"Sin"gle

When you live in no man’s land a guy can get kind of discouraged that he won’t find someone else who understands us. It wasn’t until after turning twenty-three that I realized I’m officially at that age where people have become repetitive with their response to my relationship status: “It’ll happen one day”, “You’re just too picky” or my personal favorite, “God is still working on you so you can find a great woman”. What they don’t want to hear is that it might not never happen, I’m not picky I’m realistic and I’m agnostic. Are the odds against me? You bet my flat ass they are! But I’m more than just a single gay man. I am on a journey with my work, my explorations and a few sad stories. I am on a quest for truth, beauty and quiet joy. I am an artist, a writer, an explorer. In my four years in my own personal party of one I have had the chance to learn a few things about myself, men and relationships. Such lessons as:

            The only thing we have to fear . . . is a desperate man.

            Again, when pickings are slim one should always give any potential bachelor a shot. So when I had the chance of getting to know a twenty-five year old named Randy I kept Carrie Underwood’s words close; “I’ll give anyone a shot once”, Sadly, after knowing each other for three weeks he told me he loved me. Saying something like that too early when you haven’t even begun dating someone that long is a deal breaker for me. His e-mails are currently on my spam list.

            Older is not always better.

            I thought I’d try my hand at an older man. Mr. S found me sweet and sexy and always made a point to tell me. We never did anything physical but I did bathe in his compliments daily. I just wasn’t attracted to him as much as he was to me, and no amount of gifts he offered to buy me could change that.

            Third time’s the charm.

            When I first heard a co-worker tell me, “you should meet my friend. I think you guys would hit it off” I immediately told myself no. I don’t know if I’m ready to be set up blindly just yet. Especially when I heard he was majoring in music at ENMU. Just because I’m gay does not mean I’m interested in every guy involved in musical theater. I’ve already been there and done that two other times before and I don’t want to be pegged as someone with a specific “type”. But I’ll keep you posted on that one.

            Tops are from Mars, Bottoms are from Venus. Whatever side you swing, we both enjoy penis.

            I used to think that casual hookups were for the promiscuously deranged. Why would you want to give your body to someone you’ve barely met? The thought of potential diseases that could come from an encounter with a stranger had put me off of the idea for years. But like so many prudes before me I decided to throw caution to the wind and my legs in the air! Not literally; I’m not that flexible, but I have learned that it’s ok to indulge in some carnal urges every now and then. As long as you play SAFE! No glove, no love!

            The Winter Boyfriend.

            I think there is a difference between dating men and dating boys. Don’t worry; I don’t plan on being one of those Facebook memes rambling about wedding rings and swag. I did, however, experiment with the concept of “The Winter Boyfriend”. A WB is a guy that you casually date during the coldest months of the year. You don’t see yourself taking it anywhere long term but you can take it underneath the covers for warm cuddles. I had met Drew; a college freshman and figured this was the perfect chance to try this out. Let me just say that what he lacked in conversation his body made up for in years of playing football. Oh, me-oh-my-oh! We had a brief December/February romance before we realized we had nothing in common and parted ways.

            S-I-N-G-L-E.

            Yes, that blasted label that makes us yearn for just about any other label, maybe perhaps ‘Gucci’ or hell, we might even settle for a scarlet letter. But for those of us who have yet to find someone who’ll put up with all our crazy OCD habits, weird laughs or even our lack of cooking skills, let me leave you with this:

            1. Yes, we’re only one person, but that doesn’t mean that we are completely alone. I’m not going to sit here and try and shove bullshit clichés down your throat. Even as singles we are part of a large number of people who feel the same way every day.

            2. Not having kids in your twenties is awesome! And I’m speaking from experience. As for my young parents who are kicking ass while putting your bratty kid in time out I tip my hat off to you because you are doing something that I have no strength, patience or amount of wine to do.

            3. Don’t rely on your friends for dates. There’s a reason why they didn’t date them either.  

            4. Bars aren’t for everyone. I personally don’t like to eat where I drink, but I’m hearing great things about online dating, so if you are so inclined and at the end of your rope; stop the fussing and upload a profile picture that displays your true, sexy self.

            And finally, know yourself FIRST. How can you expect to have a man please every area of your life if YOU don’t even know what pleases you? I’m talking physically, sexually, spiritually and, if you’re lucky, JEWLERY. But most of all have fun and don’t spend so much energy worrying about it. In the words of one of my closest friends: “Instead of claiming the idea that you’ll be alone forever, don’t.”

            Sound simple enough. I just might put that theory to the test!

Sinners and Saints

“I think to love bravely is the best and to accept as much as one can bear.”

Once upon a time, in the far away land of Curry County, a sinner met a saint. His name was Ray and we had met at the last place I had ever thought of to meet men: church.

When I started going back to an actual church I was not only a little hesitant, I was also court mandated. I was sentenced a twenty-four week stint in the local Celebrate Recovery chapter. Turns out, if you drink and drive you will lose. But that’s a story for another time.

When I walked into the doors I was greeted warmly just like I always had when I was a kid and would enter my family’s choice of a chapel that year. I had grown up and walked through many doors, sat in a lot of pews and heard a lot of interpretation of the Bible. But when it came down to it, my parent’s opinion was the law of the land. I couldn’t even think without wondering if I had sinned in some way. When I was twenty I grew out of that fear and guilt, threw out my copy of “The World according To Mommy and Daddy” and picked up the concept of thinking for myself. I decided that it’d be a cold day in Hell before I set foot in another church again. And on a bitterly cold January evening I attended my first meeting.

I kind knew what to expect from my many years in the pew. Praising, praying and preaching. Nothing I hadn’t seen before. I sat in the back with the other delinquents; them, with their baggy pants and me with my man bag. I daydreamt through the sermon and bowed my head in meditation during prayer. I figured since I was in a church why not at least try working on my spirituality.

One night when I was randomly looking around at the flock of sheep in the rows of chairs in front of me someone caught my eye. I didn’t know who he was (as small as this town is) but was it my imagination or did he turn around a lot in my direction? He seemed to possess a mysterious air about him. I was immediately drawn to him but felt too shy to summon any kind of courage to talk to him. It’s was clear that he had a strong faith, but if he loved thy neighbor, did he love to play for the same team as me? He had tattoos, a shaved head and looked like someone you wouldn’t want to be caught in a dark alley with (unless you saw him smile *melt*) that didn’t exactly encourage me to speak to him like I had hoped. Instead we continued our game of sneaking glances at each other which, sort of intrigued me.

One night after hanging with my friend Renee, and after a few cocktails at the local college bar, she dropped me off at home and I proceeded to log onto my Facebook. And yes, I realize that it’s a little weird to come home from a bar after being convicted of drinking and driving and let me say that I’m not perfect and at least I had a designated driver this time. But I digress.

Upon scrolling through my newsfeed I hit that “People You May Know” section and who did I see, but Ray himself. There he was and I was just a click away from getting to know him more. It might have been the Long Island Ice tea’s talking but I was no longer in control of what happened next. What’s the worst that could happen? He denies the request? Ok, then at least I know what side of the fence he lives on. So with a deep breath and with my hand over my eyes, I clicked the “add friend” button. I went to bed regretting it and feeling like I should stop trying to hit on possible straight men and stick to what I know: being Teflon for men.

I awoke the next morning with a notification that Ray had approved my request. I knew that it would be creepy to start checking out his profile right then and there. . . . . So that’s why I waited till after eating lunch. I learned that he was really into thriller and action movies, God and as at it turns out, men.

Later that day I got an instant message from him. I felt the familiar stir of nerves and excitement in my stomach. Something I hadn’t felt since in quite some time. He was great conversation and a little flirt too. He admitted that he wanted to talk to me just as much as I have wanted to talk to him, but we were both painfully shy to do so. He eventually asked me out on a date and I happily accepted.

It was a late Sunday afternoon when I met with The Saint. We hung out at a bookstore and drank coffees and talked. It wasn’t the normal sort of date you dream about and that’s what I liked about it. We were just ourselves and I couldn’t remember the last time I didn’t try so hard to impress a guy. I was able to be a stripped down version of myself that even I was surprised about how I was acting. We talked about a lot and at the same time, nothing. It felt like one giant conversation with no end and I didn’t want it to. We were both open about our upbringing, coming out and even past relationships.

“There’s nothing that you could say that could freak me out.” He said with his signature handsome smile that also made it seem like his eyes lit up. I was used to smoldering pits of fire when I’d look into a man’s eyes. But his were like a body of water: serene and sparkling.

Crap.

Not only was he handsome but he was also a honey tongued devil. There was no denying it now; I was smitten with this guy. The date after that consisted of us going to the local walking trail at night. Here’s a little fact about taking me out on dates: It really doesn’t take a lot to entertain me or impress me. Even if we entered a pie eating contest! As long as you’re having fun then so will I. We didn’t stick with it for too long. The lightening that night had joined the rumbling sounds of thunder signaling a big storm approaching. We got back to his car just in time before the gates of heaven opened up with enough rain to start another flood. We sat in his car and just talked while watching the rain fall. Talking in a car without the expectation of sex was definitely something I was experiencing for the first time. What I liked most about him was that he respected my boundaries. He always asked “Is this ok?” before grabbing my hand or putting his arms around me. Most guys just took it upon themselves to manhandle me like I was a piece of property. But not Ray, he had chivalry and charm just oozing off of him. He kissed me that night. It wasn’t awkward and neither was I.

Alas, like most great things in life, a “Sex and The City” marathon on the style channel, three day weekends or reading an amazing book, they all have to come to an end. I was having such a great time with Ray. He had this way about him. I can’t really put my finger on it. He had a knack for making me feel ok about being myself. It was like I didn’t have to put on this dazzling persona just to keep him interested. I felt like I sparkled in a different way now.

 But when I replayed some of our conversations in my head it occurred to me just how many things were on his plate at the moment and spending time with me was just overflow. I began to feel silly being yoked to my cell phone day after day wondering when he’d get in touch with me again and then I felt selfish for wanting part of his time when he had so much going on. I’m not in the business of putting pressure on anything or anyone. If you don’t have the time, it’s not your fault.

Two slow and agonizing months went by before a message notification went off in my phone. It was from Rey. After my heart rate came back down and my hands stopped trembling I finally opened it.

Ray: How come you don’t hit me up anymore?

Me: I’m sorry. I have no excuse not to.

Ray: I just think you’re not into me anymore.

Me: Completely the opposite actually.

I went on to tell him that I like him a lot but that the size of his fan club (his endless list of flirty Facebook guy friends. I mean, not that I would know or anything. I think a little jealousy never hurt anyone) Can really do a number on a guy’s confidence. Why pick the runt when you had your pick of the litter? Two more days later and I told him that if we had any hope of becoming anything we had to have two way lines of communication.

He agreed.

It was a Monday afternoon and we decided to meet at a park in town. I picked the first bench I saw and pulled out a book to wait for him. It wasn’t long before I heard a familiar voice. “Hey, handsome”

            I looked up and there he was, and suddenly I felt like he wasn’t a mirage. He put his arm around me and I rested my head on his shoulder. It felt right; it felt like I could do it a million times. He smiles with his eyes and my pulse quickens. I don’t know what happens to me when I come in contact with him. It’s like I’m naked but I’m comfortable with it. My mind feels like a blank slate and I can’t help but ramble because I’ve never felt so out in the open and comfortable at the same time with anyone. When I told him I was writing something about him I almost slapped myself, but I finished by saying I didn’t know how to end it because of that weird two months between us. He looked at me and leaned in closer and kissed me and said, “Now you do”.

            We watched the light of the setting sun fade into a bright orange then a rose pink and finally a dark blue. I don’t know where the time goes when we’re together. I loved hearing his voice and also sharing those comfortable silences. I wasn’t about to put an end on this story, but I think I might have actually started writing a new one.

             

This Too Shall Pass

“Regrets collect like old friends. Here to relive your darkest moments. . . . . I can see no way, I can see now way. And all of the ghouls come out to play. And every demon wants his pound of flesh but I like to keep some things to myself. I like to keep my issues drawn. It’s always darkest before the dawn. . . .”

            There comes a point in every gypsy’s life when he has to decide when to cut his losses, tie lose ends and move on where the winds takes him. In my case, the wind was taking me back to my Texas hometown: a place where I grew up on popsicles, love from my grandparents and childhood dreams. This was the pit stop to my future.

            Life on Gladstone had become . . . . . exhausted, if I could pick a word to describe it. A home is only as wholesome as the heart that beats within it. Unfortunately for me I could no longer feel the heartbeat of the home. Not a flutter or twitter-patting of any kind could be felt within the walls. It was like living in a hollow shell and silence was the only sound I could hear on the late night’s home alone. I even tried bringing positive energy in the house by placing a bowl of sea salt water at my window sill which is said to do so. But all I saw in the reflection of the salty water was a sad soul. What else was I supposed to do?

            It was happening again. That feeling that I had taken everything I could possibly get from a home, but it was something more too. I could feel a constant negative energy taking pleasure from gorging itself on my life force. I could almost hear a smile from the shadows I had once feared as it took another sip from the chalice that held my sparkling luminosity. The poison from this presence spread throughout my life changing me from the inside out. The balance that my Libra nature was born with began to lose its grip on the scales. I craved the venom like a vampire to blood and found it through overindulging in vodka and wine and allowing my heart to become cold as ice and hard as stone. Every heartbeat hurt like having a sledgehammer pummel into me as I pictured actual human emotions trying to pump themselves through the chambers.

The hangovers were reminders that I was still human, that I could still feel and it was in a hangover that I saw myself clearly. I was unhappy in my current living situation. The regret and shame that I had collected over the months began weighing hard and heavy on me. I didn’t want to be the kind of person who sought out to hurt others just to derive a form of happiness from it. That wasn’t in my nature. I found the person I needed in the midst of my destruction: the gypsy. I moved away from Gladstone and away from the past that would have gladly dug the grave for two.

I moved back to Texas, back to my hometown, back to that yellow house on 3^rd Street, back with my parents. It was the only place I could think of that I could move into on such short notice. Not that my parents minded, they were actually happy to have me back. I had stayed with them for a summer when I was nineteen because I had once again become unhappy with my current living situation.  After the last box was taken out of the bed of my sister’s truck, it hit me; this is where I needed to be right now. This is where I needed to recharge, to sweat out the past year in a quiet peaceful setting.

After moving in, I kind of fell into a deep melancholy the likes I had never felt before. I would dread seeing the morning sunrise because that meant I would have to play pretend for the public when all I wanted to do was lie in bed till I got up to shower. I took it as a sign that my spirit was withdrawing from the venom I had indulged in my previous life. That’s the thing about starting over; it’s always a little hard to get restarted.

In the final days of my melancholy I found myself in a state of panic and agony. There were a lot of upcoming events that I didn’t know if they were going to turn out good or bad in my favor and I was feeling emotionally overwhelmed both personally and professionally. I tried everything to empty my head from what I was feeling, but nothing seemed to do the trick. So I traveled to the back room of the house where I knew I could be in solitude and immersed myself in music. It wasn’t until I got to India Arie’s album “Testimony: Vol 1, Love and Relationships” and found the track I needed to hear.

“All of a sudden I realize that it only hurts worse to fight it. So I embrace my shadow and hold on till the morning light. . . . This too shall pass. . .”

In a moment of complete spiritual vulnerability I broke down and cried tears I never knew I could feel. My body shuddered with each sob and I heard myself praying. I asked God for help and hope that everything would turn out alright. That’s when I started to believe that these feelings of hopelessness would truly pass if I stopped trying to fix it myself and give it up to the universe.

This is my life. I am the gypsy. I go where the wind carries me and I don’t question it because everything has a purpose and nothing just happens. It’s all part of our own puzzle and I think I had placed another piece in it. This life is so beautiful and dreadful at the same time, but I can’t get enough of it. I feel myself getting stronger everyday and laughing every time I want to cry.

I was sitting on the porch one afternoon during sunset and I was overcome with the relaxing sound of the birds roosting in the pecan trees, squeaking wheels of children riding their bikes and knowing that I had done it: I had pulled myself out of the quicksand with just a toothpick and now there was nothing more to do but turn the page, kick off my shoes and wait for the Texas stars to come out.