In My Head

My friend Kelly pointed out that my catch phrase is "In my Head..."  

I personally love to tell stories about how I was doing something and then I thought, "In my head...(was what I was thinking)," as I tell the story.  Its my thing.  It is part of why I write a blog.  Everybody loves it.  But now Kelly has pointed it out to me.  So every time I talk from here on out I notice it and it bugs me.  Kelly is an evil, catch phrase pointer outer and she will get what is coming to her in the end.  

She pointed out that this girl we work with, Sarah, always says "Perfect!" This is Sarah's confirmation.  It sometimes affirms that she is listening to you or it acknowledges that she heard and understands what you are saying and that you can move on from the conversation.  It is harmless.  When Kelly pointed it out to begin with it was all fun and games making fun of Sarah for doing this, yet NOW the tables have turned.  Now Kelly has used her evil notice-everything powers to figure out the root of my well-being that is my catch phrase, "In My Head"

What makes it worse is that Kelly's thick Boston accent does a HORRIBLE job at recreating my delectable southern drawl.  So when she mocks me she says "EYEN MAY-EH HAY-EHD" which send chills up and down my spine.

I am dying to say something to Kelly but in my head I can't possibly imagine how that will go.

My Roommate Brought all the Boys to the Yard

I had a roommate.  Not my current one.  The one from last year.  She was awful.  

Moving here was an experience in and of itself; so when a roommate opportunity arose from the pool of managers that I work with I jumped at it.  She seemed alright at first, fun, flirty, long model legs and whatnot.  They always seem right  from the start.  As the days counted down leading up to the move-in I repeatedly asked her if she would be able to afford it.  "Not to worry," she would tell me.  At that point our friendship was just a bud and I believed her.  The uneasiness came when she was not the brightest at the difference in the information she told her roommate from the information that she told her friend.  The problem being that the two were synonomous.  I was a friend, but now we were embarking on another journey down the road towards roommate hell.  

She lived in my apartment for a total of three months.  Out of the three months she was late with her rent every single time, and paid it in FULL only ONCE!  Most of the payments she gave to me in installments.  This was awful.  "I have to make my car payment this week so they don't reposes my car, blah blah, and so on..."

Despite the financial agreement, or lack thereof, between us, we began to grow close.  It was hard for me to move to a place where I knew NO ONE and try my hardest to trust ANY ONE.  So with this girl, I thought I could.  We shared conversations with one another about our childhoods, being made fun of and blossoming later in life.  We confided in one another about our deepest thoughts and fears, and a trust began to form.  There was one night in particular, it was one of the very last before the news, when we decided to have a special roommates night out on the town with one another.  I remember that the weather was warm that night and we sat on a brick wall right outside of Copley Mall after a long night of talking and walking about the city.  We confessed our growing love for one another as friends, yet secretly I always felt like this relationship was on the brink of disaster.  

She went away one weekend, with her ex boyfriend who hit and verbally abused her before they had originally broken up.  (Let the record show that this was NOT the main reason, or any reason for that matter why they had broken up to begin with).  Throughout their 3-4 month break up she slept with pretty much every single guy that she met.  She made me feel much better about my own behavior because this was what a slut truly was.  Her pathetic ex-boyfriend pursued her aggressively throughout those 3-4 months.  He would call.  He would email.  He sent her flowers while she was at work.  I tried to encourage her to be strong but before I knew it she was smiling at his phone calls once again.  He invited her to go away with him to NYC for the weekend and she asked if I could be at the apartment to show her couches that she had posted on Craigslist.  It was no big deal to me, plus she had mentioned that the money would be used to pay for her portion of rent.  So I figured it was in my best interest to help out.  

When the Craig's Listers arrived they immediately asked me where my roommate was moving.  I was flabbergasted and on the spot said, "Oh, just right up the street."  

I had no clue that she had thought about moving.  She had not mentioned anything to me about doing so.  We had talked about how neither of us had any money.  We had talked about how scary it was to be grown adults that could not support themselves.  The difference was that I survived the year.  She did not.  She gave up.  

After they left I sent my roommate a txt asking where she was moving.

"Chicago"  was her reply.

I asked if she had told anybody at work yet.

"Why?" was her reply.

I was over it.  

The next night on her way back from NYC she mentioned to me that she would need for me to let her in because she left her apartment key in the car of the guy that she had been fucking the week before her pathetic ex-boyfriend picked her up to go away.  She said she would get in around 11pm but as the time passed it turned out to be 2am.  

I stayed up instead of attempting to fall asleep, wake up, and let them in and then try to get back to bed.  She was smiling, smirking and giggling when I let them in the building.  I was over her.

The next morning I showered and left before she had time to confirm that I was giving her a ride to work.  I knew that she didn't have her car and we had an event at work that we had to be there for and I purposefully did not want to help her in any way.  When she finally arrived at work she paged me and asked if she could talk to me.  Then she made a big production of her story about how this pathetic boyfriend had come crawling back.  In three months he had changed from the angry and abusive control freak into the kind of man she had always wanted.  I guess when you are out and about fucking the entire world it is harder to speak up for yourself when you ought to realize that you deserve better.  

She told me that she would sell the rest of her furniture and give the money to me to help me with rent.  She did no such thing.  Instead she gave me the number of that guy she had been fucking and told me to work it out with him.  When I contacted him about it he told me that she owed him $150 for the moving van that he had used to move it out of her old apartment and that he would not give it to me until he got his money.  Not only did she fuck me over this way, but had also rented a movie with my Hollywood Video account to watch with that guy and after asking and asking over and over if she had taken it back or not, I found out while in the checkout line and they told me I owed them $50.  

The biggest fuck-over of all in the situation is that she left one week before August rent was due not giving me any money to help me out.  When she told me that she was leaving the ONLY thing I asked of her was to have her furniture out of that guys place and into my own apartment so that I could easily sell it.  She couldn't even manage to do that, on top of fucking me over in more ways than one.  

If all this wasn't bad enough.  And as if we couldn't just move on from it and acknowledge that the whole situation just sucked one big giant dick, she insisted on texting and calling me for the next few weeks saying "I miss you" "Just arrived in NC" "Hope you are doing okay".  After I ignored all of these and never returned any of her phone calls she sends me this 6 txt screen long txt saying that she can't believe that I would end our "friendship" over money.  

I didn't reply to that one either.  

The great thing about moving to a place where you have no connections...is having no connections.  When stupid fucks like this come into your life and try to bring you down you can get rid of them on a whim.  

I would like to walk away from it saying that I learned a valuable lesson but truth be told, I hated the person I was when I was around her.  I started smoking again, I went out more often than I wanted to, and I wasn't the type of employee that I pride myself on being at work at the time.  She was an awful influence and that is why she got cut loose.  One of the last nights in the apartment together, after I had received the bad news and knew exactly what was coming, she came home with a bag from CVS.  She took out one of her purchases and it was a bottle of Pre-Natal vitamins.  I asked if she was pregnant and she said that she didn't know yet.  

All in all, who knows who the father is.  I hope the baby doesn't have to look up to two pathetic role models, instead of just the one.

Your Touch is so Magic to me...

The strangest things can happen...

It's been such a long time since I had real full-on CONTACT with another human being.  That is my G-Rated version of how I would actually prefer to express myself.  But with the knowledge that any day now my loving parents may grace my blog site with their presence I am beginning to edit (ever-so-slightly) my stories here.  But don't fret...there are many tales to still be told.  

They say that curiosity killed the cat, but then again, cats have nine fucking lives.

I made profiles again.  On "those-sites-whose-names-not-be-spoken" out of my raging curiosity.  I can't stand not knowing if I am missing out on something great.  As it turns out; 2 hours (and counting) of being logged on is telling me I am not.  

In that time span I have had 2 people shut me down once they saw my pictures.  I have received one angry email after deleting the first one (indicating my lack of interest to begin with).  I am out $30 because it is the only way it is actually worth being on the site anyhow, and now I am no better off than when I was forced to ONLY write on my blog (which didn't encourage, or stimulate me as much as actually having access to the sites has obviously turned out to give me).

After getting 3 and a half (IF THAT) hours of sleep last night and after working (no exaggeration) from 9AM to 9PM ((twas a GREAT day at work for me btw)) I am TOTALLY WORN OUT!  But when I got home I couldn't help but feel so inspired as to venture out on the town.  The tiresome woes got the best of me and after a 45 minute hot shower against my back I opted to stay home instead.  A little wave of depression always falls over me instantly when I realize that I am staying in, yet again (and alone).  I always wonder what I am missing.  I always think of who I may meet if I were to muster up the strength to wander out and about on this town and yet the funny thing is that I already know the answer.  I would throw myself upon this one and that one, and yet when I got home that night I would get that same overwhelming sadness either way.  

That episode of Sex and the City plays out in my head OVER AND OVER again...when Charlotte expresses her frustration, "WHERE IS HE?"  She talks about how frustrated she is because she has been the one of all the girls that has so actively sought after a relationship and yet for whatever reasons (Trey's limp dick) has NOT found them.

WHERE IS HE!!!!

Risque Business

I want to open up my own nightclub.  We would have nightly vegas style burlesque performances by (beautiful) women in scantily clad outfits and VERY high heels.  Tipping would not be allowed as it is tacky and degrading to women.  I would charge $500 for bottle service and front row tables.  $250 for second row, and so on.  Every one and their mother would be dying to go and the money would not mean a thing seeing as how my nightclub would be at the intersection of chic and high fashion.  

I would like this the most because I could make it everything I ever wanted in a nightclub.  I would have free drinks all night long.  If I wanted I could close the club for the night and open it up to ONLY my closest friends.  At that point in my life I would have enough money to fly them into town on a jet for an evening of chic naked women.  

This is just a taste of what you could see there....

No one wants to be defeated...

Funny thing about me.  I am a horrible flirt.  Well; I take that back.  I, personally, am an AMAZING flirt!  I am, in fact, ALL FLIRTATION ALL THE TIME.  The only problem with this is that I am a HORRIBLE judge of when I am being flirted with.  The guys that hit on me do not have a chance because when it comes to picking up the signals that these dudes are putting down, I'm a social Retard.  

This kills me too.  I can only pick up on it when I have too much to drink and then this poses another problem because I usually walk away from them without a cautious thought of a proposed date option.  I'm over it.  You should be so lucky as to be a fly on the wall when I am out and about on this one heck of a town.  

Tonight I was at the gym.  I was changing out of my gym clothes and getting ready to leave while the guy next to me was getting ready for his workout and just arriving to the gym.  He kept glancing over at me, and I kept glancing back, I can't help it, I check out EVERYBODY.  Then he seemed a little uneasy but I just suspected it to be the typical uneasiness that most straight guys get when I am staring them down.  For the most part I won't care and I typically don't lose focus on my obvious gaze.  That's the point.  But with this dude I just kind of stopped.  I was tired.  I was hungry.  What was the point anyway?  Then when I was about to grab my bag and jet he turned to me and asked how late the gym stayed open.  "Eleven," I told him, then I asked if he had just joined.  He seemed nervous, looked down to tie his shoe laces and mumbled something about not usually coming at night.  Whatever, I thought to myself.  I moved on.  It could have been quite possible that this was his way of trying to start up a conversation or not.  That is what bothers me and makes me fear the whole idea.  I am so scared of the "or not" that I don't ever try.  It was already bold of me to go on by saying "Oh are you new here?"  But that was as far as it could go.

I'm just a little chickenshit.

This one night I was at the Roxy.  I was walking circles as I usually do in an attempt to act like Roxy isn't too dark and too loud to talk to ANYBODY, including the people you came with.  At the end of the night I was getting ready to leave and I was standing next to the coat check line when this jacked up muscular guy with tats all down his arms was smirking at me.  I smirked back.  We had a witty exchange.  I made him laugh.  Then I just walked off.  WTF?  I don't even get me sometimes.  

I think that another aspect of this social retarded functioning stems from my early years in the gay scene.  I made quite a scene of my own in my adolescence so now I am so scared to act remotely the way I used to.  That behavior has gotten me nowhere.  To date I am still single and have actually NEVER had a real boyfriend (longer than 1 month).  So what gives?  

I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't.  

Moving here has really helped me to cool my jets.  I can't just find anybody to take home with me now because I set my standards higher.  The problem here is that in the meantime of doing so I also managed to put on 20 lbs.  I am now at my "heaviest" that I have ever been.  I know that all of it is not fat.  I am beefier now than I have ever been also.  Yet I am up to 190.  My goal weight is 165 but at this age and this weight I doubt that is possible without an entire bottle of hydroxycut and I don't believe in that sort of shit.  I don't even believe in STRICT diets.  So basically, I'm Fucked.

...but I want to be fair, just beat it!

Papa Don't Preach

Four years ago I came out to my parents.  It has been a long long long journey but I am really happy where it has arrived.  I flew into Charlotte on Sunday.  My friend John (also gay) and I went down to my parents Beach Condo that night.  

 When I first came out it took my parents a while to even consider letting me and another gay friend go down there.  I am not sure what they thought would happen.  Maybe we would play Diana Ross really loud and hiss at the straight couples while switching our hips as we walked by in our skimpy bathing suits.  Thus far, the only thing in this assumption to ring true has been the skimpy-yet-not as skimpy as could be bathing suits.  It was a big deal that they even SUGGESTED that I bring another friend with me to the beach, as opposed to four years ago when they had to talk it over with the family that we shared the condo with.  

 

I made it a point to make sure on my first visit with my friend Dale to leave a lasting impression.  Dale and I cleaned the condo better than any of the other people that have ever stayed there.  This really impressed my folks.  

 

So John and I went Sunday night.  The plan was that my parents would meet us on Tuesday.  I was 50/50.  Half was nervous that John would speak out of turn (its just in his nature) and that I would regret bringing him.  The other half was anxious and excited for my parents to meet my normal and (for the most part) sane gay friend.  There were only a few things here and there that John mentioned throughout the week that I could have gone without, but in the end I figured I'm 4 years in, what else have I got to loose?

 

I think that it really helped having him there.  We opened doors that would have been left shut otherwise.  When I spoke to John about my uneasiness around my folks he suggested I just ask them.  One day John, my dad, and me were walking along the beach, and John went into the water.  While he was out there I took the opportunity to ask my dad if he was comfortable with everything that had happened that week.  He said that he knew eventually I would bring someone around that I was dating and that he would have to get used to it sooner or later.  This moved me to tears.  It is a very different man than the one I grew up with.  I have watched my parents grow and mature in my lifetime into the best pair of parents anyone could ever have.  I guess that goes hand in hand with my own growth and maturity in becoming their adult son.  

 

I began to cry and told my dad that I was so thankful for the way that he and Mom had treated me since coming out and that I only know what unconditional love is because of the love that they have shown me since I began coming out to them.  He began to tear up and I realized that my emotions were stemming not only from my overwhelming gratefulness of their reactions but also because I had too much Sweet Tea Vodka, so I hit him on the back and told him to man up and we quit our tears together.  We gave two big heartfelt hugs and kept walking.  

 

Throughout the week John told me and my dad that he was jealous of our relationship.  This made my dad feel REALLY good.  I know that he has been through a lot in his life and that he prides himself on being a great father.  I am glad that an outsider was able to recognize and congratulate his efforts because he is a great father.  He has set an amazing example for me at what it takes to be a real man.  In my adult life he has become not only a great father but a great friend.  I was so anxious to see him and my mom when I got into town.  I was almost mad that they were out of town and not there as soon as I got there.  I miss them often.  Even if I don't get a chance to call them as much as they would like.  I think about them all the time and although I wish I would live in the same town as them and have lunches and dinners whenever we wanted together I know that away from home is the place for me to succeed at the moment.

 

                                                        My friends keep telling me to give it up, 

                                                              saying I'm too young I oughta live it up, 

                                                                       what i need right now is some good advice

                                                                                          .....papa don't preach

Gay-Bay-Bay

I'm serious.  At the end of this year, I will turn in my gay card.  I give up.  I'm done trying to make the most of things.  I am tired of listening to all these stories about how when people were not looking they found it.  I am tired of seeing all of the mismatches in the world.  It makes me sick.  I am tired of getting hit on by guys that already have boyfriends, partners, or LEGAL husbands FOR THAT MATTER!

I am sick of old men hitting on me.  When I say old I mean over 40 and over 50.  I have a daddy.  I don't need another one.  I am sick of getting hit on by flaming queeny fags that arch their eyebrows and wear the slightest bit of foundation.  

Its hard to call it normal.  For so long gay people have yearned to be considered normal, just different instead of being the exact opposite of straight society.

I have a friend that keeps saying that other people tell him that he has a heterosexual mindset.  I keep wondering who these people are because in our best bud trio he is the only one who gives that suggestion validation.  It makes no sense to me to view matters in a straight vs. gay mentality.  When we do this we alienate ourselves from the "norm" and create a new (worse) stigma.  

This theory also pisses me off because of how many married couples I know that are not living this proposed "heterosexual mentality" out either.  They are not monogamous and they are unhappy.  

I randomly ran into two girl friends from my past at Dean and Deluca while I was home.  We had lunch together and they were asking me about my dating life (as everyone does when you are single and they are not).  I was telling them about my frustration with gay people when it comes to monogamy and relationships.  I mentioned my beliefs in not being totally for gay marriage because we are not leading by example as a people.  They agreed with that and went on to talk about how angry they get when they see other (straight) couples who claim to have what they have in marriage.  One of the girls said it angered her to think of people claiming marriage when they were not true to one another.  

It was assuring, though not so much comforting, to hear that straight monogamous (and REAL) couples feel the same way.  

I keep fantasizing that I will run into him at a coffee shop.  Or we will reach for the same DVD at blockbuster.  Maybe we will keep cracking a smile every time we pass one another in the isles at Trader Joe's.  We could strike up a conversation and decide to make dinner with one another.   His groceries would compliment mine and we would laugh that it had worked out in such a way.  It would be easy.  Seamless.  

But its not.  Dammit.  There is too much stress that goes into it.  I get stressed out in these situations because I often feel like there is too much riding on it.  What if he likes me.  What if he is just being kind.  What if he thinks that my gut is too big.  What if he has a BOYFRIEND.  What if he is married?  What if he is an asshole.

There is just a lot standing in the way of my grandiose dreams.  After all;

a dream is a wish your heart makes...

Schwetty Pants

It blows my mind at the amount of people in sweat pants around here.  I mean, not JUST the pants, but the tops too.  They are wearing sweat-suits!  Its disgusting.  Aside from the fact that I think everyone should be stepping it up a notch, even if just to run a few errands, it is just plain gross.  I haven't worn sweat pants since the third grade.  Once you reach a certain age there are things that are just not that attractive in sweats.  

Your penis, for one.  Although I enjoy a little man-on-man every now and then.  No one's penis looks good in sweats and for the most part the people wearing them should not be showing it off.  Do you even realize that when you wear sweats EVERYONE (including your mother) can see it poking around in there?  The worst part is that you have to realize that the people who are so brazen as to wear sweats in public are being so defiant against the world and saying "I want to be SO COMFORTABLE!" that they did not even bother to wear underwear.  They have this entire mindset that helps them become accustomed to the comfort of sweats and they even thrive off of how great they feel against the bare skin.  

This is also a time when you realize that the women in sweat-suits should be wearing SOME sort of bra.  For the most part your boobs are not just naturally perky.  Most all women need some sort of support or shaping to get them in the right places.  So if we can all acknowledge this information when we are striving to put our best breast forward, then why-oh-why are we letting them hang down underneath our armpits when we adorn our "me-so-Juicy" (Couture) sweats?

Another thing that pisses me off is grown women that can't figure out how to get rid of their panty lines.  I got a haircut yesterday and my chair faces the front desk lady.  Typically I don't mind because she smiles at me a lot and thinks that ever thing I say is the funniest thing she has ever heard in her life.  But yesterday was different.  Not only was she wearing white jeans (which should only be worn for the white party - ONCE a year) but she had OUTRAGEOUSLY noticeably panty lines.  She might as well have been wearing a jock-strap.  Then as I took a closer look I realized that it looked as though she was wearing one of those slimming body suits, or as some would call it a body girdle.  This made me even more mad.  What is the point in not being able to breath or let your stomach out all day long if your butt is going to look like folded up pancakes in your white denim capris?  

All I know is that it is a tough world out there.  And if you are one of these people beware; I'm not the only one watching.

Beer. Bourbon. BBQ. Carolina pt. 2

My good friend Lindsey was kind enough to let Mike, Rich, and myself stay at her place for the weekend.  We each got our own place to sleep which made it even more of a pleasant stay.  

In the morning we got ready and headed over to Dean and Deluca for some coffee and muffins.  I, OF COURSE, had the GLORIOUS MORNING MUFFIN!  An amazing way to start your day off right but I have YET to find such a wonderful delight in beantown, as of yet.

John and his guy Chris met us for coffee, Lindsey came later.  While eating I got a txt from Dana reminding me to bring bathing suits for the pool after the festival.  This was the BEST IDEA I had ever heard!  

It turned out to be a really warm day so a dip in the pool was the best way to end up.  The Beer and Bourbon fest was something else.  I have never drank so much WITHOUT getting even the slightest buzz!  It was especially awkward because our routine was pretty much a shot of bourbon with a beer chaser for 2 hours straight!  Then it was time for the BBQ.  I was a little disheartened to find that the rumored BBQ (free sample) vendors turned out to JUST be Mac's and it was not by any means FREE.  It was, however, quite cheap.  6 dollars bought me a BBQ Chicken Sandwich and two sides.  MMM-MMM-GOOD!

By the time dinner rolled around we were ZONKED.  Everyone was kind of quite throughout dinner.  I had managed to get a sun burnt farmer's tan and the sting of the burn was killing me down.  I felt feverish and my stomach didn't feel so hot from leftover beer and bourbon.  Like a champ I managed to put back a Black Bean Burger from the Penguin anyhow!

When we reached the venue for Scott's show we were worn out.  We were told to get there around 9.  The show started sometime after 9:30.  When we arrived we found out that they were not going on until 12:30.  We let them know that we were sorry but we would not be able to make it.

It was a quiet night but we could not have stayed up until midnight even if we had tried.  When we returned to Lindsey's we rallied around the computer while I researched the perfect Mother's Day Brunch Menu.  I searched through tons of recipes on the Food Network website.  Our menu read like this:

Broiled Vanilla-Ginger Grapefruit

Cinnamon and Pear Stuffed French Toast

Egg Casserole with Sweet Italian Sausage, Sun-dried tomatoes, and Shallots

It was SO GOOD!  We picked up the groceries on the way and even though I told my parents we would eat at 1030 we sat down for brunch around 1pm!  It was well worth the wait.

In the afternoon we dropped Mike off at the airport to head back to the cold and gloomy north.  My family came over for a cookout that night and it was good to see all of my cousins.  My aunt arrived and it was the first time I had seen her since she had gastric bypass surgery.  She has lost over 90 lbs and it was really awkward.  She can't eat ANYTHING.  

She and my Mom (they are twins) have been the same size for as long as I can remember.  People have confused them often because of their similar looks.  It is weird to think that one twin went through something so drastic while the other stays the same.  

My mom told me that it is NOT for her and we left it at that.  I could tell it was something that she did not want to discuss any further.

After the family parted ways, Rich and I went to see Star Trek at what USED to be the nicest theatre in Charlotte.  Regal at Stonecrest has gone DOWN THE DRIAN!  This is to say the LEAST!  When we walked into our theatre (Regal now has an IMAX theatre) I was appalled.  There was trash and popcorn strewn all over the place.  There were soda cups and half eaten buckets of popcorn all over the theatre.  The floor was so gross and sticky with spilt soda that Rich's flip-flop clung to it and as he took another step forward the strap popped breaking his sandel.  This was the last straw for me.  "I'll be right back" I told him and I made my way to the "Customer Service" desk out front.  "Hi, Yes, excuse me...is any one going to clean the IMAX theatre?"  I asked politely.  He said that it was 30 min before the show, and that nobody was supposed to be in there yet.  I agreed with him and went on to inform him that there were at least 10 people in there already and that the place was filthy.  He made no efforts to convey a sense of urgency and just moseyed on over to the guy taking tickets to hand him a broom and a bucket.  

I just shook my head in disbelief.  One guy would not be able to hose down the theatre.  What drove me nuts about the entire experience is that we wound up paying $15 to sit in the dirtiest theatre I have ever been in.  This was more than I have ever paid for movies up here and they are said to be more expensive in the north.  

Two tears in a popcorn bucket, mutherfuckitt.

In My Mind I'm going to Carolina...

I just got back from my trip to the Carolinas and I would have to say that it has been my most productive visit since I originally left town over one year ago.  

I made it a point to start off on the right foot by heading to the beach with my parents.  First my friend Johnny Z and I headed down that way on Sunday night after I got in and managed to catch up with a few friends before making the trek.  When I picked up JZ I just had to let him know that when we went to the Food Lion (Grocery Store) to pick up some cat food (yeah, since I left Charlotte, he has gotten cats - I would have NEVER let this happen!) and while in the parking lot I promise you that I saw more black people in the 10-15 minutes I was waiting than I have seen ALL YEAR in MASSACHUSETTS!  NO LIE!

I took John to the ONLY gay bar in Myrtle Beach, "Time Out".  It definitely lives up to its name by all means.  This bar is a time out from reality.  It is infested with local South Carolina flavor and if you take a gamble on the right night you can meet up with the ONLY OTHER visitor in the bar.  We had no such luck.

It was fun hanging out with my parents and John together.  At first it was a little nerve racking for myself because I didn't know how they would feel after they found out that he was a 40-year-old virgin (only part of that statement is true).  John also is originally from NY so he often times does not think before speaking.  This is a talent that is perfected in the South.  Although they aren't the brightest of bulbs in the pack, southerners take the cake when it comes to watching what they say, even if it is in the form of a backhanded compliment.  

Back in Charlotte I threw a party for myself.  I logged onto Facebook and created an event and invited a whole bunch of people.  16 or so showed up which is more than Zero.  It was fun to see everybody and most of them all knew each other anyway.  

After this I went with my friends Nicolette and Michael to a bar called Snug Harbor.  They seemed excited and pumped about it so I thought I would give it a shot.  As it turns out, Snug Harbor is ANOTHER Scott Weaver/Boris and Natasha/Pecan Avenue Gang Bar.  OVER IT.  How many times can you go to a Glam Rock Party before it looses all its luster?  Twice.  You can go to exactly two Glam Rock Parties before you are completely over the entire theme.  If my own personal knowledge of just how lame Scott Weaver is wasn't bad enough to make me leave then it was when he got on the microphone to tell everyone about how some New York club owner person asked him to do coke with him in the bathroom and said that Scott's Thursday night Glam Rock party in Charlotte, North Carolina was better than any club in New York.  

I wondered how much cocaine they had already done.

My Beantown buddies flew into town Friday night.  They arrived in time for me to take them to Tutto Mundo where I quickly began to realize that 40-year-old John had become the early 20's Justin from days gone by.  It was weird to see him saying hello to every single faggot in the bar.  Kisses from france, hugs and jokes.  He knew them all.  I had a new sense of self during this go round with the Charlotean Gays.  They were not as fearful or depressing rather as they have been in the past.  It was fun because I knew it wouldn't last.  It was fun because they are a sight to see.  It was also fun because my friends had never seen "Small town" nightlife and this was it at its finest.  After Tutto Mundo we went to a "new" bar called the Gun and Garden Club.  There were no guns and no garden.  It was also WAY BACK in a dark corner of the city with nothing else around it.  It would make for the perfect spot for a couple of white suprimicist skinheads to hang out and gay bash fags all night long as they exited the club.  It used to be a club owned by a crazy cokehead lesbian.  She took all the proceeds from the door and her events and used them for drugs so it was only open for a good two months.  This was the venue where Crystal Waters performed, and I went to her hotel to hook up with one of her backup dancers.  It was one of my finer moments.

So at the Gun and Garden club we had a lot of fun.  It was only fun for me because I was with real friends.  In Charlotte I had always felt a disconnect.  I talked to the people around me but only because I had to.  Now I didn't have to because I already knew that I had other people to talk to.

The next day is when the real fun began...