If you don't stand for something...

I have decided to take a stance. Mr. B. and I talked on Saturday and traded a couple of text messages on Saturday night, followed by one or two on Sunday morning.

I was in a really weird mood Sunday morning. It was a combination of depressed, sad, exhausted, anxious, rage, frustration etc. But none of it positive. I have just been working so hard lately, and frankly feeling beyond tired. I was irritated with Mr. B. and decided that I was tired of me ALWAYS being the one that picks up the phone to call and take that initiative. I just felt like the only time that he would call would be when he was returning one of my calls.

This is a perpetual feeling, mind you. I always feel like I am the one trying to make something work. I am always the one that is putting up the fight, and again on Sunday, I had had enough. I put my foot down and decided not to call him, and would wait for him to call me.

Thank goodness I wasn't holding my breath, cause I would have died while waiting for him to call. No phone call Sunday. No phone call Monday. Pathetic text message on Monday evening that read something about why was I being a stranger and he missed me. Sounded like BS to me, so my response was that he could dial my number just as easily as I could dial his.

No response. No phone call Tuesday. I emailed him something asinine that I thought he would think was funny this morning. Immediate response. See, if I take the initiative, he responds. But I don't always like taking the initiative.

I want someone who wants me. And badly. I want someone who gives me everything that I know that I deserve. I want a fighter who will fight for my attention and my time. I want someone who puts me high on his totem pole of importance.

I just don't know if Mr. B. is ever going to give me what I want. Being bored and wanting to be entertained by him can only go on for so long.

So, I have decided to take a stance. If you don't stand for something, you will fall for anything. I am not going to reach out to him any longer. If he wants something, he can try getting it himself. No more giving myself to him without him giving something of himself to me - TIME.

Soundtrack of My Life

It is so interesting to me how certain songs bring back certain memories and fill you up with emotion - all based on the meaning that the particular song has for you. And it totally varies for each song what memory it is that we attach to it.

For example, I cannot listen to Modest Mouse's "Ocean Breathes Salty" without thinking about driving back from the beach, kinda drunk with a brown paper bag wrapped forty in between my legs, (I know...thought it was a good idea at the time, but clearly wasn't) windows rolled down and the sunroof open, feeling sun kissed and singing along with the words at the top of my lungs with an ex-boyfriend. Every time it comes on the shuffle, this is the exact memory that I have.

And Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA". Every time that I hear that song, the memory that immediately comes to mind is sitting in some queer bar in some random town in Florida with Mr. B watching some God awful drag queen wear a horrible outfit and fake looking blond wig while performing terribly to the song. But we had so much fun singing along with it and poking fun at her. The song had just come out and was beyond popular with the gays.

That was the first time that Mr. B and I kissed. We were getting a little drunk at the bar. I instinctively knew that he was gay. For Christ's sake, he had been pursuing me for weeks. But he had never once said that he actually was gay. Before we went out to the bar, I told him it was a queer bar. He had no objections. He had just driven almost two hours to come and see me. Of course he was gay. I planted one right on him at the bar. And I am sure proceeded to make it with him. It was the first night that we hooked up too. No sex. Just fooled around...very drunkenly fooled around.

Each and every single person that I am close with has at least one song that has one distinct memory attached to it that is etched in my mind forever. Every time I listen to MGMT - it's PP. Goose? I don't think that a 12 disc CD changer would be able to hold all of our songs. I made a soundtrack for our matching tattoos. Of course we have music together. "I'll Fly With You" is totally Bellini. I don't know why. Maybe cause we rocked out to it in her car while parked in front of the Doubletree Hotel before we went into the club. Literally sat there and jammed out, singing at the top of our lungs and dancing in our seats. And VSC has too many songs to list as well. She is in same category as Goose.

Songs bring back such a distinct memory for me. Maybe it was the first time that I heard it, or something momentous happened while it was on in the background. It could have even been a mundane experience, but each time the song comes on the radio, or on a commercial on TV, or on my iPod, it triggers that memory that is planted in my mind forever. I could list so many more songs, and many more memories - most good memories, but some bad and sad ones thrown in there as well.

I just really enjoy music. Who doesn't? My current faves are simply the soundtrack to my life. And truly, if only cameras were following me around and inserting popular or my favorite music as interludes a la "The Hills" or any other MTV reality show, my life would be complete.

Is love right in front of me?

I have been contemplating this for the past few days. What if I have found the love of my life and I didn't realize that they actually were that person? Is it possible that the love of my life is right in front of me, has been for a while, and it is just now resonating with me that this is the ONE?

I don't even know why I bring this up. Actually, I do. A couple of people have brought it up to me lately, but I just laugh it off.

But then the other night, I announced loudly that I had a revelation. And the revelation was that maybe I am in love with this person. The response from Bellini and VSC? "That's not really a revelation. Everyone already knows that. We are all just waiting for you two to act on it." Well played Skinner, well played.

Of course, after downing one two many cocktails that evening at the bar, I proceed to call Mr. B. and left him a 39 second voicemail. I "allegedly" - and I use the term allegedly because I have not yet listened to said voicemail - professed my love to him and told him that he was the only one for me. He of course is being persistent and doesn't want to drop the topic in daily convo and has to continually ask me if this is how I truly feel about him. My response? OF course I love you, I just don't know what kind of love it is yet.

Is it the Savage Garden "Truly, Madly, Deeply" type of love? I don't think it is. Is it a friendship type love? That's there for sure. Or is it something in between? The latter is the most likely scenario. Something more than friends but less than the "head over heels in love" type of love.

I also had to let Mr. B. know that prior to my calling him, I was not wearing any shoes but still wearing my sunglasses, and was lying down in the park, begging my friends to just let me pass out there, while arguing with a homeless man about the legality of being able to sleep in the park that is a mere three blocks from my house. LMAO! Only me...

So, is love right in front of me? And who is it that I am truly in love with?

Mr. Belvedere

Mr. Belvedere - or Doucher as I like to refer to him as - is someone who came into my life a little less than a year ago. Closeted, involved in the same type of work that I do, Republican, and for some reason I find him very attractive. Don't get me wrong...he is cute. But not typically the type of guy that I would normally find attractive. Think Charlotte and Harry from SATC. And of course, I am Charlotte.

Witty banter, sexual tension and political arguing somehow make it work. Whatever IT is. I don't know. We have something. Something special. Is it love? I don't know. I don't know if it is possible to love someone who lets you down on a regular basis. Not sure if it's possible to love someone that you have only slept with a few times. The sex was always fantastic. And that's important to me. I get self conscious...I'm gay for Christ sake. And sometimes, it is difficult for me to find that sexual chemistry with someone else. But we have it. Doucher and Skinner.

Unfortunately, seems like it is doomed to fail. Long distance relationships with someone who is closeted and a Republican, wants children and who will likely not come out of the closet, no matter how many carrots you dangle in front of the rabbit's face, does not seem like something that will end in a fairy tale romance with me being swept off of my feet and hand delivered an AMEX Black card.

Why do I continue to entertain someone who consistently lets me down, forgets to call when he say he will, puts me at the bottom of his totem pole on the important people in his life, and the list could go on and on and on and on...??

Simple. He entertains me. I get bored easily, and he makes that boredom go away. I do have very genuine feelings for him, but in the same regard, we both want such different things in life. And his naivety is what spawns what he wants and doesn't want. He does not know what it is like to be a gay man in the South, and nor does he know what it is like to have been taunted and bullied while growing up and in high school (likely because had we lived in the same town, he would have been the one saying the hurtful things to people like me).

Mr. Belvedere. Can't live with you, and can't live without you. He - of course - will play a role in this blog, just like he plays a role in my life. You will hear more about him. And maybe he will decide to do something beyond romantic one day for me and truly sweep me off my feet. No...it does not have to be a Black AMEX...but a simple gesture to show that he cares about me like I care about him would mean more than the world to me.

Let's Get Inked - GMFL

GMFL. That is what is about to be tattooed onto my ribcage within the hour. An uploaded photo of the tatty will come soon, don't you even worry.

I had always thought that I would get a tattoo when I was around 16 years old. Something that "meant something" to me in Chinese. Of course, it would probably actually read something else knowing my luck. Or it was going to a tribal band around my calf or something. An extremely attractive and popular soccer player in high school had gotten one after he had graduated and was abroad "discovering who he was". And by discover, he came back and broke up with his girlfriend because he liked the way the D tasted. I envied him so much, and wanted a tattoo like him.

Fast forward to going with a friend on her 18th birthday to get hers. It was the usual tramp stamp that she had to have. It wasn't flash and she had drawn it. But in the typical tramp stamp place. I held her hands and realized the permanency of her new ink. And also witnessed the pain that she was in. But, she had done multiple colors and it was a decent size - so I guess you have to take that into account as well.

After that, I swore off tattoos. Nope, I would not be getting one. I was better than that. I did not want the pain, nor the permanent artwork on my body. What would I want to live with on my person for the rest of my life was the question that I constantly asked myself and I could never come up with a good enough answer.

Well, that was all until GMFL came about. Something special between Goose and I. And we have joked for awhile that we would get it tattooed on our bodies somewhere, someday. I said that it needed to be in a place that does not see the light of day. Like my taint. Or the inside of my lip. I was seriously ROTFLMAO when Goose said that we were not horses and therefore could not get it tattooed on the inside of our lips. I remember that day well. I was in out in public running errands. And I remember thinking to myself how all of those people must have thought that I was insane becuase I could not stop laughing. Like a hyena. That put an end to that, but not that GMFL tattoo as we have talked about it since the GMFL inception.

Today. GMFL. It's happening within the next hour. We werethisclose to doing it last weekend. But didn't due to an hour long wait at the ink parlor. And my anxiety was never going to be able to handle that long of a wait. All signs point towards yes tonight though. Picked out a font that we believe is artistic and that I can live with for the rest of my life. There is no wait at the place we are going to. So...why not? YOLO.

No first tattoo experience could quite be complete (at least not to a queer man such as myself) without the proper soundtrack. I didn't really know exactly what would be considered music to get tattooed to. I looked online and found nothing. And the Genius recommendations of iTunes did not suggest anything after I purchased a cocktail jazz CD that would suggest "music to get your ink on". So, I created my own soundtrack. And it is - of course - appropriately titled: "Let's Get Inked - GMFL". Although maybe "Get Your Ink On" would have been a more appropriate title? I digress...

I am about to pop the tattoo virginity. It's my body. GMFL.


UPDATE: Tattoo completed. It hurt like a bitch. GMFL.

Why Aren't There Cameras Following Me at All Times?

Seriously. I ask myself this question all of the time. My life is literally like a reality TV show, and you truly cannot make this stuff up - even if you tried.

I would almost guarantee that if there actually were cameras following me around a la Ed TV style, I would surely be one of the highest rated, and longest running shows on television. The situations that I find myself in on an ongoing basis border on insanely ridiculous, to beyond drama filled, to so out there crazy that you would swear that the my day-to-day life is not actually a work of non-fiction.

Currently, my job has taken me to a part of Florida that is beyond out of my element. The people are uber conservative, right wing nut jobs, and for someone who leans a more to the left (predominantly on social issues) it is slightly more than odd to be here. On more than one occasion, I have been told - so as to try and fit in a little better - to "gay it down" a little bit. Now, don't get me wrong, I know that I am not the most masculine gay man, and nor am I the most feminine of them. But the only way I know how to "gay it down" would be to not open my mouth.

The town gossip stopped by the house the other day. This. Is. CLASSIC. Here came another "tone down the gayness" speech. Before they came over, I was expressly told to not be seen hugging my Chihuahua, use the word "fuck", lay spread eagle on the couch, or have anything on the TV other than Fox News. If you know me, then you know that I literally spend my entire day clutching my Chihuahua Pepe while flipping back and forth on the TV between LOGO, 9-5 starring Dolly Parton, Golden Girls and Will and Grace, screaming the word FUCK and laying spread eagle on the couch in a pair of short shorts with a straw in my mouth drinking a Shirley Temple.

All kidding aside though, this is merely one instance in my everyday life that is beyond hysterical, laugh out loud funny, you can't make this shit up even if you tried scenario that I am always in. And the town gossip didn't end up coming over. Laughter ensued at the ridiculous things I was told I could not do in front of them after their lack of arrival.

From the shenanigans that I get into on my own, to the predicaments that I find myself in at always the most inopportune moments of my life, I am not sure how or why some of these things happen to me. I let it all roll off of my back and smile about it all later.

More craziness to come soon. Trust.