Sunday, June 28, 2009

BET Music Awards





Friday, June 26, 2009

My First Love called

I heard his voice. I remember one of the last times I heard it - it was like 2000 or so. When I heard his voice over the phone then, my heart jumped and skipped a beat. Today? It was like he was the neighbor calling to tell me that the dog had gotten out again. It was totally void of that emotion and remorse and heartache.

I guess I really am totally over it. Who knew?!? I thought he would always give me butterflies ... but no. It really is truly something in my past. And at least now I can look back on it fondly, knowing it really was real.

I feel so grown up (I say after having recently posted that I got mad at some nigga and hung up on him)

[but he deserved it, carajo!]

I had to cut our conversation short because my boss was calling on the other line - he texted me and asked what was a good time to call tonight because he would like to keep talking. That was nice - and that I'm not making a big emotional deal out of it (like, omg! he wants to keep talking to me!) is even nicer.

Call anytime - I'd like to keep talking too.

Except if he calls too damn late, I might have to hang up on him too. JACK loves his sleep.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Michael Jackson

It seems that I'm in the minority again - I really don't care that Michael Jackson is dead. I'm not sad about the music he'll never make and we'll never listen to. I'm not upset that his heart arrested. I'm not upset that attempts to revive him were fruitless. This day was ordained by God before he was born, before the beginning of time - and his time is here.

I have zero compassion for him. never have - His habit of touching children outshines any of his muscial legacy in my eyes. I'm a parent and I take that shit to heart. A friend of mine told me, "but he was acquitted!" My response? "So was OJ."

Such accusations do not follow honorable, respectable people - period. No one is accusing Judge Judy of pedophilia, nor Alex Rodriguez. Know why? Cuz they prefer adults. They and countless others of us do not touch children.

Say what you will about honoring someone in death - I will only do so if they were honorable in life. And since I'm not Christ, I have a list of things that are unforgiveable.

Touching children is one of those things.

I acknowledge that it is not my decision to make - I will let God be God. But whether he rests in peace or no - I don't care.

In more important news - I just sold my old loveseat and chair for $100.00. Cha-Ching!

Hello? Is this thing on?

No one comments anymore. It's frustrating, especially since READERS convinced me not to quit blogging.

I have a new rule: with the exception of Jaded, don't talk to me about my blog if you haven't posted comments. I'm tired of talking about it - that's why I write it down here.


Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Wait - it's YOU again (The Final Chapter)

I decided that I don't give a fuck what his current relationship consists of - the fact that he's wanting to reestablish something with ME while he's talking to someone else is really all I need to know.

I asked him to call me the following day so that we could talk. It was late and he was going to bed. "k," came the response text.

He was trying to avoid me the next day - I know he was. He was suddenly real busy. Well, at the end of the day I texted him that it was obvious he didn't have time. And I began to pen an email to him. I needed to call it quits ... via any mechanism, I didn't care.

While I'm writing, he calls. I told him he's unfair. That his contacting me again was selfish, that it wasn't about ME at all, but more about his own conscience. He gets to make contact to make himself feel better about ditching me based on a lie ... but *I* have to rehash all those emotions I felt when he just ceased communicating with me.

He didn't try to contradict me.

I said that my emotions were real and my feelings today are real too. I did confess that I have feelings for him, which is why, I said, he's being selfish. And then he said the thing that nailed the coffin ...

"I can't say that we couldn't eventually be together ...."

Oh, wait - so, because I have feelings for you I'm just supposed to sit by and wait? Really? I'm just supposed to be there for you while you get over your co-dependency with your children, sort out the sexuality issues that you have ... and deal with all the countless other issues you have ... just in mother fucking case?

How aabbbooouuuuutttt - no. Let's try that. I am much too valuable, I said, to sit around and do that. You have a serious problem with your codependency with your own damn kids - you're a great dad, I said, but you are doing them a HUGE disservice, especially that 24 year old who still trying to act out, and you're not preparing them for the real world. And you're doing yourself a disservice too.

He took that amazaingly well, considering how "can't nobody talk bad about my kids" he is. "You're right," "I know," and other affirmations is all he could muster.

I can't do this - my feelings are real and you're selfish. You treated me like discarded trash and now you want to "rescue" me by asking me to lie in wait. No, sir.

This business of calling and texting everyday - asking about how's your day and how're you doing? That's all relationship stuff. The people I consider my CLOSEST friends ... I don't fucking stay on the phone with them, asking them how it's going at that moment. So, that's gonna stop.

"I understand."

and blah blah blah ... and woo woo woo.

I continued on a tirade that he deserved - and he took it. He took it all. Eventually he said that I could call him.

"No. I won't. I'm not making your phone ring - that's the damn lie that got us here, that I fucking called and talked to your son and told him our business. I told you already, I won't be calling."

"ok," he said with a sigh. "Well, it's going to take a lot of work to even establish a friendship."

"Nope. Because I'm not doing it. I'm making NO effort."


And with that wow, it seemed to sink in. Except he wouldn't say bye. "I CAN'T say bye. I just can't do it."

"hmmm," I said with disdain in my voice.

"Nope - i can't - you're going to have to say it because ....."

"Ok. Goodbye."

and I hung up.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Wait - it's YOU again (The Trilogy)

Yes - he is sort of seeing someone, he tells me - but it's likely not to go anywhere because he has to focus on the kids.

Well, shit - you aren't looking for anything romatically out of ME either, then

That confused me - I mean, why would he call me after all this time if he already moved on? I wracked my brain for a while and it finally dawned on me ... he needed to clear his OWN conscience. He didn't need me to forgive him per se ... he needed to reconnect with me and tell me the truth to deal with his own guilt - and whether I accepted his apology or no, it didn't matter. he still got to get it off his chest.

Well, nigga - I got some shit to get off my chest too.

How the fuck dare you come back at me like this ... INVOLVED with another nigga, looking for my forgiveness? Why the hell do *I* have to deal with this shit all over again? It wasn't enough that I lost you to some bullshit I didn't do and had to mourn losing what could have been a decent relationship over something I couldn't control or have anything to do with? That wasn't enough?

You mean, I get to do it all over again? Joy. I get to hear you apologize, ask for forgiveness and know all about your life all over again ... after 10 months and shit ... but you're talking to someone else and even if I *do* forgive you, I STILL can't have you.


VERY nice.

I told him that it's abundantly clear to me that he did not feel for me what I felt for him ... that I was really ready to pursue "us" on an exclusive basis, that I was really into him - and he APPARENTLY wasn't there. And so, I own that I pushed for it too fast, and too hard ... and that his son's antics were quite convenient for him because it gave him an opportunity to nurture his flight response.

He disagreed - said that he was really feeling me and was on the verge of agreeing to pursue things exclusively and then his son hit him with all of that.

Again, how convenient.

He's calling me on a regular basis now - like he was a year ago. And the calls are all 5 minutes or less, like they were a year ago. And during each one of those short conversation, I manage to get in a dinger.

Today, I asked him if his son was helping around the house (they had severe storm damage and were without power for 36 hours) and he said the boy has no choice - he does his share or he gets out.


and he continued to talk about the progress they need to make.

"It's hard to break out of codependency," I said.

There was a very short pause - almost undetectable - but it was there. The pause before he said, "Yuh, it is."

Whatever - he still needs to hear my mouth about the whole co-dependency issue ... and I will eventually ask about the specifics between him and this dude. Both issue will serve to finalize the closure I need ...

and depending on how those two conversations go, I may be able to agree to continue on this path to restore a friendship - that's what he asked for, incidentally.

Or - I may be ghost.

I'll keep you posted.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Wait - it's YOU again? (Part Duex)

"heey," he said.


His voice sounded familiar, but not in the way you would think. I mean, I tried to remember what his voice sounded like during those 4.5 hours I waited for the phone to ring. I tried to no avail, that is. Seriously, I couldn't remember his voice.

I tried to get in touch with him via email in the months that followed his telling me that he wasn't talking to me anymore. But the last time I emailed him I resolved to let it go completely if he didn't respond. And he didn't. So, I erased his number from my phone and kept it moving. I tried, right?

Well, when I finally DID hear his voice, it was like .. OOOOHHH. Yes, once I heard him speak I remembered. You know how when a word is right on the tip of your tongue, but you can't quite get it? It was like that, but only with a voice.

He proceeded to explain what happened:

His son explained to him that he saw my name on the caller ID and picked up. We had a conversation and he told his dad all the specifics - and he wanted his dad to know that I wasn't allowed to take him away from them. His daughter felt the same way. See, he's a single dad and is raising these two on his own and it was WAY too much for him to fathom that I would talk to his son.

Except, I didn't.

I never, ever called his cell phone and had anyone else pick up the phone. EVER. Apparently, however, his son and daughter picked up on the fact that he was on his way to getting involved and snooped through is call log, found my name and approached their dad with the story above in order to get him to stop pursing anything outside of their immediate family.

And it worked.

I was never given the opportunity to contradict his son's story because he never confronted me. He shut down instead, believed his son without question ... and consequently had no questions for me either. I mean, why would the 24 year old son lie to him?

Oh, I didn't mention his son is twenty fucking four?

Well, he is. He's a grown ass man who's afraid to lose his daddy. I can't fathom that type of thinking, especially considering I come from a home that really didn't give a fuck about the kids. (My mom married my step-father and told us about it three days LATER and also said he was moving in ... and we'd never met him) I left for college at seventeen and I wasn't looking back. By the time I was 24, I was the lead engineer on $68M work of work and live 700 miles away from my parents - so don't ask me to synthesize that one - I can't.

But how did he find this all out, I wondered? (tell me you were wondering that too ...)

Apparently, homeboy is talking to some dude right now. Yes, the same homeboy who wasn't ready for a gay relationship with ME... yuh him. Anyway, the "children" did it again - only this time the 24-year old initiated the call to the "significant other" and said whatever the son said ... and then the son called his father at work to say there was an emergency at home involving the "significant other."

Well, that's how he "found out" that I had done nothing wrong and that he totally shut me out based on a lie.

So, I did forgive him for it - I didn't blame him for believing his son ... after all, I'm a dad too and I'm a protective dad as well. So, I can understand. I'm definitely more confrontational than homeboy is, but then again I wasn't hiding in the closet and just LOOKING for an excuse not to move forward.

But I've got new issues now - I can forgive you for what you did then ... but what about what you're doing now?!? This was turning out to be a multi-call sorting out of issues. Because I've got issues with this ... why are you calling me with this shit - don't you have a man?

You know I asked him that, right?

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Wait - it's YOU again?

In july of 2008, I met a guy I was smitten with almost immediately. We went to the cheesecake factory on the mag mile in Chicago and sat in a booth in the bar, holding hands under the table. It was surreal, how we instantly took to each other - and not in a "i'm totally stroking his dick under the table" kind of way. I mean, my interest was in HIM, not on what he was packing. So much so, I really didn't care what he was packing.

(I know, weird.)

Anyway, he spend the following week calling me several times a day, sometimes just saying he was busy as hell but wanted me to know what he thought of me. I wondered here at JGC if I was on Candid Camera. I really didn't know what to make of it.

In the weeks that followed his job took him to a Naperville, IL and I drove over and spent some time in his hotel room with him. We petted, I admit - but considering all the "encounters" I've talking about in posts past, it's actually meaningful here that we were taking it slow and waiting for later to actually do that damn thing.

Slowly, the calls became less frequent - and while I understood he was extremely busy, it seemed to forecast that things weren't going to go the way I wanted. He mentioned his intent to move out of state and I knew I needed to keep my expectations in check.

I don't recall ever bloggin about how it was that he disappeared from my radar - but, what had happened was ....

I couldn't take it anymore and I came clean about my feelings for him, explained that what I was getting didn't seem like enough, and I really just wanted us to commit to moving forward into whatever the next phase would be and stop the happenstance touching of base whenever one of us permitted our schedules to allow it. It was heavy on him, as he wasn't quite out of the closet and I was pretty much forcing the issue.

Maybe 1 of the suitors I've blogged about since then was still in the closet - I really cannot be bothered with them anymore. And this guy is the reason. He told me that he needed some time to think about it. That he was going out of town with his mom and was going to use that time to really consider what i was saying.

Well, I wait the weekend, and then several days ... and then some more. Eventually he called me back and said, "I'm really not ready."

I was so disappointed ... but I told him that I wanted to be in his life in whatever capacity, because he really was a good guy. He was glad to hear that, he said - he was afraid I would bounce if he said no. So, we agreed to remain friendly.

But something happened.

He wouldn't call me, answer my emails or voicemails and something was up. I hit him up online when I saw him one day and he told me that he was very angry at me ... that it would be a long time before he was able to speak to me.


Only it wasn't ok - because I had no idea what I did. I presumed I forced him to really deal with his sexuality before he was prepared to do so. So, I waited.

Nearly 10 months later - this is our text exchange:

"I know I don't deserve any of your time or consideration ... but I just found out that I treated you unfairly and I am very sorry."

Oh my. Really? Is this really happening?

I know. You don't have to forgive me, I just wanted to let you know I was sorry

I do forgive you

I'll call you later


The four and a half hours that followed were the longest ever, until the phone rang, I answered and he said ...


Thursday, June 18, 2009

No drizzle - Just Deluge

Fuck the saying that it "pours." This is some real inundation, although PLEASE don't get any ideas, heavens! On June 2, there was a bitch of a storm that came through. It was windy as hell and the hail was about the size of a quarter. And the relentless pounding my house took was incredible. The wind and hail took took tree limbs and leaves right off the trees and scattered vegetation all over the damn place - I hadn't seen anything like it since I flew into Tampa hours after Hurricane Jeane. Except, there aren't any palm fronds in Indianapolis.

Anyway - it sounded like the ice was going to come right through my skylights. It was deafeningly loud in my house as the weather gods laughed and laughed at me pacing around this house, scared like I was 5 and just KNEW that that coat rack with the top hat over there in the dark was a bad, bad man who was going to kill me.

An inspector came out and said I had hail damage to my roof. I thought it fortuitous since the last time this room was re-done was before I owned the house and before the code was updated to say two layers of roof maximum. There're three layers up there. So, I called it in.

Nine Thousand Six Hundred mother fucking Dollars is what the adjuster told me.


It just then dawned on me, as the insurance adjuster was speaking to me, that my insurance premiums were going to soar. Of course, right?

Thing is, I spent the last three weeks buying flooring and having it installed in my house to replace 8 year old carpet that withstood the test of two toddlers, and bought new furniture for the living room that had done the same. So, here I am with about $3,000 in store credit cards (because it was no interest, no payment until January if I did it that way) and WHAM!

The roof is on fire (figuratively)

... and I reported it. To the insurance company.

Yay! New roof, at least. And floors!

(for someone else to enjoy when they repo this bitch)

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

I'm loveable

Since before the turn of the century, I have been unable to listen to this song:

In the fall of 1997, my ex and I got back together for a spell. I was in his dorm room, on his bed and "Anytime" played on repeat while he made my body feel what it hasn't ever felt again. We slept in each other's arms - well, he slept. I listened to this song the entire night, staring at him sleep in the dark ... tracing his silhouette with my finger tips. In fact, I can still see him if I close my eyes and remember.

After all the nonsense that followed, I was unable to listen to this song. It filled me with intense sadness and would make my eyes well by the fourth beat or so. I have ALWAYS turned the station if the song came on.

I listened to the song today and its impact on me was gone. It's a sweet memmory now that makes me smile - now that I know he loved me like I loved him. I considered this newfound fact in light of something I have known for many years.

I never really felt worthy of love - of being loved. I knew my own propensity to FEEL love, but never really believed that it could exist in anyone else towards ME. If you've followed my writing in The Evolution of Indifference, you know that my mother's ambivalent attitude towards me and my knowing that she really didn't want me would contribute to my feeling that way. But when my first love rejected me ... well, I just knew that meant I wasn't loveable.

I can attribute my crass and insensitive nature to that one thing - that I just knew no one could love me because of something intrinsic, something within me that simply WAS me, that I couldn't change. But when he told me he loved me profoundly, had trouble getting over me for many years, all but chose a career based on who I was ... and that I would ALWAYS be his first love ...

Well, that has changed me - it has profoundly impacted my self image, and forever has changed my view of the past that until this week lack vibrancy and color. It existed in black and white, grainy like an old episode of the twilight zone on a black and white television with rabbit ears and knobs to turn the channels ... as if it were just about to go snowy and undecipherable.

I can now see me in vibrant color, in HD ... and I like what I see. I'm alive inside - an emotional Lazarus has shaken off his wrappings and is smiling at me, FROM within me. And folks - I really am loveable. I really am.

And not just that - but I've always been.

I sit here typing, remembering all of the problems I've identified in all the potential suitors I've blogged about ... and I know that it was all just my attempt to find an excuse not to let them in, and to continue my own self-fulling prophecy: that i'm not able to be loved.

But I am - and I *was* loved. And that means more to me than anyone can know. It instantly changed my view of my college experienced. It has ALWAYS been the dark dreary days of my life, and suddenly - I see and remember the good things ... like working at the writing center, like when he came in one day - scared me because I didn't hear him, and kissed me. I forgot about that. Or like when I was a freshman and my father just left - I loved the freedom at that moment. Or when I dressed up in drag for halloween, or the next year when I wore a big diaper and went as a baby, or when I saw Birdcage ... and even when I got an 87 when I took that calculus exam drunk ... when I didn't study at all for the Rigid Body Dynamics course and got 100. Or when I was so drunk I threw up over the railing outside my dorm - ahhh. Or when I was high and tried to climb the hill ... in the snow ... without gloves. It's amazing I still have operable fingers. Ahhhh yes - college. They WERE good years. They weren't bad, and I don't have to be so bitter anymore.

In short - I know I'll be more forgiving of imperfections, as I want a man who is forgiving of mine.

But that doesn't mean I won't put out and blog about it. It's an epiphany, not a castration!


Tuesday, June 16, 2009

First Love - It gets better

Well, we've been messaging back and forth on facebook for a few days now and push finally came to shove. And we rehashed what was our relationship some 11 years ago. ELEVEN. Am I a glutton for this kind of punishment? Why did I do this? I'm emotional right now and I'm not even sure what to do. So, I'm here.

He mentioned that he hasn't been in a relationship with a Hispanic since college. I asked, "who?!? me?" and he said yes. I explained that some months ago i began to wonder if he even considered me an ex- because all I can remember is that he left me, without any explanation, because his momma didn't want to accept his sexuality.

He said that of course he did. And what followed I was not prepared for. I don't even know where to start - because I don't know how it all happened. It's all a whirlwind of emotion and I can't remember who said what first and in what order we discussed them. So don't hold me to the specific order.

I came clean first, though. I did say that he was really hard to get over. That surprised him because he figured I went straight right after him and got married and had kids and he just figured I forgot about him. On the contrary, my friend - I just had a good poker face. Since I wasn't out, and was before I met him 21, a virgin and really confused .. I just didn't have anyone to turn to to sort through my emotions and what to do next.

I had no support system - no one knew I was with him, because I was away at college ... and no one knew I even liked men ... and counseling was never really something I even considered ... so i figured it out on my own. As much as I loved that man ... it was real, intense and deep ... and if it didn't work with HIM, then I was just not even going to bother with men at all. That's the stupid decision I came to.

He was floored, it seems. And said, "you never forget your first love." He was sexually active for years before he met me, and I knew that. I knew that I couldn't possibly be his first anything, and I figured I'd let him revel in this thing he has over me. He was my first.

He goes on to detail how we met. He remembered every minute detail ... he was working behind the counter at the campus center and this nigga remembered what I ordered (cheeseburger, curly fries)... that he took great care to make it ... and that my exact words were, "Thanks, man." I find it curious and keep interrupting. "Would you just listen," he says. Ok.

He remembers the first time I kissed him - where it was, who was there, what we were doing. He details it all for me. All of it. And says, "JACK, you were my first love."


For years after, he compared every man to me. If he didn't measure up, he says, they were "thrown out." For years he did this, until someone loved him through it - and they were together for 4.5 years. Now, however, the man has trust issues and their relationship has ended. But that's what it took.


I admit to him that when I found out he lived in Louisville, less than a 2 hour drive away, after my divorce ... that I actually paid for a people search to find him and I had several numbers to call him. I never called though because I was afraid he'd reject me and I couldn't do that again. I actually tried to get my cousin to make the calls, but she wouldn't recognize his voice. I admit this all knowing full well that he's going to think I'm a stalker. but I'm putting it all out on the table. "I did the same thing," he says to me.


Yes, folks - he paid the same fee, found a list of people in this city with my name and got through 3 calls before thinking it was stupid.

Now we live 700 miles apart, someone loved him through it and he's in a new relationship, and I'm not sure how I feel about all of this.

What should I feel right now, knowing he said that he really wished I had made calls when I got those Louisville numbers? Obviously, I'm not trying to start some shit here - so don't tell me to move to NY and beat the fuck out his current boyfriend ... I just need to know HOW to feel.

Flattered that he did love me after all? Grateful that he admitted it to me? I just feel WEIRD and I don't know what to do with it. HELP!

Why Black Men Don't Jog

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Getting Serious

I've been in a mood, as is wont to happen to me. I kind of feel like my stars or planets aren't aligning and I've just been in a funk. I reached that point where I just wanted to say "Fuck You" to everybody and hole up in my house for an indefinite amount of time. I even wanted JACK to fuck off, but some of you piped in and saved him from certain death.

Over the past week, I had part II of III done of my floors. As of this writing, the great room, the foyer, the hallway, guest bath and my son's room all have laminate flooring. The old, nasty, "been-through-two-kids" carpeting is gone and the air really does feel cleaner. AHHHH.

Also got my new sofas in. If the carpeting was in bas shape, the sofas were in worse shape. But I didn't exactly get rid of the old sofas because they're worn but comfortable as hell and my roommate wants the sofa in her room.

Since I moved out of my apartment in Chicago to stay in Indianapolis for the summer, I've got tons of shit everywhere already, and now have two sets of furniture in the living room and so much laundry to do that a small child could easilt get lost in that pile of dirty clothes.

I made a ham today, green beans and deviled eggs too. So, the kitchen was a mess. And as usual my funk returned, this time aggravated by the mess that is my hosue right now. I'm just stressed right now because I can't get good sleep in a ransacked house. And that's what it looks like - a ransacked house ... like burgluars tore through it and got pissed that they couldn't find anything of value and deliberately tore shit up that wasn't even bothering them.

Like that.

So - if you don't hear from me for a minute ... it's because I need to spend every waking moment making sure this place gets cleaned up, one room at a time, one dryer load at a time ... one day at a time


Saturday, June 13, 2009

She Right. I wasn't ready.

Friday, June 12, 2009

I love this guy

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Ladies, Please

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

First Love, Revisited

I created a facebook account recently. I had been avoiding it like the plaques of Egypt because it just screamed "MORE STUFF TO DO" and seriously, I've got plenty already. However, after some thought on the matter, and listening to my coworkers talk about keeping in touch with their families I figured I'd give it a try.

Through the page of a friend, I ran across the FB page of MY FIRST. There he was with smoe retarded picture that wasn't of him on his profile - but it was his profile. I forced through the difficulty it was to write him a note, but I did it. I wasn't sure what I was expecting and I wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was my first EVERYTHING or if it was the fact that there was this pseduo love triangle thing going on in college that pinned him as a pawn. (I was a vindictive little bitch, I really was)

At any rate - a couple of days went by with no answer and I figured it was just as well that he hated me and I didn't have to deal with his ass.

Today was supposed to be a good day. I had morning sex with a bike messenger (and that's really all I'm going to say about it - it was supposed to be a good day!) and I sauntered along the sidewalk on my way to work ready to get a lot accomplished.

But later in the morning - there was an emailed response. It was an interesting response. "JACK? JACK from *enter alma mater here*?" I couldn't figure out if it was a dig (hey I don't really remember you) or if it was just a natural reaction - like, REALLY?

And there was chit chat a bit and all the while, I could FEEL it. That same feeling I used to feel when I was heartbroken, distraught and thought the world unfair because I was deeply in love with someone who wouldn't give me the time of day anymore. (In the end, it turned out he told his momma about me and she said that she couldn't be in his life if he was gay, so he dropped me because he didn't wanna lose his momma. How the hell do you break through that? You don't ... that's how) Except, it was way less intense. But it was there.

And I've heard it said before that you always remember your first - but this shit is fucking with me. Remember the bike messenger? CLEARLY this isn't on my mind 24/7, or even at all some 12 years later ... but the interaction made me remember.

Does that make sense?

Seriously, I sent a friend request and perused his pictures. Nothing. None of that desire to stare at his pictures like I used to when I was a confused little jack with no real understanding of my sexuality and no real outlet to discuss it with anyone. Nope.

Just a look at a few pictures and me thinking, "this nigga need to eat."

But that "something" is there and I'm having trouble putting to words what that something is. Like, I think if I dwelled on it I could conjure up those emotions I felt, because I felt them so strongly and for so long that, yuh - I'm pretty sure I could do it again. But I've no real desire to do so, only a desire to investigate this enigmatic emotion that makes absolutely no logical sense to me.

It's just so weird. I guess he looks the same - considering I haven't even seen an image of him in his 20s. He was 19 then ... he's 30 now. But, seriously, he needs to eat.

Interestingly enough he mentioned that my kids are beautiful ... letting me know that he commnuincates still with my ex-wife (we all went to college together) ... and yes, she knows he's my ex. In fact, that's her ex too.

I know - such drama. But that was 12 years ago and so not worth rehashing. I was involved in so much drama back then that it's no wonder I pretty much stick to my own. For all the stories JACK has ... I'm really a homebody.

I'm serious. Ask the couch.

That's where I am usually.

Oh, and I'm getting a new couch on Saturday. I can't wait. I'll have to break it in with some mvoie night with the babies.

And yes - they really are beautiful.

(And yes, I'm raelly not sure I should have opened this can of worms)

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

The Gay Patch

I was talking to my boss, as I'm wont to do whenever we're in the same room. And a conversation ensued about Pirates. He was talking about some show he saw that explained why Pirates wore eye patches. It was one those conversations you pretend to find interesting because it's your boss - you know, the ones where you're mentally making the grocery list but also nodding agreeably and smiling as if you were intrigued.

Only, I stopped making the grocery list and I actually found myself genuinely interested in what he had to say. Now, you must know that my boss is an engineer, of the typical grade. His ilk tends to overthink things and finds humor in things the average person just doesn't get. Now, I have an engineering degree, and I can follow him just fine, but the degree does not an engineer make - trust me. I am NOT of that ilk, and my creating and maintaining JACK should be proof enough for you.

I've known him for more than 8 years and have worked for him for a good chunk of that time. He's ever so slightly socially awkward, but thank God I went to engineering school and spent all those years pulling my hair out trying to communicate with my classmates because it helped me deal with this man. He's really a good person and is unmatched by anyone in the industry - he really knows his shit. Technically, that is. He really couldn't manage his way out of an opened-top cardboard box - but he knows his engineering stuff better than anyone I know.

And I'm not kidding about the management dig. We were having a conversation about the week's work and I mentioned that things would be slowed a bit since my counterpart, also his direct report, was on vacation. He said that he didn't know she was on vacation until that morning.

wait - isn't this the dude who approved her vacation time? Why yes - yes it is.

In a former life, when I was working for him at our previous employer, we had a rotten, snotty bitch for an admin. And she totally made best pals with his wife, and he totally didn't stop it. And then she started getting mouthy at work and acting like she owned the place and he was afraid to discipline her because that was his wife's friend. So, usually - this admin and I ended up having words ... and even then, he's do nothing.

Oh, and did I mention that he he marked me down on my last performance appraisal because I couldn't get my counterpart here to change her behavior? You know, the one who reports to HIM. And even after I told him that she and I have the same title and she just won't pay me mind when I make suggestions - he still marked me down. Whatever - I've learned to let him win the little battles. It made him feel good.

At any rate, so when he starts explaining that he did some research into it to verify what he learned about Pirates, I knew right then and there that I didn't have to google it to verify it myself. If this man said it's true - it simply is. Trust me - he's an engineer and when he says he researched it, it means he's spent counteless hours on it and REALLY knows it's true.

So, why do Pirates wear patches over their eyes? It's so they can see better.

Yes, I know it sounds stupid - like, why the hell would you cover your ears in order to HEAR better - but shut up and follow me here ...

Pirates needed to be resilient and have spot-on reaction time. And I'm not talking about these Somali pirates that chase down ocean liners in rowboats (I seriously have NO idea how the captains of these gi-nourmous ships can't fend off those fuckin canoes the somalis pass off as pirate ships) I'm talking about the "ARRRGGGHHHH," "YO HO HO!" pirates of old who shot cannons and sported hooks for fingers. Them. THEY needed reaction time like no other. So they wore a patch.

Out on the ocean in the middle of day - it's pretty bright. So they would wear a patch so that if they had to go down under the deck, they could close the unpatched eye, lift up their patch and be able to see in the dark without having to wait for their pupils to dialate. Likewise, when they came back up onto the deck they would flip the patch back over the eye and not have to wait to adjust to the sunlight.

I had NO fucking idea. And I thought it very interesting.

And then I considered the various sides of me - in particular the fact that I don't necessarily wear my sexuality on my sleeve in professional environments. I mean, if I'm in a club, I'll WHINE with the best of them ok - but at work? Yuuuuhhhhh, but NO.

This shit is hard to do wearing a shirt, tie and slacks:

And I think I handle it pretty well. And I really wish my gay bruthas would all do the same. Just because you a bottom doesn't mean you have to remove the steel from your wrists permanently and wear daisy dukes to go out and wash your car in the driveway. I think there needs to be some kind of decorum in there somewhere ... honey, you go on and shake your ass any- and everywhere over there on Halstead, but for the love of God, when you're off to your day job, THIS IS NOT NECESSARY:

Some semblance of this would really be nice. I spent some time on their Web site and I would like to quote them in relation to this post because I'm

"not saying masculine guys are better – but we are different. Our point is that there’s more than one way to be gay. Which ought to be a given in a community that talks about diversity as much as ours does. It’s a sad fact that some gay people buy into – even cling to – the very stereotypes they often complain about. We think it’s important to question both the way gay culture relies on stereotypes to define itself, and the paradoxes that can result. Having a sense of humor about it helps, too. Learning to criticize our own culture, listening to other points of view, and providing more (not fewer) choices, are the hallmarks of a mature community."

So there - now you know why I'm funny. And hopefully you understand the title of this post and where I went with this. And if not ... bitch, BOOM!

*walks away*

Monday, June 8, 2009

Suddenly, I Want Him

Friday, June 5, 2009

but, of COURSE

I was up late again last night, subjecting myself to the mindless e-babble of random fools online who like my picture. I've often times considered why I frequent those sites because I really don't get anything out of them except some occasional good banter - yet, I always find time to waste there.

I don't really get a lot of attention, though. I suspect that you have to be actively searching for an immediate opportunity to walk out the door and find someone's skin to rub up against ... and, although I'm no prude (you HAVE read my blog, right?) I'm really not all about the anonymous sex 8 days a week.

Ultimately, yes - the goal is a long term committed relationship, but I was seriously when I blogged about my not looking for it anymore. I really don't expect one to figuratively fall on my lap and neither am I tip-toeing around with a rifle talking about "it's relationship season." It's the goal, but this isn't a scavenger hunt, or a race to some finish line ... those activities require constant effort to get the job done. And what the hell I look like putting forth all that effort for some nigga I don't even know yet?!? Yuh, not looking.

And I certainly don't expect to find commitment from someone online. Hell, 90-plus percent of those mother fuckers can't commit to a properly structured sentence - that's like going into a hen house while you're looking for toothpaste. Bitch please, leave the chicken heads alone.

So, anyway - there I was ... sitting in the dark, my face bathed in the soft glow of the monitor, getting tired. I finally decide that I should lay down when some dude contacts me.

We had been sending each other messages but never logged in at the same time, always saying we'll chat soon when we're both online together. And well, of COURSE it happens when I'm just about to lay my ass down and go to sleep. But I was pleasantly surprised by the normalcy of the conversation. You hear me? Not that the conversation was titillating or that it was interesting or any of that shit. I was just plain impressed that he was NORMAL. Apparently, I guess.

I give him my phone number and he calls. His voice is, again, NORMAL and a purse didn't fly out of my earpiece at me when he spoke. He asks a lot of good questions as he tried to get to know me. It gets late, though, and eventually me agree to meet tonight for a drink. So, I guess we'll see how that goes.

As I lay in bed trying to go to sleep, I realize that I surpassed the window of sleep opportunity. I'm overtired and I can't fall asleep. I lay instead in some sleep limbo ... not quite awake, but not quite asleep; not quite coherent, but not quite dreaming. And I hear this ridiculous noise and it sounds like coughing or gagging or something ... and then what sounds like a baby fussing.

I figure that my sister in law showed up with her son and I think to myself that it's strange for her to show up at this hour. Strange, but not something that would've surprised me. And so it didn't. I stayed instead in my limbo, floating between reality and the sweetness of my dreams, unable to enjoy either.

But then I just say fuck it and I get up. I step in some nonsense in the hallway and realize that the dog made a mess. And I mean A MESS. shit and vomit all over the hall way and then I step in it again on the area rug in the living room.

My roommate is sleeping in the living room (it's her dog) and she notices me in the kitchen acting strangely and asks me if everything is ok. NO. The dog shit all over the place and I've got shit all over me. She gets up and there we both are cleaning the damn shit up. (and this is an appropriate place for the word: literally).

But the dog really is acting strangely. And it dawns on me that he probably had another seizure and that THAT'S what I heard from my limbo ... not my sister in law's son. The dog is burning up and we take him to the emergency vet clinic.

Sure enough, he had a seizure. but, OF COURSE he seized. and of COURSE I didn't get up for him. His temperature is normal as a post-seizure temperature, though and pretty much it cost us $90 to confirm that he had a seizure. The fucker emptied his bowels, bladder and stomach during in the process too. Poor thing.

I got to bed at 5:30 am this morning. at 9:00 am, the sister in law rings the doorbell.

of COUSRE she rings the doorbell.

of COURSE she brings in her son and some girl she's baby sitting.

of course.

Fried Catfish

Three things have made me reconsider my decision to quit this fucking blog.

1) JADED referred to JACK in her post today. And I kinda wondered how the hell she was going to refer to me if I killed off JACK. And I'm too big a part of her life to just be ousted. So I can't oust me, can I?

2) A recent blog follower explained that his bouts with accepting his sexuality are prevalent right now - he's a young man and in that confused/how will society accept me/does god really want this, etc. phase of a young gay man's life and he said that he appreciates my blog and I wonder if there are other people out there who actually appreciate my blog ...

3) I had further dealings with this mother fucker and I'm sitting here stewing about my own stupidity. And really, why miss an opportunity to showcase my own stupidity.

The short version: we made plans to hook up tonight and he's communicated erratically with me all day. At 9:30 pm he tells me that his momma is hangin gout at his place and that she's just about to leave. Then *dead air*

Seriously - no WONDER it's going on 2 months since I've gotten laid. And even THEN it was some nigga I had to tap out - I didn't even bother to make sure he finished; he so wasn't worth the energy to just lay there.

I aim low - I've got a propensity to reach way down into the bottom of society's barrel - I manage to select fuckers who swim down near the bottom of the sea ... there're plenty of fish in the sea, yes - but it appears I'm attracted to catfish.

And dirty rice.

(Damn, I so want me some [andouille] sausage right now)