frustrations and observations

-first up: the gym. i hate the goddam fucking gym so much. i hate the machines and the free weights and the guys (ESPECIALLY the guys) in it. i hate paying for it. i hate going to it. i hate working out at it. and i really hate that EVERY time i go, i come home with an injury, no matter how little or how much i do. i couldn't straighten my arm for almost a week (damn brachioradialis!) because of my back workout.

and yet, i will renew my monthly membership tomorrow... because i am your typical half-gay american white boy, and i want to look good. i hate this country.

-long story that i'm going to cut short: i ran into a friend of mine (a really good looking friend of mine) at the gym, and we were talking, and i mentioned my hatred of the gym, and he said, "really? i thought the gym was like church for gay guys." (a will & grace quote.) my heart stopped. i have talked to a mutual friend of ours about me and liking boys (and girls) and i was sure he had told him. after some not-so-covert questioning, i realized he was just making a joke. still... not funny.

-one of the blogs i follow featured this beauty [chris lebeau] and mentioned that he needs to get some sun because he is too white. i disagree. i think that american standards need to be reset. a deep tan does not mean someone is healthy or sexy. it just means they have more melanin spread around. there are six skin types (clinically speaking) and 3 of them are prone to sunburn and skin cancer. to tell these people they are not beautiful/attractive because they don't look dark like all the other model/porn stars is not only absurd and ridiculous, it's a threat to their health to demand that they go and get a tan. some people (like light blondes/redheads) almost CAN'T tan, and have a much higher risk of squamous cell carcinoma or melanoma. get real, people. appreciate the various hues of skin, and stop putting people at risk just so you can suit your fancy.

-my 4-month "anniversary" with the boy just passed. (don't worry, buddy, i didn't forget, there's some sappy package in the mail right now on its way to you...) i really don't know what else to say but wow. it's the strangest, most amazing relationship i've ever been in. it would take more than a few sentences to define... so we don't bother. we just are. and that's cool with us both.

here's to 4 more months, with hopes for a life-long friendship.

why i cut my hair

it happened again. i broke. we're talking the beginnings of a major meltdown. i lay curled up on the couch, focusing all my energy on stopping the coming storm. hours before, i had sat on that couch and politely watched as the man i had shared a bed with that night showed me pictures and videos of his other life as a drag queen, and all his drag queen friends. just prior to that, i found something on his privates that i am still not sure wasn't a wart. this was AFTER a night of romping about in the sack.

at that point, i was ready to swear off men forever. lying, cheating, slippery, egotistical bastards. fuck 'em all, and not in the good way. what kind of guy messes around with you and fails to tell you that he might have an STD? a selfish pig, that's what kind!

i was a little turned off and disturbed by the pictures and videos. just not my thing, men pretending to be women. we're men, damn it, that's what is attractive about us. i know some people will criticize me for being narrow minded, but i don't give a damn. that's how i see it.

i drove him home, gave him a peck on the cheek, and swore i'd never see him again.

so then, laying on the couch, it all started to hit me: who i had become, what i had done, how much of a whore i'd been without even having experienced 100% gay sex. i started to crash. silent sobs shook my body, and i covered my face with my hands. all i had ever wanted was love and affection, and i was trading it for this shit. i was becoming all i despised for a cheap thrill, to be big and bad like the guys i secretly envied. and i was not cut out for it.

i started to panic. there was no one around. it was late. most of my decent friends were in bed already. the one i texted told me to call him tomorrow. i started thinking back to the first breakdown--two hours of straight sobbing in my parent's arms. but now they were hours away, and i was alone in a big empty quiet house.

and then it hit me. i needed my daddy. it always comes back to that. time and time and time again, he is the stem of all of this. i need him so badly, and it's pretty much too late for that.

as this realization came over me, my sensible voice in my head said to me, "self, you can have your meltdown and become a heap of mess, or...

...you can cut your hair."

i calmed down. alright then, i would cut my hair.

clippers were all i needed. in the bathroom, i stripped naked. i used the smaller set of clippers to shave my beard. taking the bigger ones, i put on the 3/8" guard and ran it up the sides of my head, watching the thick brown hair fall to the floor. the buzz of the clippers blended with the vibrations of the blades against my head. i switched to a 1/2" guard and trimmed the top of my head, the denseness of the hair almost stopping the blades. i ran the trimmers over my head a few more times, catching the stray long hairs. i brushed the hair off and looked at myself...

naked. new. clean. a little bit of cut hair still remained on my shoulders and chest from where it had rained down. but i was no longer the weak little boy on the couch. i was someone else, someone new.

it took me a few days to realize why i needed to cut my hair.

i grew up poor. i never knew it. my parents lived very frugally. i thought we were royalty. my parents were proud people, respectable, smart. not college-educated entirely, but intelligent. because times were rough for us (mostly), Dad learned to cut our hair--my brothers and i. i remember it pretty clearly, a rarity for me. i would take off my shirt, sit down in a chair in the kitchen, and remain still while Dad took out the clippers and scissors. [i haven't quite figured out the scissors yet.] he would cut it the same way every time, so i had the same haircut for 20 years, until i learned to cut my own hair. he would use the clippers on the sides, and the scissors on the top. i remember the feeling of his fingers in my hair, carefully measuring how long each lock should be, and snipping my hair right above his thick fingers. i can still feeling the buzz and vibration of the clippers on my temporal and occipital bones. he would finish it off by sprinkling baby powder on my shoulders and brushing the hair off gently. i would then rush to find a mirror and proudly show Mom my new haircut from Dad. over the next week or so, he would fondly tease on a daily basis, "hey... lemme ask you something... who cut your hair?" i would laugh, knowing full well he was proud of his work and frugality.

as i look at my short hair now, i realize that those were the closest times me and Dad have ever had. sure we hug and kiss like normal families do, but i don't have memories of Dad touching me, holding me, cuddling with me, making sure i felt safe and protected. the most he ever lovingly touched me... was when he cut my hair.

and so, on nights when i feel alone, or depressed, or overwhelmed... i cut my hair.

more thoughts on my life

i have so much i want to write about.

i think i'm done with random guys. the problem is the guys i want to be with are totally straight. i don't know how to explain to them i'm not 100% gay, i'm just trying out something new. i think some of them would be ok with that.

i hate that this relationship thing has become my obsession of late. i need to slow down, prioritize, stop being such a whore, focus on studying. the physical intimacy is something i desperately crave, though, even in its artificial form. there seems to be no happy medium for me, unfortunately.

another idiot stopped texting me tonight. plans were to meet up, and then BOOM. nothing. not sure what happened. pisses me off. and he's not even gay, supposedly, but i doubt that now. certainly acts fickle enough to be one.

i seem to be a two-hit wonder. i make out/mess around with a guy twice, and i'm done. and they don't seem to mind either, with the exception of the first guy, who is desperate and clingy. gross.

i had a dream last night. i got a call from my mom that my "leech" [who i got rid off a few weeks ago] was dying. i didn't believe it. she always exaggerates things. i called her [in my dream] and she sounded sick. i actually started in care [in my dream] and was concerned. i started thinking how i could drive the 5 hours to see her (the doctors in the dream gave her 9 hours max to live). and then i woke up. don't know what it meant, but it seems i can't NOT care. i knew that, i guess.

there are 3 girls who live 2 states away that either want to date me or i want to date them right now. that, my friends, is unfortunate, and frustrating.

there is one man who i have become very comfortable with in my head. i'm past the obsessed stage, settled pretty well into the best friend/lover zone. because i'm me, i still worry and fret about how i treat him and how he'll react to what i say and do, but i'm learning to trust that our friendship is strong enough to handle my ups and downs. less than 2 months til we meet... i've never been so excited about anything in my life.

i need to make my posts shorter. they seem to ramble on a lot.

more stuff soon, maybe even tonight.

EDIT: so our new roommate moved in night before last. i never met him before that, so i was and am a little apprehensive. he's chinese, which [just putting this out there] is a strike against him because of clingy first guy (who was chinese). i'm still not sure how i feel about him and his speech patterns and such, but i'll tell you this much:
1) i am not driving his ass everywhere,
2) i am not going to be concerned that he has like 1/2" of space in his room b/c he has a huge desk and queen mattress, and
3) if he is going to eat up bandwidth the way he has been the last two nights... i don't know what, but this is not gonna fly at all. no webpages will load at all when he's doing whatever it is he does... watching sports games live on-line or talking to his gf in china. (that's another thing that gets me, why does he have a queen bed? she lives in china, and won't be here for another year. pointless. i realized how disadvantaged i am when i shared my single bed with drag-queen man... although we were pretty comfortable and snug.)

end edit

Britney Spears is the soundtrack to my life

a few things are in order for this post:

-my first love is getting married, possibly this weekend. she still breaks my heart every time i see her. i could honestly have been happy with her for the rest of my life, if not for the fact that she couldn't see it one beautiful night. oh well... she wouldn't like me now anyway.

-so many things are happening, and i'm usually one to kiss and tell... so i won't break that tradition. [yet.] i don't write erotica very well, and frankly, my experiences hardly merit the term "erotic." at this point, i'm not sure how i feel about what has happened, although it has been fun, and good [mostly]. no regrets. just taking it one day and one man at a time... i think i'm a slut, by the way, and the guy i was with last night informed me i'm going to be a "big ol' bottom." awesome. i consider myself "versatile" but it doesn't matter since i'm still an anal virgin, top or bottom. i am remaining completely detached from the guys i encounter (3 in person so far this month) which (and this is going to sound mean) is much easier than I thought. physically, i'm only slightly attracted to one, and it's just because he has good hygiene, smooth skin, and a decent face. [that's all i'll say for now.]

-my experiences have got me thinking about a few things. first is the matter of gay social networking. in a word: it sucks. [it doesn't help that the gays don't come out until after 2 am.] especially in my area. but more to the point: it really wouldn't if there was such a HUGE stigma associated with being gay, or even bi. there needs to be new rules written for this stuff. ideally, once a guy or girl reaches sexual maturity, they should be allowed a period of time to try things out, see what they like, and everyone just stays open-minded about it their whole life. no one hates or despises anyone just because of who they find attractive. being bi would be seen as normal. [personally, i believe it's the best way to be.] hitting on anyone you wanted would be just as ordinary as a guy asking a girl out, complete with the nervousness and sweaty palms and the hand-written love notes stuck where the object of affection could find it.

my point is, basically, that as long as we have distinctions of "in" and "out," men who are attracted to or curious about men will have a hard time fulfilling their desires in a reasonable, safe, and easy way.

-the next thought is this: there is a huge difference in the way "hot" people act and the way "ugly" or "plain" people act when it comes to getting someone's attention and affection. one is the chased; one is the chaser. [this does not only apply to physical appearance; however, it's the best way to illustrate the point.] the chaser finds himself the object of no one's attention/affection, and thus begins to seek out someone who will love them. the chased, on the other hand, becomes so accustomed to everyone fawning on them, showering them with love and attention [real or feigned] that they no longer respond to it noticeably. instead, they have the luxury of deciding who they will bless with their smile, their time, their attention, their love.

every once in a while, though, the chaser get tired, and annoyed, and sees their plight. is it really love if you have to chase after it and make sure it stays and worry that it will go away? no. and so the chaser stops chasing and becomes content as they are and where they are. no more obsessing, no more phone calls and texts and e-mails and messages to the ones they desire. they sit back and wait to see who will actually take the time to come after them.

i consider myself a chaser. i am constantly pursuing relationships, running after people, dragging the slightest hint of affection out of people around me. i am the one who makes the first move, who keeps in touch, who pursues a friend in any way possible. i may not be ugly, but i am not really good-looking either, IMHO. i'm an ordinary guy. but i can love better than most, and i have come to realize how little people appreciate and value that. so, i have, over the course of months to years, slowly been withdrawing myself from that lifestyle. no more of this silly chasing crap. i will wait. i do not need to be the chased; i just want someone to come along, sit down with me, and hold my hand, and not worry about who is chasing whom. [i think the fact that i am the chaser has made me a complete whore this past month... if someone says "yes" i'll jump at the chance for affection. also, the fact that i have not developed standards for who i make out with yet is a problem.]

-masculine vs. feminine. boy, this one has me BOILING these days. i know there are 51 flavors of gay out there. i know the one that is despised by all is the stereotype: limp-wristed, flamboyant, effeminate, lisps his words, talks loudly and is easily offended and ready to fight at the drop of a hat... you know who i'm talking about, and i see facial expressions and hear intonation of voices that are trademark to this brand of gay. i am like most, and this kind of guy gets on my nerves very very easily. there is then the opposite end of the spectrum, the masculine gay guy. we all know him too--he blends in with the gym rats and athletes and lumberjacks and business suits, and the thought never crosses anyone's mind that he could possibly be gay. and then there are guys like me, stuck in the middle, and everyone questions his sexuality, and he is repulsed by the first kind of gay, and envious of the latter.

now.

if you are one or the other, or somewhere CLOSE to being one or the other, don't you think you would know it? unfortunately, the answer is no, the former sometimes is CLUELESS to the fact they ooze glitter and rainbows and pride parades. this person irks me more than the flam-boy-ant one who knows who he is. if you do the finger wag, have the speech pattern down, call people "honey" regardless of gender, and do the "mmm-mmm" thing...

hate to burst your bubble, but you're a flaming queer. get over it, it's who you are, embrace it. you're not masculine, that term is reserved for men who actually still resemble men and the characteristic qualities that are inherently male. if you ARE straight and act like this, don't offended when people question your sexuality, you exude queerishness.

also, twinks turn me off. brent corrigan disgusts me.

and finally...

-britney spears is the soundtrack to my life.
[lyrics to be posted at a later date.]