Bitter Sweet Symphony

I am beyond bitter.  

I hold loads of contempt for a population that I belong to by default.  Being gay sucks dick, with absolutely NO PUN intended!  Just because of my orientation I am lumped in this category of men.  I didn't choose to join their clan but for some reason I have automatically been inducted into their hall of fame, much to my own personal dismay.

Gays are awful.  They are awful hateful people.  They are consumed with vanity.  They are worse than women!  If I wanted to surround myself with the drama of being that self-conscious then I would hang out with my girlfriends more often.  It is hard enough as it is.  

We go out in the world.  We look at the media.  We die a little on the inside when we realize we will never look that way.  It sucks that it becomes our natural instinct to leap to this assumption.  "I am not good enough, this is unachievable".  It is your first thoughts and you know it.  What we never consider is that the models in the picture are from the greater Ukraine and have not eaten human food since they were 12 years old.  They stunted not only their growth in height but also stopped their weight fluctuation from an early age.  That is why they have the bodies of a 14 year old girl.  (I am speaking of male and female models collectively, as these 14 year old girl bodies).

If this was not bad enough.  Every.  Single.  Gay.  Dating. (or Sex).  Website.  Is LOADED with images of hot fucking men with their clothes off.  Lean bodies.  Muscle bodies.  It is absolutely obnoxious.

Now we base our attraction (something that we have now coined as "chemistry") upon mere physical traits.  His chest is too puny, his arms are too small, he does not even have a flat stomach.  These become our triggers.  We settle for less and compromise personality and actual animalistic chemistry between two mammals by only considering our first physical impressions.  Forget the fact that in the bedroom you would be perfect for one another.  Forget the fact that you may actually have found the only person in a 50 mile radius that you could actually have a conversation with.  Throw this out the window.  He wears a 36 waist pant.

If it is not one thing then it becomes another.  I have begun to hit on ugly guys, and if you think less of me now then wait.  Not only have I sunk so low as to begin to go after the ugly fucks out there but in fact, THEY are turning me down as well!  They are ugly in the face.  They have small dicks.  Their bodies are not what they should be.  They feel so inclined as to refuse an opportunity from MOI!?!?

There is a guy that I cannot stop hitting on.  The first time he deliberately told me that we were not a match.  But why?  Doesn't it kill you not to know?  So I asked.  He never told me.  He asked that I just moved on.  Now that I have seen him around town I know why.  He likes fat old men.  LOL.  Sorry.  I really did just laugh out loud as I wrote it but its true.  When I say fat I dont mean big boned.  I mean fat.  Fat as fuck.  The guys that he likes have breasts and should wear bras kind of fat.  It is ridiculous.  It amazes me because he himself is not.  He is pretty fit.  Football player build but more towards the muscular and meaty side of it.  He is big, black, and beautiful and I cannot get over the fact that he doesn't have the slightest interest in me.  He is 28.  I am 27.  You would think that a black guy that was into those that weren't so lean would be ideal for me.  I would love it right?  A guy that found me sexy in my current state of being (ie not my all time best impression).  But no.  He likes fatty fucks.

It makes me feel conceited because I have to convince myself that I am better.

I am better than all of them;  the good, the bad, the ugly.  

Eventually I will prevail, but for now I will just keep strumming along, to this bitter. sweet. symphony.

Lie to Me, I Promise, I'll Believe...

We start them out so early.  Our Children.  We start lying to kids from such an early age it is no wonder that the grow up to be adults that spend their days lying to one another instead of just admitting truths.  

I passed by a family the other day.  The son was trying to be kind to his mother who had gotten him a blue balloon.  He grabbed a pink one for his mother and tried to give it to her.  She said "I'm going to leave mine here and come get it later".  

LIAR!!!

She lied knowing good and well that she would never return to claim her gift.  How awful is that?  years from now she will be sitting at home just DYING for a phone call from her beloved son.  He will be away at school and will more than likely be too busy convincing freshman girls to give him blowjobs because he will have decided, early on, that ALL WOMEN, are deceitful liars that are unworthy of any noteworthy value.  I can tell you this much, the last bitch on his mind will be his mother!

It made me think.  I know that I lie to my nephew and nieces all the time.  It is just easier.  But is a small easy out going to harm them in the long run?  They beg me to play certain games, they beg me to read them the story one more time.  

"I will read it again in a little bit," or "Let's do this first and then afterwards, if we have time we will play the game"  What a crock of shit.  This is one of my favorite's to say because if we get what the adults value out of the way first then we can just say that we do not have time to get to the other.  It is a win/win situation for the adults but the kids get the blunt end of the stick.

I was thinking about how quick we are to lie to children because they do not know any better.  I know that I never really give it a second thought except to laugh inside my head when they actually buy it and I get out of reading them the story one more time.  This is awful.  They know better.  I have seen the look of disappointment in my nephew's eyes because he is smart.  He knows better.  He knows that his uncle, and all the other adults in his life are just big fat liars.  

It is seemingly more offensive when you finally reach adulthood and you find out that someone has told you a "little white lie".  The only difference is that in adulthood you can speak up for yourself.  People don't call it a tantrum when you act out, you are just dramatic.  

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies...

Seize the Day

When times are tough.  you thumb through your little black book.  You find numbers and names and think to yourself..."whatever happened to that guy?"  or "Why didn't anything happen?"  You forget, for a moment why you had originally written someone off and never given them the time of day to begin with and since it is cold outside, and nobody else is calling, you give them a second chance.

I met this guy at a local bar a while back.  He was with another guy on what I think may or may not have been a date.  I found out later that it wasn't a real date because they were not really interested in each other.  But this guy, Rico, was interested in me.  We found each other online a while after meeting face to face.  We flirted somewhat but I never really felt a connection.  I actually told him that I had thought the other guy was more my type.  But Rico is an attractive guy.

He's really handsome, fit, and you would wonder why I would pass this up?  What am I waiting for?

I would prefer to be romanced.  Rather than just sexed up.  It seems as though nowadays romance is dead and the only thing we have to offer one another is a quick roll in the hay.  It is not fulfilling and it leaves much to the imagination.  What is this?  Where is it going?  Am I worth it and is he?

I just don't understand why it can't be more simple.  Why can't we check each other out in the DVD isle at Target.  Keep crossing paths in the same sections at the grocery store, or both reach for the last copy of a movie at blockbuster and laugh?  Where has passion and romance gone?  It is just the men of Boston?

Today I was thinking about the fact that the men here just don't even try.  I walked into Panera to grab a bagel sandwich (I was JUST in time it was 10:25) and saw this guy on his computer that had been there the week before.  We obviously checked each other out the first time our eyes met but on this occasion I thought, "Okay, enough."  It was time to put the pedal to the floor and make the wheels burn out.  But nothing.  He just sat there.  He could have come up and introduced himself.  He could have nodded for me to come his way.  But nothing.

I can't help but think back to the ONE WEEKEND that I was in New York City.  It makes me mad that in a place like NYC that is so overcrowded, oversaturated, and overdone that we can't just acknowledge that mindsets are portable.  Let me map out my weekend in NYC for you...

Friday I arrived, met friends that walked me to my hotel.  On the way I exchanged glances with this built black guy on his way to or from the gym.  After making it obvious to one another after we passed he stopped about a block away and stood watching me.  Had I not been with my friends I would have doubled back and we could have figured something out.  That's ONE.

I had already been emailing back and forth with a bodybuilder that lived in Chelsea so that night I planned on meeting him.  When I got off the subway I passed a guy that looks straight out of the abercrombie and fitch catalogue (i have no better description) and typically I am not attracted to these types, but it has primarily been because I have never considered myself to be in their leagues.  He doubled back looking at me, with a huge smile, checking me out.  That's TWO.  

THREE was the bodybuilder that I had been emailing.  

When I left his apartment it was night time.  I walked around Chelsea listening to my ipod for a while before heading home.  I walked past this beefy muscle guy and thought we checked each other out before he rounded the corner.  I doubled back and walked past him while he was in line at the movie theatre.  As I passed by he followed me, asked how i was doing and where I was staying.  We walked around a bit but after talking to him I realized he was obnoxious and not worth any more of my time.  Nonetheless that is FOUR.  As we passed by the movie theatre on the way to the ATM (he assumed he would need money for a cab because he ASSUMED that I was taking him back to my hotel room, I gave no such impression).  This other guy that was WAY MORE ripped up and built than this Number Four guy kept eyeing me down.  I was sad that I had already taken up my time with number Four but when we got to the ATM soon enough FIVE came around the corner.  Like I mentioned before he was so built.  Seriously competition shape, huge, most girls would be turned off at how muscular he was, NOT ME.  As four and I walked away from the ATM, Five lingered closely by waiting.  Four asked if I wanted to grab a drink and I told him that I was not interested, he left.  I walked up to Five and before I could speak he asked "where are you from?"  We started up a conversation and walked around a bit, he said that he left his bag at the gym and asked if I wanted to walk with him to go get it.  We headed that way.  We exchanged numbers and he said that he would like to hang out again that weekend before I left but that he had to get home to let his dogs out.  

Even though I only "corresponded" with number THREE I still felt a great sense of accomplishment after having 5 options in ONE DAY!

Saturday I made my way over to Chelsea to walk around some more.  At this point I was mainly going for research because I was fascinated with this new way of life.  I walked past a guy that was walking his dog.  I noticed him checking me out and smiling from a block away.  After we passed each other I looked back to find him and he was nowhere in sight.  I walked back to see if he had headed down a sidestreet but could not find him.  Soon enough he came out of a store and we started talking.  This was number SIX.  He said he was on his way to meet friends for lunch but that he would love to meet up later.  We did not.  but it was still number SIX.

I called number THREE and went over for afternoon delight.  It came with a bonus because he mentioned that he had just bought a grill and would love to use it.  He grilled salmon, shrimp, corn on the cobb, and made a nice organic salad with avocado.  He also made his own balsamic vinegar.  We corresponded once while he was making the salad and then again after dinner.  We smoked a cigarette on his balcony and then I headed out.  I had also been emailing with this guy that actually lived in San Francisco.  He was in town for business but wanted to meet up for a drink.  We met (after a long hour or so of me walking around trying to figure out the streets in NYC).  It wasn't so much the streets that the bar I was looking for had closed a year before so it was not actually where it said it was, and in actuality did not even exist.  Once we met, he was number SEVEN.  We went to Gbar and Splash, I was not impressed with the crowds at either place.  He mentioned that in August everyone was at Fire Island or the Cape.  After he left for the night (that's a different story) I met number EIGHT.  EIGHT is GREAT, but he was on drugs and even though he had a nice body I found him dancing on a speaker by 2AM taking his pants off.  NOT ATTRACTIVE!

On the train ride home I noticed this guy with great arms sitting across from me.  The city was scary so at the time I did not take chances.  Had I known then what I know now, he would have been number NINE!.  

On Sunday I met THREE for brunch.  You can't knock a sure thing in the midst of such uncertainty!  We parted ways and I walked the streets of Chelsea for one last time before heading to my friend's wedding.  

At the airport on Monday (LaGuardia) I sat across from a handsome black man while I at a slice of pizza.  He was number TEN.  He followed me around the gift shop for a while after lunch and we made casual and flirtatious eyes with one another.  

Number ELEVEN was this nice looking, handsome gay man that followed me into the bathroom before I boarded my plane to fly back to Charlotte.

Needless to say, ELEVEN opportunities in ONE WEEKEND ALONE! I don't understand why I cannot for the lift of me swing a date here.

Lions, Tigers, and Bears...

I joined this website called Bear 411.  I felt it necessary to connect with a website that promotes men being men.  Average if they are average or burly and beefy if they are that.  I sought out another dating option avenue because Manhunt has gone straight to vanity.  Every single profile on there lists unachievable standards by any man and it is frustrating to search through pages and pages of people that I am not compatible with.  

When I first joined the site I was getting comments and emails left and right.  I could not keep up with all of them.  Upon joining I adopted a fresh outlook "everybody gets a chance".  

A few years back I told my best friend, Adair, that I had adopted a similar outlook on the dating scene.  She said that it sounded more like "I will lower my standards".  She was kinda right.  Desperate times call for desperate measures?  Not so much.  I am trying really hard to not become affected by the vanity in the gay world.  It is tough stuff though.  Every ad that you see has a guy showing off his flat stomach.  Every where you turn there are men with their shirts off.  Advertisements for sex toys, lube, condoms, HIV testing, and the list goes on.  Is this what we stand for?  I mean.  Everyone knew we were sexual deviants back in the early 90's but c'mon guys...does it need to be right in your face all the time?  

That takes all the fun out of it anyway.  Wasn't it hard enough trying to keep people from calling us animals and savages?  Now we come up with names for ourselves like bears, otters, cubs, and wolves?  Can't we just be a bunch of dudes with an expendable income?

We might as well keep referring to ourselves as these forrest creatures because nowadays when I go out into the gay public I feel like I am in the jungle.  I am too scared to talk to these guys because I feel like everyone around me is a predator.  Are they lions?

What does that make me?  A Caribou?

I'm sick of it.  If you ask me these guys are just a bunch of monkeys!

My Un-Sexyback

Lately I have been feeling really unattractive.  I think that it comes with the job when you sign up to participate in this thing called "gay".

Everywhere you look there is a picture of a young guy with ripped abs, and spikey hair.  If the pictures are not right in your face then it is listed in the personal ads that these guys are posting.  "Looking for similar"...has vanity reached a such a new high that we are trying to date ourselves?  I would never think to put that in my profile.  Maybe it is psychological.  Maybe it is a sign that if I am not looking for someone that looks just like me that I am not happy with myself?

I don't think so.  The funny thing about it is that I am happy with myself RIGHT NOW.  The only thing from keeping me from complete happiness is someone to call my own.  When I look around I feel like the only offers out there are looking for ripped muscular dudes (and since there are SO FEW of those around out there, the pickin's are quite slim).  Who doesn't want a hot guy?  Why would you go through the efforts of making up an online dating profile just to say "Hey, I'm just like everybody else, I want a hot guy with a flat stomach!".  What is the point?

If we are all after the same thing then why do we need to list it?

Another thing that bothers me about this gay dating "scene" if you would even call it that, is that our attention spans are so short, we can't even grasp the idea that weight comes and goes.  

These guys that are so in shape now, will reach a point when life and gravity has its way with them.  Then they will be singing a different tune...aka..."I'll take anything I can get at this point!"  

If they are so dedicated to the gym, then why wouldn't they want to start off as friends with a guy like me and help me stay motivated to work out?  Weight comes and goes.  I can't help but get discouraged when I think about the guys that are not coming after me now because of my weight, and then I think about what happens when I loose this weight.  I don't want to date them then either!  If they won't chase after me now, I don't want them at all!  

So this makes me depressed, and gets me discouraged from working out.  If I was dating someone I would be going to the gym all the time.  I would be striving for the best me that I could give to them.  I am almost too afraid to workout on my own for fear of finding someone who only liked me at a compatible weight or body type.

When I was home in Charlotte for a visit I spoke with my friend John about my weight.  I tried to explain that I was fine, it was everybody else, and he told me that "all fat people say that".

Fuck you John, I told him.  I explained that I was truly happy with my weight and my body.  I am content to the point that I would never take diet pills or steroids or go on any ridiculously strict diets in order to JUST find someone to go out with me.  Pointless right?

When this year is said and done, I do not think I will renew my gay card.

The Gay Forefathers

Sick of it.  I am absolutely sick of being considered a founding father in the path towards gay.  Ever since I came out of the closet I have been getting random notes, emails, whispers, and secrets from complete and utter strangers.  Of course they are of at least acquaintance levels but still not close to the type of friends I would confide in, or for that matter, let them confide in me.  

They are desperate.  They are scared.  They are in the closet.  They are battling with something that I still battle with on a daily basis.  Almost the only way to deal with it is to look the other way and to never ask this question of myself again and to hope and pray no one else ever asks, "When did I know that I was gay?"

And what a dumb question it is?  I still do not know if I am gay.  What is gay?  Just because I have certain behaviors that exhibit male to male relations does that mean that I am automatically a part of this one giant subculture?  How are you voted in?  Can you choose not to renew membership when your first and current term are over?

I don't think it is very fair to lump people into this whole idea of a subculture without their consent.  

Tonight this guy from my graduating class emailed me on facebook.  We have only spoken once since I accepted his friend request on the site, and honestly I just did it because I knew that he would know if I did not accept.  He told me that he has been with men since he was 6 years old and then went on to ask "When did you know that you were gay?"

Maybe it is my late twenties that has given me this spin on things, but my reply was this,

"You will never really know if you are gay.  The best you can do is to pick one, and learn to live with it.  I am probably not the right person to talk to about this.  Good luck...with everything."

OUCH.  Right?  This is pretty harsh but it was honest.  When I read the part about being with men since he was 6 I made my assumptions.  I don't have a license to diagnose, nor would I appreciate that responsibility.  I have a theory for cases such as this, and I think that they are very very unfortunate.  

He suffered from childhood sexual abuse.  Because of this he grew up without being able to decide for himself which sex that he held sexual attraction.  He was forced to participate in something that he eventually became accustomed to and since then has "struggled" to figure out which one is right.  In my opinion, he is not gay at all.  His masculinity, sexual orientation, and overall manhood (for a lack of a better term) was challenged when he could not defend himself and now he is stuck in limbo.  He will probably never fully feel that he is at the capacity the he should be allowed.  He will never full feel like a man.  Because of this pain he will question his sexual orientation and he will never be able to make up his mind.  To do so would push the boundaries of his comfort levels, since he is accustomed and comfortable in the company of men.  This is easy.  Close your eyes, grab onto his back, and hopefully you'll enjoy the ride.

This is not the first secret like this that I have been told.  

My soulmate, Adair, has a friend.  We were all at Adair's house drinking one night when we were at UNCC and the friend waited until we were alone on the balcony.  She closed the door behind the last person in, and she sideswiped me.  She told me that she was gay and had feelings for Adair.  I told her that Adair would not have the same feelings and she should understand.  It was obnoxious and it is a selfish move on these people's part.  They are acting out of fear and guilt.  They are guilty for lying to all of their friends and loved ones, and they fear what those around them will think.  They pick a lowly (and random) gay person to confess to and the job is almost finished.  They say it out loud.  They deeply exhale.  Some weight has actually been lifted.

Another close friend did this to me as well.  We had grown up together.  Spent a lot of time together.  In our adolescence I spoke more of the girls I found attractive than he did about anything.  After my coming out of the closet he attempted to connect with me a few times for lunch after we had lost touch for quite sometime.  

One afternoon while eating at the Cheesecake factory we got into a debate about being gay and being a Christian.  Our conversation went back and forth, most of his points not making sense.  

When we continued the conversation in the parking deck at our cars he made his confession then.  He told me he "struggled" with the same things that I did.  I told him that I was not "struggling".  He said that unlike me he would fight it, "beat it", he might have even said.  He said he would over come this problem because he felt as though this is what God would want from him.  He said I was the second person that he had come out to, and the first had been his bible study leader, who had given him this sound advice.

There is much pain and sadness in the world these days.  Not just for the ones of us still stuck inside our closets.  We are all living with pain and we are all living in fear.  

The most that we can hope for is to find bits and pieces of happiness scattered throughout this awful planet, and enjoy them as best we can.  Like I mentioned to that dude tonight, learn to live with what makes you happy.  

Ghetto Supahstah

It was Martin Luther King Jr.'s Holiday weekend.  

The air was crisp, but the sun was out.  The reminents of snow were lingering on the ground but nothing was standing in the way of taking care of business.  After an early breakfast at Charlie's on Newbury (we were the only one's in the restaurant at 10AM), we set out on a journey, that we will now refer to as, "My Journey Onward".  It seemed simple enough.  Charlotte Douglas to Logan International, rent car, check into Westin Copley and find suitable living quarters for wide-eyed southern boy on the make.  

I was moving on with my life.  I had chosen a path less taken, at least by most of the people in my graduating class.  

"Think I'm goin' to BOSTON..." as the song played out in my head, I began to realized that this was becoming a truth.  Plans were finalizing and things were really taking off.  Was this for real? I thought to myself.  Am I really going to live in the north?  

I had grown up in Charlotte for my entire life and had never lived anywhere else.  All of my friends and even my family had known for so many years that I was destined for something bigger and better than lil' ole' Charlotte North Carolina, but I myself had not made that assumption just yet.  Shit, it was barely 6 months prior that I had just moved out of my parents house, and the house that I had grown up in!  I couldn't believe things were happening so fast.  

Nonetheless, the time had come.  It was time to grow up and face the music.  

I received a phone call while sipping my mimosa at breakfast with my dad.  It was one of the 12 real estate agents that I had emailed from craigslist in a frantic worry.  Little did I know that the entire city shuts down during holiday weekends.  None of the buildings, none of the landlords, none of the agents were returning my phone calls.  The ones that did were letting me know that they would be back into town on Monday, and this was simply no good.  I had never looked for an apartment in another city before, let alone a real city.  

In Charlotte it is easy.  You pick a suburb that you think won't be that much of a pain in the ass to drive home from the city after a night of drinking and you park right in front of the leasing office and meet a perky young woman in cropped pants and a pressed white blouse at the door ready to show you all that they have to offer.  It is routine, it is easy, it makes sense.  This is not the case in a larger city.  First we looked all over the city.  I had no clue how to find a place.  We looked on craigslist, and none of the pictures did "justice" to the 500 sq foot apartments that they described.  

So when an actual real estate agent finally got back in touch with us we jumped at the opportunity to meet someone in person.  He took us to a place right outside of the city.  This was not what I had described to him.  It was my starting range (which has turned out to be my maximum possible).  It was twice the size of the places we had seen in the city.  It was equivalent in price.  There was a fitness center and a pool, also there was covered parking (my only favorite part about it so far, besides the pool in the three months of summer).  

The place was intoxicating.  After considering my options in the Boston proper, all of which were turning out to be twice the size of my closet in Charlotte, I decided to go with what they described as "A luxury apartment community".  

Now I understand that there is a sense of 'relative luxury about it.  In the eighties cocaine was considered somewhat a luxury.  So I guess since there are dealers throughout the building and the cops have their eye on the place, we could say that I live in a luxury community.  

Today my hallway reeks of someone else's 3 day old trash bag that they are too lazy to take to the trash shoot.  I have seen dog shit in the hall on at least three different occasions this month from the lowlifes that choose to imagine that there are housekeepers in the building.  Of the "staff" that the "community" does employee I saw a lady that looked like she was wearing her pajamas vacuuming the hall.  Before today there had been men in khaki pants and uniformed polo shirts that said OVERLOOK RIDGE on the chest pocket.  It starts with pajamas, it only goes down hill from here.

Every night for the past week a red sport car has been parked outside of my window blasting his speakers and bass.  He plays his music while he works on his car.  It may as well be on cinderblocks.  

During the summer months you can find a single mother letting her baby swim in the pool in just their diaper or if you are lucky naked.  And for the record it is never a swim appropriate diaper, just a regular one.  Those are the days meant just for sun followed up with an email to the leasing office with the subject line "Pool Cleaning Schedule?"

If it is not a diaper, then it is a woman who I would assume cannot afford a bathing suit and just swims in her t-shirt, no bra.

I currently live in what some sociologists would call "relative poverty".  This phrase always amused me when I was in school.  It indicates that anyone can claim to live in poverty, since it is all relative.  

The fact that I can live next door to the section 8 government assisted housing candidates that my apartment community is legally bound to offer, despite releasing that information upon moving into this luxury community is hilarious to me.  What is even more humorous, is that the apartment community ALWAYS gets paid from these tenants since the money comes straight from the government.  

I on the other hand, have not paid my rent for March yet.  

Luckily for me, in Boston, legally it is not considered to be late until the 30th of the month.

Whew.  I've got a few more days.

Break the Fast

Today I don't go in to work until the afternoon.  I decided to sleep in and it felt really good to roll out of bed at 10:30 for a change.

I usually cannot manage to stay in bed for that long.  My curiosity and anxiety both get the best of me before 9 AM and I am usually up and running around by then.

This morning I needed a minute.

So when I finally got dressed and ready to grab a latte and some grub I was on my way out the door at around 10:45.

I decided to go to the movie store first.  On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday I was told that it was rent two get one free.  My choices were simple.  Role Models for laughter, Cadillac Records for Music, and Australia, just cause.  I was excited that these fairly recent releases were TOTALLY in stock and I was glad that I was one of the first to get them.  After quickly and carefully choosing my movies I passed by "Filth and Wisdom" the movie that Madonna had directed.  I had never imagined that the Blockbuster that I rent from, in Medford, MA would actually have carried this movie, and I was even more shocked when both copies were rented out.  At this moment, it was the only movie that I wanted to see in the entire store.

Moving on, I made my way to the register.  I noticed that there was absolutely no one waiting in line and the usual cashier was waiting for me with the best/most awful smile that she could offer.  If you actually lived here and ran errands in the area on a daily basis you would know exactly what smile I am speaking of.  It is the kind of smile that you manage to conjure up after you have just sat on the toilet for 20 minutes straight and have now realized it is official.  You are constipated.  That smile that says while asking, "I'm here, but I'm stuck, ain't it awful?"  

Right as I reached the counter and had begun to pull out my wallet for my trusty blockbuster membership card the lights cut off and the sound of power fizzled away from earshot.  A blackout?  Really?  

"Fuck" I muttered to myself.  "This is just my luck" I thought.  I had decided to make the trek to blockbuster BEFORE getting my morning coffee and a breakfast sandwich at Panera.  So if figured that the power should shut off to indicate that I had OBVIOUSLY made the wrong decision in prioritizing my errands.  The power came back on shortly but it took a few minutes to reboot the computer systems.  When I reached the counter the salesgirl suggested that I rent three "Favorites" (which means old as fuck movies that everybody has already seen twice).  I questioned her about my "rewards" plan and she explained that it was rent a new movie and get an OLD Movie free.  This was different than what she had described for me when I opened up the account.  Life is full of disappointment.

But it doesn't end there.  My morning was filled with valleys and hilltops ranging from joy to overwhelming depression as I made my way on from the movie store to the coffee shop.

At Starbucks I decided to question my rewards card there as well.  I thought to myself, surely 10% off every purchase cannot be all there is to it?  I was told that it had to be registered to benefit.  I told her that I had registered it.  She said that it must have a balance of $5 on it as well, and I realized the crux of the plan.  Then she told me that if I had read in between the lines, since getting this card in December, then I would have received free extra shots and free soy milk which would total 70 cents a drink for the hoighty toighty drink that I call my regular.  If you knew me half as well as I think you do, you would realize that by now, with the amount of visits to Starbucks that I make in a week, I would have half of my rent saved simply in flavor shots and soy milk savings.

By the time I made it to Panera I was DONE.  D-O-N-E with disappointment.  It was time for the most delectable and most scrumptious breakfast sandwich ever made.  They will even let you put it on an Asiago Bagel and toast the ENTIRE THING!  It comes with Cheddar cheese, bacon and egg, and I was already plotting out my idea to add tomato to it this morning to make it EXTRA SPECIAL!  This sandwich was the only thing that I let fill my mind enough to get me out of the bed at 10:30 this morning and start my day.  

I confidently marched up to the cashier and told her, I will have a breakfast sandwich with bacon egg and cheese.  Her eyebrows raised and her mouth opened, I thought she was beating me to the chase.  "Yes, On an Asiago Bagel," I said firmly, knowing quite well that "On what bread" would have been her follow up response.  "No, No," she said with sincere empathy, "we stop serving breakfast at 10:30".  I was outraged.  

This was the worst morning ever.  And I am glad it is over!

Oh Father...

My father is my role model.  There.  I said it.  

Today at work an employee asked if they could interview me.  They are in our company's leadership training program and one of their homework assignments was to interview a manager other than their own and she picked me.  I was somewhat honored, even though I was probably just the only other manager that was available at the time.  

Either way.  One of the questions was something like "Who has been your biggest coach?" and before I could even take the time to ponder the thought itself I said, "My Dad".  I was confident in my answer and after I thought about it (honestly, after saying it aloud, I had second thoughts) I realized that it was true.  My biggest coach has actually been my father.  He has taught me a great many things despite my valiant efforts to not pay him any attention.  

He is also my friend.  A confidant.  I think about him a lot.  I think about what he would do if he were in my situations.  I think about how he would react to the people around me.  I think about my father almost all of the time, and I really wind up missing him a whole lot.  He is my buddy.  After the fear of being just like him passed, somewhere amidst my early twenties, we began to turn into friends.  When I call him on the phone it is not (ALWAYS) to ask him for certain "dad" things.  Most of the time it is just to shoot the shit.  A lot of times it is because I know that he will have the same views on the things that I am currently struggling with in my life and I feel the need to hear his opinion because it helps me feel more confident about my own.  He values trust and honesty.  He has done a great job at showing me what real men are made of and he did it without the likes of G.I. Joe or a pigskin covered ball.

Now when he calls me, it is not to ask why I am late for curfew, but just to say "Hey buddy, I miss you".  These messages are quite comforting and even though I don't return his (or my mom's) phone calls as quickly or in as timely of a fashion as I might should, I appreciate these little messages every time.  They put a smile on my face when I know that they think of me.

I am just like my father.  It's scary, but its true.  

All Eggs - One Basket

I count chickens before they hatch and I absolutely love to put all of my eggs in one basket.  But which is first?  The basket or the hatch?

Nonetheless I always bank on things working out in my favor.  Typically, they do not.

I reign supreme as the eternal optimist.  As angry and bitter as I may grow inside as the days go by without a love to call my own I keep reminding myself; I say, "Self...when he does finally meet you, he won't like you if you are angry" and this somewhat helps to calm me down.

Luckily I have some great friends too.  They border on the verge of being motherly.  You know how your mom always says the best things about you because she HAS to?  It starts to get this way with certain friends, when you find a good bunch.  I went to dinner with some buddies of mine.  They are still fairly "new" friends because I do not get as much quality time with them as I would like.  They live in Cambridge and I am on the other side of the tracks.  

But at dinner we exchanged stories.  I did most of the talking, of course, but they all seemed to enjoy the entertainment.  I told them about the guys I was dating, and how crazy I felt like I was acting.  They assured me that it was not me, it is these guys.  These guys are the fucktards.  The social rejects that don't know how to act in public.  I am just fine.  

This is what good friends will tell you.  And I am fine with it.

Talking to my buddies helped me figure out it was definitely time to move on from this SUCKA.  It's just hard when night after night my bed is so empty, and the nights aren't getting any warmer.  Okay, Okay, it is getting a little warmer here, but seriously, today there was a snowstorm on my way to work.  

It's high time I stopped putting all of my eggs into one gigantic basket and start cracking those bitches open and whip up an omelet fo' dat ass!  

Second Rate Friendship

I won't settle for less.  Trust me.  I have been through so many friendships and wasted so much time on the empty ones along the way that when I look back on it the time was not worth the effort.  Granted I have come out of that journey with some truly amazing friendships.  (You guys know who you are) but now that I am in a new city I came here with my mind made up.  Don't settle for other people's shit.  I did enough of that in Charlotte.  

I met this friend when I moved here.  He is really fun to be around, for the most part.  But all in all he is VERY immature for his age.  This would be his most disappointing quality.  He is 34 so you would think that me being a 27 year old who has lived a "been-there-done-that" sort of gay adult life would be ready to find someone in that age bracket who you would assume the same of.  Having been there.  And Done That.  You would think that these two were ready to calm it down a bit.  

Well, speaking on my own behalf, I am.  I am tired of going out all the time.  I am tired of investing time in empty conversations with guys out at bars when I know that all I will really want from them is one night of hopes and dreams fulfilled and then leave me with my thoughts and reflections in the morning.

Charlotte made this easy since it does not take long for the clubs to become tiresome or somewhat of a hassle, and they after they open they only flourish for a little while before they lose their luster.  So there is no need to go out.  If it is not the decor on the walls of the building it is the fixtures that are delicately placed throughout the insides.  Those fixtures being the same WASPy Charloteans that you have seen at every other club opening.  At every other martini bar in town (you know, the other two), and at the mall every day looking for new clothes and outfits, hoping that today will be the day that the buyers of retail fashions have decided that Charlotte, North Carolina is of the same caliber of a New York City.  They are mistaken.  

Big hopes.  Big dreams.  And a big brown mercedes sedan.  They want to live the glamourous life.  For the most part, so do I.

That is why, when it comes to my friends, I chose NOT to settle for less.  

This one year old friendship that I have created and built upon since my year in Boston originally began is starting to lose sight of hope for a brighter future.  The things that I would list here, or the things that I might chose to fight with him about in order to add space between us wouldn't even cover the most major problems with he and I together as friends.  We share a different view on what friendship really entails.  Although we can both admit that we are very selfish, he choses to NEVER give in, when I have acknowledged over this past year of being friends with him, that giving up the power of being right all the time is something that is inevitable with a friend that is as hard headed and selfish as myself.  The problem is that when one of the two becomes the only one giving in, the balance shifts, and the original gangster loses sight of his own personal originality.  

He lives in the city.  I live 10 minutes outside of it.  He doesn't have a car.  On numerous occasions I have picked him up in my car to drive around the city, take him to IKEA, go to the movies together, or whatever else.  The only times we ever spend time with one another is when I drive my happy ass into the city, using my gas money, my money for the toll (3.00 every time) and my risk of having too much to drink and driving home anyway.  This is what I do for him.  So when I arrive in the city I get bitched at time and time again, that I never come into the city and that I barely ever give him any time at all.  

I can count on one hand how many times he has been out to my apartment since I moved here.  Only 2 out of the 5 times that he has been here was I not the one that picked him up from the city to come out here.  I have asked him to take the train to the closest T stop and that I would pick him up.  He does not ever offer to come out here.  

He makes it difficult to be friends and it winds up being a lot of hard work.  Whether it is the hassle of trucking my ass into the city or the frustration of when I actually arrive to spend time with him that he is texting and making phone calls to his pieces of ass that are scattered throughout town.  He lacks a total sense of decency when it comes to showing respect to your friends and their outgoing efforts.  I could sit here and bitch about it all day long, but I am not the only one of his friends that complains.  Everyone in his group mentions his selfishness.  They all talk about how obnoxious his habits and behaviors have become, yet none of them do anything differently about it.  They adore him.  Despite how frustrated he makes them all.  For what reason?  

I can't go for that.  No can do.

Meat N Greet

I don't understand why in a smaller city like Charlotte, North Carolina, I had no problem finding men to meet up with from the internet.  

Yeah.  I'm one of those.  

I currently belong to 4 major male-4-male "dating" sites and as of now I am MOSTLY just looking to date.  The frustrating part about it is that I moved to a WAY larger city and area (the surrounding suburbs) and yet I can barely find anyone that actually wants to meet face to face, whether that be for a drink, dinner, or whatever else.

Lately, though, it seems like the guys that I do finally meet up with are barely interested in me in person.  We seem to have great conversations on the phone or online and then when we meet it is all downhill.  I feel as though it must be based on my physical appearance.  I have put on a few pounds since moving to the north.  I went from 175 to 185 and am holding solid, despite my efforts at the gym.  I am trying so hard to do as much cardio as possible but the problem that turns my battle into a round-a-bout circle is that it is depressing.  I want to date somebody.  I want somebody to love.  I want to find a guy that wants to do stupid meaningless tasks and activities all the time and only wants to do them with me.  

I have this feeling, that I am a catch.  Granted it springs from what my girlfriends (and mother) tell me but other than that I am an attractive guy.  I have "blossomed" from my days in high school and I know it.  I am currently, by far, one of the MOST HANDSOME guys in my graduating class.  Actually, when I think about it, I don't find many of them attractive at ALL anymore.  So why, then, out of a class of 350, can I not swing a date now and then?

I used to think it was my overbearing personality, but since the move I have really calmed down.  I think I still tend to get a little anxious ( and slightly overbearing) on the first couple instances, but that is because for me, every time, there is so much riding on this one FIRST DATE.  

I guess I put all the eggs in one basket, and I always count chickens before they are actually hatched, but I just wish, for once, that it was totally easy and seamless.  

I hate the anxiety that comes with waiting for a return txt from the guy that I am talking to.  I hate the feeling that at any moment he will txt back saying "I've actually met somebody else, he is really great!  Let's keep in touch, friends?"  Ironic that the mere idea of someone blatantly asking to be friends with me is quite possibly the scariest phrase I could ever imagine.  It brings about so much fear, anxiety, and depression in the same instance that it is simply unbearable to mention or give thought.

Tonight I was talking to this guy online.  He seemed cute.  The problem is that he really isn't what I am looking for right now.  We took our chat from emails to IM's and in no time he was asking "What kind of shape are you in?"

This made me mad, as it always does.  Is that all that it boils down to?  What kind of shape are you in, because that will determine if I even dare to meet you face to face?  It makes me angry because I have met plenty of guys from talking online that have asked that same question and they always turn me down upon meeting.  What is funny is that they usually linger a bit and carry on a conversation with me (toying with my emotions and leading me on).  All the while I wish that they would just throw their drink in my face, call me a giant asshole, and walk out of the bar leaving me all alone. 

At least this way, the patrons would be witness and think that we had just been involved with a magnificent lover's quarrel.  I could leave the bar in open embarrassment and brush the whole thing off with ease.  It is much harder when they lead you on, texting afterwards to say "I hope you make it home safe, txt me to let me know please," then you actually DO feel like a giant asshole when you txt them back "You are very handsome in person" and just get "thanks a lot" in return.  OUCH!  Dude, that shit hurts!

If it is not one thing then it is another.  I meet other guys that seem to actually be interested for a change.  Then they open up their mouths and are as dumb as the rocks that fall out of them.  I have to tell myself over and over again "Keep your eyes wide open, nod, and say "yes, exactly," just so that I can not seem like one of the biggest assholes on the planet.  

So that guy that I had chatted with a little earlier on this evening asked about the shape I was in.  He said "well you know, not fat".  I let him know that I was not fat, but that if he was looking for a flat stomach and visible abs then I was not the guy for him.  He seemed offended and told me that I was making assumptions about what he was looking for.  In my mind, he had told me, but I had seen through the embellishments of "you know, not fat, but in between is okay".  This.  That.  This.  That.  Make up. Your fucking. Mind.  

I can't keep battling with these guys as well as my own ego.  I know that I am in shape, I consider myself on the beefy side as of now, but hopefully after all of this cardio and a cleanse I plan on doing in April, that will all fall away.  

Maybe this summer I can score some ass, but for now, I think I will just eat more pizza.