Single

It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything worth blogging about – and the reason for that,  simply is –  I’ve given up on the dating life.  The effort it takes just to please somebody is more than I can handle,  when really,  the only person I should feel obligated to please is myself.
The last guy I dated – back in August – turned out to be a liar and a user,  as I had found out he had multiple partners – bringing different men to his house every night,  and telling them what they wanted to hear.  I made one more attempt with another guy after,  but he turned out to be a flake,  as his fear of getting attached kept him from making any definite plans with me.  These experiences turned me off completely,  because,  even though there may be a good guy out there,  I don’t want to have to deal with all the bullshit just to get to him.  It’s not worth my time or energy.
I spent too much of my life hoping to find someone who will love me the way I am,  and have recently accepted the fact that Hope is just like wishing on a dead star.  It is no longer a need or a desire to fulfill or validate my existence.
Basically,  I’ve been going about Life all wrong…and by doing so, I have put up barriers in my path.   My focus was in the wrong place…So I’ve decided to change all of that.
I have been singing my entire life,  and it took me 40 years to finally write my first song. I plan to write many more – even if it gets me nowhere…because that is where my true passion lies.
There are many men who inspired the words I’ve written, but these men also blinded me,  as I got lost in heartache.  So they’ve given me plenty of material to work with.
This song  “Ghosted” (<–click here for Demo) is my introduction to giving up – It is my awareness to reality – It is heartache – It is acceptance – It is what can and will never be…

 

Unrequited Love Triangle

 (Anthony, my ex, had suspicions that I was cheating on him, and it was tearing us apart. I was not cheating on him, but he started going crazy and obsessed over it, that it caused many a fued…including with the guy he thought I was cheating on.
After I broke up with him, though, I started dating that guy without his knowledge, because Anthony was a malicious vengeful person, though he always came off to be the charmer, and the person I was seeing was not out, and Anthony knew this.
We shared a cell plan.The Following is an actual incident that happened – word for word – written in screenplay format.)

A Day in My Life
(2007)

Characters
SEAN – Me.
MARGE – Anthony’s Mother.
ANTHONY – My ex.
BOBBY – A straight guy.

(Clock says 12:00 pm. SEAN gets out of bed and walks past a room where MARGE, ANTHONY’S Mother, is putting clothes away)

SEAN: Good Morning.
MARGE: Morning.
SEAN: Any plans for today?
MARGE: I don’t know. Any idea what time Anthony will be getting up?
SEAN: I have no clue.

(MARGE makes her way into the bedroom where ANTHONY is sleeping. He is not. Instead, he stares up at the ceiling.)

MARGE: Are you gonna sleep all day?
ANTHONY: Probably not.
MARGE: Well, I would like to do something here, instead of sit around your house all day!! (She starts to leave, but turns back) Oh, by the way, when will I be getting the cellphone you promised me?
ANTHONY: I don’t know. Ask Sean.

(MARGE walks into the room where SEAN is finishing getting dressed.)

MARGE: Sean, Ant told me to ask you when will I be getting the cellphone from you?
SEAN: Um..well, I have a show going up next week, and I need to hold onto it so that my actor’s can get a hold of me.

(MARGE goes back into ANTHONY’S room.)

MARGE: Sean says I can’t have it until his show is over. You said I could have it, and I want it now!

(ANTHONY gets up and goes into the room where SEAN is getting ready to leave.)

ANTHONY: What are you doing today?
SEAN: I have to go to the rehearsal space and finish painting the set. The photographer is coming tonight for the newspaper, and I have to make sure everything is ready.
ANTHONY: Can you give my mother the phone?
SEAN: Ant, you know I need the phone so that my cast can get a hold of me. I will give it to you when my show is over.
MARGE: (walking into the room) The way I see it – you didn’t care about my son while you were using that phone to talk to some other guy, so why should my son care about your show?
SEAN: Fine! (grabbing the phone) You want the fucking phone…? (He throws it at her) Take the Goddamn thing! I’m out!!
MARGE: Good!!

(SEAN goes past her to grab clothes from another room. She picks up the phone and goes into another room. SEAN comes back in, and puts clothes into a backpack.)

SEAN: (his back to ANTHONY) You know, I didn’t want this to happen. I was trying to be nice! I didn’t want to fight. I wanted this to be civil, but I can’t take this. There’s too much tension in this house, and I can’t handle it anymore! (He leaves and passes by MARGE’S room) And Marge, you need to mind your fucking business, because what happened between us has nothing to do with you!!
MARGE: Yes it does!!! That’s Why I’m here!!!!!
SEAN: NO! You are here to help your son!! The reasons as to why we broke up is NONE of your concern, so don’t ever throw that in my fucking face!
(He goes back into the office, and sits in a chair, across from ANTHONY) I need the phone numbers from my contact list.
ANTHONY: I’ll write them down for you.
SEAN: No! I’ll write them down!
ANTHONY: What difference does it make?
MARGE: (coming in the room) Ant, I’m taking the 2 o’clock train. Hopefully, you’ll be ready by then. If not, I’ll find my own way to the train station. (She leaves.)
SEAN: You know she only wants the phone so she can call her boyfriend.
ANTHONY: I’ll let you have the phone.
SEAN: No. Give it to your mother. She wants it, she can have it. Your mother is only leaving because she’s upset. Let her calm down. She won’t go anywhere. I have to leave.
(MARGE comes back in)
MARGE: Sean, I have to apologize. You’re right – it is none of my business. What’s going on between the two of you is between the two of you. My son isn’t perfect, and he has a lot of flaws, but I don’t want to get into any of that now. So, I’m sorry for getting in the middle.
(She exits.)
ANTHONY: (tears in his eyes.) See, I’ve never had love. Not even from my own mother.
SEAN: I’m sorry.
ANTHONY: For what?
SEAN: For everything I’ve done.
ANTHONY: Thank you for that.
SEAN: I have to go now.

(EXT. SEAN is walking to the bus stop, wiping the tears from his eyes.
CUT TO: SEAN gets off the bus in a different neighborhood. approaches a house and knocks on the door. BOBBY opens it.)

SEAN: (entering) Hi…
BOBBY: Hi…
SEAN: God, what a morning I’ve had. It all had to do with a cellphone. Ant’s mother asked for it, and it got heated…so I threw it at her, and I no longer have a cellphone.
(They sit on the couch)
BOBBY: Um, I’m going to make your day worse by telling you what I have to tell you.
SEAN: Oh?
BOBBY: I can’t continue this thing we have.
SEAN: Oh my God…
BOBBY: I have to end this today…
SEAN: Oh My God!
BOBBY: I did a lot of soul-searching last night, and I lost a lot of sleep because of it. Part of it, and I’m not saying that it’s everything, has to do with Anthony. Last night, after I dropped you off, I ended up screaming at the top of my lungs about how much I hate him and what he’s doing to you. I feel like every time we’re together, I’m peering over my shoulder, worried that Ant is following us, and I don’t feel comfortable. Not only that, but I came to a realization…You know, some people, they just know what they are and what they’re attracted to, and I’ve realised that I’m just not attracted to guys. I’m just not gay. My whole life, people have questioned me and my sexuality, and they may think it, but I know for a fact that I’m not. I made some bad choices, and throughout this whole situation, I was confused. It’s nothing against you, personally. I like you. You’re a great person, and an attractive guy, and I know I said I wasn’t going to hurt you intentionally, but I just can’t continue this…
SEAN: I see…
BOBBY: I’m sorry…
SEAN: No…I understand…I…
BOBBY: We can still spend the day together. If you need to go anywhere…
SEAN: No…I…I…(he puts his head down. He can’t fight the tears.) I have to go.
BOBBY: Sean…
SEAN: No…I don’t want you to see me like this…Besides, I have things I need to do…
BOBBY: Let me give you a ride, at least.
SEAN: No, I’m good. I…I can’t be here.
BOBBY: Sean. Please stay.
SEAN: No. I’m too embarrassed.
BOBBY: You have nothing to be embarrassed about.
SEAN: Oh, but I do. Everything…it’s…it’s…I don’t know. I can’t speak.
BOBBY: Sean, you’re free now. You can go anywhere you want…back to New York…Away from this town. I want you to be happy.
SEAN: But I was happy…with you. You made me happy.
BOBBY: I know. And I’m sorry.
SEAN: No…I’m sorry. The tears…please understand, I have a lot going on…
BOBBY: I know, and I didn’t want to do this…
SEAN: But you had to. I wouldn’t have wanted you to fake it. I prepared myself for this…or, at least I thought I did, and I don’t hold it against you…
BOBBY: We can still be friends. We can still hang out. If you’re bored, and you wanna do something…go somewhere…Come over. I value our friendship, and I don’t wanna lose you.
SEAN: Thank you. And if that’s the only way I can have you in my life, I’ll take it. I just…I fell too hard, too fast…it’s my fault.
BOBBY: No, its my fault for letting it get as far as it did. I should have never moved past the friendship.
SEAN: But I’m glad you did, because, at least for those moments, I had you in my life…
BOBBY: And you still have me in your life…just not like we were. I’ll be here for you whenever you need me.
SEAN: Thank you. That makes it a little easier for me. I would have hated for this to happen and we go our separate ways…I just…Just know that I will still respect your secrecy and that no one will know about us, because I still…I wouldn’t want to hurt you in any way.
BOBBY: Thank you for staying. I really didn’t want you to leave. We can still do what we’re doing…you know – going out and switching who’s paying…’cause friends do that.
SEAN: So I guess we can’t have sex anymore?
BOBBY: (chuckles) No sex…
SEAN: And I take it that I can no longer hold your hand…
BOBBY: (chuckles) No more hand holding.
SEAN: It was great with you, you know…I…nevermind…I can learn to accept this, but just know that I won’t be able to get over you so quickly.
BOBBY: I know. And please don’t think that there’s someone else. i just want to be single. I’m so much happier that way.

(That night, I had a photo shoot with a newspaper, as they were showcasing me as a Director, where I had to hide this hurt behind a smile.
Afterwards, I ended up getting shit faced drunk, where I went back to Anthony’s and had a meltdown on the floor. Crying, hysterically. Anthony, not knowing anything that happened, laid down next to me, and tried to comfort me by putting his arm around me.
I moved away from his touch.)

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One Night Down

His name was Derrick.
He was everything I physically wanted,
and someone I wanted to get to know….someone I had known on Social Media – but met in person for the first time.
Intriguing.
He was drunk…and adorable.
I went home with him…for 5 hours, before I decided to leave at 5am.
He begged me to stay.
I couldn’t.
He texted me the next morning.
I was hopeful…something was going to start, and it felt good.
2 days later: I texted him: “Wanna cuddle later?”
Derrick: “I don’t know. Maybe.”
I was wrong.
Always wrong.
Men suck!

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When Social Media Says It’s Over.

In a Gay world full of hook up apps and guys who just want sex,  I’d had enough with the men in Ft. Lauderdale,  as I felt hopeless that I would ever meet a decent guy.  So,  I stopped pursuing.  And all was well.

Two weeks ago,  I received a message on Facebook from a guy who saw my post about how Wilton Manors is just a mecca of stereotypical Clones.
He complimented me on my post and then asked me on a date.  I was taken aback.
In my shock and with a smile,  I typed back “Of Course!”
I had always found him attractive,  but I didn’t know he lived in Ft. Lauderdale,  and even if I had,  I figured he was the type who wouldn’t give me the time of day – in other words;  My type.

Our first date was at his house.  He cooked me dinner.  We talked.  He made it clear throughout that he was interested.  We had agreed that we wouldn’t have sex on the first date,  but that didn’t stop us from cuddling.
I had to be up early the next morning,  so we said goodnight and planned to see each other very soon.

Two nights later,  I went to see him for a little bit – which I called our second date.

Third date,  I took him out to eat.

The next night,  I decided to stalk him on Facebook – innocently,  of course – but reading his posts and looking at his hot pics.  That’s when I discovered how popular he really was –  Pictures with hundreds of comments –  each person talking about the things they would do to him in bed with some “Woofs” thrown in the thread mix.
I started to feel insecure – thinking – of all these men,  why would he want me?

Fourth date was spent with him running errands.  I dropped him off at the gym,  as we discussed the next time we’d see each other again.  I jokingly asked him if he was ready to back out.  He said he never backs out of things.
“So,  you’re in this for the long haul,  then?”  I asked
“Pretty much.”  he said.
“So when do we make this exclusive?”
“Let’s see”,  he said with a smile,  “This is the 4th date…so, let’s say after the 5th.”
Even though there was bit of jest on both our parts,  I agreed that we’d make it official after our 5th date.

Throughout all of this,  there were things I had to consider.  The main concern I had was that he was 16 years younger than me,  which was the biggest difference of age I’ve ever had with anyone.
Still,  despite other minor issues,  I decided to get past that,  and see where this might take us,  as he seemed to be a very understanding person – especially with my borderline Asperger’s condition of saying whatever’s on my mind.

5th Date: I went to his house,  and we talked,  before heading into the bedroom.  We started making love,  passionately.  This went on for quite a while.  I looked into his eyes as he looked into mine,  and I thought “I do want to take this to the next level.”
I stopped,  as if to take a short break,  because this was the moment I would tell him.  I didn’t,  though,  as I was finding the right words to form.
He looked at me,  smiling with a little chuckle,  and I asked him what he was thinking.
“Nothing”  he said.
I laid in his arms.
Out of the blue, he says “You’re not…um…the kind of person who changes their relationship status on Facebook are you?”
“Um – well,  I’ve only done it twice in the six years I’ve been on it”,  I said.  “Why?”
“Oh,  well,  because I’m a private person,  and I don’t do things like that.”
“So,  you’re saying that if we are together,  your profile is still going to say “Single'”?
“Yeah.  Would that be a problem?”
I sat up.  “Actually, it would.  But,  first I want to hear the reasons why you feel it’s not important.”
He went on to say that he doesn’t take Facebook seriously,  and that even though his close friends would know we were together,  he doesn’t feel the need for people on Facebook to know his personal business,  including who he’s with.  “Oh my God, I sound so stupid,  don’t I?”
“No”, I replied. “But let me tell you why it’s an issue for me.”
I went on to explain that I had been in a closeted relationship for five years,  and I refuse to be someone’s “secret”.  My last long-term relationship had our status set on private,  so no one could see it but me – and if I’m going to date someone,  I want people to know that I am involved.
Even explaining this to him,  I realised that the importance of my relationship status on a social networking site sounded ridiculous.  At the same time,  it was the truth and how I felt.
I then went on to tell him that I have trust issues.  He has hundreds of guys on Facebook who want him…several who have made it very clear – and by him not wanting to change his status makes it seem like it will affect all the attention he will get from these men – either that,  or he’s chatting with other guys elsewhere,  and doesn’t want to stop those chats…(He had even received a text that night from some guy in Nevada – who he started chatting with before he met me – who wouldn’t leave him alone,  according to him.)
I may be right or wrong in this assessment,  but I know how social media works – especially with gay men.  His wanting to remain “Single” just keeps the door open for men to continually hit on him…in public and private.
The signs were there.  I didn’t have to listen to my gut to tell me that reason is way more likely than his wanting to remain private,  especially when he posts on there daily….  selfie’s included.  He also didn’t deny my theory or defend his stance on it.

What I didn’t tell him was that I want to be with someone who wants to be with me.  Someone who wants to shout it to the world that we’re together.  Someone so happy,  that they don’t care what other people think.  I want to feel important, and special, and by keeping it a secret,  you are denying me of that privilege.

“I know this is probably a strike against me.”  he said.
“No”,  I replied.  “Not a strike.  Or a Red Flag.  It’s a problem.”
“Well,  maybe,  if that’s what you want,  when we cross that bridge,  I’ll change it for you.”
“That doesn’t work for me.  I don’t want you to do something to appease me.  I want you to do it because you want to.  Otherwise,  it means nothing.”
“Well,  we still have a long way to go before we decide to get THAT serious.”
Thinking of leaving,  I laid back down in his arms in silence,  until he broke it with “I’m still horny.”
“I’m not.  But I’ll still get you off.”

Our sex went from passionate to meaningless in just one break.  We got off,  and as I came,  I knew everything was different.  It was a silent orgasm.  I didn’t really feel anything as I shot all over the both of us.
And then I laid there,  where after a few minutes,  I commented on his popcorn ceiling.

I got up and got dressed and he begged me to spend the night.  I told him I couldn’t,  as I have a handicapped mother who’s expecting me home.  He gave me the sad eyes,  and we said our goodbyes.
I think he knew this was it – because normally,  when we said our goodbyes,  we made plans to see each other again…for the next date.
Not this time.
The talk of “exclusivity” went in a completely different direction than I expected.

I drove home in sadness,  because I thought this one might be different.  Turned out,  he’s just as bad and typical as all the others.

I believe this was the final straw to end my dating days.  I’d rather be Single for the rest of my life than continuously deal with the bullshit of men….especially GAY men.

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Dyeing to Hear Your Opinion

So I dyed my hair Red…or a bright Orange…though it’s more like a Glowing Copper.
Some people don’t like it,  and they feel compelled to tell me so.
I don’t need to justify why I did it,  or explain myself to anyone.  People are gonna like it or hate it,  and whatever my reason for doing it is,  it’s not going to change their opinion of what they think.

Here’s the thing,  though:  I’m not conventional.  I never have been and I never will be.  I embraced that a long time ago,  and again just recently – but that’s another story for my next blog.
I’m not looking to attract anyone – since I can’t seem to get a date when I look like “myself”‘ anyway…and not one of these people expressing their disapproval is sleeping in my bed.

There was nothing on the box that said “Do Not Dye unless (insert name here) approves.”
Or maybe it did,  but since I don’t really read the instructions other than what to mix and how much time I leave it in my hair,  I may have just missed that part.  If that’s the case,  I sincerely apologize.

I’ve been told it doesn’t look “Natural”.
I wasn’t really going for “Natural”.  I was going more for the “I don’t give a Fuck what you think!” look.
Besides,  if I wanted it to look “Natural”,  I would have stayed “Black”.
Girls have blue,  pink,  purple or whatever color streaks in their hair.  I’m pretty sure they’re not trying to look “natural” either.  Or is it more acceptable for a woman to dye her hair whatever color she wants,  whether it’s natural or not?  Women dye their hair pomegranate.  Who the fuck is born with pomegranate hair??
My mother dyes her hair “Hot Tamale Red” and in the sun,  it’s bright as all hell…like a Phoenix in flames.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone tell her it doesn’t look natural.
Fuck natural.  If I want to shave off all my hair and stitch a pom-pon to my head,  what the fuck are you gonna do about it?

To those who feel upset because I changed my hair color,  I’m sorry – but that’s something you need to discuss with your therapist, because I am not going to let my hair be responsible for ruining your day.

The Bottom Line is this:  I didn’t dye my hair for people to tell me they like it or don’t like it,  and I’m not posting pics on line to seek out anyone’s approval.  (Although my Instagram followers seem to like it more than my Facebook friends do…but, then again, that’s any picture I post on Instagram as opposed to Facebook.)
My opinion,  in this case,  is the Only one that matters,  and the difference between me not liking it and you not liking it,  is I can actually do something about it if I disapprove.
So shut the fuck up and let me take a selfie!

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Grindriffic!!!

So,  I’ve discovered how to love Grindr: Making use of it for entertainment purposes.
Hook ups are nice and all,  but when you’re hooking up with a picture,  sometimes – no,  most of the time – the real deal isn’t what you thought you were gonna get.  Because of this,  I refuse to meet guys on that app.  Instead,  I happily make fun of them when I can.
My profile is short and simple:  “Singer/actor/Genius of useless information and can see through walls. Not phony, superficial, or Shallow – Please don’t be either. Does anyone really care, though? after all, we’re just basically searching for the closest hook up.”
The majority of people don’t read these profiles.  They look at your picture and immediately think you will want them by instantly sending you a close up of their cock…and most of them don’t have a face,  because,  let’s face it – Who on this app has any standards?
Most are “Looking” and 98% of them are dumb as a box of rocks (you can tell this just by their texting skills.)  Half are fake torso’s of bodies the actual guys wish they had,  and if you wanna find the perfect pretentious Twink – this is definitely the app for it.  Yes, there are trolls trying to get information out of people (so be careful who you tell your deepest darkest sexual fetishes to) and some will lead you on for a hot encounter,  but when it comes time to meet,  they will flake out on you.
This,  folks,  is  dating in the days of Modern Technology…Technology gets smarter,  while people get dumbr.
Here are just a few of the chats I’ve happily saved:

and this one happened in Savannah, Ga :

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7 Year Cancer-versary

2008 vs. 2015

It all started with an itch.
I thought nothing of it at the time,  other than it being a possibility of jock itch on my inner thigh.  I figured it would eventually go away.
I was in the process of moving to Atlanta, Ga to be with my future husband,  so I didn’t need to be bothered with these things.

The day after Thanksgiving,  I moved.  He was coming from Alabama and was supposed to meet me in Atlanta to start our new life together,  but on the way,  his car broke down.

Christmas came.  His car was still in the shop.
“If I had my car, I’d be there with bells on,”  he said.  “The only thing I want for Christmas is to be with you.”

A few days later,  I called the mechanics to find out he had picked up his car weeks ago.  I was too blind and stupid in love to be mad at him.
His mother called me and told me he was cheating on me.  He denied it.
I rented a car,  drove to Alabama,  and got into a car accident,  as I spun off the rode into a bank.

The day after New Year’s,  I noticed the blood – coming from the same place the itch started.
I went to a clinic.  The Nurse told me she had never seen anything like it before.

A few days later,  the pain started.  Like someone sticking a dagger in my inner thigh.  I went from hospital to hospital,  as they all said the same thing:  “I’ve never seen anything like it before” and sent me on my painfully merry way.

I was a waiter at a restaurant.  Smiling at my customers through the pain,  and crying in the back.  The managers commended me for wanting to work through it.
In February,  one of them called me in the office.
“We can’t let you work here anymore”,  he said,  “The blood is seeping through your clothes.”

A week later,  my Alabaman fiance’ came to get me,  and brought me to his state,  but not to his place.  His mother,  who hated me,  was not to know I was there.  So I stayed in an apartment,  leaving blood trails on everything – sheets,  towels,  the floor.
I was taking 5 Tylenol and 5 Advil every 3 hours,  as the pain had become so excruciating,  I was now screaming at nights, and barely sleeping at all.  The only place I could escape this pain was in the shower.  I spent a majority of my time sitting under running water.
He would come to visit me every other day,  bringing me food when he could.  Not enough to be cared for in my time of need.
I could no longer walk.  I hobbled,  but only if I really needed to.
I was deteriorating.  I had lost 80 lbs. in these 4 months.

My mother begged me to come back to Florida.
“I’m not gonna die in Florida!!” I yelled.
“So, you’re gonna die in Alabama instead??” she yelled back.
After thinking about it,  I realised I had family back home – A support system of people who could take care of me,  which was more than I was getting in Alabama.

I flew back home on April 1st.  I had a stop-over in Atlanta,  and had to run from one side of the airport all the way to the other end.  I got to the connecting flight just as they were closing the doors…out of breath,  and in extreme pain.

On April 2nd,  my mother took me to the ER.  A nurse took one look at my tumor ulcerations on my inner thigh, and said “You’re being admitted”.  I couldn’t have been happier to hear such words.

I spent two weeks in the hospital as they ran tests. This is where I found out I had a very rare form of Cancer with tumors on my lungs,  spine,  spleen,  hipbone,  stomach,  and 40% of my liver.
The Doctors sounded hopeless.  My family thought I was going to die.
I was too pumped up on drugs to care.
It was the first time in my life I had seen my father cry.

I was released to outpatient chemotherapy.

in the Oncologist office – waiting for chemo treatment.

In the several months to follow,  I would be admitted to the hospital twice for Neutropenia. The Oncologist had overdosed me with the chemo,  but refused to take responsibility.

After my chemo treatments,  I would lie and bed and question Why I had survived.  I had felt like my life was over,  and there was nowhere else for me to go.  I was now confined to a room,  waiting for my wound to heal,  and my Cancer to be gone.
It was a slow process,  and one I never thought would end.

All this time,  my Alabaman fiance’ never came to see me.  He never intended to,  as he had an aversion to the state of Florida.  Stupid excuse for someone wearing my engagement ring.
His mother would leave messages on my voicemail.  Things like: “You ain’t dead yet? Oh, that’s right! Trash like you don’t die!”

After getting out of the hospital,  for the third time – where I had been told my tumors had shrunk –  I had an appointment with the Oncologist.  He was about to set me up for another dose of chemo.  I informed him about the tumor shrinkage.  He left the office to check my records – something he should have done before seeing me.
My guess is that he was homophobic and didn’t care if I died.  He told me I was right, and I left…never to return.

In April,  exactly one year after my hospital admittance,  I broke up with my Alabaman fiance’,  because I realised he never really wanted to be with me.  I woke up to this fact once my health recovered and I could think and see things clearly.
We were together two years,  and in those two years,  I made more mistakes and excuses than I ever had in my entire life.

7 years later.
Since I’ve recovered,  I have accomplished a lot – becoming a professional actor,  learning my video editing skills,  perfecting my creative talents,  and not giving as much of a fuck as I had before. I’ve realised that my life wasn’t over,  and that I am worth more than the way I had been treated in the past.
Things happened the way they did,  and I am stuck in South Florida taking care of my mother,  as her health began to deteriorate once mine got better.
Despite that,  I am grateful to be alive.
I did something in this life that I am proud of:  I told Cancer to Fuck Off!

Flashback: Over the Moon (Mind on Morphine/Oxycontin)

Chemo overdose brought me to the hospital for the 2nd and last time.  I was more concerned about my long distance relationship than I was with my own health.  And this is what I wrote,  while in a drug-induced state,  on the last day of my stay:

Wednesday, Dec. 17, 2008

1o:46 am – My insecurities are destroying me,  which sucks because I’m thinking of things I’m trying not to think of.  Doing a crossword to get my mind off of him and waiting for the real thoughts to kick in – the delusion.

10:55 am – Am being discharged.  Can’t shake the feeling that we’re over.  I can physically feel it.

10:57 am – Now my head’s not clear,  and this paper thing I started is going to be incomplete.  Why is it I would rather be in the hospital than lying in bed at home?  Must be because I’m just miserable at home.  Well,  the drugs have definitely kicked in and it’s going to take forever to get out of here.
Last night,  he complained that everyone was bombarding him with texts and I apologized for being one of the ones bothering him yesterday.  Usually, he excludes me from that crowd,  but last night,  he didn’t.  I know that the texts he was complaing about were mine.  I woke up this morning with every intention of not texting him today.  But then I realised,  if I didn’t text him at least once,  he would think I was mad at him.  Well, I am.  I just don’t want him to know that I am.  I felt the way he was talking to me last night was uncalled for,  besides I could tell that he didn’t want to talk to me – but everytime I brought that to his attention,  he denied it – to the point where I stopped talking altogether until I fell asleep.  A half hour later – we were disconnected – I would assume by his hands.

1:10 pm – He actually called.  But I was eating lunch – just listening to it ring.  I didn’t answer.

2:05 pm – Tried calling him back,  but no answer.  Waiting for some more morphine as I wait to be discharged.

2;20 pm – I’m not gonna blow up his cell like I normally would when I feel something is wrong.

(That is where the writing ended. We lasted 4 more months. It only took me 2 years and a bunch of lies to realise we were never meant to be.)

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Bottoms Up

Rugby hottie David William

People always assume I’m a bottom,  and this offends me.
I know from my previous blogs,  one would think I was,  due to the nature of content,  but,  I actually tend to be more top,  though will give in when I want to.  Technically,  I can be versatile,  and I have no problems admitting that.  It really all depends on the man and the chemistry.  Either way,  unless you are in the bedroom with us,  judgements are unnecessary.

Here is why this offends me:
People are basing their assumptions off of my characteristics and personality.  Unless I’m online,  no one ever asks me if I’m a top or bottom – they just speculate.  And if I happen to mention I am predominant top,  they act shocked and surprised,  or refuse to believe me.
I’m assuming that in order to be a top,  one must be stereotypically rugged and masculine – or is assertive in their manner. (I tend to find more of these men to be bottoms in the real world.)  I am neither of these things,  yet,  I happen to prefer being a top.

Another thing – and I see this a lot on social media and in little gay cliques – Bottoms get made fun of and disrespected – A lot.  It’s almost as if people think bottoms are less worthy of being human,  and are looked down upon by many in the gay community.  Which I find funny,  because most of these queens bitching about bottoms are bottoms themselves.   I mean,  why would tops complain? They need to stick their dick in something…

Comments like “Oh, he’s such a bottom!” that come out more like “You can’t sit with us!” baffle me as to why being a bottom is such a bad thing – or an insult,  if you will.
Or this meme:

Bottoms have way more options than two tops in a relationship…so this meme is actually kinda stupid.

As I understand it,  bottoming makes you less of a man…And being less of a man just happens to be a form of degradation, thanks to our society’s way of thinking….And when people see how manly I am not,  this brings the insinuation that my legs get thrown up in the air when I see penis.

The question is:  Who the fuck cares????
Why am I less of a man if I choose to bottom?
And why does my being a top sound so unbelievable?

But the real question is:  Why do gay men always feel the need to judge?  It’s like they have to put everything in a decorative labeled box in order to feel better about themselves.

SMH.

RMG!! (Regular Masculine Guy)

Model Justice Joslin
Just Because…

So,  I’m on one of those dating sites,  and I noticed that an attractive man visited my profile.  I click on his profile out of curiosity,  and the first thing I read in his self-summary is “Regular Masculine Guy looking for same.”
There was no need to read any further,  because just based on this first sentence,  I could tell this man was not very intelligent…or interesting.

#1 – Describing yourself as “Regular” is basically saying “I’m boring.”  Why not just call yourself “Average” or “Normal”?  Either way,  any of these words are subjective.  What’s Regular to you,  is probably not Regular to anyone else,  which keeps it pretty vague – and not in a mysterious way…but more like,  unimaginative.  So why not just flat-out call yourself “Boring?”

#2 – But then you add “Regular Masculine” – What does that even mean???  So many different types of masculinity – which one is regular??  Brad Pitt?  Bradley Cooper?  Jason Statham?  Dwayne ‘The Rock” Johnson?  Louis C.K.?  I mean,  with this alone,  my brain is about to explode,  as I rack it,  trying to figure out what kind of masculinity you are because I’m still questioning what your fucking definition of “Regular” is!!!

#3 – “Regular Masculine Guy looking for same” – because you are that boring of a person, you apparently want someone just as boring as you. Where’s your sense of adventure? Where’s the door to your mind that needs to be opened? Why would you want to look for someone exactly like you – even though you haven’t made it clear as to what you are, exactly?

I guess some people like to rely on their pictures to gain attention. Me? I don’t fall for that shit. You have to have something appealing, other than a cute face and bulging biceps….something that shows me you have a personality…because most men here in South Florida don’t…clearly.