the.applied.process.

wit. honesty. everyday ramblings.

Tag: ‘SF boy’

23.09.2011

Not Drunk Enough

“So I’m gonna get myself another drink whenever I start to think about you ’cause I do what I really don’t want to.”

Tuesday morning I didn’t really give much thought to my post ‘SF boy’ feelings that I might have lingering in my head, I was too excited about ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ coming to the city for the night to care about anything else. I did, however, text him about potentially going to Le Bain that night because I thought he would enjoy it. Guess what?! He never got back to me. I carried on with my day doing a bunch of nothing for the most part, I was feeling restless, anxious, and annoyed. I somewhat needed to go to work earlyish but I didn’t end up leaving my place till the evening for some event we had scheduled.

As soon as I arrived to work, I partook in the free vodka drinks that were being offered by the event organizer. I didn’t really do much other than waste time online and make plans for dinner with ‘Jose Maria’ for a besties dinner since we haven’t spent much time together. I’d also been talking to ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ who was going to her own work dinner, and then meeting up for drinks. I texted ‘Nickle’ about his plans for the night because I wanted him to meet her, and he agreed to meet us after he got off work. Apparently, he had a big project to turn in the next morning and he’d have to be there for a while. I finally coerced ‘Jose Maria’ to trying a Japanese restaurant we’d never been to, Robataya, in the East Village and I left work to walk over.

Dinner was delicious. So delicious that we managed to rack up a very hefty check, drink 4 bottles of sake, and eat enough fish, sea food, veggies, and meat to almost have the staff cut us off (or at least give us a strange look). We finished before I had heard from ‘Nickle’ or ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana”, so we stood outside the place smoking cigarettes and waiting. After 5 minutes she called me half drunk to see where she should meet us. I told her to stay in place and we’d come to her. Girl isn’t the best when she’s intoxicated. ‘Nickle’ mentioned he was about to get out and was about to walk over to wherever we were going. I told him to meet us a Bowery Hotel for a drink and we’d go from there.

We picked up ‘Dandayamana Janushirana’ and walked over to Bowery and 3rd. We ordered a drink, kissed, hugged, gossiped, and waited for my suitor to arrive. As soon as he did, I introduced them, got him a drink, and then my two friends went outside to smoke “a cigarette”, which I took as code for “let’s talk about this man without them around”. I’m sure it wasn’t in a bad way, I’m still interested in knowing what they said, and I’m glad they did so to each other because I like things to be as unbiased as possible. They came back and we left to go to 10 Degrees. We had a few more rounds, ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ should’ve probably stopped, ‘Nickle’ should’ve probably drank more to catch up. Me and ‘Jose Maria’ were fine.

The bar hopping continued across the street at a place that’s name I always forget. We had some pickleback shots, and a couple more drinks, and we proceeded to “church” where me and ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ gave a stellar drunken pole dancing performance to an almost empty bar before she almost passed out on the bench which was our cue to leave. We put her in a cab, one of the pious patrons invited ‘Jose Maria’ to karaoke which he accepted, and me and ‘Nickle’ headed to bed. Apparently, I was significantly more inebriated that I am willing to admit because I passed out on the cab, and then passed out again somewhere in my living room, so ‘Nickle’ carried me to bed. What a gent.

Wednesday morning I made it a point to get to work early. I failed. I interviewed a very creepy intern mid day who seemed very smart but a little off. The cherry on top came when she left, walked up the stairs, and I noticed her legs were covered in scratches and bruises. I gossiped with ‘The Cock of the North’ about her for a second, and then ran some personal and work errands. I ended up making plans with ‘Nickle’ and our friend ‘Viquers’ to meet later that night for a drink at Metro.

I got home at around 7:30, quickly walked ‘Toto’, freshened up and headed to the bar. The whole day ‘Latin T’ was texting me to see if I wanted to hang out, I mentioned my plans and he said he’d come meet me. Boy was I not ready for what was about to happen. Apparently, ‘Fixie’ and him went on a very brief Grindr date a few months ago where ‘Latin T’ managed to get himself kicked out of the bar 20 minutes into it. When he arrived, he was a bit drunk (as usual), and I sensed something slightly off about the night. I introduced them all and ‘Latin T’ was a bit apprehensive. I tried to buffer the situation but wasn’t very successful. I hadn’t eaten so I made plans with my two friends to get some noodles, ‘Latin T’ didn’t want to join. Instead, he went home and said he’d meet later to come with me back to the city to meet ‘Jose Maria’ who was having drinks with ‘Tiny Narcissus’ who had just gotten back from Greece.

I apologized to my friends for ‘Latin T’s’ behavior, but I should’ve apologized even further. As soon as he met us again, he made some very rude comments to ‘Fixie’ saying every time he saw him he was making out with someone different. I was shocked by his boldness so I asked what his point was and mentioned I too have kissed half of Williamsburg. He acted defensive. ‘Fixie’ handled the situation magnificently, as he normally does. ‘Latin T’ was being pushy about leaving and continued being rude to my friends. I was about to leave him, when he hailed a cab and we left for the city.

We arrived at 10 Degrees where ‘Jose Maria’ and co. were and waited for ‘Latin T’s’ friend to come meet. Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t being an asshole to my other friends. I mentioned to ‘Tiny Narcissus’ that I might be going to Greece with ‘Fixie’ in February. ‘Latin T’ asked me if we were dating. I was getting more and more annoyed. I just said it was non of his business, but no, he’s just a really good friend. ‘Latin T’s’ friend showed up which diverted his attention from me and my friends. For some reason I don’t quite understand well, ‘Latin T’ started crying within 5 minutes of her being there. Apparently she was at a work party where a guy he randomly hooks up with was. I pried a bit more and found out that said guy cheats on his boyfriend with ‘Latin T’. The situation just kept getting messier and trickier by the minute. I was severely confused. I have no idea why he’d have such an issue with ‘Fixie’ and his making out habits or mine, when he’s obviously not the most saintly gay man in New York.

I decided to switch into damage control mode  and suggested we go to “church” so I could take him away from my other friends and maybe leave him there. He agreed. As we were walking over I could tell he was more drunk than I’ve ever seen him before, which worried me because I didn’t really want to be associated with him at the bar for fear he’d start something and I’d become guilty by association. As soon as we got to “church” I casually left him to his friend and chatted with the regulars. Two drinks later they wanted food and left me.

I was ready to go home and maybe see ‘Nickle’. I texted ‘Jose Maria’ to come meet me and I started walking his way when I ran into ‘Latin T’ and his friend again. They asked me to have a drink with them at this restaurant they were eating. I obliged and texted ‘Jose Maria’ to meet me there so we could go. Ten minutes later he came and I took a cab as far away from him as I could. He drunkenly texted me asking, and I quote, “where the f r u”. I didn’t reply. I pride myself in being nice and giving people second, third, and fourth chances, but with this one I’m done. He has severe issues and I don’t even think Mother Theresa has the heart to deal with this level of charity of work.

We met a very drunken ‘Nickle’ at The Abbey. Again, not surprised. We didn’t stay long, after we left ‘Jose Maria’ was going to spend the night so we walked back to my place. I started getting an incredibly strong anxiety attack to the point where ‘Jose Maria’ couldn’t calm me down. I wanted to text ‘Nickle’ and tell him I couldn’t deal with him. ‘Jose Maria’ wouldn’t let me. Regardless, I did text him saying I needed to talk to him. Within ten minutes he came over. I calmed down a bit and, instead of talking, he ate my ass, I jacked off, and don’t remember passing out or cumming. Next thing I know he was on the floor sleeping with his head on my boot, and I was on the couch. I pulled out the futon and dragged him to it. He woke up somewhat early and went to work. I woke up a bit later and realized I had dry semen all over my chest and abdomen. Apparently, I did cum. ‘SF boy’ texted me to meet him for lunch before he headed back home but I couldn’t. I took a shower and hurried to work because I really needed to get there soon. I had to interview an intern at noon.

I was a minute late and the intern was waiting. I didn’t have time to catch my breath but the interview went well. She’s a lovely black girl from Brooklyn with no experience in the field, but who seemed sassy and smart enough for us to mold her into a great addition. We hired her on the spot. The day was slow.

I had texted ‘Nickle’ a few times during the day and we had made plans to meet for a long overdue sober dinner where neither of us would drink. He came by my place at 9 pm. Sadly, I tasted whiskey and beer upon our first kiss. He confessed he had a couple drinks prior to coming. I was a bit disappointed and it kind of raised a flag because I’m starting to think that, much like myself, the man might have a slight problem, and as hypocritical as that sounds, I might not want that right now. Still… it is not the right time nor is it my place to bring it up… yet. He took me to Tabare, a restaurant on Driggs and South 1st. He’d never been but I had. Our unsuccessful sober date continued with a bottle of malbec. I decided to give up and just give in to my soothing, anti-anxiety, self prescribed medicine. I mentioned to ‘Nickle’ that it is in fact, not him, but I who has the issues. I can’t control my anxiety too well and all I asked for was that if he wanted to continue getting to know me, we take it slow and be completely honest with each other, and not to freak out when I do. It sat well with him. The man is winning me over little by little.

Half way through dinner ‘Fixie’ texted me to come meet him and his friend at The Abbey for a drink. Again, sober date = total fail. We finished our food and headed over for “just one drink”. Unrealistically, it was not “just one drink” but we did manage to stop after 2 or 3. The Abbey was the usual good times. Lots of familiar faces and cheap booze. We left at around 1 in the morning and walked home to go to bed. This morning, he woke me up with his lips around my lower head, and we jacked off together. He left at around 8:20 and I went back to sleep for a couple of hours. I woke up and took a couple of the homeopathic anxiety pills he had given me the night before. I think they worked. But if they don’t, I always have my whiskey and wine.

“And when I get there, to a place where I see you in a kitchen, I stop wishing but that thing and I don’t need you. I don’t really wanna see you and I don’t want you to see me. You would think that I was crazy,
you might think that I wanna be close to you but I’d rather wanna drink some Whisky and maybe have a little sip ‘o wine ’cause right now it`s the only thing that makes me forget you are mine.”

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22.09.2011

Airplanes

“It sounds like we would of had a great deal to say to each other”

Intermission.

Last Saturday, ‘SF boy’ took the red eye to New York. We had originally made plans to hang out at least once but, knowing him, nothing was set in stone. I wasn’t holding my breath for this one, and besides… with all these other boys I’d been juggling, I was pretty winded. Regardless, being the cheery always down for whatever kind of guy that I am I had planned a nice evening for us on Monday: dinner, Broadway, drinks, and maybe a sleepover. In his typical manner, he was playing hard to get and making it significantly hard to have solid plans. Sunday I knew he’d be with his friend for a birthday. He actually texted me Sunday night but after a couple short back and forth one liners he stopped. What a surprise.

Monday morning I woke up fairly early because ‘Nickle’ was over and he needed to go to work. I planned on staying up but after having some hydrating coconut water and a slice of peanut butter toast, I went back to bed for a mini nap. I woke up at elevenish just in time to do a much needed session of yoga. The class was surprisingly easy this time.

I got out at about 2 and hurried home to frantically clean my place in case ‘SF boy’ came over or spent the night. A good thing about him is that after being to his’, I got inspired to grow up and keep a pristine apartment. I’ve been doing good so far. For the next following hours I scrubbed, swept, vacuumed, washed, swiped, polished, and cleaned every single nook and cranny of my untidy abode. In between all these things I kept smoking cigarettes and checking my phone for signs that ‘SF boy’ was still alive. They came few and far between but somehow I managed to decipher that I was supposed to meet him somewhere in SoHo at around 5:30 pm so we could grab something to eat and a drink before heading to see the musical.

I showered, got dressed, and headed to our rendez vous. He was waiting with his friend at a parking garage on Mulberry and Kenmare where there was some sort of police altercation outside. I greeted them both and hung around till his friend got her car. We then walked for a bit till we ended up at Delicatessen on the corner of Prince and Lafayette having some fish tacos and a michelada in my case, and a burger and some gay martini in his. We quickly and effortlessly caught up which boggles my mind because for some reason, when we’re hanging out it seems so fluid and natural, yet when we’re not together it’s so awkward and it’s like pulling teeth to try and have some sort of connection with this man. We ordered a second round of drinks and dilly dallied for a second till it was time to catch the N uptown to Times Square to watch Priscilla Queen of the Desert.

My handsome tourist was taking plenty of pictures of all the wasteful billboards on 42nd and Broadway, some of them including me, which I find a bit odd because he seems like one of those boys who doesn’t want others to know he’s hanging out with someone so he can keep his options open, much like DJ. We found the Palace Theatre and ordered another drink. This time: a pink margarita. We got escorted to our seats and waited till the musical started. I had an exceptional time. If you haven’t yet, go watch this one. It was camp, it was funny, it was light, it was well choreographed, it was perfect for the occasion.

After we left the theatre I texted ‘Fixie’, ‘The Queen of the Dammed’, and ‘Mexican Paddington’ to go to Cubby Hole for a few more rounds. We took the train to the Village and met up with the boys. On the way there I texted ‘Fixie’ warning him not to mention DJ or ‘Nickle’ because ‘SF boy’ didn’t know about them.

Right after we got there both ‘Fixie’ and ‘The Queen of the Dammed’ gave me their negative two cents on my date. I wanted to get some dirt on him and with the world being so small, it turned out ‘Mexican Paddington’ knew some of ‘SF boys’s’ friends from back home. I let them chat for a bit and went outside with ‘Fixie’ for a cigarette and more schooling. I like to hear his opinion because he’s usually pretty on point.

We went back inside and had a few more drinks. In their usual manner, ‘Mexican Paddington’ and ‘The Queen of the Dammed’ went home. We stayed with ‘Fixie’ to finish our drinks and then took the L to Brooklyn.

Before heading to bed we stopped by Metro for one last round. Again, the night was quite fun. We were a bit flirty but not too much, just like we usually are. I took him to the photo booth for my ritualistic documenting of the boys I go out with. We left Metro and I offered he spent the night. Not sure if he used this as an excuse or not but he said he couldn’t because he had his friend’s keys and needed to give them to her early in the AM. I chose to believe him. We hugged goodbye and before letting him walk away I called him back and gave him a kiss.

As I was walking home I texted ‘Nickle’ to see if he was still at The Abbey like he usually is. He didn’t reply but I decided to stop anyway. He wasn’t there but most of his friends were. They all greeted me with great excitement, as usual. I stayed for a bit having a few more drinks and talking to them about my future ex boyfriend. Some of them gave me the go, others jokingly told me to be nice or they’d break my bones. It was getting late and I was ready to go home. I paid my ridiculously cheap tab and stumbled home. Apparently, I called ‘Jose Maria’ and had an anxiety attack about the whole situation. I don’t quite remember that, but it sure sounds like me. The anxiety is getting worse and worse. I have no idea why but I’m getting scared. Thinking back, a similar situation happened when I was in San Francisco staying with ‘SF boy’. I’m confused and I don’t know how to go about it. I guess all I can do is just take it a day at a time. It’s scary and exhausting… life is not fun sometimes.

“I bet when I leave my body for the sky the wait will be worth it.”

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08.07.2011

NY NY NY NY NY NY NY

It’s been exactly 7 days since I’ve been back. I figured that rather than posting constantly about every single day, while in New York I’m gonna post once or twice a week, unless something truly exceptional happens. I’m not saying I don’t have quite the exceptional life, I do, I love it, I enjoy it, I don’t want to change it, but I’d hate to sound repetitive and predictive: yes, I went out again tonight and got drunk and crazy… how many times do we want to read that? Without further ado I will try to write a recap on my first week back home to the best of my blurry mind’s abilities.

I landed last Friday. As soon as I did I started texting people. I had dinner plans within minutes, so I took a cab home, and called ‘Freckles’ to let me in to my own apartment. ‘Freckles’ is my friend who’d been house sitting for me. I walked my exceptionally graceful dog who is an amazing traveler to have him pee after holding it in for 6 or 7 hours, and went upstairs. I was in dire need of a shower, so after a brief catching up I did so. Then, we headed to ‘Pulino’s’ to meet up with my other friend ‘Jose Maria’ and one of my coworkers. The whole time I’d been texting with ‘Latin T’ I thought I liked. He was in the neighborhood and decided to meet up with us for a drink.

After Pulino’s we headed for more drinks at a few bars in the East Village. Nothing really different or out of the ordinary. I was ecstatically happy to be back. Summer nights in New York HAVE to be the best place in the world. It’s warm and everybody’s walking around almost naked and enjoying the weather. Us New Yorkers put up with the winters and the summer days for the few hours of summer nights we get. ‘Latin T’ decided to kiss me. It felt nice. He was very forward but in a cute way. I didn’t mind. I felt like I could play the roll of “average fag in love for the night” for the night. We were holding hands, kissing, hugging, basically making my friends wonder who the fuck had gotten back from Europe and what did he do with the real me. ‘Latin T’ asked me to come home with me. I politely declined. I wasn’t feeling it for a couple of reasons. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt about him but I was intrigued to find out, so I decided not to fuck it up and explore my new found Latinophilia for the next few days. I ended up passing out at around 4 or 5 in the morning, I think.

Saturday was my first day back at work. I was very excited to come back. I was somewhat dreading all the catching up I’d have to do, mostly for my own crazy reasons because I’m sure it wouldn’t be that big of an issue if I just didn’t get up to speed and just started fresh, but that’s not me. I’m obsessive compulsive. It was nice to be welcomed back with open arms and blank stares (the beard was gone). That day was ‘The Cock of the North’s’ birthday. I had gotten him a really nice present that I was sure he’d love. When he opened it, he was happier than a sick child who’d just received news of his new kidney after life riskingly waiting for a transplant.  As expected, we went over to his house after work and celebrated his day. We had some cocktails and then went to a bar. It was a nice chill night at first. Then, my other friend ‘Afterline’ suggested we go to an after-party at Le Bain for a quick late night dip in the hot tub. I wanted to loyally stay and hang out with ‘The Cock of the North’, but I also felt guilt tripped into going, and I knew it was gonna be fun regardless, so a posse of about 10 of us ended at the rooftop of The Standard getting even more intoxicated and eventually wetting our underpants. I got home pretty late/early.

Sunday was a chill day. Me, ‘Freckles’, and ‘Jose Maria’ went for a late brunch at a tiny tapas bar in the village. The food was delicious, the sangria was smooth, and the atmosphere was just right. They kept playing old school Shakira and Mana for my nostalgic Mexican ear’s delight. Another friend, ‘Occhio’, joined towards the end. We left and headed back to mine for more drinks and board games. Later that night, we ended up at the Gansevoort rooftop for a gay party. I wanted to see the DJ, he’s an old ‘friend’ who I’ve fooled around a handful of times. He was nice and charming as always and greeted me with a peck. We didn’t stay long. We went to Le Bain to show ‘Freckles’ the view. Again, somehow we all ended up in the pool. She did so topless claiming she didn’t want to get her bra wet, but if you ask me, that’s just her excuse. She’s a flirt, and why not, she’s beautiful. If I was her, I’d be butt naked. I think I kissed a guy while inside the hot tub. They night just got blurrier, but some how I was sober enough to have a very intense conversation with ‘Freckles’ when we got back to mine. We passed out at 7am.

Monday was 4th of July. We didn’t have set plans, but me being the usual leader of the pack decided to have people over, head to the park, get drunk, and then find a rooftop to look at some fireworks. Prior to that tho,  I met up with my old roommate from community college and her man. I persuaded them into having a pop burger and hoped they would prefer it over in-n-out. Us New Yorkers desperately try and find a substitute, but sadly there is none. West Coast, you can have this one.

I took them to the highline. We walked for a bit and then headed back to Billyburg. We stopped by my place, picked up my pooch, and headed to ‘Lucky Dog’ for a quick beer before the park. At about 5pm we were finally sitting at McCarren indulging on outlaw vodka, and chips and guac. There were about 10 of us and the group just kept getting bigger. ‘Latin T’ joined us with his friend and so did my fellow Frenchies who are dating each other. More food. More drinks. More boardgames. So far a successful 4th of July.

That evening, we walked to my friend’s apartment further down into Williamsburg to go to his rooftop party and watch the fireworks. I was very drunk by that point, and I’m sure my friends were too. The fireworks were nice, but they would’ve been nicer sober. ‘Latin T’ left without saying goodbye which got me weirded out a bit. I was too drunk to stay out so I stumbled home and passed out before midnight. My dehydrated body woke me up a bit before 3 in the morning. I decided I’d text my friends and see if they were out. They weren’t. Having slept a few hours, I was sleepless and opted to go to ‘Metropolitan’ for last call by myself. I met a random Domincan Republic man who proceeded to hit on me with his unintelligible “Spanish”. I let him buy me my last drink, left the bar, skyped a bit, and went to bed.

Tuesday was wasted on recovering. I had errands to run but was too lazy to do so. ‘Freckles’ went back home. I stayed in and watched a bootleg movie. I met ‘Latin T’ for a drink as we had planned, and then we had dinner. It was supposed to be a date but two of his friends were there. He’d just been fired and needed friendly support. After dinner, he suggested we go back to mine and watch a movie. I agreed, but told him I had to go meet ‘Jose Maria’ who was having some boy issues later that night. To be honest, I am not certain how I feel about him yet so I’m being evasive and taking it slow. We cuddled while laying on my couch. It was nice. He left at about 11:30 and I headed to the east village to meet up with ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Tiny Narcissus’. We had a couple of drinks and somehow ended up at Le Bain, yet again. Inebriated, I kissed ‘Tiny Narcissus’ and after unsuccessful attempts of getting them in the hot tub, I went in by myself. Nothing new here. Went home drunk.

Wednesday I actually did run my errands although first I met up with ‘Afterline’ and a boy he had just met at school that morning. We did a nice brunch and then a beer and a game of scrabble. I kicked both their asses. How’s that for ESL? Then ‘Latin T’ came over to print some stuff. It was slightly awkward, but I’m not sure why. After he left I finished some of the many things I had to accomplish, and met up with ‘Tiny Narcissus’ and his friend for dinner. I had a bit of Greek overload that night. ‘Jose Maria’, my Greek answer to the common Greeks, caught up with us at Eastern Bloc. I kissed a certain someone I’ve talked about that I hadn’t kissed in a while. It felt good and validating. I still have it. I left horny and went to sleep.

Thursday I worked. We have a new intern, she’s nice but not as obsessive compulsive as I am and hence a bit slow (in my book). I really have to learn to accept the more sane humans I share this planet with. After work I went to the boonies of Brooklyn to meet up with ‘Jose Maria’ for a BBQ. Although I was starving, I politely declined all food passed in front of me because despite the fact that they were courteous enough to think about us sensiblevores (yes, I made that word up), they were not conscious enough to fully separate the meat from the non meat items. I can’t deal with my faux meat touching something that had once a face. His friends were nice. I randomly talked to a guy who went to med school with one of my best friends in junior high. How unbe*fucking*lievable small is this damn planet?! I can never get over that.

We all played Cranium, which was very slow and interesting considering the smorgasbord of racial backgrounds and nationalities we had going. The lesser adept gave up and went home. We continued playing, and my team lost. Me and ‘Jose Maria’ were supposed to go meet ‘Tiny Narcissus’ and some other friends at Le Bain, but I was tired and lazy and did not feel like doing the usual yet another night. Ironically enough, I ended up at Metropolitan. I met some handsome half Spanish half Irish thirtysomething and made out with him for the rest of the night. Two interesting things happened: he left for a second and asked me to take care of his drink, but when he came back, he apologized and said he didn’t trust drinking out of it so he got a new one. The other thing was that he seemed ok and not pushy at all when I let him know I was not going home with him. I think we both enjoyed the slight differences exhibited from the accustomed New York homosexual interaction. I felt a bit bad for ‘Jose Maria’. Whether he admits it or not, I felt he was a bit annoyed, and why not, I probably would too. I left my Spanish conquistador and headed home. You know the rest.

Today I worked. It was a slow day. It took me the whole day, on and off, to finish this entry, but I feel good about it. I like this new approach. My closing thoughts? Like I said, I’m not sure how I feel about ‘Latin T’. He’s very nice and I find myself randomly thinking about him throughout the day and looking at my phone for signs of interest, yet at the same time there’s something slightly off, something missing. I enjoy being single. I also enjoy having a boy around. There’s an interesting dichotomy here, when you have someone circumventing you, you tend to attract more and more suitors. I’d love to know the chemistry behind this, or maybe it’s just pure coincidence. Either way, I’m not stressing about it. Like I’ve stated, I’m taking it slow, exploring my options, enjoying my time. Today was also SF boy’s birthday. I wished him a happy birthday via Facebook, per my religious habits. He hasn’t responded, nor will he. It doesn’t matter, I woke up in such a great mood, and my day has been getting strangely better and better. An old friend, ‘Buck’, is in town. He stopped by the gallery. We’re going for drinks later. I was meant to go to the Chelsea Hotel for ‘Tiny Narcissus’s’ second to last night, but to be honest, it’s been a delightfully atypical day, and I want it to turn into an even more delightfully atypical night. Tonight I’m playing it straight.

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29.06.2011

A Big Gay Weekend!

Friday wasn’t very eventful, or at least I don’t remember it being. I woke up and did nothing. Just laid there. I wasted my morning sobering up, going online, and catching up on my HBO. I needed the rest. Jet lag is now a reality.

I ran some errands with ‘Reindeer’. We checked out a place he might be moving to, had some surprisingly good Mediterranean food, stopped by a card game store to get some booster packs for their Magic deck (I love these dorks), and picked up his girlfriend’s luggage. He had to pick her up from work and drive her to the airport later. He dropped me off, I took a party nap, and woke up when he returned from SFO. Facebook told me I could now get legally married in my home state. It was time to celebrate.

I texted a few friends from LA who were in town for the festivities and decided to go meet two of them at a place called ‘The Stud’. I paid the stiff cover for the three of us, me, ‘Reindeer’, and his brother. I checked us in to facebook. We met my friends, had a drink, and watched a drag show. We stepped out for a cigarette. All of a sudden, ‘SF boy’ taps me in the back. I said hi and continued talking to ‘Reindeer’. We chatted briefly. My hosts decided they wanted to leave so I went inside to say bye to my other friends. I said bye to ‘SF boy’, who was being elusive and nonchalant as always, and we headed to another gay bar closer to their place on Haight. I’m not sure if he showed up because he saw I checked in or it was a coincidence. A part of me thinks he did follow my check in, a part of me tells the other part of me to stop being self centered. I was drunk.

After a pathetic game of pool, one of them suggested we go back to theirs and smoke. I didn’t really care to smoke but I took this as an opportunity to leave. As soon as we got home, I sneaked out to the couch while ‘Reindeer’ was rolling the joint and passed out.

Saturday I was planning on going to the de Young museum for a Balenciaga exhibit, and to get my much anticipated tattoos. I had made an appointment the prior day. ‘Raindeer’ had to work. I woke up early, got dressed, and headed to the Haight for some food and ink. I was eating some nostalgic fish and chips when I finally heard back from my friend who I was supposed to accompany to the wedding. We planned on me taking the train and then a cab to the venue as soon as I was done getting scribbled on my skin. I finished my food and just like any masochist would, headed for some pain.

The tattoos took three hours. It was a little longer than expected but overall a very pleasant experience. The tattoo artist was from San Diego, where I first met him.  He had done my very first two tattoos ever, and I’d been wanting him to do an upside down flying fox using his signature style, day of the deadish and folky. The other, a vintage medicine bottle with my last names, was in honor of my parents. I was riding the adrenaline wave and sort of lost track of time. When I left, I checked my phone and realized I had a few missed calls from the wedding party. I got in touch with them and started my journey. No one was home so I took a bus to ‘Reindeer’s’ job, picked up the key and cabbed it back to his place. Packed, left the key with his brother and cabbed it again to BART. Two hours and $40 later, I was at the reception in the middle of butt fuckin nowhere USA. It was the perfect scenario for a slash film.  No one’s phone had reception.

The wedding started off weird. I felt very out of place. It was mostly family and direct friends. I couldn’t see anyone I knew so I walked to the bar, ordered some red and pretended I knew what I was doing. After about 15 minutes I felt a familiar tap. It was a girl I had met the year before when I accompanied my friend ‘Honey’ to the bay for bay to breakers. She helped me find the rest of the group. We said hi, gave hugs, I congratulated the brides (who looked stunning by the way), and continued drinking. I later met ‘Honey’s’ dad, who offered I take his seat since I wasn’t assigned a seat on any of the tables. Of course, I politely declined. I went to have a cigarette and watched the celebration continue. I was about ready to go to the other side to a grass field, smoke cigarettes, drink, and read while the party dined, but then ‘Honey’s’ roommate fetched me up and arranged a seat for me.

While we were dining, the usual toasts and speeches were given. I felt weird. It all seems beautiful and cheerful, but for some reason, it just seems fake to me. I have to clarify, I’m not talking about this specific wedding, just the whole concept in general. I consider myself quite empathic, but when it comes to stuff like this, I truly cannot feel what these people are feeling or understand why they do it. I got chills. More wine.

After dinner we all started dancing. I had a good time. Met lots of nice people, and some really annoying ones. The DJ played some Taio Cruz and I nearly came. We left for the hotel to continue celebrating. I was tired. I had a drink or two and followed ‘Honey’s’ roommate to bed. The next morning was pride, and my new found appreciation for said date wanted to be in top shape to enjoy the debauchery.

Of course Sunday morning, despite planning to leave by 9 am, we left ridiculously late. We didn’t get to San Francisco till 1 in the afternoon. We made some road sodas and walked around the fenced streets where the fête was taking place. We all got separated, ‘Honey’, her roommate, and I lost the rest of them. We walked around and I took pictures with the ‘characters’ of San Francisco pride. The crazies came out to play that day. We finally found our group and sat down on the lawn near a makeshift bar. I met a ginger who was infatuated by me, and we kissed. He asked me to come home with but I wanted to stay out. Half the group, ‘Honey’ included, left to go to their respective airports and catch their respective flights. I continued the party at the Castro with the brides and a couple of their friends. We were all a bit drunk and we didn’t last long out. One of them got kicked out so we decided to leave. I went back to ‘Raindeer’s’.

I didn’t want the night to end but I did feel I needed some rest. ‘Reindeer’ left to pick up his belle, and I napped. He came back and we went out in the Castro again. Somehow we ended up at The Cafe, the same place I was at earlier. We sipped on drinks, smoked some fags, and stared at some too. We met some kids from New York with whom we ended up hanging out for a while. We left the bar at 1:45. California sucks. We unsuccessfully tried to find somewhere to drink more. California sucks even more.

After wandering aimlessly for a while we went home. ‘Reindeer’ and I smoked a spliff and went to bed.

The next day, he woke me up before going to work. I hugged him goodbye and hung out at his place till it was time for me to leave. I decided to take the bus, as I was getting used to them more and more. This time, the experience was far from pleasant. A creepy, eastern European, sexagenarian sleaze kept bugging me the whole way to BART asking inappropriate questions, and then following me as I got off the bus. I managed to get rid of him and board the train. I got to my flight with 23 minutes to spare. The plane was full of faggots, all coming home after their migration to the holy gay Mecca. I wondered if they found love, good sex, or just some STD’s. I love San Francisco. I love it even more and more every time I come. For a second, I was affraid I was gonna have negative associations with it because of ‘SF boy’, but to the honest, the more I think about him, the less he matters.

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07.06.2011

The head of the south reigns supreme.

By now, it is certainly obvious that both my trip and my new take on this have proven to be quite fruitful to this blog. I’ve been inspired to write more and more, and I try to add an entry almost every other day.

Today, I’m doing a bit of retrospective thinking. Today, I’m talking about my last, long-lasting crush.

It all started a month after my last breakup. A few days after I last saw my ex, I was feeling irreparably crushed on my drive back from my parents, when I got a phone notification that someone was trying to add me on Facebook. He sent a message saying: “it is ridiculous how good looking you are. Just saying”. My initial response was: it’s not like I don’t hear this quite often, whatever.

As soon as I got to my friend’s apartment in San Diego, where I was to stay for the next couple nights, I looked at his profile on facebook and replied: “well if it isn’t the pot calling the kettle black” and accepted his request. And so it began, my 14 month old crush that still lingers…

At first we conversed frequently. AIM, Facebook, E-Mail (no texts because my phone seemed to hate his phone and for some bizarre reason wouldn’t receive his texts… should’ve listened to my phone, huh?). We exchanged music, sent pictures, talked for ages. From the get go, I could tell he wasn’t much of a talker. It was like pulling teeth to try and get a word out. I, on the other hand, can never shut up.

After a month of talking, I was to go to San Francisco with a friend for Bay 2 Breakers, race all through SF that really is just another reason to party and drink in public. I asked if he wanted to meet. He said he’d be busy but he’d try. The trip came, but he didn’t. No biggie. I tried to understand that, although I was making an effort to go visit, he might indeed be swamped with previous engagements, and really couldn’t find time even for coffee.

Two weeks later, I returned with another friend to the bay area. Again, nothing. He claimed he was busy. Seemed somewhat shady to me, but whatever.

Shortly after, I left for my 2.5 month stay in Europe. Throughout this whole thing, we kept in contact, not as much, but still enough to keep me lingering. I saw him flirt with others, something that bugged me a bit, as it would any other human being, but of course, I was doing the same, and I can’t claim ownership over someone I haven’t even met.

When I came back, I got convinced on going to visit (again!), and so I drove north with my dog. He seemed more attentive this time. To make the long story shorter, we met and spent 3 really nice days together. Dinner. Drinks. Grocery shopping. Trips to the vet. Pedicures. Boring, married couple shit. I loved every second of it. We only made out a couple of times. No sex.

I have to state that ever since we started talking my mind was set on moving to New York and he was aware of this. He stated he was moving back to LA (where he is from), and so the possibility of something more serious was almost nonsensical, but I really liked him and, as always, was open to suggestions.

So I moved, and we kept in touch, less and less every time. I teeter tottered between forgetting about him, and fighting my own natural instinct to give up very easily. I felt under appreciated through it all. I sent postcards, presents, cute pictures, witty texts, birthday wishes, merry xmas’, and got minimal reciprocation. It seemed as if he could read my mind and the moment I decided to give up, he’d start being sweet again. The funny thing is, thanks to Facebook and the ever so small gay world, I realized I wasn’t the only one he was doing this to, yet somehow, I felt special.

Fast forward to April this year, I went to visit him again. He invited me to stay at his place for a few days. The week prior to my arrival, he was playing his mind games again, and not really talking to me. I decided that if he didn’t contact me at least the day before, I was gonna go to SF, call my friend, and ignore him for good. Again, Mr. Psychic here messaged me two days before my flight. Hooked one more time.

I landed at SFO and called him straight away. He told me to come over. I did. We hugged. Hung out. Passed out. The next morning, we cuddled for a bit, fooled around, took a shower, went for food. There was a weird chemistry. I have a feeling we’re both shy and expecting the other to make the moves, and so it never really just ‘flows’.

After breakfast, a friend of his met us at his place. It was Easter Sunday and we were gonna go out and get drunk all day. She was a nice girl, she mentioned she’d heard a lot about me (good sign, right?). We had some mimosas and went over to his neighbor’s. Again, nice guy, said the same thing she said. We ate some weed chocolate, drank some more and headed to the bars. I met more friends of his, same thing happened. Once more, being his lovely self, he wasn’t paying much attention to me. Luckily, I’m a big boy and I had fun regardless. At the end of the night. We went back to his neighbor’s. By this point I was somewhat annoyed by him and decided to go to bed.

I woke up next to him, we cuddled a bit more, got up and showered (no fooling around). I made us breakfast, we cleaned his apartment, I hung some art up, we went to west elm. Then I went to visit a friend of mine. When I got back, he’d been smoking weed, I’d been drinking whiskey. We watched a movie and went to sleep. The next morning, we cuddle one last time, took showers, kissed goodbye, and he went to work. I stayed at his place till I had to head to the airport. I tidied up, wrote him a cute note and left.

To this day there’s been no mention of such note. We’ve still talked, but barely anything. I sent him a message a few days ago telling him I’d be in SF by the end of this month asking if he wants to hang out. Despite the fact he’s been on Facebook, no response. I don’t think I’ll get one, and I won’t even bother asking. He is noncomfrontational. I think this might be the end. I don’t want to delete him, I’d look like a psycho, but I’m definitely going to try and forget him… And just like clockwork, he’ll respond saying he does want to see me, and I might be stupid enough to agree.

My thoughts: in the words of rilo kiley – “and the talkin’ leads to touchin’, then touchin’ leads to sex, and then there is no mystery left.” after fooling around my charm dissipated. I also think timing was crucial. He was sort of my emotional rebound. Today, I might not be as easily ready to believe in someone with so many warning signs, but back then I was hurting. Why do I like him? Fuck if I know, he’s certainly not the nicest, or the brightest, but I do find him very attractive. Sorry brain, the head of the south reigns supreme.

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