the.applied.process.

wit. honesty. everyday ramblings.

Category: Anxiety

26.08.2011

Take it east (Love nothing)

“Don’t take it too bad it is nothing you did. It’s just once something dies you can’t make it live”.

Wednesday night I slept over! I feel accomplished yet meek. I’ll backtrack a bit. I did bike ride to sushi. I had all sorts of raw sea creatures and some beer all by myself just how I like it. It brings me back to my days living in LA when I would go alone to Little Tokyo, order enough sushi, sake, and beer to feed a small Japanese village, and then bike home and pass out. At around midnight I headed to the bar. I smoked a cigarette outside before going in and met the usual familiar faces. I walked in and ordered a beer (that was my mood for the night). I proceeded to say hi to DJ who didn’t give me my usual peck, instead we just acknowledged our presence. I left him to his own turn table devices and walked back to the bar to talk to two guys who had hit on me the moment I got there. One of them, the ugly one, was being very annoying touching my beard and asking for my phone (the actual gadget, not the number). I politely excused myself and his friend, the cute one, apologized.

I finished my drink and went outside to have another cigarette and call a friend. I called ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ to discuss my upcoming California trip, talked for two smokes’ time, said hi to another familiar face, and went back in. I ordered a second beer and sat by the bar talking to some young, ugly, rich fatty who seemed nice but I could tell he was miserable. He struck me as the guy who doesn’t know how to socialize and relies on his wealth and connections to try and entrance others into liking him. I am sorry but wealth will never be what gets me. I was all by myself and bored so I gave him the time of the day for a bit. I kept staring at DJ off the corner of my eye. He wasn’t his usual self. I excused myself and went to the bathroom.

On my way back to the bar, I ran into another familiar face, some attractive guy from grindr who had sent me a very nice full frontal of himself, and who I’d met a few weeks ago through DJ. I approached him and stroke up a conversation. His boyfriend joined (yes, he has a man, no, that didn’t stop him from sending noodz). It was all around nice. We went outside to have a ciggy and ran into this other boy I kind of have been obsessed with for a long time. I introduced myself pretending I vaguely new who he was (in reality, he might’ve popped up once or twice in my head as I was busting a nut).  We went back in for more drinks.

DJ was being a bit more attentive. I saw him make out with some random guy by the bathroom. Later he came over to talk to me. The guys I was smoking with were all nice. We talked a bit more and one by one they disappeared. I went outside to have another smoke.

Throughout the whole night, black dude from last Friday was lingering around the bar. I said hi to him, it was a very: “I know you and you know me and we’ve both fooled around with the same guy, but that’s OK, I (me), unlike you, do not care because if I want to, he’s spending the night with me” exchange of politeness. I wasn’t keeping tabs on him, but I believe he left at around 3am. I somewhat remember him saying goodbye.

I went back inside and noticed a cute boy staring at me. I ordered a drink and approached him pretending he was a friend of a friend (who is actually a friend of mine, but who’s really paying attention). He invited me to sit. Him and his Australian friend were nice. I could tell he was into me. DJ’s make out buddy was nowhere to be seen. I went outside with new boy and he suggested we go home together. I kind of really wanted to so I went back inside to tell DJ I was leaving when BOOM! who’s pussy whipped?! that’s right. ME! DJ suggested I come over. I went outside and told cute boy I had to stay with my friend who needed to talk and made plans to see him next week. JESUS CHRIST! what the hell?!

** side note: I am going to try and rationalize this. I think I stayed for many valid reasons (or at least I’m trying to convince myself they are): DJ is a safe lay, way safer than a complete stranger; I wanted to prove that neither black dude nor other dude would leave with him (why the fuck am I this territorial! I guess I don’t care what he does when I’m not there, but when I am, I somewhat do? especially if I know I’m way better looking than the other options); DJ lives a few blocks away, cute boy lives somewhere in south Brooklyn; I biked and I had to work the next morning, it would be easier to get to work from DJ’s; I wanted to see if I could do a two night in a row situation with him. All in all, I think that, although they might seem like stupid reasons, they somewhat make sense, and also, leaving with cute boy would’ve been something I did just to show DJ that me coming to his party does not mean me sleeping over. Who am I!? **

I went back to DJ, we finished drinks and went home. No sex, just cuddle. I liked it.

Thursday I woke up and got ready. DJ invited me to go see Cat Power with him that night. Three nights in a row?! I don’t think I’m in Kansas anymore. I told him I had to hang out with a friend (‘Fixie’) so I couldn’t. It was raining outside. I biked to work and ended completely drenched. The day was slow. My dear ‘Fixie’ flaked on our bike riding plans because of the rain so I texted DJ and asked him if he still wanted company. He replied: “I’d love to”.

After work I biked to the west village, met him and his best friend for a nice pescatarian dinner, and then we biked to Webster Hall. I was a bit annoyed that DJ charged me for the ticket. I am aware he is Jewish, but the thing about me is if you’re not stingy with me, you get the world in return. Naturally, he gave his best friend a ticket for free. The show was amazing. Her voice is surreal, and other than the masses of lesbians (nothing against them), and boys who looked like lesbians swaying back and forth with their eyes closed, I had a good time. Me and DJ were acting disgustingly cute and lesbiany. Yes, for a second there, I was holding him from the back and we were swaying. I laughed the whole time in my head.

We left before the encore and walked towards the gym where his best friend had left his stuff. We picked up the bag, kissed goodnight, and biked our separate ways. Did I want to spend the night again? Maybe, but I don’t think for the right reasons. It would’ve been just to prove to myself that I could, and that would entail neglecting my puppy, so I made the conscious decision of not even trying to suggest it. I texted ‘Fixie’, per his suggestion, to see if he was down to meet me for a drink. It was around 11pm, and he never replied. I went home, bought some beer, delved into the various social media, and passed out around 3am.

Today I’ve been making lots of jokes about the hurricane. I don’t know why, but I love the fact that everyone in New York is so jaded that they find it funny and find it a reason to party. Me and ‘Fixie’ already have something in mind for the weekend. I haven’t talked to DJ. I don’t know what’s going on, again, I’m just going with the flow. Tonight I have a date with ‘Nickle’. We are going to his friends’ place in the Upper West Side for a BBQ. We will see how that goes. All I want to say now is that last night I was having a bit of anxiety about this whole situation. I don’t like the feeling of losing control. I was listening to music and I remembered who I used to be. I will try to refocus on that.

“Now I do as I please and lie through my teeth, someone might get hurt, but it won’t be me. I should probably feel cheap but I just feel free.. and a little bit empty. No, it isn’t so hard to get close to me, there will be no arguments, we will always agree, and I’ll try and be kind when I ask you to leave. We’ll both take it easy.”

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19.08.2011

Family, Fuck Buddies, and Fuckin’ Beyonce!

Monday night my sister had a layover in Newark and missed her connecting flight to Spain. For some bizarre illogical reason my parents asked me to book her a room at a nearby hotel room rather than her taking a cab over to Brooklyn and sleeping at my place. She wasn’t leaving till the next day at 9 pm, but apparently, common sense doesn’t run in this family. I thought it did. I downed a few buck-a-piece PBRs and forgot about the situation.

The next morning, I get a call from her saying she’s coming to New York. I tell her to take a cab. Five minutes later she calls me back saying she’s taking the train because they told her a cab would be $120. Again, I know she’s never been to New York, but she’s well traveled, how the hell does that make sense?! A cab to and from Newark is never more than four Jacksons ($20 dollar bills for my international readers, although I’m quite certain that most Americans don’t know that either). Regardless, I headed to Penn Station to wait for her. I called her as soon as I arrived. She hadn’t even left Jersey! I wanted to shoot myself because, if you know me, you know how impatient I am especially when it’s about common sense situations. She finally arrived, and we started the day.

** side note: me and my sister don’t have a close relationship at all. On the contrary, we never talk, and it wasn’t really till she turned 18 and I was 23 that we begun to barely hang out. Before, we just didn’t. Furthermore, I would probably drown in roll over minutes if her number was the only one I could dial. I know I’m like that with my parents, but not as severe. It is not that I don’t love her, it is just how we grew up. Regardless, just like my friends, the moment I see her it’s like I saw her the day before. **

My 5-hour-first-time-visitor-quick-tour-of-New-York started with a walk through the sea of tourists that is Times Square. I’m not sure if she was afraid of what I would say or if she just didn’t care, but she did not ask to stop for a photo op (thank GOD!). We just swam through the crowd and boarded the 50th street 1 train uptown to Columbus Circle. I pointed out the city’s top restaurant (according to the S. Pellegrino’s World 50 Best Restaurants) Per Se, she’s a chef so she likes these things. We strolled through the park till we arrived at 5th ave. I showed her the now under remodel Apple store. She wanted to buy some shoes so, naturally, I took her to Bergdorf’s. No luck. Then we walked to Rockefeller Center, went to the top floor, and took pictures of the view which, to me, is the best as far as rooftops in New York go.

We carried on with our shoe hunt, which lead us to Saks. She found a pair of Choo Shoes she liked but they weren’t available in her size. We walked to the Choo shop, but it was closed. Finally, we headed towards the 6 train and stopped at Bloomingdale’s where she purchased some cute Prada flats. We got on the train and off at Grand Central Station. She took a few pictures and ended up at the Bar à Huîtres indulging in some oysters, mussels, clams, and crustaceans. We had a nice chat about my dad’s crazy and annoying family.

Her time was running out. I took her to my apartment really fast so she could see my dog and some of Brooklyn. We didn’t stay long. We headed back to the city and ate a lite early dinner at DBGB because, as I stated, she’s a fan of certain chefs, in this case Daniel Boulud. The food was nice. I called her a car and off she went on a $58 ride back to Newark. I haven’t talked to her since.

I went back to Brooklyn and ended up wasting time till I met ‘Fixie’ for some Criff Dogs and drinks. We biked to a couple of bars ending up at Metropolitan. A couple acquaintances of him were there. We chatted with a guy I find attractive but happens to be a male hustler (probably subconsciously why I like him). He was there with two of his friends from Wisconsin. To say they were all odd is an understatement. We decided to leave after 2.5 drinks and some awkward conversation. I was going to ask him to come over, but he had plans so we said goodbye. I went home alone and slightly sad I didn’t get to sleep next to him. I still like him a lot.

Wednesday I worked. It was a very very long day. I received a message in the morning from a friend of a friend back in LA who happens to live in New York. I had messaged her months ago before I moved here because my friend had said we’d get along. After almost a year she finally responded. She was having her birthday party at some karaoke bar in Korea Town. I told her I’d stop by for a bit, but I had to go to my “Wednesday Religious Service” at 11ish. After work, I went home, took a half hour nap and called ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ to come with to watch drunk Asians sing White songs. The girl who invited me was really nice. Another girl I knew from back home was there. I don’t know why that surprised me. The Koreans, just like the gays, all seem to know each other.

The crowd was very young and kind of annoying in a “I’m no longer in my early twenties, but they are” kind of way. Birthday girl was complaining about turning 24. We left after two beers and four songs. I walked ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ back towards her place and my train. I was asked for a cigarette by this crazy black woman (I am not trying to be offensive here, she really was black. That was a joke BTW). I gave her one, then she asked me for a lighter. I didn’t want to give her one because she looked crazy and a bit dirty so I said I didn’t have one. She got mad and ripped the cigarette to pieces in front of my eyes. I was shocked and I wanted to scream: “Bitch you know how much cigarettes cost in New York?!” but I didn’t because she was scary. I got on the train and headed to the East Village. I was on a mission.

The train was running express from Union Square to Brooklyn Bridge so I got off and walked to the bar. I didn’t have to work the next day. I was intending on spending some quality sexy time with DJ. The bar was nice. I got free drinks and socialized with the regulars. Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name. DJ was there with two Spanish friends who were a couple in an open relationship (shocker!) and spoke very minimal English. Per his request, I entertained them. I could tell one of them was into him. I kissed DJ and went outside with the Spaniards to smoke un cigarro. They decided to leave so they went inside to say their goodbyes. The younger of the two made out with DJ in front of me and his beau. Again, I did not care. I hung out with DJ some more and kissed him again. I like that he’s always telling everyone how cute I am. He said he liked that I had manners a.k.a. I was ok with him kissing others. I told him it was fine. I think I kissed someone too that night. We made out in the bathroom. His coworkers made fun of us. His friend was staying over so I suggested we go back to my place. He agreed. We left close to 4am and cabbed it to Brooklyn.

He’d never been to my place. We kissed and fooled around a bit but nobody came. My dog was acting very crazy and I was a bit paranoid that DJ was gonna be annoyed. As I told him, he is a JAP. He proudly admitted he was. We woke up around 8. His initial reaction: taking a couple of seconds to realize where you are, was hilarious and familiar. I’ve been there. We slept a bit more and woke up again at 11. I offered to get him a smoothie when I walked my dog. He suggested we get brunch (another first for us). I lent him some shorts to spare him from the walk of shame as he was wearing some tight zebra print biker shorts. We walked to DuMont for some eggs in his case, and gazpacho and a salad in mine. He was acting very cute. He said he never stays over at other people’s places nor does he seem them in the daylight. I am not sure what to make of that. I liked it, but at the same time it was a bit outside my comfort zone with him. I think he likes me likes me. We talked about boys in a very unconventional way. I think most guys would not be comfortable conversing about other sex partners and dates with the guy they just slept with. It doesn’t bother me.

He went home right after. He said he was djing near my apartment on Friday so I told him I’d stop by and pick up my shorts. He said he could maybe stop by my work on Friday and drop em off (another first!). We kissed goodbye. I’m starting to like this whole making out right outside the train station situation.

I went home and purchased Beyonce tickets. I wrote on the blog, cleaned up a bit, ran some errands and took a nap.

At around 7pm I headed to the Meatpacking to meet up with my friend friend who was to be my “date” for the show. We ate at The Dinner and cabbed it to Roseland Ballroom for, as I stated when I checked in, “the OTHER black party”. I don’t think anyone got my joke on Facebook. The show was amazing. I love Beyonce and, although I wished she’d performed more songs off “I Am Sasha Fierce”, I was quite pleased. “End of Time” and ” Countdown” sufficed.

Regretfully, she didn’t do an encore. We left the show and he cabbed it home. I cabbed it to the Lower East Side to meet up with the Frenchies and ‘John G’, who was pissed because they wouldn’t let him in to The Box. If you ask me, who cares! I hate that place. The Frenchies stayed at The Box and I walked with ‘John G’ to 2nd and 2nd. We had a couple of drinks at The Cock. The bartender, also a bartender at Eastern Bloc, gave me a free drink. We left promptly.

I drunkenly texted DJ to see if he was up. He didn’t replied so I took a taxi home.

I woke up this morning and got ready for work. It’s been a slow day. I’ve been on Facebook and writing on here for the past 5 hours. DJ hasn’t come. For some bizarre reason I’m really enjoying my life right now. The anxiety is still there, but I’ve had a different take on the situation. I think I have a lot to be grateful for. I think I’m gonna go to San Francisco for labor day. I think I’m gonna see DJ again tonight. I’ve also been giggling a lot. That’s that.

 

EDIT: DJ just texted he’s coming over in 20 minutes. HA!

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16.08.2011

Untitled.

Friday night my heart wept. It is a pretty bold statement, I know, but I felt something I have not felt in a really long time. I am not sure how descriptive I will be. It is not my place to divulge what made me feel that way, however, I will try my hardest to speak honestly, respectfully, and most important, focusing on my self, rather than others. For these same reasons, I will refrain from using my usual nicknames, and resort to using other signifiers to refer to people during this entry.

I left work with a friend quite late. I received a text message from one of my best friends/a guy I like (we’ll call him A) saying to come over to our other friends’ apartment. It is hard for me to even type this because it is not my place to even talk about this, but just like he likes doing things, I’m just going to rip the bandage. He was diagnosed with a terminal illness. He told me the moment I got to my friends’ (B and C) place. I felt dead for a split second. Someone had just casted a dark cloud above me and I was in the middle of dense fog not knowing what to do. I have not felt that way in a really long time, and as a matter of fact, I can almost say never, because the reasons why I’ve felt like that in the past are not the same, therefor it’s not really the exact same feeling.

The first thing I did after snapping out of shock was to give him a hug. Like I said, this is a good friend, who I’ve hugged time and time again. This did not feel the same way. It reminded me of a dream I had once right after my best friend of my teen years committed suicide. In my dream I was in a white austere kitchen sitting across a small round table from him. I was asking him why he was leaving, and he said he had to. I asked when he’d be back. He answered never. He stood up and I hugged him. I kept telling him this wasn’t real, and that he was going to be back. He, with a very stern look, kept repeating he had to. He then walked out the kitchen and I woke up. I felt unbelievably sad. I’m used to waking up with a deep sadness or anxiety, but this was different. I felt the exact same thing when I was hugging my friend on Friday night. That feeling that you don’t want to let go because you feel it might be the last time you get to hug someone. It sounds very tragic, his prognosis is good, and he’s not going anywhere for a really long time… in fact, I joked that he’d probably bury me before I bury him… but still, there’s no words to describe how one feels initially after hearing such news.

The night was tender, to say the least. We tried joking about it, his spirit was still there, playful and always positive… yet somehow a part of him was now aware that, although we’re all going to one day die, it’s not something we think about until we’re faced with an actual reminder that we’re far from invincible. My dark gloomy cynical self felt like an average human for once.

I was still in shock. We played some games and then decided to go out per his request. He wanted to go out dancing. Regretfully, our other friends decided to stay in. I have big qualms with couples because they turn into assholes. I am about to vent. I don’t give a shit if you’re happily married/partnered or whatever the fuck you choose to call yourself, friends are friends and when they need you, especially in times like this, that trumps everything! It’s one thing to be dumb and pathetic on a regular basis and party poop every weekend, that’s fine, you’re lame, but I can somewhat get that. However, in situations like this I don’t give a fuck what your excuses are, you don’t support? you’re worth shit to me. Then again, that’s probably why I’m not in a relationship. I believe in giving the best of you whenever it needs to be given regardless of the situation, and in this case the “situation” is you’re partnered and tired and feel like cuddling and calling it an early night, because tomorrow you have shit to do a.k.a gardening or whatever dumb shit couples do. I have no sympathy. Sorry, I know! Run-on sentence.

I very proudly went to a bar with my friend and was willing to stay out for as long as he needed me to. He spent the night and I hugged him to sleep.

The next morning I woke up and got him a smoothie. I went to work and he went shopping. He needed to distract himself. He met me at work for lunch. We hung out for a bit and he went home. I was not on top of my game. All I kept thinking was about him, and I was being sporadic and scattered brain as I am now as I type this.

After work, I went home, fed and walked my dog and then met coworkers for dinner. Dinner was ok. I was not in the mood for it, but I made the best of it. It was a bit too SoCal straightness for me which is normally not an issue at all but, like I said, I was not in the right mindset. I had promised my friend I’d go dancing with him, so at around 11:30 pm I excused myself, left some cash on the table and took off. I met the same 3 friends from the last night at some bar. We had a couple of cocktails, and then  B and C started bitching about going home. I didn’t even bother on wasting energy on arguing, my energy was actually being focused on the person who needed it. In the end, they ended up coming.

We walked to my apartment through the monsoon that hovered over Williamsburg. We had a couple of drinks and a quick dance party at my place and then we went to an actual dance party a few blocks away. We got completely soaked. Me and A took our shirts off and acted like fools. We danced, made out, drank, and smoked. I just wanted to make sure he was having the time of his life.

We didn’t stay long. We all left after about half hour and walked to get some pizza. I didn’t eat and neither did A, so we just opted to go home, shower together, and go to bed.

Sunday morning I went to work and A stayed at my place. We made plans to meet for the movies after I got off. He came to my job around 4 and me and my coworker ended up closing shop half hour after. We walked in the rain all the way to Union Square to kill time and get him food. We then purchased a bottle of Honey Jack Daniels and went to watch Captain America. The movie was good but not great. We finished 3/4 of the bottle.

After the movie and with a decent buzz we bit farewell to my coworker and walked in the rain (again) to 14th street where we took the train to south Brooklyn. A invited me over to his friends’ apartment for dinner. We had a very nice conversation and he thanked me for being there for him the past few days. I’m not sure I’m doing the best job, sometimes I don’t know what to say or I say the wrong things, but I think he appreciates the company and attention. The dinner was nice. His friends were nice. We had more drinks and he passed out on their couch. I left and went home a bit sad.

I’ve been a big mess. I don’t know where my head is. I love him as a friend and he’s made me rethink lots of things. For instance, I have always wondered if I’d ever date someone with a terminal disease. It involves lots of care, responsibility, and time. He made me realize I pretty much could. I care deeply for him and, although it hurts, I would gladly do it again. It’s been two nights since he’s been here and I’ve done nothing but been miserable thinking of him the whole time. I want him next to me. I want to hug him. I want to make sure he’s alright. I know that’s my biggest issue. I tend to maybe avoid my issues by focusing on others. I can’t help it. I’m downing yet another glass of wine, after four previous ones and about four beers. I don’t know what to do or how to feel. All I will say is: I wish I had no heart.

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15.08.2011

Let the good times roll!

When I arrived, ‘Siouxsie’ was standing by the curb outside the Delta Airlines Terminal 3 at JFK. She was looking tiny and cute as always wearing black, her color of choice, from head to toe. Her petite frame was looking all over the place for me until I informed her I was parked right behind an orange sports car. She thought I would come pick her up via subway. No. I don’t do subways to New York airports.

She got in the hybrid car and gave me a huge hug. This girl is one of my oldest friends and whenever we see each other it’s like we saw each other a few hours ago. We drove back to my place through horrendous traffic (by my new New York standards, because in LA this would’ve been a breeze). She dropped her bags off at my place and we headed to Wild Ginger for some good ol’ cruelty free early dinner. The food was tasty, and the conversation even tastier. We finished and went back home to decompress before hitting the streets for her first night in the Big Apple (btw she told me why NYC is referred to as the Big Apple, turns out they used to have horse races here and the winner would get a big apple, thus it became known as the city of the Big Apple).

First stop: Drop Off Service in the East Village for drink with a friend of her ex. No, it wasn’t awkward at all. We didn’t stay long, I had been invited to a house party at the Frenchies’ place, so we left after two drinks. We met up with ‘Jose Maria’ and headed to their midtown apartment. Parties at their place are not very… typical. They usually involve a cosmopolitan punch bowl, and about a dozen French speakers doing just that: speaking in French. Regardless, it’s ok, I don’t mind starting the night there. ‘Sandpaper’ was there. He tried to talk to me but I casually ignored him the whole time. He texted me a picture of myself he took on one of our “dates”. I didn’t reply. I was done with him. When we left he said he’d never see me again, I said: have a safe trip.

We cabbed it back to Brooklyn. I met up with ‘Fixie’ and his friend at Metro for a quick drink. He was there with some really nice simian looking boy. I think ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Siouxie’ were somewhat annoyed at me because I was paying so much attention to him, but my infatuated heart paid has stopped caring. We all left to Alligator Lounge for some free pizza but there was none left, so we ended up eating noodles down the street. ‘Fixie’ was drunk beyond bike riding capabilities so his simian friend and I dragged his tattooed ass and bike back to my place where he would unwillingly spend the night. ‘Jose Maria’ left without saying a proper goodbye. We all went to bed.

Saturday morning I woke up and got smoothies for me and ‘Fixie’, then I left him and ‘Siouxie’ and went to work. Apparently, he stayed quite late talking to her. Me and ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ met ‘Siouxsie’ after work and we unsuccessfully tried to go see the Alexander McQueen exhibit. The waiting line was a ridiculous three hour long. I’d seen the show, they were hungry, we were impatient so we nixed the museum and went to dinner in the UES at some very tasty Mediterranean restaurant. We then cabbed it down to ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’s’ place for some rooftop cocktails but since it was raining, we just watched Ponyo, Party Monster, waited for ‘Jose Maria’ to meet up so we could head to Brooklyn. It was ‘Jose Maria’s’ last night in the city before our month long vacation. He was going to Greece.

Our first stop was Union Pool. We didn’t stay long, just a drink or two’s time. We left for Sugarland. We weren’t drunk enough to handle the crowd or the music so after less than half hour ‘Jose Maria’ went home to finish packing. We went to The Abbey for a night cap. I met a very handsome thirty-something with a very pecuniary last name. We made plans to meet for drinks in the following weeks. We left the bar and went to sleep.

Sunday I worked. I left somewhat early and went home. ‘Siouxsie’ had a list of bars she wanted to check out, most of which did not sound appealing to me, but I was willing to oblige. I took us to my obligatory pseudo conjugal visit at Gansevoort. I said hi to DJ, gave him a peck, and left promptly. He wanted me to come over later that night, but it didn’t end up happening. We walked to some other bar on ‘Siouxsie’s’ list off West 4th but somewhat thankfully, it was closed. I took her to Cubby Hole for some lezzy lovin’. Peculiarly enough, Jerry O’Connell and Andy Cohen were there. We didn’t stay long either. We finished the night at Hogs and Heffers.

Monday we had a day trip to Sleepy Hollow planned. Yes, it’s a real town, and no, I didn’t know it existed till ‘Siouxsie’ pointed it out. In the morning, I had a slight freak out when I convinced myself I had some sort of STD because it tingled down there. I quickly started taking antibiotics and the “symptoms” went away. On the train ride to Sleepy Hollow, I saw a picture of the girls at Hogs and Heffers doing their bar top dance. I apparently blacked out because I had no recollection of this. ‘Siouxsie’ pointed out that I passed out on the cab and somehow miraculously woke up just in time to give the driver the final directions to my place. I love my resilience.

Sleepy Hollow was interesting. It was very small and charming, in a very… creepy horror B-movie sort of way. We had a picnic at the cemetery and walked down the headless horseman bridge. We had some shockingly good food at a local restaurant off the river. We headed back home. We didn’t go out that night because we had big plans for Tuesday, so we opted to rest.

As planed, Tuesday we woke up, rented a bike for ‘Siouxsie’ and started our trip from Billyburg to the Upper East Side. The day consisted of The Met, picnic at Central Park, MOMA, and chinatown with a quick stop at my hairstylist’s to get a nice trim before Fire Island on Thursday. Sadly, New York chose to rain on our parade, and we found ourselves stuck inside The Met trying to wait out the crazy thunderstorm outside. Eventually, we decided to buy 10 dollar Met grey ponchos, and bike back. Twenty blocks later, we gave up on biking and caught a train home. I had to cancel my hair appt.

That night, we ventured to the tourist ridden Times Square to watch The Addams Family musical (starring Brooke Shields). The play was amazing. Way way better than what I had expected. We went to dinner at Fatty Crab (for the third week in a row!). I think ‘Siouxsie’ enjoyed it. Sometimes it’s hard to read her. Le Bain followed. Again, I was skeptical to whether or not she was having a good time, but a few cocktails later and once we were sitting by the hot tub I realized she was. Le Bain has a weird hypnotizing power over most people, whether it is the views or just the debauchery that goes inside, it always brings out the crazy in its attendees. I tried to convince ‘Siouxsie’ to get in the pool, but despite wanting to, she said she didn’t trust herself enough to go in and not get a little frisky. We left the club and went to sleep.

Throughout this whole week I’d been dealing with anxiety over my crazy sex night a few weeks ago, and the whole alleged STD I thought I had wasn’t helping so I decided to go to the Free Clinic that morning and get tested. I texted my coworker to let her know I was coming in a bit late. The clinic was, as usual, a bit weird. Everybody there is just silent and looking at each other wondering what the outcome of the visit will be for the others. Thankfully, I left with a negative smile. I then cabbed it to the Lower East Side and got my haircut before going to work. I made a sale that day, which only added to my long yet, as my friend described, “awesome” day.

Wednesday night me, ‘Siouxsie’, and two friends went to dinner at the magical Mesa Coyoacan. It is one of my favorite restaurants in New York. As expected, everybody was pleased with their food and their drinks. We walked off the food coma and ‘Siouxsie’ decided to stay in for the night. I went to Eastern Bloc by myself. I saw DJ and brought him some Peach Oh’s. I called ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ and talked to her briefly. I feel like it progressively takes longer and longer between our chats. I went back in and met some boy off Grindr. He was cute and Dutch (which, because of previous experiences, had me wanting to see more). I had a couple of uneventful drinks with him and headed home. Anxiety on the way back.

Thursday I took the day off. Me and ‘Siouxsie’ took a very long and exhausting, but incredibly fun and beautiful trip to Cherry Grove in Fire Island. Knowing it was a bit of a treck, we unrealistically had meant to leave by 10 am but we actually left more around noon. The trek, as I stated, was long. We took the subway to East New York, transferred to the LIRR to Jamaica, then to Babylon, then to Sayville, then a bus to the ferry, then a ferry to the island. On the last train there, I felt this very handsome older gentleman with a Louis Vuitton x Takashi Murakami Monogramouflage Keepall, and a white Rick Owens sleeveless tee staring at me. Yes, I notice these things, and no, it’s not for signs of money, it’s for signs of style. I was acting like I didn’t register his undressing gaze, but being 100% sure he’d be on Grindr, I logged on. I was right. His profile said: “Coming to an iPhone near you” to which I replied: “or an Android”. When we got to the ferry, he replied. He acted like he didn’t know who I was and said: “are you on the same itinerary as me? you look familiar”. I told him: “yes, you were staring at me the whole way”. We started talking and it turns out although he was going to Fire Island, he was going to the fancier, more Chelsea-esque side. We kept grindng back and forth from the top deck of his ferry to the top deck of mine. It was cute. I learned he was German and in town for pleasure, but he comes back often, so I gave him my email and we decided to keep in touch for future visits.

I had never been and had no idea what to expect. A part of me thought it was going to be a big gay smorgasbord of naked drug boys and girls. It turns out, Cherry Grove is not the Fire Island Pines. It is where the gays go to retire, so instead we found ourselves surrounded by people who could not only be out parents, they could be our grandparents. It was very cute.

We had some fried sea food at one of the maybe 5 restaurants there, then laid on the sand enjoying the mild sun rays (yes! I actually said “enjoying”). The weather was perfect. The view was interesting: lots of sagging skin and salt and pepper hair with the occasional gym going nudist. I am not trying to be mean here, I am just reporting what I saw. I did not mind the crowd, they were all nice. If anything, I felt like they minded me, but not because they weren’t nice (because, again, they were), but because I felt like I was invading their untainted virginal haven.

After the beach, we explored a bit. I was curious to walk through “the woods” where, allegedly, men fuck in the bushes. The whole idea sounded interesting to watch, but not to participate. I got bug bitten so many times I can’t imagine being able to concentrate in the sexual tasks at hand. ‘Siouxsie’ was being antsy and restless (as usual), so we walked back to the dock to try and catch a ferry back. It turns out, ferrys come every 2 hours so we ended up going to the nearby bar to have drinks till it was time to board.

We met more nice homosexagenarians and some not so nice younger gays. We left the island at 9 pm and, after another long trek, got home at around midnight. For her last night, I took ‘Siouxsie’ to The Woods. Despite her not wanting to, I had to have her take a pickleback (for those of you who don’t live on the east coast, a pickleback is a shot of whiskey chased with a shot of pickle juice. Absolutely delicious!). Although she won’t admit it, I’m pretty sure she loved it. We had some tacos in the back and left the bar. We made a pit stop at my friend’s apartment who had invited us to Westway. We declined the invite because we were spent from our long beachy day.  We went to bed shortly after that.

Friday I worked, she packed. She met me at work around lunch time for her last pie of her trip at L’Asso, which I happen to consider the best, if not top 3, pizza in New York. We said our goodbyes and back to suburbia she went. I got back to work and made plans for my evening. Not having ‘Jose Maria’ around is somewhat of a task, because usually he’s my default alcoholic, but for the past week or so I’ve been having to get creative. It’s not that I don’t have more friends, it’s more that now I have to actually make “plans” and juggle them around to see what sounds more appealing that night. And juggling I did… without knowing that that night my perspective on life would be indirectly severely shaken. I’ve been quite sad all weekend.

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10.08.2011

I just realized I don’t have a Category for ‘Love’ in here… and I like it.

I wanted to write an entry about my thoughts on the original L word (not the lezzy show). I’m not quite positive what my stance is, as I’m sure a lot of you aren’t either, but I’m just going to ramble back and forth and see if it makes sense to me, and to you?

As the title states, I haven’t created a category for ‘Love’ on this blog. It struck me a bit odd when, first, I had a reason to look for one and, second, I realized I didn’t have one. It made me think about the recent, yet long way in the making, change of my views on love and relationships. I personally believe that sex is in one way or another a spiritual exchange, and whatever your spirit is/acts/feels can be transmuted when it comes in contact, in this case sex, with other spirits, adopting parts of the way they are/act/feel. It sounds crazy, but stop and think about it, it’ll make sense.

The reason I bring this whole spirit thing is because I believe that that faithful night my spirit connected with ‘Fixie’s’, I changed. My spirit felt a certain freedom it hadn’t felt, and it liked it. It became inebriated with the intoxicating flavor of sexual unrestraint. Maybe I’m being ridiculous, and all that happened is that I simply became more relaxed because the more you fuck around the less you care about it, but somehow this feels more than just mere coincidence to me.

Furthermore, and I know this is obvious, fooling around with ‘Fixie’ strengthened ten fold my attraction to him. No I’m not in love, no matter how often I say it out loud to my friends. I am just severely infatuated and I enjoy being so. I enjoy the slight burn that comes with having a crush and watching them go home with another guy. I enjoy the fantasy I create about a possible love that will never happen for many reasons on both parts. I enjoy the maturity it’s given me as I realize and learn to differentiate love vs infatuation vs a crush vs a platonic whatever, and how I’ve evolve from being(or rather… never became) the regular faggot who looks for love every night at bars and at the first sight of attention starts planning his future wedding to a guy who is really just drunk and looking for a fuck. A friend of mine once wrote: “I’m sick of falling head first, for anything that’ll take me to bed”. I found this quote very true to the way many gays see their lays. I’m not saying I was never there, in a sense I was… but long time ago. I can see each guy for what he is and what relationship I have with them, and I’ll explain.

DJ is a fuck buddy. A good one at that. I like the progression of what I have with him from only fooling around Wednesday nights after work and not even talking the rest of the week, to the first time he booty texted me to come over on a Thursday (shocking!), to the time he invited me to Fire Island (we’ve never seen each other outside of a bar or his apartment), to the very casual booty texts we shoot each other now and how nonchalant we both are about it (if it happens, it happens). I like that he gives me my place, whatever that is, in front of others, always introducing me and kissing me regardless of who’s there. I like that we both understand that sex is not really in the equation, anilingus and  cuddling on the other hand? yes. I like that I can see him kiss other guys and it means nothing to me.

A similar situation happens with ‘Fixie’. I have been obsessed with this man ever since I first met him last October at a pumpkin carving party somewhere off the G train. He was dating someone at the time, and within minutes of meeting him he was talking about having to go to the clinic the following morning to get tested for gonorrhea. So brash. So bold. I loved it. I ran into him a few more times because he was good friends with my friend’s lover. Each time I became more and more obsessed with this man’s beauty, yet more and more cautious about developing feelings because the more and more that I knew him, the more and more I realized we were somewhat polar opposites (or so I thought). His relationship with his ex didn’t last long, and on a faithful cold winter night (I believe it was my birthday), we kissed. I was happier than a fat kid at Chilli’s. The kissing continued sporadically. The tension was felt by others who pointed out we should just fuck. We both agreed it would happen in due time.

To this day, it’s yet to happen, but our relationship has evolved into something I quite enjoy and could do with instead of what most people look for in a relationship. To begin, there is no “relationship”. It is just a friendship. A friendship where we can grab a drink and make out right after we talk about how much this boy or that boy suck. A friendship where we can fool around (although it’s only happened once), and go back to just friends the next morning. No awkwardness there. A friendship where I can tell him about my issues, and he can tell me about his, and we can see each other with other people and it means nothing. I will admit that my crush for him is probably bigger than his crush for me, and thus from time to time I have felt a bit weird when I see him with others (shoot me, I’m human! yet I’m trying to go beyond being one), but that all goes away the moment I remember he’s not doing it to instigate, and he always comes back to show me how I’m not less, or more than the other boys, but equal. I like it. It makes me level headed.

‘Fixie’ has also taught me a lot about a new way of looking at relationships and love, hence why I said I thought we were polar opposites, but maybe not so much. When I hear him talking about it, it sounds so far beyond what anyone can hope to understand, that it almost makes sense. His main issue with other boys is that, as he puts it, he needs a boyfriend who is fine with an open relationship, and about four fuck buddies with no emotional attachment who are just that: fuck buddies. I think it’s brilliant! Not sure if it’s necessarily brilliant for me, but it sure sounds more logical than any of the other bullshit I hear about finding “the one”. We are human, we are males, we are gay! It is a bitch to fight against our nature, and I honestly refuse to believe that in order to feel fully accomplished in my life, I need to find a life partner. If anything, I’m more inclined to believe in some sort of serial monogamy, but even then, I’m iffy.

I do not enjoy sleeping around. Are you kidding me? I have enough anxiety as it is. I’m a hypochondriac to the point where they’ve told me at the clinic I need to wait to get tested because there’s budget cuts, and I really have no reason to do so. I also have an immense phobia of entrusting my feelings to someone else. When you date someone, whether you like it or not, you end up surrendering so much of yourself that, if the other person chooses to, they can tear you to shreds. No Thank You! Been there, done that, and one time, although he didn’t take advantage of me in any way, the break up was a bitch. No sir, not worth it. Dating is also very exhausting. I am very career driven, independent, and have lots of friends, and I really don’t have time to spend on dates that will most likely go nowhere. If I had a crystal ball and could see into the future, then I’d give them boys a chance, but leaving it all to chance? I’d rather cuddle with my pup, and jack off if I’m horny.

Now I know what you’re thinking: what about when we actually need that human contact? OK, here’s my answer: steady boys (yes, plural) you can count on for different purposes. We have DJ for fooling around, ‘Fixie’ for a beer and some making out with the occasional sexual tension that might escalate into something else, and now I feel I might need another one for a more emotional connection who isn’t looking to get married and set home together. Would I have a boyfriend? I don’t know. I think ideally, I’d enjoy someone who maybe doesn’t even live in the same city, but is not a complete slut. Someone who I can date, talk to on the phone, send sexy pictures to, and visit every now and then, but understands that maybe, since we don’t live near each other, or since we have separate very busy lives, we might not see each other for a while and it’s fine if during those times you slip and snog another lad, or ejaculate in a different bed (condoms involved please), and who also doesn’t use this just as an excuse just to fuck around. I haven’t put this into practice and I’m not sure if I could handle it emotionally and physically, but it sounds way more appealing than any of the other options that have been given to me by society.

At this point, I’ve come to terms with the fact that the male species is a flawed one and, as I was telling my friend yesterday, although I do believe in “the one”, I might never run into him/her (no, people, I’m not saying I’m looking for a girl!) because it’s harder than finding a fart in a sand storm so, in the mean time, there’s plenty of other almost “the one’s” out there for me to enjoy. It’s kind of like winning the lottery, and I’ve wasted enough dollar bills trying to do so. I think it’s time to settle for some scratchers.

P.S. check out the new category I just made.

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04.08.2011

A new exercise in quick entries. I failed.

So it’s been 11 days since I post my usual diary-like post. I have written a grind date entry (and will very soon do another one), and my response to an online article I read, but I haven’t updated the blog in terms of my every-day-sort-of-monotonous-shenanigan report. I want to try something different and do the whole week (Monday to Sunday) in a short-paragraph-per-day way. Here we go.

Monday I freaked out most of the day. I took a nap as soon as I got home from my slut fest. ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ came over for a bit since she was in the area. Then, I met some friends for a much needed Sundubu fix (they don’t make it like they do in LA) and a few drinks at a mediocre rooftop bar somewhere in K-town. We all parted ways and I met ‘Jose Maria’ in the East Village at a Greek restaurant that looked like a prop in some Hollywood back lot. He was dining with a very odd and diverse crew. Still feeling anxious about my future STD’s (I’m a hypochondriac), I wasn’t feeling much like drinking. We all went to Apotheke in China Town for some “actually drinkable” drinks. I got sloshed and offered to take some of his friends to Le Bain the next night to celebrate someone’s birthday. I (and possibly ‘Jose Maria’) went home (though we might have stopped by Metro).

Tuesday I freaked out again. I can’t remember what I did during the day but most likely I just laid in bed still tired and miserable trying to convince myself that convincing myself that I might have some STD isn’t the best idea. Finally I decided to get it together and leave the confinements of my apartment walls to meet ‘Jose Maria’ and co. as I had promised the previous night. I went to the deliciously decadent Fatty Crab with ‘Jose Maria’. After dinner, we waited for his friends at The Standard Bar, and I proceeded to halfheartedly work my magic at the busy door. Half of us got in, the rest waited downstairs. I ran into some friends, I showed the magical New York City views to birthday boy (who had never been to Le Bain and didn’t seem like he went out much anyway),  and I suggested we go back downstairs to meet the mortals who weren’t allowed access to Mt. Olympus.  Two more of ‘Jose Maria’s’ friends were downstairs.  I lushly charmed the shit out of everyone and although the idea was to head home after, we ended up back upstairs. I took one of the girls who hadn’t been allowed in before with me and breezed her through the door. ‘Jose Maria’s’ friends were trying to counterfeit the stamp. Really? It is not that serious! But kuddos to them, their trickery worked. I was drunk so I didn’t stay much longer. I left with birthday boy (but not really “with”), ‘Jose Maria’ stayed with the con artists. I went home to my beautiful dog.

Wednesday I worked. It was nice to be busy and not think about my dominical mistakes. After work I went home. I was to meet ‘Jose Maria’ after his date at our habitual Eastern Bloc, but he was being himself and had me waiting forever. I went to the bar anyway, texted him and waited some more. I had two drinks and decided to head home. I stopped by his second home (Ten Degrees) to see if he was still there with his beau. They were. I joined them for a drink which turned into 5 or more. I really liked ‘Salgadinho’, his little Brazilian lover. Finally, at about 3 am I decided to head to bed. On my way home, I got a message from ‘Fixie’ who was near my apartment. We met for a drink at Metro and had a lovely make out session in the photo booth. I’m smitten. He left to meet an out of towner who was staying with him. I went home with a giant grin on my face.

Thursday I worked. Again, despite the hang over, it was very welcomed. I like keeping busy. We had an event that night so most of the day I was running up and down and doing anything but thinking about my future terminal illness. The event went great. A few of my friends stopped by. ‘Fixie’ showed up with a date, which I didn’t mind. That’s him and that’s why I like him. After the event I met ‘Mexican Paddington’, ‘Queen of the Dammed’, ‘Fixie’, and his beau du jour at an art show nearby. We all grabbed drinks at a bar around the block. ‘Fixie’ pecked me in front of his man, and then told our Atlantic City story to his date. I love how shameless he is. I like that he gave me my place (even if it’s just his ‘weekend boyfriend’ as he had previously stated). After a few drinks I left the group and met some of my other friends who’d stop by my work at Le Bain. It was the same old shit. Me and ‘Jose Maria’ left to catch one last drink at Metro. Getting back to Brooklyn was a bitch. The subway wasn’t coming for another 20 minutes so we hailed a cab. The bridge was closed so we got off the cab and walked to another subway. We took the wrong train and ended up somewhere in south Brooklyn. Miraculously a cab passed by right away and we had it take us to our haven. We made it just in time for last call, literally. Apparently, at some point in the night I talked to some Colombian girls, which now, as I’m writing, I vaguely remember. We stumbled back to my place and argued the whole way back. I slept.

Friday I woke up and met my shoe dealer. I bought some cute shoes I’d been wanting for a while at a very discounted price. As per dealeresque behavior, my dealer tried to somewhat take a bit of advantage of me. I let it slide. Twenty dollars more or less won’t break my bank. I went to work. I was supposed to meet ‘Fixie’ to go bike shopping after, and possibly ride to Conney Island to watch fireworks, but the damn weather chose to rain on my (love) parade (literally). Instead, I met ‘John G’ that night for drinks at Phoenix. I told him about Sunday and, rightfully so, he gave me his judging eye. He admitted to joining Grindr, which I found absolutely hilarious (in a good way). ‘Jose Maria’ was being his usual slightly annoying self. Him and his friends were going to meet us but were taking forever. The more I drink the less patient I am. We left Phoenix after a few minutes and walked to Boiler Room. I personally dislike that place, but both ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘John G’ were meeting boys. ‘Salgadingho’ was there but ‘John G’s’ man had moved to Urge. I unwillingly accompanied ‘John G’ to meet his Grind Date. They were all being awkward and acting ashamed of having met through an app. Oh boys. I’d been texting with DJ about possibly stopping by for a late night analingus sesh, but by the time we left Urge, went back to the Boiler Room, and left there, he was already asleep. I went home.

Saturday back to work again. Since it was the second to last night my dear boss, ‘The Cock of the North’, was going to be in New York before fleeing to his homeland for a month, we decided to grab some drinks around the block once we closed. The evening was nice. Lots of talk about business and a bit of gossip here and there. The boss, me, and ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ make a good team. At about midnight we headed back to Brooklyn. ‘The Cock of the North’ wanted to have more drinks, “The Lady of Derbyshire’ didn’t. I always love drinking with the authority so I went along. We stayed out longer than expected, but that’s usually how it goes, and also, as expected, we had a great conversation about life, work, and our friendship (he hates it when I refer to him as the boss). I went to bed at 5.

Sunday, despite feeling very tired and hung over, I showed up at work even though I didn’t have to. I knew it was only gonna be ‘The Cock of the North’ by himself all day, and being the amazing gentleman/friend I am, I concluded that it was only fair to share the burden after our long party night. The day went by slow. I bid ‘The Cock of the North’ goodbye, wished him a great trip, and left work headed to ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’s’ apartment for some rooftop drinking. The rest of the night has been documented on the previous Grind Date entry.

And there you have it! Last week. It is still a very long entry despite trying to restrain myself, but I supposed that’s what happens when I don’t update every other day. Sorry for the inconvenience, and to make it up, I will write a bonus paragraph about my somewhat uneventful Monday. Cheers.

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Monday I spent the whole day being productive in house. I thoroughly cleaned my apartment (scrubbed bathroom walls, moved furniture, vacuumed the cow rug, swiped counters, sweeped bookcases, fluffed pillows, you name it i did it), watched true blood, wrote an entry, did laundry, checked my finances, and God knows what else. Although I was spent, I also cooked a nice dinner for ‘Jose Maria’ and me. He came over and we had some spinach fusilli with a fake meat bolognese sauce and a glass (or two) of carmenere. I can’t cook much, but what I can I do good. We watched the painfully awful yet incredibly catchy train wreck of a show known as the A-List and then headed to Metro to meet a friend who… used to live in New York but had recently moved to San Francisco but is now back in New York but is really living in New Hampshire? I’m confused. The details of the night will be posted on another entry as I turns out, I went on a Grind date… sort of.

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30.07.2011

Post-mo? Post-no!

I read this a few weeks ago and my fickle self had been meaning to write a response to how I felt when I first read it. It took me a while but, since it’s raining and my evening plans are no more, without longer ado, and rather than boring you with more of the same drinks/cigarettes/clubs/sex monotonous BS, here it is:

Let’s just start by saying that I find the writer a bit conflicted. I’m almost sure of where he stands, but like I said, only almost. I mostly agree with his points, and I find it really weird that the article turned out to be quite controversial. Where is freedom of expression? And are we really just bitter old queens who are pissed that we had to fight for what we have now, and the newer generation doesn’t? (by we I mean the people who felt the need to leave negative comments. I agree with Paul “I’m not fighting the good fight. It was never mine to fight.”)

Second, what the hell is going on with the pictures of all these men?! It seems like they chose a smorgasbord of the different “flavors” of gays available. I guess they didn’t write the article, but like Paul said, being gay should be secondary or even tertiary, to me they seem like they make it a priority to show it, and again, I might be biased, because I guess I do identify with the more “straight looking/acting” homosexuals out there. The difference is, I always have. I’m gay because I like MEN. This is not a new trend for me, although I will admit that somewhere in my late teens, early 20’s I did give in to shaving religiously and making it a bit apparent I was gay. One way or another, we all have. On a side note, I came out when I was 20, not sure if that’s late or early, but I find it appropriate.

So basically we are talking about how we have it so easy right? And how we seem uninterested and somewhat ungrateful about the past? Well I can definitely say that’s not my case, nor is it the case of plenty of my fellow twenty-somethings here in NYC. I still believe we have a long way to go to get to proper acceptance of homosexuality. New York, as I’m assuming Toronto is (I’ve never been), is pretty liberated. I used to live in LA and although they too are very open minded, I didn’t see as many gays everywhere. I feel they stick to their neighborhoods perhaps, but here I can’t say I spend more than 5 minutes without looking at a fellow ‘mo when I walk down the street. Sure I live in Williamsburg, and I work in SoHo, but still, we are everywhere (as long as you don’t venture into areas where it takes a half hour+ train ride to get to Union Square, but that’s a whole different story).

Like I said, I’m somewhat confused with where he’s going. He’s trying to pitch a new term, the post-mo, and being far too stereotypical about it, and thus ending up with yet another stereotype. I don’t identify with this post-mo. I’m not careless, I’m not reckless, I’m not disinterested in gay rights, I didn’t have it super easy growing up, I’m not big into pride, I’m not big into cliches either. I agree, being gay is secondary, but it is part of who I am and I embrace it, both the good and the bad things that come with it. I feel he is just being antagonistic and trying to prove that he’s anything but typically gay, and it doesn’t go with what he’s trying to achieve, which I assume should be making “gay” a sexual preference and not a defining characteristic. It is never good to be black and white.

More than a direct back and forth between what he said and what I think, I am just going to state how I feel as a gay man in different aspects of my life and hope that gets the point across.

As I’ve stated, I came out when I was 20, I didn’t come from a completely radical PFLAG family. We are Mexicans and, although quite educated, still somewhat attached to the culture and what it entails. My dad constantly made homophobic jokes and hinted that he’d want nothing to do with me if I was gay. Naturally, a teenager would be somewhat scared of exploring his sexuality if threats like these were made. I also went to Christian School where I was constantly reminded it was a sin to “get to know” (as it is stated in Biblical terms) someone of the same sex.

I had my first urges when I was around 11 and, no, I am sorry but I can’t say that I always knew I was gay because when I was 5 I would get turned on by the pictures on baseball cards (as one of my ex’s stated), that was not me. I remember watching a porn at a friend’s house and thinking “hey, that dick is kinda turning me on”, and it started then. Yes, I agree with Paul, the internet has made it extremely easy for us. I surfed the shit out of the macy’s website looking at pictures of dudes in their underwear, and later when I was a bit more adventurous, online porn. I had my first gay experience when I was about 13 with my best friend/neighbor at the time. He suggested we jack each other off, and finally after his third attempt during a slumber party, I gave in. Of course I felt guilty and dirty the next morning, and rightfully so, aside from the obvious omne animal post coitum triste, it had been engrained in my head that what I was doing was wrong (not to mention my crazy overprotective father thinking that most gay men will eventually contract HIV… but more on that later). When I was 15, I had a stalker situation that both scared me and intrigued me, he was older and looking back at it, it was dangerous, but thankfully nothing happened. My mom found out but we didn’t talk it about it. I wasn’t that close to my parents till I came out.

Of course I was pretty much in the closet, even to myself, till I was 18 and I moved out. After my first man on man kiss I went a bit crazy. Blow jobs in a public bathroom stall, instant crushes, anilingus, but still no sex. It was the last strike till I came to terms with who I was, and also I was trying to give the “first time” the very stupid importance we all do. Finally, when I turned 20 and moved to LA I met my first boyfriend, had sex, and came out. My mom was completely fine with it, she already knew. My dad was different. I told him a few weeks later whilst they were visiting me in LA. As expected, he went ape shit. He threatened to cut me off and, instead of me caving in, I bitched back at him by saying: “you don’t want me in your life for being gay?! well I don’t want you in mine for being a close-minded bigot!” and left his hotel room. He called me the next day to apologize and every since then it’s just been getting better and better. He’s even given my ex a christmas present he purchased himself.

And with this I come to my first point. The battle is far from won. There is still a lot more to do. I’ve never been big on pride or gathering a weekend each summer to “celebrate it”. I don’t like pride of any kind for that matter. Gay, brown, white, whatever, it’s just another reason to segregate and alienate. I do enjoy the parties tho, but it wasn’t untill I lived in Paris and my straight friends wanted to go to pride that I started seeing it as just a big party, and not just a reason to parade my homosexuality  to end up sleeping with someone that night. I often wonder how many people get carried away, party too hard, and end up with some disease the day after pride, but then again that’s just crazy old hypochondriac me. Yet I see a point in the whole shenanigans. I constantly tell my friends, especially those who are not out but who’s parents obviously know, that if it’s not for them, then do it for others. I was really moved the past year by all the stories of suicide because of gay bullying. We’ve all been there, and thankfully I live in New York Fuckin’ City and I very rarely deal with that, but all those poor kids in the midwest have it hard. I went to visit my ex’s family one time in Wisconsin. My ex isn’t (or wasn’t last time I talked to him over a year and a half ago) out to his parents, although they know. They personally invited me to come visit, so they know. However, my ex’s sister has a friend who is very very effeminate. The kid has long blond hair and dresses in girl clothes. He’s been beat up so many times that they told him at school he couldn’t go there anymore because they couldn’t protect him, yet he’s out there being who he is. What a fuckin’ testament of both pride, and the need to change people’s minds. Again, that’s why I tell my friends, if not for you, then for them. Expose others, especially your loved ones, to the fact that being gay is not aberrant so that slowly, but surely, things can change. You don’t have to wear rainbow flags and hold hands in public, just be proud of who you are. I agree, Paul, pride is not what it was, but we shouldn’t just cross our arms and let it continue to decay.

On the other hand, I also don’t agree with the ubber proud gays. The ones who choose not to befriend straight people. I can think of two friends of mine who are very much like that. One of them said to me “I’d rather help a gay than a straight”. It baffles me to hear such thing. Really?! So are we fighting fire with fire here? Who’s supposed to be the bigger person, because I think everyone should strive for that, gay or straight, and focus on the betterment of society as a whole, regardless of sexual orientation, but really anything else as well. Wouldn’t that be the true meaning of a gay-straight alliance?

While visiting my other friend in London, we were discussing going out. I personally wanted to try East London as I’d never been. When we suggested this to his man, he said “why would you want to go there? it’s a mixed crowd”. I assume he expects me to find “a mixed crowd” an issue? But to me it’s quite the opposite. It’s what I look for when I go out (or at least what I used to back in LA, going out in New York is different, and I do sometimes miss my straight dive bars). Again, ridiculous, but as always, I try to be empathetic. After all he is older and one of those gays who had to “fight the fight”. Sorry but my fight is different. It is not of achieving the same rights only to remain parallel, it is about achieving them to become integrated. My friend joked “segregation now, integration never”.

Earlier I was talking about growing up with this constant anxiety over STD’s (HIV and herpes to be more precise, the rest go away within a week or two of itching and medication). As I mentioned, I grew up with a Mexican father who grew up during the 80’s and thus has his biased opinions about HIV and homosexuality. I don’t blame him, but I can say he did extensive psychological damage to me in terms of that. While I do believe in being extremely safe (although there’s been a time or two when by my high standards I’m far from it), I do not enjoy having ridiculously high levels of anxiety every time I go home with someone. It has definitely gotten better, but it is still a week or two of a constant burn in the pit of my stomach and a persistent “worse case scenario” train of thought. I don’t find Paul’s statements about being safe but sometimes forgetting the condom appropriate, because it is giving sexual health less importance than it should have, and in terms of the older gays who fought for awareness and lost a lot of loved ones it wouldn’t be fair. It is something that should definitely be a constant in our minds, not something that should be treated lightly.

Finally, I truly feel like I’ve grown up a lot as a person. I have become quite comfortable with my stances, my beliefs, and the way I approach situations. I strive to be empathetic and understand others for who and what they are whether I agree or not. I don’t expect people to agree with me, but I do expect them to respect me, and thus I do the same. I constantly push myself to be more open minded, and approach every situation without any preconceived notions. That is what the post-mo should be. One way or another, gay men in metropolitan cities do have an easier life than their straight counterparts. Like Paul stated, it’s trendy, we have more disposable income, and the city can be our oyster. It is time to not just enjoy this but use it towards being the better group, and I don’t mean it in a discriminating, “superior race” kind of way, I mean the more mature, forward group, but really, there shouldn’t be a “group” at all. Just individuals striving to be the “post-man” (and feminists don’t you dare come at me because I used the term “man”, it is short for “human”).

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29.07.2011

two months of anxiety for a few seconds of wild sex

I am not sure how personal I am going to be. This entry is about last Sunday night, and the events are still a bit too fresh, a bit too recent. Furthermore, I’m not sure if it’ll make me feel better or worse to remember and write something I wish I could forget. Regardless, let’s hope it’s therapeutic, and let’s hope when I read this again, a few weeks from now, I’ll just laugh at how stupid I feel at the moment, and have this as a constant reminder the next time I choose to give in so easily to my manic episodes.

Sunday after work I went to SoHo house for, as I aptly named it, pool o’clock. Me and ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ had been craving a nice swim since the weather had been horrible here in NYC. I messaged a friend who’s a member, he told us to come after 5, and so we did. We walked our swimwear wearing petit derrières to the A train on spring street and north we went to 14th and 8th. The trip was miserable, it was too damn hot and muggy, but in a way that sort of made the advent of a pool much more appealing.

Upon our arrival, we ordered a nice jug/pitcher of Pimm’s, laid on the grape and white stripe lounge chairs, and admired the view: the gentrification of the meatpacking at its best. We got in the pool and ordered some SoHo pricey food. The water was just the right temperature, and although the sun was a bit hot, the real burning came from some of the eyes of the other members. I enjoyed it. I find it somewhat hilarious, and a true testament that money and class are not directly proportional. Some unknown rapper performed a quite catchy and fun set next to the pool. A Scott Disick-esque varmint was dancing on a table and spilling champagne. An inebriated plastic orange (referring to the color of her skin) and her skeletal fedora-wearing wannabe something beau were “dancing” on the made up stage with said rapper. A certain quasi famous nobody with crispy skin and fried hair was at the other end of the pool acting like he owned the place. The place was packed with characters.

After the rapper finished his set, we decided to leave and go to a tea party at Dream Hotel which ended up turning into another pool party, except this one was filled with people who were true testament that lack of money and lack class are somewhat directly proportional. The pool was gross both literally and figuratively. The drinks were weak, but I did manage to drink quite a few of them as we had to order a giant pitcher to be allowed a place to sit, and I am not a fan of wasting alcohol. We didn’t stay long either. Me and ‘AK47’ left to the Gansevoort for a classier than Dream Hotel, but trashier than SoHo house change of pace, ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ went home. My friends ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘John G’ met up with us. We had a drink and headed for Cielo, where I’d never been. Sadly, the place didn’t live up to its name and soon after I ended up in my own personal hell. I left with an Australian who’s name I can’t even remember.

The Aussie took me back to his hotel room at ACE. The details of the night start getting blurry, but on our way up to the room we met another gay couple who invited us over. Both of our horny drunk brains agreed this was a good idea. We entered their room and it seemed kind of sketchy so we left and went to Aussie’s. Somehow, we decided to go back. One of the guys had left, the other one was laying in bed naked and gross. He asked if we “partied” which is code word for doing drugs (meth to be precise), we didn’t but decided to stay regardless. As I’m typing this a voice in the back of my head is just going “idiot! idiot! idiot!”. I should’ve gone home. I didn’t. Again, it’s all blurry but I’m fairly certain all that happened is that Aussie got fucked by gross dude, per my request and I jacked off. I don’t think there were any exchange of fluids other than maybe spit. Another guy showed up and that was sort of our cue to leave.

We went up to the room and ordered some room service and drank a bottle of red wine. I think we fooled around and for some reason I somewhat remember having sex with him. I blacked out. Next thing I know I woke up at 6 in the morning projectile vomiting all over the room. Aussie was speechless and so was I. This never happens to me. For a second I thought I got drugged. I showered and we went back to sleep.

The next morning we woke up and fooled around. We were both still pretty drunk/hung over. This time we jacked of and did cum. We talked a bit about the night and tried to get our stories straight. As far as we know it was all safe and the only time we came was that morning. I started my walk of shame feeling not only shameful but also mad, stupid, anxious, and irresponsible. I bought a smoothie and went home. Monday wasn’t a good day. I felt the usual omne animal post coitum triste time a billion.

I took a nap and woke up to a text from ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ who came to visit. I talked to her and I felt a bit better. I talked to ‘Jose Maria’ as well, he tried calming me down which kind of worked but still… I am just very disappointed at myself, and to be honest, although this feeling has happened before, it never gets old. I know the outcome. I could almost certainly bet my life that once I get tested I’ll be fine, but ironically, maybe I say that I can bet my life because that’s exactly what I was doing: gambling. The next few days included a lot of ups and downs. The worst part of it all is the anxiety of waiting till I can actually get tested, the stupid “window period”. I talked to Aussie a few days later on Grindr (he found me after the fact), we checked our stories again and I felt a bit better, but like I said, it comes and goes. It’s just a slight burning in my stomach that won’t go away till I go to the clinic, but all I can really do is wait. I don’t know how to end this post so I’ll just say “to be continued…” updates on my physical and mental health to come in a few weeks.

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26.07.2011

It’s just another manic Wednesday/Thursday/Friday/ Saturday/Sunday…

Wednesday after ‘Buck’ left things went back to normal. After a quick stop at the gallery and then a tedious wait at the Sprint store, I had my phone back and all was good with the planet. I met ‘Jose Maria’ at his favorite bar with his friend for a quick drink before sushi. I felt like I could finally enjoy some raw fish after being scared of it after a previous food poisoning incident. Takahachi was good, but for some reason, and I blame this on the heat mostly, the sushi wasn’t as rewarding as it usually is. It didn’t feel fresh, it felt tepid. We left and went to Eastern Bloc for our habitual Wednesday night. I’ve been in a crazy horny mood lately, I think because of my mania, so I was somewhat looking for trouble. Thankfully I held back. I managed to drink a lot and make out with DJ a few times, and then just cabbed it back home. I was craving a night completely alone at my apartment. It felt great.

The next morning, I got ready and headed to work. The days had been painstakingly hot. It was somewhat comforting to be in the confines of the office with the AC on full blast. Sadly, the back and forth of temperatures had my throat aching like a mother fucker. I soon discovered that I had a case of “Sick Building Syndrome” (yes, it’s a real condition) due to the air quality affected by the AC unit. What’s a boy to do?

Later that night, I had a date with ‘Sandpaper’. To be honest, I was kind of dreading it. Again, he’s moving too fast for me. He had asked me if it would be ok for him to spend the night so he packed an overnight bag and met me at my place. Is it me or is it just a tad too much? I was a bit annoyed and didn’t really care if I was rude so I was 30 minutes late. We walked to Mesa Coyoacan and had some proper Mexican food. It was weird because it really felt like a date. He was being all romantic and cutesy and I could tell people smelled the date-ness of the whole situation. After dinner, we stopped by Metropolitan for one last night cap (or two). An alcoholic has a quota he has to meet. I ran into my boss’s wife and some friends at Metro. Again, I could tell they smelled our date-ness. Gross. ‘Sandpaper’ was tired and suggested we head home and watch a movie. Despite not wanting, I obliged.

When we got home, he asked if he could take a shower while I walked my dog. Of course I said yes, then I took my sweet ass time walking my baby. I called some friends, Grindr’d, and smoked a fag or two. When I got back to my apartment, he was already asleep. I smoked a cigarette and took a shower. He half asleeply asked me if I was coming to bed soon, I said “after this cigarette” a few times. I decided to finish a bottle of wine that’d been sitting on my counter for the past week, smoke another cigarette, and go online. I don’t usually go to bed before it’s officially the next day. I finally gave in and laid down. He was somewhat annoyed that I stayed up, I didn’t care, he tried to hug me but I acted asleep and careless.

Friday morning I woke up at around 6 and just laid there enjoying an anxiety attack or two, and staring at the ceiling waiting till his alarm clock went off at 7:30 so he’d go to work. We woke up, barely kissed or fooled around and he took off. I went back to bed again for about an hour, and then went to work. The day was busy, it felt nice to get a lot of things accomplished. After work I hurried home, fed my dog, walked him, took a nap (I think), showered, and went back to 10 Degrees to meet ‘Jose Maria’, his two friends, and my friend ‘John G’ for some belated birthday drinks. Again, the heat was unbearable. It is almost hard to drink, and practically impossible to enjoy a cigarette. 10 Degrees was 10 Degrees. I don’t think they like me there, maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned to the bartender the other night when I saw him out that I don’t really like that place. ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘John G’ were outside smoking and I was tired of feeling hot inside so I paid for the bill and headed out. As expected, ‘Jose Maria’ went back inside to say bye to his bartender crush. I’m not even gonna go there because it’s nobody’s business but his and he knows what he’s doing.

We went to Phoenix for a second to meet some more friends. Phoenix was different than usual, but I guess there’s a new Friday night party. It was fun. Me and ‘John G’ left for a bit to go meet my friend ‘Sunshine’ at Bowery Hotel. We only stayed for a drink, which ‘John G’ manage to “leave” behind at a nearby planter, and then we went back to Phoenix. As we approached the bar, I noticed ‘Jose Maria’ talking to some hot Spanish guy outside. As always, he was acting a bit coy and uninterested. Uninterested my ass! We went inside and more friends met up. A weird situation developed. ‘Jose Maria’ and two other guys were all hitting on the same guy. It was fun to watch. I was tired and drunk, so I left them to finish their sword fight. The next day I found out that the most aggressive of them took the price home. I wasn’t surprised.

Work on Saturday was slow. There was not much to do as we’d done most everything the day before. I was talking to some 21 yr old on Grindr. I decided to meet him after work for a second, but more on that on a separate entry. Me and ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ discussed the possibility of meeting later that night after work for drinks, but one thing led to another and she stayed in and it stayed local. I went to visit one of my good friends who I don’t often see at his apartment in Williamsburg. He had a small get together with other gays before they all went out to their respective clubs. Sadly, my friend has a broken foot so he stayed in. I walked by myself back to Metro. I ran into ‘The Mexican’. I haven’t really talked to him much lately,  I think things just fizzled out and to be honest, it’s fine. He had way too many red flags. I’d rather just casually run into him and have a drink or two. He was talking to his friend and I was basically being ignored so I left and went to bed. I don’t enjoy the games.

On the Lord’s Day I surprisingly made it to work in time despite waking up a bit late and meeting some other guy from Grindr in the morning for a quick second (more on that on a separate post, as well). ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ joined me at work and the day went slow. There wasn’t much to do, so we asked the owners if we could close shop early and head to SoHo house to meet a friend of mine for some pool time. We were granted the privilege to do so. I’ll end the post on this note. The rest of the day/night deserves its own post. Regretfully, I was stupidly drunk and am not proud of my actions. I am not sure how much I’m willing to talk about it, but I’ll try my hardest to stay true to the blog. After all, I’m sure a few weeks from now I will look back at this and laugh my ass off at how stupid I was and how stupid I felt.

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24.07.2011

Bye bye ‘Bucky’…

The beginning of the end started last Monday. ‘Buck’s’ last 72 hours were slipping out of our puffy hung over fingers. As usual, my two dear friends, the aforementioned and ‘Jose Maria’, had decided to stay up giving in to their drunk munchies and watching movies. I on the other hand, had fallen asleep promptly. A girl’s gotta watch her figure and I’m not 21 anymore.

They had planned an eventful MOMA/harry potter day, but it’s hard to do all these things when you’re retardedly hung over and you wake up literally after noon, so instead we nixed the museum and just watched the very confusing last chapter of Miss Rowling’s most successful best sellers. After the movies I had agreed to meet ‘Sandpaper’ for a Mexican dinner and maybe some rooftop pool action. We went to Dos Caminos in the meatpacking. The food is not the best but the view is nice, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to introduce him yet to my special Brooklyn Mexican eatery ‘Mesa Coyoacan’, also, I didn’t want to  take him near la casa de me. He was acting creepy and too attachy for my taste. I’m not sure if it’s a cultural thing but I was somewhat flattered/annoyed by his actions. Please refrain from calling me baby, trying to hold my hand, too many PDA’s, and whatever other cutesy/romantic bullshit standard faggots enjoy.

After dinner we wandered around Chelsea for a bit stopping by GYM (a gay sports bar), and XES. The former was fun. I managed to embarrass myself playing a game of pool in front of a somewhat attractive Puerto Rican daddy type (what is wrong with me! Puerto Rican? really? I guess I’m evolving). He challenged ‘Sandpaper’ to a game and, to my surprise, ‘Sandpaper’ was a ball away from winning. We left promptly after. XES was boring. We tried going to Le Bain after but it was closed for the night. I bid him adieu and walked to the ACE hotel to meet up with ‘Buck’ and ‘Jose Maria’. There was a fashion trade show party. It wasn’t very fun so we went back to Brooklyn. We made a quick pit stop at Metropolitan, then a last stop at Alligator lounge for some free pizza and more drinks. We walked back home.

Side note: I’ve been feeling very manic lately. I just realized it tho. I’d been feeling strange for a few days and it just hit me that maybe it was a manic episode. That would explain it all, basically I’ve been more sexual, more reckless, more fervent, more effervescent, and thus my posts haven’t been very ‘usual me’, as well as my behavior.

Tuesday morning was another late start. My sleeping beauties snoozed till two-ish. ‘Jose Maria’ went back to the city to handle personal business. Me and ‘Buck’ debated whether we should stay in, order food, and watch movies, but then I realized I had to meet a friend for some art openings later in the evening, so we decided to go to MOMA for a bit prior to my engagement. We barely had an hour of time before MOMA closed, so I quickly gave ‘Buck’ a tour of the highlights and a crash course in modern art history. Then I left him and ‘Jose Maria’, who met up with us, and headed to Chelsea Market to meet my friend ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’. We walked up a few blocks to the Matthew Marks Gallery for ‘La Carte d’apres Nature’ exhibit. It was nice. We tried to find other openings, but there were none so we just went to The Red Cat for drinks and cheese. It was nice to see her. I enjoy our little one on ones where we talk about work, people, and people from work. The weather was hot, but not ubberly so we strolled to the east side along 23rd st. We parted ways around Broadway and I went home.

Earlier that evening, ‘Buck’ had a dinner with his previous host/lovely friend. After his engagement,  he met me back at mine’s. We opted to do an East Village bar crawl before ending, as expected, at Le Bain. Phoenix. Heather’s. Something on Ave B. Bedlam. The first was alright, met some really annoying queer who kept arguing about the straight to gay ratio in the world with very questionable sources and “facts”. The second was phenomenal. I met Emily  Haines and her bandmate Josh and talked to them for a long time. Turns out he knows an artist we work with. She asked me for my cellphone number… just saying. The third bar on Ave. B was chill. I accidentally opened the door to the bathroom as a girl was fixing her boobs, and although a bit awkward, we laughed and drank the awkwardness off. ‘Jose Maria’ met up with us and we left for the last place. Bedlam was empty.

Le Bain was fun, as usual. We went into Boom Boom for a bit. My manic self  had us going from one side to the other. We eventually ended at the hot tub. I proceeded to do this completely naked. I kissed some South American, he fondled my penis briefly, we left.

Back in Brooklyn, we tried to find some food but almost everything was closed. It was almost 5 in the morning. I picked up a veggie bagel sandwich from the deli, ‘Buck’, and ‘Jose Maria’ were once more being princesses about the whole situation and decided to go back to my place and wait till 6 in the morning when their usual bagel shop opened. The short brown man at the deli messed up my order so I threw my bagel away and went to bed. I believe the boys stayed up and got their bagels.

Wednesday, we all woke up past 1pm. ‘Buck’ had to catch a cab at quarter past two. We didn’t get to hang out much more, but although I didn’t want him to leave, nor did he want to leave, I have a feeling we both knew it was the right time. The goodbye was nice. Not only does absence make the heart grow fonder, but also he needs to figure out his San Diego situation so he can be back in town by the fall. Like I stated, the past few days with him were not at all what I expected. It was nicer and better than I could’ve thought, and I got to see a more mature, more centered side of him I was proud of. It’s crazy how fast kids grow these days. Life goes on.

All I have left to say about this is: come back soon my dear boy, this fag needs his stag stat.

 

 

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