms in Richmond and spoke only french for three weeks. I corresponded with my mother through letter writing. In one of her letters she wrote me, she spoke words I had never heard before. She told me she had done a lot of praying and that she knows God made me exactly the way I am. She was just so upset about how I was treated and bullied in middle school. She said she wished she could hurt all the kids that made fun of me and made my life miserable in school. She had finally come to terms with my sexuality and realized that my happiness in life was the only thing of importance. I knew my mother was talking to my father and tried to reason with him to sway his thoughts. He has accepted things now. It took my mom about four years to accept the fact that I am gay. It took long enough, but it had made my relationship with her that much stronger.

Because my mother worked so hard and accepted me, she's always been my number one. When I think of family, I think of those I love who are tied to me through the blood flowing inside us, but moreso, I think of my mother. I think of the woman that loves me so much and has sacrificed to much to ensure my happiness.

I don't talk to my father very much. I know that deep down, it won't ever really settle. I don't trust him with my feelings, so I omit them. I talk to my mom about the men I meet out now. I bring home my friends if I want to, and everyone is fine as long as I'm not kissing or holding hands. It used to be a big deal, trying to shield my brother and sister from my behavior. My sister was so young then. She's 13 now and she knows. She met my last boyfriend and loved him to pieces. Everything is a lot easier now. I've grown a lot and am stronger because of it.

I went so long without a best friend, I learned to keep my feelings to myself. I learned to process my thoughts solo and not need advice from others. I'm pretty independent now because of this. I love my friends to death and I do need them in my life now because I am used to their companionship, but I'll never forget being without that luxury.

In reflection, I can say that it isn't easy coming out to your parents in the least. You may think you know your parents, but you will learn a new side of them. Even if they DO seem gay friendly and open and accepting, it's always different when it is THEIR child that is gay. All parents dream of grandkids and families and holidays spent together. When this option is thrown out the window, parents can sometimes behave in unexpected ways. It's even tougher when it's the only child that is coming out. I also want to say that though it wasn't easy for me, I could tell you that it was much more difficult for some other men I know. A good friend of mine that I dated briefly in high school was beaten terribly on his back with plastic clothes hangers until they broke. His step dad would find out from the exchange student that was living in their house that my friend was hanging around me. He would get beaten to punish him for his behavior. I blew him off a lot and never knew about the beating he endured to spend time with me until one day we had an arguement and he said to me, "Look what I go through just to be with you," and he lifted his tee shirt, revealing scores of red whelts. I was breathless. It's not always physical like this particular situation. I knew a great guy that went to William and Mary that had a rather affluent family. When he came out to them, they stopped paying for his school and cut him off completely as far as finances were concerned. It really put a large strain on him to take on responsibilities he never had to endure before that point in time. I also know men who never came out to their families, who had wives and children, but secretly hit the gay bars on the weekends looking for a quick fix. It's sad to think of how lonely they must be. I can't imagine living a lie that large, and suppressing the desire to be with someone else. It's all behind me now though. I've paid my "coming out dues."

If you are REALLY interested in knowing what it's like coming out and growing up gay, I recently watched a movie that reminded me a lot of what it was like growing up.

Rent the movie The Edge of Seventeen. It's an 80's flick that parallel's my life quite well. It's a good movie. Watch it. Please.

Dead Night

2008-02-06T00:24:00.000-05:00

I spoke with Ryan after I got out of class. I conned him into agreeing to come out with me tonight. The Tuesday night show at the bar used to be just as good as the Saturday show, rivaling the crowd and all. It's since corroded to the status of a Monday. Ryan said, "I'll go under one condition, you do my hair."

"Okay, sounds good. Just call me when you're ready for me to come over."

In the meantime, Dallas had called, inviting me to go with her to meet some girl she'd been talking to online. Dallas picked me up, and we lit up simultaneously the second I was situated in her car. We smoked cigarettes on the way to Starbucks. She pumped gas as I continued to smoke, being conscious of anyone that may have been watching. We stopped at Chick-fil-A so she could grab food before we hit up Starbucks. We arrived, and met a normal looking girl named Kelly. She had her lip pierced and did not impress me at all. I sipped my tall skinny latte slowly before I was bored to tears. Ryan called me during this coffee meeting and informed me he wouldn't be able to make it out. He was too tired. Dallas and I left finally and she brought me home to my car. I headed out solo at 10:30pm, arriving at the bar at a nearly 11:00. I was greeted by the owner upon entering. The parking lot was void of all cars other than the two that belonged to the owner that stayed parked out front, never moving an inch. There was one customer that must have walked. The DJ arrived later on. The election games were plastered across the TV, being watched by my friend the owner through clouds of cigarette smoke billowing out of both of our lungs. We talked politics briefly. Time passed quickly and the bar filled up with six to ten other customers, but still terribly dead. Sonic, one of the DJ's came in, slapping asses as usual, passing out hugs so freely, you'd think he was running for office.

"You know she can't touch your ass 'til you've had your cootie shot for the day," Frank, the owner said.

"I haven't been vaccinated yet," I replied.

"You mean it's permanent for you?" he must've misunderstood what I just said.

I played along, "Yeah girl, I got the I.U.D., they just shove it up the back door and you're set until they take it out!"

Frank put his head in his hands, just shaking his head and smiling.

Conversations sprung up across the bar, drag queens keeping each one alive. Jason and Naomi came in through the rear door. I talked to Frank, overhearing bits and pieces of other less-important conversations.

"Yeah, Mixers is closing," I heard Fushia (the drag queen) say. I hated hearing this, especially after meeting the owners and seeing their bar (Mixers) and all the work that had gone into it. I don't like thinking about what a loss it will be for them if they do fold. I talked to a local hair salon owner who spoke through a thick Brazilian accent. He went on and on about how terrible it is to strip color out of your hair with bleach. His friend Angel introduced himself, but barely seemed coherent enough to hold a conversation with me. I was obviously not interested but it didn't seem to phase him. He smiled and tried to talk to me. He was really just talking at me. I look at him at first, but later turned to the television, ignoring him and saying "Yeah," and "Right," every one in a while. I hate having to deal with shit like that. Get a clue mister.

I asked Frank to cash me out and he refused, ruffling up his eyebrows and telling me that Jason will think I left because of his presence. I didn't want to leave that impression, so I smoked two more cigarettes before calling it quits. The walker (lone customer at the start of the night) had started trying to talk to me. I was cordial but short with him. I hate having to be the ambassador of goodwill to new customers. I feel like I have to represent the bar and be kind since it's been a home of sorts for me. I parted without offering my name, but thanking him for the conversation.

I didn't say goodbye to anyone but Frank. It felt good too. I don't want to answer to anyone.

GGCC Gay.com Style

2008-02-04T22:30:00.000-05:00

Gay Girl Chit Chat:

VOLATILE WHEN DONE ONLINE.

Here's the scoop. I recently found out there is a free chat room on gay.com. They normally make you pay out the ass to look at pictures or send e-mails to anyone. I went on there one time to make sure my pictures were still good and looked remotely like me, and stumbled upon the chat section.

It opened a new window with tons of drop down menus, dividing the entire country up in large chunks. You chose your chunk, your state, and your locality. It was amazing. Immediately you're connected to a room of sex crazed men. Ugly ones mostly, but every once in a while a hot one pops in.

The old guys blow my computer up with messages when I enter the room. They always want to play nice and then you realize what they really want. It's disgusting. This one guy is like 51 and he sent me a message one time. I told him right off the bat that I wasn't interested at all and he cursed me out. He was all, "FUCK YOU!" and all this mess. It was scary. He got so nasty about it. I was just being honest. I dropped it. I went into the room again tonight, mainly out of curiosity more than anything, and that same tired ass old man sends me a message. He was cordial. I told him I don't do hook ups and he was over using his sexual innuendo. He asked me if I dated and I said, "Yeah I date, but I don't hook up." This mother fucker had the nerve to ask me if I would "date" with him. I told him I was unable to, that I was seeing someone exclusively at the moment (a bold face lie, mind you). He said, "Yeh fucking right BULL SHIT." I was absolutely disgusted yet again by his hideous language. I can just imagine him spitting the words out of his thin lips, past the gray beard and mustache, just spraying a mist of his rotted saliva through the air. The hair on my neck stands up when I read the nasty things that man writes. I said, "I'm sorry. This is the second time you've written me and I've told you I'm not interested. Did you honestly expect a different result? You're too old for me. Your age difference surpasses my years alive... Fuck off."

"You fuck of you nasty fucking twink!" he spat back.

":) good night!" I smiled back at the screen.

It's bad enough as it is when nasty old men approach you at the bar, but this one obviously needed major psychological assistance.

I talked to a 48 year old man with a great body. His profile said he was looking for love/romance. I reflected on this love slash romance concept and asked him, "Are you single?"

"I've been seeing someone for the past nine months, he lives in Hampton too actually."

I sat behind the screen scratching my head.

He has a boyfriend for almost a year. He is in a gay chat room surrounded by men whose assholes are screaming out to every passer by, "FEED ME! FEED ME!" His main picture is that of him in underwear (Black briefs, picture titled, "my favorite underwear"), and this man had been involved for NINE months? How can your partner not know this. I have ran into every one in that tiny chat room. I ran into the DJ from the bar, from one of my close close friends from the bar, hell, I even ran into a drag queen from the bar in that chat room. What is wrong with these people. Is anything holy and sacred? How can you say you even want love or are worthy of it if you go around flashing pictures of you in your chonies to an entire metropolitan area?

I just don't get it. One guy sent me a message, and after sending five short lines of one word messages, he gave me his phone number. Are you serious? I asked him if he wanted to give me his social security number as well, along with credit card numbers, or even an e-check. He logged off. I thought it was funny.

I talked to a cute Greek guy named Dimitri. I gave him my myspace link and he disappeared. That's what I get for posting so many damn pictures, he's probably still tied up looking at them all. So, I'm out of luck. All chat windows went dormant and I X'd them out one by one until I was left with nothing but the main chat room.

Here are some examples of what these guys say:

"no young bucks lookin???"

"nice pic military guy"

"hello any young bottoms here from Va Beach IM me"

"i am bored and lonely"

"naw, can't find anything either"

"looking now"

"anybody hung in newport news?"

Here's what I've found out. If they say they're "looking," they want a one night stand. Some say they'll "host" at their place. The boys will call out in the room looking for big dicks, one night stands, all other types of garbage, they take that too. Sometimes random bots will get in and post mass messages about free gay porn websites and free pictures and yadda yadda yadda.

I don't like this kind of GGCC. It's not my kinda chit chat. I'm logging off. Screw this.

P.S.- the picture at the top is a compilation of bar receipts I found on my bedside table. Tragedy. Sweet mystery of life at last I've found you!

Close Encounters of the Drag Queen Kind.

2008-02-04T10:12:00.000-05:00

Here's the most recent:
My exboyfriend Jason dated my best friend Ryan after me. There's a ring of friendship that tied all of us together, and after Jason and my breakup, he gravitated more towards my best friend Ryan. They had a thing, it ended. Jason wanted to still be everyone's friend. Jason fucked me over a couple times, and that's not to say I didn't throw a couple curve balls in there as well, but Jason burnt me in ways I'd never consider contemplating.

Here's what happened. I hear from the bar owner when we were having GGCC one night (gay girl chit chat), that Jason is dating Naomi. Naomi was once "THE" drag queen in the area, performing at all the major bars and headlining in every one. She had an enormous following and was loved by everyone. Somewhere along the way, the crowds grew tired of her microphone tirades and would start cutting her mic, and drowning her out with music. She lost a couple shows, but still has has feet held firm in a couple local bars where she still headlines. SOMEHOW, don't ask me how, but Jason's casual friendship with Naomi, turned into more. The two couldn't be any more different. Jason is just groping in the dark for anything to cling to at this point. He's really got himself into it this time. Amidst all the chaos of interjecting opinions and sharp words to be said during this GGCC session, I tell Ryan. It was the next day before I could tell Ryan about it, but I knew he'd have enough to say.

Jason had been calling and text messaging and IM'ing me for weeks. I had made no major efforts to get in touch with him or continue any sort of friendship or social alliance. He had on the otherhand, maintained perfectly good contact with Ryan. I was upset, and Ryan, practically furious, that Jason would try to be our friends, seem so interested in our lives, and yet, at the same time, withhold information that was crucial. This information should have been put out immediately, whether Naomi told Jason to keep his mouth shut or not.

Ryan and I went to the bar the next night and ran into Jason. After all the conversations Ryan an I had before leaving his house, it was clear in my mind even before the discussions, that I had no desire to speak to Jason or look at Jason. It surprised me that Ryan started talking to him. I don't know what they said. I do know that not even half an hour later, Jason was gone and I received a call on my cell phone whilst at the bar, from a number unknown to me. I answered.
"Hello?"
"Ryan, this is Nay."
I knew this was going to be some shit. I bit my tongue and kept as neutral as I could possibly be. Even though Naomi's following has greatly diminished, I still would never want to put myself in a position where I would have a tiff with her or any of the queens.

I told her that we all had a history with Jason, so we had a right to talk to Jason about it. I told her that, "I have no problems with you at all, Naomi. You know I love you to death."
I continued, "I have no desire to stay in touch with Jason at all. I am happy for him. I don't know what Ryan's take on everything is, but I'd be much more comfortable if you called Ryan."
I gave her Ryan's number, but after consulting Ryan after this unknown call, he couldn't wait.

Ryan and I paid out, hit the road, and proceeded to call Nay from my phone. They had it out briefly. Ryan was very collected and apologized for any miscommunication. He admitted to everything he said and didn't budge on any of that. Naomi wasn't too happy. She told Ryan,
"Here's what you're going to do: I'm going to walk into the bar, and I'm going to say Hi, and then you're going to smile and say Hello back."
She threatened to have Ryan banned from the bar also. The phone call ended.

After Ryan got back home, we parted ways. I went home. The next day I get the call. Ryan told me that Jason had told Naomi about Ryan's conversation prior to my receiving her call. Jason tipped off Naomi, but without intentions of stirring this hellish pot that he inadvertantly did. The news just got worse after that.
"She [Naomi] had Jason on three way on mute the entire time I was on the phone with her in your car. He was listening to everything. He called me when I got home and said I handled myself very well."

I don't think Ryan was that mad at Jason for being on the phone, but moreso at Naomi. Naomi had started out her call with me back in the bar with, "I'm not sixteen any more and I don't want to play these games." BUT, with that said, in my own professional opinion, by calling ME and not RYAN in the first place seems a bit childish. I understand Naomi didn't have Ryan's number, but she could've just called and asked for it and I'd have forked it over. Instead, she tried to pull me into the drama and get my take on things. I wasn't having it.

Ryan debated for a day or so whether he'd return to the bar at all. He wasn't to just avoid it all. He kept his personal promise of not returning to that shithole for all of EIGHT WHOLE HOURS I'm sure.

We went out Saturday night. We had a blast. We didn't get there until after twelve. Good friends were in our company, and the drinking glasses never fully emptied, they only somehow mysteriously raised their alcohol levels to the brim over and over again. Cigarettes were smoked. Jokes were make, and laughs were shared. I was introduced to a man named Mike through mutual friends. I had seen him out before. He's in great shape. Great body, really warm smile, but I can see where some would see him as intimidating. We were cordial at first, but didn't make major efforts to engage in conversation. After our mutual friend became tied up with another aquaintance, Mike looked at me. He looked at me and said the famous line I dread and love hearing all at the same time. "Has anyone ever told you that you look like a young..."
"George Michael?" I cut him off. We laughed. I told him, "If I only had ONE dollar everytime I heard that. But at least George Michael has a partner."
"He does?" Mike asked.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."
"And you don't?"
"No, I'm single, but I'm open to one. Are you single?"
"Yes, single and not looking." He smiled back at me.
"Why not?"
He went on to tell me that the guys he'd seen in the past weren't monogamous with him. He didn't want to put himself in that position again. I could completely understand.
"Yeah, that can ruin it for you. I understand."
We started talking. I moved over to him. I put my hands on his chest to feel his bulging pecs. The Abercrombie shirt was stretched pretty tight over his body. I absolutely love being touchy. I read that Taurus's are the "Touchmeisters of the zodiac." I kept this in my head the entire time and played off of it as much as I could, without mentioning the zodiac reference.

Mike grew fond of me pretty quick this past Saturday night. For someone "not looking," I guess you could say I found him. I don't put all the eggs in this basket, but I really did enjoy his company. He kept his arms at my waist, and the small of my back. I kept my hands on his arms, chest, and waist. We smiled a lot and paid our tabs at the same time. We both left within five minutes of each other, agreeing to do dinner this week sometime.

Saturday was good. We stayed until close at two A.M. I couldn't believe time flew so fast. I was glad I went. I even caught a glimpse of Ryan tipping a dollar to Naomi.
"That was BOLD," I told him. He just smiled and winked. I was so glad that we went out.

It's the same story after every one of these late nights. I sneak in the house as to not wake anyone. I kick off my shoes next to my bed, piling them up into a graveyard of the week's spent shoes. I check my e-mail one last time, and pass out in my underwear, still reaking of cigarette smoke. Lovely. Absolutely lovely.

Dental Sadism

2008-01-31T12:21:00.000-05:00

I had my six month cleaning today. It had been put off and put off. Canceled and rescheduled twice. I finally just had to bite the bullet and cancel my lunch date today since my mom said she wasn't going to reschedule it again.

Firstly, I was terrified that I would arrive on time (because I only arrive early to scheduled appointments). I had ordered a Blackberry online (the fuckers at T-Mobile wanted an unGodly amount of money for the thing), and I paid online using my PayPal account. Well, I wasn't really paying attention and I paid through my bank account that I never use. I had to drive out to the bank as quickly as I could, make the deposit so the transaction wouldn't be rejected, and then haul myself as fast as I could to my dentist's office.

I arrived ten minutes early. I flew threw the glass door and immediately to the sign in sheet, like a moth to a flame. The women at the counter greeted me by name (which I never have been able to understand seeing as they see me twice in twelve months' time). I guess I'm just one of those unforgettable gay men. Women want to have their own gay. All of them do. I have a small collection of these women, and they are so good to me. But that is neither here nor there, and also a subject I could go into great depth about but have not the time today.

I sat down in the waiting room and was called back ten minutes after my scheduled time. I was not only called back late, but I was also called back by a woman I had never seen before. It wasn't my diva tooth goddess that I am used to. This was a husky middle aged woman whose name started with a T but I can't remember it now. I walked past my normal girl (Danielle- I'm crossing my fingers, and I'm 95% sure that's her name). She looked up, caught my eye from behind her mask and safety glasses as she was sitting and polishing an elderly man's teeth. As I walked past, she hollered out, "What's that about!?"

She was obviously as disgruntled as I was. I didn't want to go see Ms. T any more than she didn't want to SEE me going to sit for this T woman.

"I need you to give me your cell phone number again. I lost it. I tried to call you once and I realized I lost it," Danielle said from behind the barrier cabinet-wall.

I got started with T. She took that metal device that they use to scrape away plaque and she started her mutiliation attempt. She scraped and poked, and sometimes I wondered if she wasn't purposefully bumping into my gums with that needle sharp object. She finally finished with the scraping. She did the quickest, and lousiest, polish job I've ever had, and then she flossed. When I say she flossed, I mean, she was digging for gold using nothing but a piece of waxed string and the strength of her gloved hands. She was digging for oil in my gums. I winced and pulled myself further and further into the chair. My fingernails were practically shredding the leather arms on the chair while this was happening. I swear, this was the most sadistic woman in the office. You could just tell. She really didn't care. She didn't offer me those super cool space age goggles to shield my eyes from the blinding dental light, and she didn't even wear them herself. I wasn't even able to enjoy the simple pleasure of watching her whole "act" through the reflection of those safety goggles my dental tech normally wears.

I took the free damn toothbrush from her at the end and left. I gave Danielle my number and said goodbye to the ladies at the front. It was NOT fun.

My mouth still hurts, and when I try real hard, I think I can still taste the blood, no matter how much she made me rinse. I'm surprised I don't need a transfusion at this point. It wasn't really that gory, but it would NOT have gone down like that if Danielle was taking care of me.

Ok, I have a chemistry exam shortly and I need to cram.

He's Not Here

2008-01-30T01:47:00.000-05:00

"He's not here. At least you already know that."

It echoed in my mind like and orgasm you'd eagerly awaited after a week of daily sex. It was exactly what I wanted to hear. Lon (pictured here) spoke to me words of encouragement that I had never experienced before tonight.

I talked to Lon at the bar for over an hour. We talked about previous relationships, careers, and love. I told him that I knew that my perfect mate wasn't "here." I've known for a while that he isn't here.

It's always the same shit.

"Different faces, same old shit," I told Lon.

He agreed to the n'th degree.

"I've been to HUNDREDS of gay bars all over the world," he told me. He informed me that, "[I] can talk to any queen in Atlanta, Miami, Germany, or L.A. and continue the same conversation in any other big city." He's right. It's always going to be the same shit with a different face. I realize this. Realization puts me above the rest. If you can understand these fundamental personalities in the gay community, you can anticipate their reactions and anticipate where the conversation is leading. It really is this way, as sad as it seems.

I got a drink out of it. I look at it as my reward for listening to Lon and his previous experiences. At the same time, I feel undeserving for the cocktail because I was receiving much needed therapy in regards to my own life experiences. It is amazing. To hear what you want to hear and to hear justified the same situations of which you've experienced is a truly remarkable experience.

Lon told me about his past; about a lover who he left an entire continent for, who ultimately left him upon arrival. D.O.A. comes to mind. Dead on arrival. Can you imagine leaving everything you know, only to be left in the dark upon arrival?

Life is cruel. I know this. Lon knows this. And tonight, because of this, I realized that I am not alone in my search for "the one." Lon assured me that it is fine to have requirements that may seem like standards "too high" for some. It's okay to say, "Yeah, he has to be taller than me and have big muscles." I want that protector role filled. It seems shallow, but if these requirements aren't met, let's face it, I will be looking for something better the whole time I'm dating the man of the hour.

Some things you can compromise on, but in the true-ringing words of Lon, "The line can be moved, but only so much." You can't push yourself the the precipice. It's a given that compromises must be made in all relationships, but there's a point where you have to say, "Enough is enough."

I am a better person because of my conversation with Lon. I realize that he isn't where he ultimately desires to be.

"There's not a day that goes by that I don't look at property or jobs in other places." I understand that. I feel him. Lon is right. You can do all you want, but in the end you have to ask yourself, "Am I living to work?" I don't want to live to work.

There is so much in life to experience, but I know that my experiences aren't limited to Hampton Roads. Even when I date now, I date knowing that it's only a means to an end. I know that it will only be a few years that it lasts, if that. I know that he is not here. The man I'm meant to spend my time with doesn't live in this shit hole. He's better than this. He knows what he wants, and he's left behind the small town mentalities long ago. He's not here.

He's not here. I know that. He knows that. We know that. Lon and I know that. For me, I know that one thing is for sure. I can't wait to meet him. Whether he be in Baltimore, Atlanta, Miami, New York, or Los Angeles, I'll meet him one day. We'll live out our fairy tales together. No children's book has shit on me. I know what I want, and I don't think I should have to compromise as much as this town has required me to do at this point. Only time will tell, but at this point, one thing is for certain, "He's not here."

Demotation

2008-01-28T15:11:00.000-05:00

I was sitting at my desk this morning in the lobby. I knew that Tiffany's office door had been closed, and the branch manager had been M.I.A. for a while. Looking into the back office from my seat, I saw Kris turn the corner. Her eyes were bloodshot and red. The tip of her nose was cherry red. Why am I not surprised that this shit happens around here?

Later on I found out about what happened. At that moment in time, before I could even flinch, my phone rang and I was called back. Round two for management. I was demoted back to the teller line. I am also now required to work every Saturday. The only buffer that kept me from being upset was the fact that Kris lost a lot more than I did. She was a branch manager in the past, and for her to be sent to the teller line is like making a high school principal a janitor, AND making that janitor work on Sundays. THAT is what it's like for Kris. All I got was a minor slap to the face. It was more like a "love-tap" to them anyways.

I want to complain. I want to say I don't make what I'm worth. I want to say that I deserve everything I ask for because I don't ask for much. I want to say that I keep the morale in this office high. Everyone laughs when I'm around. In reality, I guess what I really want to say is that I quit.

I haven't worked up the nerve to tell them that in two weeks, my hours are being cut MAJORLY. I've found a part time job with amazing pay. I'll be working for one of the most incredible women I've ever met also. I get tingly all over just thinking about this new job. It's a real dream. When I do tell management here, I hope they're honestly going to just fire me.

Work is work. At this point, this banking mumbo-jumbo has nothing to do with my future career. I'm not worried about it to be honest. As long as my bills get paid, I'll be fine.

I wish I had something good and juicy to write down today. All I have is interoffice melodrama. Shame shame shame.

I have a photoshoot with Victoria this evening. Maybe if I take some extra spectacular pictures, I'll change my display picture and insert some in the next blog. Wish me luck.

Can I do a Retraction?

2008-01-25T09:33:00.000-05:00

Reading over my entry from last night, I find myself slightly embarrassed. I can't help but turn red in the face. At the moment, my thoughts seems entirely too clear. They poured out of my head and onto this screen. Writing has become a beautiful form of release for me. I find it relieving. By reading my own thoughts on paper, or a screen in this case, I think of it like a sort of online, self-given therapy. It makes it easier to sort through tangled thoughts, and unwind the twisted phone cords in my head.

I don't think I ruin my life. There are a lot of beautiful things in my life, and I have made huge leaps and bounds. I have made many accomplishments along the way. I have been molded by my friends, my family, and my moral code based on my religious beliefs.

I honestly don't drink half as much as everyone would like to believe. I never drink by myself. I only drink with friends. I am very careful. Last night I was at home, so I had no boundaries other than to be able to walk to my bedroom. I got there fine. I had time to write a lucid entry (even though the backspace key was used more than any other key on the entire keyboard), and I slept great.

I think I surround myself with friends and 'things' to keep me from thinking too much. I think too much, and I overanalyze everything. I have high expectations. When you have high expectations, unfortunately you are left to deal with many disappointments. It's how you recover from those disappointments that makes you who you are. I think I handle mine pretty well since I have experienced enough.

I'm fine. I'm okay. Today is a brand new day filled with new hope. Another day to add to my celibacy streak. I used to count. I stopped now. I wonder what it must be like for nuns and monks. I think about The Sound of Music. Was she even a nun still when she was with the VonTrapp man? If she was, how would that work? I mean, I would hope that she'd at least use a contraceptive. They had enough damn kids already. Would the VonTrapp man blow that naval whistle at her in the bedroom? "CHANGE POSITIONS!" haha, "HALF TIME!"

"ALL HANDS ON DECK!"

Ah, Frauline Maria. How do you hold a moon beam in your hand?

Four Beers

2008-01-24T22:33:00.000-05:00

What is four beers? Four beers is enough. Four beers is enough. It's enough to make my head spin. It is enough to make me hit the backspace button every five letters. It's enough to make me dread the morning. It is enough to make me have a good time.

I love it and hate it at the same time. I can't spell a three or four letter word. I wish I could fly like this every minute of every hour of every day. I could fly a leer jet. I could do nuclear physics. I could operate a fucking crane with no previous experience. I could fuck up everything.

I hate it.

What is "drunk." What is "love." What is "life." I hate it. I don't want it. I can't do it. I can't.

What is "can't?" Never say can't. You can't do anything. You can do everything if you want to. You can do nothing if you want to.

Self control. Apparently I haven't mastered it.

I watched three episodes of absolutely fabulous tonight. I watched Nicole as she sat next to me. She drank too. She didn't get the British comedy. What makes me get it and makes her only laugh at certain parts?

I don't understand. I just hope I wake up in time for work tomorrow. She left my house to get everything tonight. I want everything all the time. I never get everything. Sometimes I think I don't even get anything.

If I have to look at these damn red squiggly lines on this auto-spellchecked text bubble one more time I might just throw up.

I'm ill. I'm ill with myself. What is wrong with this Piccaso-esque picture I have painted? Is there really any beauty in it at all? Or is it just me who is laughing. Do you read this and think, "I feel so sorry for him. Alcohol ruins his life and deteriorates his inner being."? I wouldn't want to be me. Not now anyways.

I just want to be Pierce Brosnan. I want to be that 007. I want his gun, his car, his clothes, his sluts. I want to be everything, and nothing, all at once.

An ex lover recently accused me of filling the hole inside me with my nice car, my cellphone, my clothes. Is that wrong? What do you think?? Do I deteriorate myself?

I think I ruin my own relationships with my thoughts. My thoughts are battery acid. They ruin everything; turning even the shiniest platinum into dull browned shit. I turn myself into the muck that I despise. I ruin things. I don't want to be this person, not today, not tomorrow.

What does it take to ruin your life?

It only takes four beers my love. I can give you the recipe for disaster.

-Four beers

-British comedy

-High standards

-One empty stomach

I don't want to be this person. Not today; not forever.

Horoscopes

2008-01-23T09:19:00.000-05:00

Today's Horoscope:
"Ryan, The focus today is on your house, your home life, and the people in it. You might be emotionally unavailable to someone who has been in the process of making big plans involving the two of you. Relationship goals and limitations become clear. "

Emotionally unavailable. I think this is the answer I've been looking for. At times, I feel so willing, but when it all boils down, I think I am very much emotionally unavailable.

No, I'm not going to go there. Not here, not now, not today.

On a lighter note, Whitney Houston is singing "I will always love you." It makes me want to wear pink real bad.

I chain smoked too much last night when I was out to dinner. I was trying to keep up with the man I was out with, but damn, I have never seen anyone smoke so many cigarettes in such a short period of time. He would light up, then I would light up. After about five, I told myself, "I can't do this."

I met an amazing Korean girl named Gina last night. One of the drag queens insisted on calling her Margaret though (after Margaret Cho, the Korean comedian). She took it like a champ. It was all in good fun. I apologized when I told her the same thing.

Reflection Driving Home

2008-01-23T01:49:00.000-05:00

I had to crack the window tonight. The cool damp air ruffled my hair and was a welcome change from the blasting heat in my car. I drove home from the bar. Searching every puddle, I looked at reflections. I was looking for evidence of my feelings. Looking for answers, I was hoping to find trace of something more. I wish I knew how I felt. I've helped everyone I know. Always looking to make sense of others' emotions, I fail to make sense of my own. I keep my emotions so close to my vest, I hardly notice them myself. The hardest part of truly getting to know me is knowing how to diagnose my innermost emotions.

Tonight was the first night I can remember Ryan saying goodbye to me. He left the bar before I did, not at the same time. It was mildly upsetting, but I quickly managed to ignore and overlook that entire situation.

I had dinner with a man tonight. I had dinner with a successful, goal-oriented man tonight. We shared great conversation, chain smoked, and learned more of each other. He sipped on scotch that disappeared four times to an empty glass bottom. His accent echoed in my head and every word rang clear notes from every octave. He felt the way that I felt about gay relationships. We talked about our mothers, our ex-boyfriends, and our futures (whether they intertwine or not is up to fate alone). I'll be seeing him again on Friday.

Ryan rushed me into leaving behind my empty mug of post-dinner coffee, and ashtray of spent fags. Somehow I managed to still beat him out tonight. The bar was dead and I blame it on the rain.

The enormous drag queen spoke of being "hippoglycemic" this evening. She claimed that when she hasn't eaten in a few hours, "All of you start looking like gigantic french fries." She was amusing to say the least. I couldn't stay out long. I was too full, and too tired to put up with the antics tonight. I left shortly after Ryan. I followed in his footsteps and signed out the bar tab.

I have been talking to several men recently. Every one of them has their strengths and weaknesses. The problem is this: Is it better to be with someone who is very much like myself, or with someone who is completely different? I understand it is great to be with someone who can compensate for my weaknesses and bring a good balance in the relationship. I also realize that your lover should be your best friend as well... and aren't your best friends usually like yourself?

Sleep is very much valued in my life, so I leave you with this paradox that I stumbled across in Chemistry 112 this afternoon: "Does oxygen have an odor?" (keep in mind, olfactory fatigue occurs when you smell the same thing for too long; you become immune to it).

Glass

2008-01-20T17:29:00.000-05:00

I'm listening to Philip Glass. I don't want to listen to anything else right now. I'm just in a mood today.

I recently returned to my house after having sat on a couch at Victoria's house for a good while, my stomach growling so loudly I was waiting for the pictures to fall off the walls. I came back home, decided that I didn't even want to LOOK at what was in the fridge, freezer, or pantry. There's nothing in this whole house to eat. I say that with the most confidence! Okay, so there's things. There are ingredients, but no FOOD. Everything would have to be cooked and mixed and prepared. In lieu of any substantial food "things," I'm drinking a Michelob Ultra for dinner.

I'll eat later, I promise, so just drop it, mmkay?

I swore to myself that today wouldn't be one of those days. You know the kind, the days off that you sleep through. I told myself I would wake up at a decent time and get something accomplished today, whether academic or not. LIAR. I woke up after ten but still before eleven. I got myself ready. I even did pilates on my bedroom floor for twenty whole minutes while listening to dance music. I then proceeded to meet up with Victoria. I went to her house. I did her makeup and hair. She did my hair. We sat around and watched videos on youtube, episodes from The Office, and listened to conversations coming from the mouths of her sister, sister's boyfriend, and her boyfriend. We never motivated ourselves to do anything. They left near five o'clock to go out for dinner for her sister's birthday. I went home.

I have had one cigarette today. It's not because I'm consciously trying to cut back, but rather I nearly transformed five fingers into icicles in the process earlier on this afternoon.

Last night was Saturday night. It surely was. I had plans to go to the popular homosexual dance establishment in Norfolk, but due to "poor weather," the group (meaning Ryan 2, my best male friend) decided we would just do our (me and Ryan 2) regular thing and go to our normal spot. Andrew (high school friend) met me at my house early on in the evening. He did come bearing gifts. One ice cold Red Bull. Thank heavens, I needed it. I showered and took entirely too long. I paid much detail to everything from facial hair grooming, to using my Paul Mitchell extra body, thickening, conditioner stuff that Dallas (best girl friend) gave to me for Christmas this year. Although I told Ryan that I would be requiring him to do my hair and face that night, I did the dirty work myself. I picked up Miranda after I left my house. The three of us headed up to Ryan and Rob's place. Everyone talked and waited for Rob to get out of the shower. I knew exactly how the situation would pan out. I even told Miranda in the car. I told her, "Look, this is what's going to happen. We're going to get to the bar (the backup plan), there's going to be no one there because of the snow, and Ryan's going to try to convince everyone to drive down to Norfolk." We arrived at Ryan's house and while waiting for Rob, Ryan said exactly that. He said he had second thoughts and wanted to go back to plan A. NOPE. I wasn't going to do it.

Background Information:

Ryan and I used to go to this big bar every Thursday and Saturday night. We never missed a single one. Ryan and I were anorexically thin at the time. We spent more time on doing our hair than most gay men spend out picking out a single outfit. We would walk in every Thursday and Saturday and walk straight back to the bathroom, hit the mirrors, and preen for at least five minutes. Ryan decided he couldn't do it anymore. He stopped going, found Rob, and lost touch with me for months. Since then, I have found the neighborhood bar and stick to it. The crowd is small most nights, and everyone knows each other. I am comfortable and don't feel like I have to do hair or face. I have since been drug out to the Wave twice. Both times were disasters. I walked away wishing I had never gone in both instances.

Back to this recap of last night. Cigarettes burned to the filters and eventually it was time for Ryan to take his turn in the shower. I flat ironed Rob's hair. I straightened it down over his right eye, just as Ryan 2 had requested. I put the pre-selected beanie on after having sprayed the extra-firm hold hair spray around Rob's entire head. It turned out damn good. NEXT. Miranda took the chair. I pulled out my bag of SEPHORA goodies from when I worked in cosmetics this past fall. I had been given many items from the company but only used them on rare occasion. Miranda was quickly finished. Ryan was done with his shower. It was pushing quarter to eleven. Brent called and asked if I'd be out. I told him we'd be there near eleven thirty. FORTY FIVE MINUTES. I was right. We didn't get there until eleven thirty. I finished up with Ryan and we flew out of the house.

The bar was pretty crowded. I came in, paid no cover of course (being a VIP customer does have its benefits). I moved towards the bar, shortly thereafter, the glass hit the formica counter top without having said a single word other than hello to the bartenders. I love it. Ryan 2 and Miranda sat at one end of the bar, filling two empty seats. Rob, Andrew, and myself found ourselves at the opposing end of the bar. Rob drank a washington apple and switched to madori sours for the rest of the evening. Miranda had energy drinks. Andrew had whisky I'm sure. Ryan and I always drink rum and diet (but sometimes Ryan will do royal flushes). Besides that, the evening progressed pretty smoothly. We talked a little trash, faked several smiles, but were pretty good people for most of the night. My ex-boyfriend showed up, which was expected. My ex-boyfriend showed up with my other ex-boyfriend (from middle school days) which was UNexpected. The child was immediately tattooed with black X's upon entering. It put a smile on my face. Ryan forced conversation with a secret enemy. There were group bathroom visits. These are normally limited to Ryan and myself, but Miranda was given an invite to one this time. We don't always relieve ourselves either. Sometimes it is more of a reason to go somewhere quieter to discuss more pressing issues. The most pressing issue of last night was that our leading lady (when I say lady in this instance, I refer to a drag queen) had called out and deserted her Saturday night show. The owner of the bar claims that she probably couldn't find her snow boots. Excuses, excuses. I hardly looked towards the stage all night. I met a local entrepreneur. I met one Karen who happens to own one restaurant nearby. It's doing very well. We talked briefly about business, travel, and her husband (who was not in attendance). Our conversation led to her offering to introduce me to an employee of hers. I already knew him. I had invited him casually up to a long weekend beach trip in Duck with my family. He would have met me down there and spent a day or two hanging out had he come. He ignored my phone calls the day of, and left a very sour taste in my mouth by doing so. I may say "Hi," but with him, that's where it has stopped ever since. Last night, he wanted to talk. He smiled, I was brief, but smiled back. I don't have time for games. All the young ones want is games, and I'm over it. I don't understand why anyone would play them. I can be guilty at times as well, there is no denying it. On the whole, I do tend to think on a different plane.

Miranda and Rob bought the breakfast buffet at 1:30 a.m. (suckers!). We waited for the buffet to be brought out, and as soon as the to-go boxes were filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits, the tabs were executed with the ink of cheap plastic pens. We left. We looked just as good leaving as we did walking in. I dropped off everyone and came home. We did hang out at Ryan's house briefly before doing so. I came home around 2:30 a.m. My parents were both awake reading in the den. I spoke with them, keeping as much composure as I could. I'm sure I smelled like a two week old ash tray. I left them, went to bed, and that was that. After reflecting on last night, it was pretty uneventful. Everyone left the bar happy. That's what counts I guess.

I'm sitting at home, beer bottle empty now.

Maybe I'll try to hunt down some real food.

Real Estate and the Bitch.

2008-01-18T19:58:00.000-05:00

I want to tell you a story. I want to remember it just as it was told to me. Be prepared for this one. It hits a lot harder for me because I know my mother a lot better than you do of course.

Let me start by painting an image of my mother. Have you ever watched Leave it to Beaver? My mom IS Joan Cleaver. She doesn't vacuum in heels, but she is the absolute embodiment of the television mother. She is ideal. She was a stay at home mom when my brother and I were kids. She bakes, cooks, cleans, she has pampered us well. She has been a realtor for several years now. My mother is the nicest, most well mannered woman I have ever met. She has no enemies at all.

Here is how it starts:

My mother is one of two top agents in her small real estate office. My mom was at a company awards banquet a couple days ago. There are two offices that were in attendance. The main office down at the beach, where the big wigs are, and her satellite office. My mom's broker, the head of the office, was standing in front of all the attendees delivering a speech. She was speaking of an outstanding employee who was about to receive the big award. Everyone at both offices knew that my mother was the honoree being spoken of. In this beautiful breakfast banquet room, something goes wrong. I want to say her name so bad, but I have to change it for obvious reasons. Let's call her "Nancy". Nancy, who has shared an office with my mom for a couple years is sitting at the same table as my mom. As this speech is going on, Nancy says "The only reason she's getting the award is because she kisses Kim's ass." Kim is the broker who was giving the speech. My mom and her coworker sitting next to her immediately turn, look at Nancy, and respond, "What did you just say?". My mom somehow takes the award, and gracefully navigates the dangerous social situation, keeping up appearances the entire time. She even hugs Nancy when Nancy congratulates her on her success after receiving the other award for being the second honoree. And SCENE.

The next day, my mother asks her broker Kim if she could send her a copy of the speech she read, since my mother missed out on hearing it because of the situation with Nancy at their table. Kim was obviously upset that the event had happened. She said she had spoken mostly from the top of her head. Mom and Kim are great friends as well, mind you. Kim said she would type an e-mail and write as much as she could remember of what she said at the banquet.

My mom had came home and told my brother how upset she was about Nancy's behavior. My mom is very sensitive, although she never would lead you to believe so. My brother doesn't take any shit. I've had situations come up over the hears where he has definitely taken care of some business for me on his own accord. He doesn't like people treating our family in any sort of negative way.

Without her knowing, my brother had his own agenda lined up from the second he realized how upset this had made her. My brother drove up to the office and ran into Kim before he could figure out who Nancy was. He talked to Kim and told her that he wanted to talk to Nancy because she had upset his mom and Nancy owed my mother an apology. Kim told my brother that she would take care of it and that she would talk to Nancy and make sure that my mom got her apology.

Chad leaves the office. Nancy walks past him. Kim calls Nancy into Kim's office. Nancy asks who that was that just left Kim's office. Kim informs Nancy that it was Linda's son, and that he was there to talk to her. Kim told Nancy that she needed to call my mother or catch her in the office and tell her she was sorry.

Instead of giving a phone call, which really isn't an acceptable apology if you ask me, Nancy sends an e-mail. She starts by saying, "I'm sorry you can't take a joke." She twists her words around to her advantage, saying that she meant it another way. She closes the e-mail by saying "Next time you have a problem with me you don't have to send your son to kick my ass."

When my mom told me this when I came home from work today, my blood boiled just listening to this bullshit.

HERE is how it goes down. My mother is a strong Christian. She decided to go into the office today (she doesn't go in every day) to get her emotions off her chest. She was going to explain to Nancy why she was wrong and how it made her feel, but she was also going to FORGIVE HER. I have to force myself to breathe as I write this because I'm getting pissed off now. My mom gets to the office. Nina was on her way. My mom had the receptionist call her 1) to find out if she was coming in, and 2) to tell Nancy that she had an important fax waiting for her [true story]. My mom went into their shared office and waited. Nancy came in, wide eyed at the sight of my mother standing at her (mom's, not Nancy's) desk. Nancy came in, no smile, no words. She quickly put her stuff down.

"I need to talk to you, Nancy."

"No, we don't need to talk. I'm very busy and have a lot to do today."

"Yes we do."

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"Alright, well go to the bathroom, we'll talk when you get back."

Nancy was in the bathroom for a long time. I don't know if she was hoping my mom would leave. I don't know if she was calling to whine to her husband about what was going on. When she came back, my mom was still waiting patiently.

"No, I don't want to listen to you. I don't have to listen to you. KIM!"

Nancy was calling for Kim, who knew that my mom was there to talk to Nancy.

My mom closed the door and stood in front of it.

"I don't want to talk to you and you can't hold me hostage in this office. KIM!" Nancy kept on, "I don't have to listen to you! I don't want to talk to you!" Nancy went to reach around my mom for the door handle. My mom pushed her hand back away from the door.

Nancy pulled her arm behind her back. Her face displayed horror. "Don't you touch me! Don't you touch me! I don't have to listen to you!"

My mom opened the door for Nancy. It was obvious that she was talking to a brick wall.

"Alright, then go on, GIT!" She talked to her as if she were an animal. My mom was getting irritated that she wasn't even given a chance to express herself.

Helpful things to keep in mind about "Nancy.":

1. She is foreign, from a small eastern European country.

2. She is married to a military man

3. She has no family in the area

4. She's damn lucky if she has friends

5. She curses, smokes, and carries herself around the office like she owns it

6. People in the office constantly tip-toe around Nancy so they don't make her mad

Somehow, Kim becomes involved. An argument ensues and the three of them, Kim, Linda, Nancy, end up outside. Nancy continues to pop off at the mouth. She doesn't feel as if she has done anything wrong. She brings up that fact that my mother sent Chad to threaten her. My mom says she knew nothing about it. Nancy said he was there to beat her up. Mom says he wouldn't have touched her. Kim becomes infuriated upon learning about the e-mail Nancy sent. They go at it. The three are raising their voices. My mother and Kim are literally attacking Nancy with their words. They fall on deaf ears.

It's gray here. I'm missing a link. My mom spoke what she needed to while she was outside. She was able to say what she wanted to, but Nancy wasn't accepting it at all. My mom comes inside and sits at her desk to cool off. She was furious. Kim comes inside next to see if my mom is okay. Kim steps into her office to cool down as well. Kim returns to my mother's office and tells her that the president of the company is on her way from the main office. Nancy doesn't know this. My mom waits. Forty minutes later, the president arrives. Nancy was in a the computer room. The president goes to the restroom nearby, passing Nancy. Nancy says "Oh, urgent business today?"

"Yes."

Bathroom interlude, and madame president is back. Nancy starts to put things together. The wheel is turning but the hamster is dead. Madame president, who I will refer to from here on as MP, notifies the three women that they are all going to have a discussion. Obviously the only person in danger is NANCY.

Nancy pleads to talk to MP before they are all called into the office. MP declines her offer. Once Nancy realizes she's in for it, she quickly blurts out, "Well I just need to tell you that I have a meeting with another broker and I'll be leaving." MP tells her she has to talk with everyone. She (Nance) shoots off question after question, trying to slow the process of entering the office. Kim, Linda (mom), and MP all sit. Nance stands. They start at it again. MP keeps her cool and handles the situation well. She become equally angry when she learns about Nance's poor e-mail apology attempt and tells her that if she thinks that is an acceptable apology, she "needs to read some books." MP reams Nancy in and out. She really ripped her a new one and cut her down to size. It is unbelievable to imagine what it must have been like in that room. There was so much tension, anger, and amidst all this, Nancy really believes she has done nothing wrong. She makes excuse after excuse. She brings up Chad, and tries to twist her words again. MP saw right through her.

She got fired.

They told her ass to leave.

She said she had to be out by end of the weekend.

Lady N said she was going out of town.

MP told her that the receptionist and Kim would pack her things for her.

She had it coming.

The entire office just swarmed. MP took mom and Kim out for lunch on the company. I forgot to mention that when MP came to the office, she immediately hugged my mom and apologized that she had to go through what she went through. The receptionist left before MP even got there. She knew the shit was about to hit the fan, and took her lunch early in order to avoid being splattered with Nancy's fecal matter. I tell you what though, Kim's blood pressure was through the roof. Everyone was ready for a drink. I turned nearly ten shades of red just LISTENING to this story when I came home from work. My sweet Christian mother, going into the office to forgive a woman for insulting her. Not only was she insulted, but my mother was also slapped in the face by an 'apology e-mail' if that is what you would even call it. To recap, the becomes angry when she isn't able to talk. She has words outside with Kim. The company president comes to the rescue. Nancy still denies everything and lies, lies, and lies to the president. Nancy loses her job.

AMAZING. I feel bad for my mom. I want to kick that woman's ass so bad. Nobody messes with my mom. She wouldn't hurt a fly. I mean, I'm sure a lot of people think this about their mothers, and I don't want to discount that, but if you ever met my mother, you'd see Joan Cleaver. It's just a shame that such a little issue was blown up so big because Nancy couldn't listen, or apologize. The whole office silently rejoiced today. Everyone heaved a giant sigh of relief. The marlboro-smoking foreign bitch was done.

I'm really proud of my mom for standing up for herself and her feelings. She's never confrontational. From what I hear, she really kept her composure well and was even complimented by MP for handling herself extremely well. Kim, my mom, and MP went out to lunch on the company. They tried real hard not to talk about it, but of course it did come up in conversation. The whole ordeal was pretty traumatic. Everyone needed a drink by the end of the day....

Speaking of everyone, it's after 10:00pm, and I'm ready for that drink. Live in Hampton, it's FRIDAY NIGHT!

Ridiculous

2008-01-16T09:47:00.000-05:00

I was on the second floor of a building at school waiting for my Chemistry lecture to start. I looked outside to see nothing but white. I could hardly see the treeline on the opposite end of the parking lot. There was so much snow coming down. Big fat snowflakes where whirling around, flying up and down and darting across the gray sky. I just knew that by the end of that lecture, I would walk outside to see at least three inches. I was waiting to see it piled up on the roof of my car. I left the building after the lecture to take a look at the ground that I could not see from up above. . . Nothing. Just wet. So disappointing.

I sat for my two hour break between classes and listened to Swayzak, Tracy Chapman, and Pete Bjorn and John. The last time I heard Tracy Chapman was when I was in France, summer of 2006. Sylvie and I were driving across the French countryside to her boyfriend's parents' house out in the farmlands. We listened to the entire album. The funny thing is that Sylvie liked her voice and enjoyed the music, but she didn't understand anything that Tracy was singing. I tried to explain to her in French what she would be singing about on each track. I miss that. I miss good culture, good food, good people...family.

I've been becoming more and more socially isolated. I don't realize that I have been doing this to myself over the past two or three weeks. I don't make many outgoing calls anymore. I don't go out to the bar even a quarter as much as I used to. I stay home. I exercise. I eat right. Last night Dallas and I went out to eat at what she calls "Wing Wong". It's a $4.99 all you can eat Chinese buffet. We were the only two people in there. I don't understand how they can stay open. We ate and ate and ate. I had two full plates. Fallas was so hungry before we got there. I hadn't eaten anything all day. I had been at school from 8AM until 6:45PM. On the phone with Dallas beforehand, she informed me quite dramatically that "I'm so hungry my stomach is eating my vagina!" I told my mother this right after I got off the phone with Dallas to meet her out. Mom laughed so hard she nearly spit her salad right out of her mouth. No matter how bad a day or a week or a month can be, Dallas has never stopped me from laughing. I haven't spent much time with her, or anyone for that matter, recently and it was great to be in her company again. It was a good end to a long day. It was the first time I've cheated on this diet, but I had been craving french fries all day long and just figured MSG would be the better replacement.

Coffee is cold. The office is cold. I was asked by someone very dear to me a couple nights ago if I wanted to talk about how I felt. He asked me how I felt, and the only word that came to my mind, and the only word that still comes to mind is numb. I feel numb. It's my fight or flight reaction. It's what I do to go on. It's what I have to do to move on. My body just shuts down all emotion. It would rather be inactive than deal with feelings of depression or hopelessness that I used to know so well in younger years. I hate realizing this. I hate knowing that I'm just a body. I'm just a emotionless zombie moving around amongst the living. Overreacting, I know. But it isn't a good feeling.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to break this current spell. I wish I could get out and have the fun that I used to have. I used to know how to make every day feel like summer. I'd take my best friends out driving to take pictures outside, or to go to the hookah lounge to smoke shisha. We could have a blast in Walgreens if we had to. Now those friends are tied up. Both have steady boyfriends that dominate a good portion of they time and lives. It doesn't mean that I'm not invited into their shared lives, but it's not the same. I feel guilty cracking jokes and sharing the secret inside jokes that the boyfriends aren't aware of. I just know that I have always been better to my friends than I have my boyfriends. I know what it's like to be on the backburner so-to-speak. I am not implying that my friends ignore me. Damn, even my horoscope warned me that I would have an ability to turn friends into enemies today, so I need to mind my p's and q's. (The statement of minding P's and Q's stems from back in the day when barfights would break out. The bartender would yell out for everyone to mind their pints and quarts of beer so they wouldn't be spilled in the chaos of that moment).

Another day, another dollar.

Horrible Horrible Horrible

2008-01-14T09:39:00.000-05:00

I watched "The Brave One" with Miranda last night. She came over and we watched a bootleg movie. Jodi Foster played this radio show host who was beaten and her fiance was killed. She recovered, bought a gun, and in the course of several events and circumstances, she kills criminals that cross her path. The movie was amazing, and the ending was perfect. It was by far the best movie I have seen in years. I was also surprised to learn that Jodi Foster is a lesbian. I can definitely see it, but never really thought too much about it. I heard she's also adopted a little girl. I love hearing about the personal lives of celebrities. I like having that insight and thinking of them as being actual people too. I mean, have you ever wondered what kind of music Nicole Kidman likes, or what Adam Sandler likes to do for fun?

I had two cups of Starbucks Sumatra roast coffee last night. I figured since I was going to be watching that movie, it would keep me on my toes. Needless to say, I couldn't sleep at eleven. I laid on my back, though I am normally a side sleeper, and passed out after a while. I slept very good last night. After watching the movie, I felt an emptiness inside. I felt really bad for Jodi Foster's character. But enough of that.

Yesterday was a horrible day. I feel like I've already recapped the story though. I went to BJ's to buy groceries with my mom and dad. I wore scrubs and a hoodie all day. I lounged around the house for a really long time. I only had three cigarettes. Yes, I did break down before I went to the bar and buy a pack the other night. I smoked the last one in that pack this morning before I walked into the office. I have a brand new pack in my glove box, but I am not going to touch it. I am going to tell myself that if I want one, I can have one in ten minutes. I also hear that it helps to never tell yourself that you've quit. Most people have better luck if they just tell themselves they can have one if they want one.

Today is another day. Another monotonous day. Same stuff, different day. Pilates at noon. My abs have just stopped aching from last week's class, and now I start back up all over again. I have lost five pounds in a week!

Miranda told me a hilarious story about being in a bar in Washington D.C. when her friend drug her into the restroom at least three times while she blew it up. She had it coming out of both ends. Miranda was horrified each time she was grabbed by the wrist and pulled back in for another round of vomiting and bowel movements. Miranda said that the hottest guy was waiting outside the restroom and her friend just pushed her way through pulling Miranda behind her screaming. The guy laughed. Miranda said she just stood as close to the door as she could, turning away from her friend and covering her nose.

Last Night Madness

2008-01-12T09:20:00.001-05:00

Each morning it takes a well planned series of alarms to get me out of my bed. The cell phone goes off at 7:00am, followed by a second alarm at 7:10am, and that gets "snoozed" a good three or four times. In the midst of all this cell phone ringing, my radio cuts on at 7:15am and stays on. I woke up this saturday morning smelling the stale smell of cigarette smoke in my hair, and the soured taste of cigarettes smoked and drinks drank from the night before. I laid in bed half asleep and half awake for a good fifteen minutes listening to stories on National Public Radio about the "INVISIBLE". It was about homelessness and the great number of homeless children. Individuals spoke about the corrupt foster home system, prostitution, drug dealings, and runaways. One woman told her story about being twelve years old and living with some man her uncle stuck her with. She was supposed to "take care of him" and he would take care of her. She slept with him in order to get things like shampoo and a toothbrush. She talked about living on the street. It was horrible. The thing that struck me as strange was that after all this filth in her life, somehow some agency helped her get back into school at age 18, and she went on to get a LAW degree at UCLA or some big southern Californian university. She's now 30 and totally fine. She's been proposed to at the top of the Eiffel Tower and is somehow still single. I don't understand how something so bad can be turned into something so great. I'm sure she makes tons of money now. She isn't scared to talk about her past. I don't know how I feel about the story. I still am trying to process the whole thing, but I'm still in a malaise from last night.

I didn't drink too much but the bartender gave me one more than I really cared for or could've cared for. I hadn't been out in a little while, so I found myself easily tanked, and even more easily amused. I heard a great story that I don't know how I missed out on, other than the fact that I must've left early that night. Evidently last Friday, Felicia (the kitchen cook at the bar) had it out with this regular who I'll just call "Sean" for the purposes of this story. Sean came into the bar and Felicia just finished ripping this guy Joe apart telling him how he was a slut and a whore, and how he was sick to be messing with this young kid who had been coming into the bar for a month or so. Joe had turned so many shades of red and had just put his head down and tried to smile it off but it was painfully obvious that he just had his ass handed to him in front of everyone at the bar. Felicia was just on a roll. Everyone was laughing and screaming. If there's one thing I love, it's a strong black woman who knows who she is. Felicia has lived many places and she's been brought up very tough, but overall, she is one amazing woman. Sean comes into the bar and Felicia starts on him, but she was not overly unkind. She was half-joking although it's a given that Sean isn't that well-liked by others and her words were probably from the heart. Sean is nice to everyone but can be rather annoying. He will treat you like a best friend, ask you how things are going, but you suddenly realize, I don't have the slightest clue who this guy is. At this point in the story there is a gap where I don't know exactly what happened. Sean called Felicia a bitch, and things escalated. Felicia walks off, sits down somewhere else. Felicia, being very pleasant and friendly normally tried to avoid her dark side from coming out by removing herself from the situation. Sean walks up to Felicia with open arms. He was going to hug her to apologize but she didn't look up at him. Felicia, sitting with her arms crossed tells him sternly but calmly "Don't touch me ." So Sean pops off at the mouth, "Well fuck you bitch!"
Felicia grabs a bottle and broke it over the bar and walked around to where he was at that point. I can just imagine tiny pieces of glass flying through the air, catching the light as they flew, and the sound of the breaking glass echoing in the small bar. She was talking to me about all this last night. She told me that when she looked at him, all she could see was red. All she could see when she looked at him was blood. We laughed about it but she made it clear that there was nothing funny about it and I think she embarrassed herself slightly by behaving the way she did last Friday night. As a joke, some of the regulars removed all glass items from the bar top a couple nights ago to play a joke on her. I wish I was in to see her face. I would have been on the floor, red in the face.

Never a dull moment. I'm sitting at the desk at the bank where I work. The skeleton crew is here for this dead Saturday. We're here until one. Currently, the lobby is empty. The tellers are twirling their thumbs, and George Michael is singing from above for an audience of five employees. I'm drinking water. I'm thinking about what I will do after work. Nothing comes to mind, so I guess sleep would be in order. Normally on days this dead, I would pull up the sex offender registry online and see which members are on it. You can even search by zip code to pull up offenders in your vacinity. You would be really surprised to see the people on that list. Some of them don't seem to fit the mold. I even saw a woman on there one time. The reason I mention this is because one of our members on the list just walked in. Everyone has access to this information but hardly anyone thinks to look it up.

IRONY

2008-01-11T18:12:00.001-05:00

"I have caught you in more lies in the past two months than I have in your entire life!"

"I don't even know what he's talking about! I hardly lie at all." My sister is choking back tears and I can't believe it (although I really can). Another night, another kitchen battle between my 18 year old brother and my 13 year old sister. It's absolutely absurd that she even tries to deny it, and even more ironic that she's lying as she denies lying. My brother Chad and I do our best to police the 13 year old. She fixed a personal pizza tonight, cut it into quarters, and sat down. Two bites into it, the phone rings and she picked up. "What?..... It's me.......It's me."

She crossed her legs and talked so loud that my brother, in the other room hollared "Go somewhere else!" She walked away and left her food in the kitchen. She's avoiding saying things she doesn't want anyone to hear, and making this kid Jake play some demented guessing game with her until he figures out what she wanted him to ask some kid Cody. My brother yelled up the stairs to tell her to get down and eat her food before it was cold (and not in a very nice way either), and then I had to get involved because I knew damn well that over 3/4s of that pizza was sitting there on the table alone. I told the 'rents in their bedroom and then it came out that Julie (the 13 year old) had told mom that she ate most of it. Then mom goes downstairs, yadda yadda yadda, and the fight ensues. Random. So damn random.

It's not even really important. I could care less. I was just going to continue hanging up my clean clothes that have been sitting in my laundry basket for probably close to a week now. The clean underwear supply was depleted as of this morning and I knew I had a small arsenal in the clean hamper. So, I couldn't help but overhear the downstairs conversation and I just wanted to write it all down.

But as for other news. My coworker's sister was fired today for looking at someone's account at the bank that she was working for. She was sitting on her bumper parked outside the bank I work at when we got out for the day. She apparently had just been informed today of her more than satisfactory performance at the institution and was to receive a $3.00 raise. AMAZING, and then she gets fired in the same day. Talk about THEM apples. So today has been quite ironic for not only myself.

To top the day off, I've made a decision after having read articles on DiscoveryHealth.com about other people's battles with substance abuse. I read about a woman whose father was an alcoholic. She was always the one to make sure all her friends got home safe and didn't drive drunk. She was the good kid. She knew what alcoholism looked like because of her father. She made a bad career move and lost her boyfriend and then next thing you know, she's living by herself. She drinks 4 glasses of wine before work each day, hiding her breath with mints. She keeps a bottle of wine in her car, and sneaks to the parking deck about every 45 minutes to pound back wine on the clock. She upgrades from wine to vodka, and drinks nonstop. She finds herself passing out everywhere. Work, home, car, there is no discrimination to the situation. She wakes up one day finding that she has drank herself out of every bit of alcohol in her house, including her mouthwash. She calls this guy that she'd recently started dating, and the website didn't really give the details, but basically she quit drinking because of this guy and hasn't drank for three years now. I read this article after my own boyfriend beat around the bushes alluding to me being an alcoholic. I don't drink a lot. I just used to go to the bar a lot. Well anyways, I've cut back recently on my bar attendance. After reading that amazingly inspiring article today, I've decided I need to go back to the bar. It's been a week and some change since I've been.

I read about how people quit smoking as well. I smoked my last cigarette today and knowing that I'm going to the bar tonight, it will be extremely tempting to stop on the way and reload my pockets with more fags. I don't want to do it. I don't want to quit, and that's the main reason that I haven't. I need to focus on the fact that I will age prematurely. I will get those wrinkles on my top lip. I will stink constantly and have teeth rivaled only by wild animals. We'll see how long this blip lasts. I don't think I'll buy any tonight, but I'll definitely bum a couple from friends, or steal them from unsuspecting regulars that go to the bathroom and leave their cigs on the bar.

I'll keep you posted...Ironic right? Blog....posted?