I continually find myself placed in an age bracket that I do not belong.
This past weekend, I attended a gay soiree. A friend of James' was having people by for what was to be their house warming...even though they've already lived there for a few months.
We were greeted at the door enthusiastically by our host. That is to say, James was greeted enthusiastically by our host, while I got an awkwardly-weak hug and hello. I know that I've got probably 40 pounds and an extra foot on the guy, but I always prefer a genuine hug over some half-assed imitation.
As we circled the room, I, like any other red-blooded gay, drank in the scenery. I instantly recognized his friends, and said my hellos, as well as enjoyed the sight of a few other cute ones I'd never met before.
The second most important step in these situations is getting your ass into the kitchen and getting a drink in your hand. James got distracted by his friends as we made our way towards the kitchen, so I cut my losses and went on ahead. And there he was.
Standing under the tube lighting was a guy my height, with short cropped brown hair and a staggeringly innocent face. Not that he was 18 years old, but he just looked genuine, happy and friendly. He immediately said hello as I entered the room, and gave me an electric smile.
Probably the number one quality I appreciate in any gay is if they're unpretentious. I have no problem with a guy who loves the scene, loves partying and loves fashion; I hate when that means he has to hate everyone else, judge everyone else and act as if he were above everyone else.
Unpretentious is the definition I give this guy. And damn, was he unpretentious wrapped in nice packaging.
After Rick and I shook hands, and I'd made a drink, James showed up to claim his. Again, Rick introduced himself with a hearty handshake and smile. We started talking, and James asked if he would like a drink.
"I'm not much of a drinker," Rick said. "Half a glass and I'm falling all over myself."
We all laughed, since he was pretty much the same build that I am, and I can tuck away quite a few before I loose operational status.
"Oh, ok then," James said simply. "If you want some, it's right here."
Rick's eyes glinted slightly as his smile flashed again. "Thanks," he said, still smiling. "But wait, you guys aren't trying to get me drunk?" he added coyly, staring directly into my eyes.
Since I don't know how to flirt, I did my best to beam a smile and little eye glinting back at him. James stepped aside to talk to some other people who had just arrived, and I took the moment to try and get to know the unpretentious character in front of me.
"So, you a student?" I asked, since everyone else in the room was.
"No, actually, finished school a couple years ago," he said. "But wait, you must be around my age, right?"
I hesitated, trying not to roll my eyes. It was happening again...
"Uh, well, that depends," I said, playing along. "How old are you?"
"Well how old do you think I am?" he shot back, a grin cracking across his face.
In truth, I was 90% sure he was 27. But that sounds so close to 30, and if he wasn't, I didn't want to be insulting.
"26," I lied.
"Wrong, 27," he said. I explained that I'd already figured, but didn't want to offend him in case I was wrong.
"So how old are you then," he questioned.
"Well, actually, a couple years younger...I'm twenty...uh," I said, pausing, since I'm not really used to saying 22 just quite yet. "Twenty two. But I know what you were going to say," I added with a self-deprecating laugh. "That's how old you thought I was, right?"
He paused, sensing by some divine insight that this might be a bit of a sensitive subject with me. "Well..." he said, trailing off.
"It's ok, I get it all the time!" I said as cheerfully as possible, and navigated the conversation on to other subjects.
Like it or not, the rest of the world seems to think I look 27. And they've been saying it for about a year now. For some reason, even though I really don't understand what exactly about my appearance looks that age, people just come up with the same number. Over and over, person after person, all claim the same thing. I look 27, but still many days under 30.
Last night, the topic came up again with my roommates. I recounted the story, and with a bit of disgust, thrust my face in a mirror and asked, "Just what exactly makes me look five years older than I actually am!?"
Sufficed to say, neither of them could pin it down. "It's just...one of those things?" said one. "You can't control it, I can't even say what features make it that way. You just look a little older."
"We both look younger than our ages," the other added. "It's just the way things are, it's just 'the way' you look. Don't take it as such a bad thing."
Even though it's not necessarily a bad thing, I still resent it. And even a guy who belongs to my phantom age can't tell the difference. Not that I'm profoundly disturbed by it, by my perceived older age...I just would like an explanation why the configuration of my eyes, nose and mouth conspire to add five years to my actual age.
Somehow, I don't think I'll ever have the answer.
It's just the way it is.
Showing posts with label Hot Guys Around Town. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hot Guys Around Town. Show all posts
Monday, September 29, 2008
Monday, November 12, 2007
The good, the blah (part 1)...
Well, lets start with the good.
On Friday I finally bought my new Mac with Leopard. It was exciting, but more or less without amazement. Hit the store, heard the sales pitch (which was unnecessary...I already know what I want!), did the cash thing and headed out. I also went home for the weekend, to see my family and get a change of scenery. And to tinker with my new computer (even though there was no Internet).
Friday evening I pull everything from the box like a kid on Christmas. Since it's all one piece of machinery, it took around a minute to plug in my keyboard and mouse (which I love by the way) and then plug into the wall. The seconds went by, and it was all booted up.
But wait! This isn't Leopard, this is the old operating system!
In a frantic moment, I shuffled through the small pile of paperwork that came with the computer. Diagrams, how-to's, the OS install kit for the former system...no Leopard drop-kit that the sales guy had promised. Ahhh crap!!!
I called the store and spoke to a very nice gay boy with a pretentiously spelled name (can you say future post?). He was very sweet, and wanted to fix my situation ASAP. The only option really was to return to the store the next day.
I was less than pleased. Here I was, at home, and I had to re-pack my computer and go back to the city! So Saturday morning my mom and I went for a drive...
The store was packed with weekend shoppers pushing into one another. Why it was so crazy I'll never know...I mean can't people shop on other days of the week too? We headed to the counter, box in tow, and got a strange look from the boy standing behind it.
I explained in horror that the drop-kit wasn't put in my box, and how I neeeeeed Leopard. He went into the usual regretful story mode, and promised to grab me a new machine and to personally make sure the proper discs were in the box.
Of course, my mother went into pissed-off-consumer mode and asked what compensation we'd be given for being so royally screwed around. It turned out the guy was the manager for that shift, even though he looked something like this:
Honestly, he was amazingly hot. Looking like he'd just stepped out of a porn movie, this twink of possibly 22 was such a sweetheart. With a bit more tan than #1 and the eyes and longer hair of #2, he was stunning.
Throughout the exchange, I suffered some blood fluctuations.
Anyway, it went off smoothly enough, and I even got to drool over the sexy manager for 10 minutes while he sorted things out. He was, like I said, very sweet and made it as painless as possible. Reluctantly, I tore my eyes away with my second new Mac of the weekend.
Thankfully, this one indeed had Leopard. I'm liking it so far, other than the fact I still have to Migrate all my files from my old Mac over, and set up all the technical stuff like codecs and such here on my new Mac. It's a little frustrating, and kinda tedious, but in the end I'll have a great setup and great memories of the sales boy.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asked, with a little smile.
Plenty, I thought.
On Friday I finally bought my new Mac with Leopard. It was exciting, but more or less without amazement. Hit the store, heard the sales pitch (which was unnecessary...I already know what I want!), did the cash thing and headed out. I also went home for the weekend, to see my family and get a change of scenery. And to tinker with my new computer (even though there was no Internet).
Friday evening I pull everything from the box like a kid on Christmas. Since it's all one piece of machinery, it took around a minute to plug in my keyboard and mouse (which I love by the way) and then plug into the wall. The seconds went by, and it was all booted up.
But wait! This isn't Leopard, this is the old operating system!
In a frantic moment, I shuffled through the small pile of paperwork that came with the computer. Diagrams, how-to's, the OS install kit for the former system...no Leopard drop-kit that the sales guy had promised. Ahhh crap!!!
I called the store and spoke to a very nice gay boy with a pretentiously spelled name (can you say future post?). He was very sweet, and wanted to fix my situation ASAP. The only option really was to return to the store the next day.
I was less than pleased. Here I was, at home, and I had to re-pack my computer and go back to the city! So Saturday morning my mom and I went for a drive...
The store was packed with weekend shoppers pushing into one another. Why it was so crazy I'll never know...I mean can't people shop on other days of the week too? We headed to the counter, box in tow, and got a strange look from the boy standing behind it.
I explained in horror that the drop-kit wasn't put in my box, and how I neeeeeed Leopard. He went into the usual regretful story mode, and promised to grab me a new machine and to personally make sure the proper discs were in the box.
Of course, my mother went into pissed-off-consumer mode and asked what compensation we'd be given for being so royally screwed around. It turned out the guy was the manager for that shift, even though he looked something like this:
Honestly, he was amazingly hot. Looking like he'd just stepped out of a porn movie, this twink of possibly 22 was such a sweetheart. With a bit more tan than #1 and the eyes and longer hair of #2, he was stunning.
Throughout the exchange, I suffered some blood fluctuations.
Anyway, it went off smoothly enough, and I even got to drool over the sexy manager for 10 minutes while he sorted things out. He was, like I said, very sweet and made it as painless as possible. Reluctantly, I tore my eyes away with my second new Mac of the weekend.
Thankfully, this one indeed had Leopard. I'm liking it so far, other than the fact I still have to Migrate all my files from my old Mac over, and set up all the technical stuff like codecs and such here on my new Mac. It's a little frustrating, and kinda tedious, but in the end I'll have a great setup and great memories of the sales boy.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asked, with a little smile.
Plenty, I thought.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Can't you flirt with meeee?...
Finally, after what seems like years but was in fact only over a month, I got to go to Toronto.
It was a warm evening as Nick and I drove downtown, Paul McCartney's newest album (which freaking rocks FYI) playing in the background and intelligent conversation flowing freely between us. Nick is a musciain, a guy a year younger than me that I went to High School with. He's sophisticated, intelligent, charming and good looking...and strangely homophobic.
The irony of his homophobia is that we always do non-alpha-male things. Last night's outing was to the Distillery District, a converted pedestrian area that houses galleries, resturants and coffee shops in a really great atmosphere. I'd been there once before, but it's been a couple years, and I loved it. Nick vetoed our usual jazz venue since he'd never been to this area before, and wanted to check out some galleries.
We got there after 9 p.m., and no surprise on a Wednesday night, not much was going on. People were sprawled on patios, sampling the beers made in the buildings next to many of the restrants, and delicious cooking smells wafted from kitchens. We walked around, getting a feel for the layout, and peering into darkend gallery windows. After accepting that things weren't open, we settled on a restrant, the one with the oyster bar, and got a table on the patio.
Our waiter walked over, and I immediately smiled. He was tall, with frosted blonde hair, bright lips and cheeks, and a big smile. After giving us some menus he stepped away and served another table.
Moments later he was back, asking if we'd chosen anything to drink, because he'd, "Have to throw you out, and then I'd be pretty lonely around here." We laughed, Nick awkwardly, me awkwardly for different reasons.
Drinks arrived, and he kept chatting us up. OK, I take the 'us' back...sadly. Nick got a sample tray of wines, and the Blonde Waiter kept stopping by to see how he liked them all. He was making all sorts of cute, flirty conversation with Nick, who was sitting there nodding along. I was sitting there, in my hot black Rolling Stones Tee, and nice jeans, and not once did he ask me how my beer was.
After we'd lingered long enough, with Nick ordering another glass of Riesling on the Blonde Waiter's suggestion ("My country makes good whites...I'm German"), it was time to get the bill.
"Hail him down next time he walks by," Nick said.
"Uhh, excuse me? You're the one he's all over, you catch him."
"Oh, this always happens. It's like I'm a gay magnet. They always think I'm gay. You'd think at least he'd think we were together or something."
After I screamed inside, I sighed aloud.
"Well, at least he's payed some attention to you. I didn't even get a 'How's the beer?' from him. God, if I wanted his attention I'd probably have to be convulsing on the floor, right in his path, possibly with my shirt on fire, before he would notice..."
The bill came, and there was no phone number sneakily written on it for Nick. I took a bit of solice in that, and the fact that Nick was being a bit of a tease, making the bill with tip come out to $69.00.
Overall it was great to be back in the city, though I definately need to work on my he's-not-gay-I-am vibes for the next time we're going downtown...
It was a warm evening as Nick and I drove downtown, Paul McCartney's newest album (which freaking rocks FYI) playing in the background and intelligent conversation flowing freely between us. Nick is a musciain, a guy a year younger than me that I went to High School with. He's sophisticated, intelligent, charming and good looking...and strangely homophobic.
The irony of his homophobia is that we always do non-alpha-male things. Last night's outing was to the Distillery District, a converted pedestrian area that houses galleries, resturants and coffee shops in a really great atmosphere. I'd been there once before, but it's been a couple years, and I loved it. Nick vetoed our usual jazz venue since he'd never been to this area before, and wanted to check out some galleries.
We got there after 9 p.m., and no surprise on a Wednesday night, not much was going on. People were sprawled on patios, sampling the beers made in the buildings next to many of the restrants, and delicious cooking smells wafted from kitchens. We walked around, getting a feel for the layout, and peering into darkend gallery windows. After accepting that things weren't open, we settled on a restrant, the one with the oyster bar, and got a table on the patio.
Our waiter walked over, and I immediately smiled. He was tall, with frosted blonde hair, bright lips and cheeks, and a big smile. After giving us some menus he stepped away and served another table.
Moments later he was back, asking if we'd chosen anything to drink, because he'd, "Have to throw you out, and then I'd be pretty lonely around here." We laughed, Nick awkwardly, me awkwardly for different reasons.
Drinks arrived, and he kept chatting us up. OK, I take the 'us' back...sadly. Nick got a sample tray of wines, and the Blonde Waiter kept stopping by to see how he liked them all. He was making all sorts of cute, flirty conversation with Nick, who was sitting there nodding along. I was sitting there, in my hot black Rolling Stones Tee, and nice jeans, and not once did he ask me how my beer was.
After we'd lingered long enough, with Nick ordering another glass of Riesling on the Blonde Waiter's suggestion ("My country makes good whites...I'm German"), it was time to get the bill.
"Hail him down next time he walks by," Nick said.
"Uhh, excuse me? You're the one he's all over, you catch him."
"Oh, this always happens. It's like I'm a gay magnet. They always think I'm gay. You'd think at least he'd think we were together or something."
After I screamed inside, I sighed aloud.
"Well, at least he's payed some attention to you. I didn't even get a 'How's the beer?' from him. God, if I wanted his attention I'd probably have to be convulsing on the floor, right in his path, possibly with my shirt on fire, before he would notice..."
The bill came, and there was no phone number sneakily written on it for Nick. I took a bit of solice in that, and the fact that Nick was being a bit of a tease, making the bill with tip come out to $69.00.
Overall it was great to be back in the city, though I definately need to work on my he's-not-gay-I-am vibes for the next time we're going downtown...
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Wiped...
You know when you're tired, especially when your body feels all dragged down.
Like this morning, I woke up with a scratchy throat, baggy eyes and a bit of a headache that never really went away. After considering it for the day, I decided that I'm tired and should probably get some sleep (after I post, of course).
Today was uneventful, but it was nice not to be too busy. I did something wonderful, though. I handed in my 60-day notice to my landlord, so I'm officially going to be away from my hellish roommate soon! Not that the 60 days come before the end of school, but it formally recognizes the fact that we're done in that short amount of time. Yay!
Also in exciting news, on Wednesday night Laura and I had dinner at her place, where she announced that one of her roommates is moving out, and she wants me to move in. At first I was so surprised that I didn't really get excited, rather started disecting reasons why I shouldn't live with her and her other roommate (who I love). But I couldn't come up with anything substantial (other than we need to do some serious decorating...wait, isn't it supposed to be the woman's touch? not the other way around?...) When I told my mom about it, she basically said that I'm doing it, "Right!?" So there are no formal details yet about when I get my room, but it's 95% official that I have new roommates for next year.
This weather is so wonderful, a real boost for soul. Better weather means more people out, and there's nothing more that I love than the bustling city streets (especially at night, it's just so damn cool!). But I swear, I'm going to have to stop walking home through the Village at night. Of course, I was passing through at 11, prime-time where everyone is showing up. During the daylight hours, I shake my head and think, "I don't need to be a part of that, hell, I don't go clubbing as it is, so why would I want to go gay clubbing?" Yet when it's dark out, all I can think about while walking home is how great it would be to have a group to go out with, people that I fit in with who weren't (completely) judgemental.
I don't even know what's reality vs. what's illusion. All I read about are the major drug problems with gay (and straight) clubs, the unsafe sex pratices of people who indulge in it, the horribly judgemental queens who tear each other to shreads. But the illusion I see when walking down the street is hot, young guys having fun in a pretty comrader-ish way.
My current make-me-feel-better attitude is, "Don't worry about it for this year, you've got 2 weeks of school left, you're not going to develop a social life in that time anyway so just focus on next September and doing it then." But that's always my approach...invest in my fantasy about the future. To an extent, it's worked out ok. I managed to do a lot of stuff in this semester that was only a dream in first semester...but it's more complicated than that. I have to meet gay guys who I'm compatible with for friendship, then develop enough of a group to actually go out with, then actually take the plunge and go...all this from a guy who doesn't know how to make 'new friends' anyway.
Ugh. Well I'm not going to beat myself up about it tonight (I'm too tired anyway), but I just can't shake the images of the hot blondes in tight pants bouncing down the road to the clubs, while I walked home on another night. God, I really need to stop repeating this post over and over and over...
Like this morning, I woke up with a scratchy throat, baggy eyes and a bit of a headache that never really went away. After considering it for the day, I decided that I'm tired and should probably get some sleep (after I post, of course).
Today was uneventful, but it was nice not to be too busy. I did something wonderful, though. I handed in my 60-day notice to my landlord, so I'm officially going to be away from my hellish roommate soon! Not that the 60 days come before the end of school, but it formally recognizes the fact that we're done in that short amount of time. Yay!
Also in exciting news, on Wednesday night Laura and I had dinner at her place, where she announced that one of her roommates is moving out, and she wants me to move in. At first I was so surprised that I didn't really get excited, rather started disecting reasons why I shouldn't live with her and her other roommate (who I love). But I couldn't come up with anything substantial (other than we need to do some serious decorating...wait, isn't it supposed to be the woman's touch? not the other way around?...) When I told my mom about it, she basically said that I'm doing it, "Right!?" So there are no formal details yet about when I get my room, but it's 95% official that I have new roommates for next year.
This weather is so wonderful, a real boost for soul. Better weather means more people out, and there's nothing more that I love than the bustling city streets (especially at night, it's just so damn cool!). But I swear, I'm going to have to stop walking home through the Village at night. Of course, I was passing through at 11, prime-time where everyone is showing up. During the daylight hours, I shake my head and think, "I don't need to be a part of that, hell, I don't go clubbing as it is, so why would I want to go gay clubbing?" Yet when it's dark out, all I can think about while walking home is how great it would be to have a group to go out with, people that I fit in with who weren't (completely) judgemental.
I don't even know what's reality vs. what's illusion. All I read about are the major drug problems with gay (and straight) clubs, the unsafe sex pratices of people who indulge in it, the horribly judgemental queens who tear each other to shreads. But the illusion I see when walking down the street is hot, young guys having fun in a pretty comrader-ish way.
My current make-me-feel-better attitude is, "Don't worry about it for this year, you've got 2 weeks of school left, you're not going to develop a social life in that time anyway so just focus on next September and doing it then." But that's always my approach...invest in my fantasy about the future. To an extent, it's worked out ok. I managed to do a lot of stuff in this semester that was only a dream in first semester...but it's more complicated than that. I have to meet gay guys who I'm compatible with for friendship, then develop enough of a group to actually go out with, then actually take the plunge and go...all this from a guy who doesn't know how to make 'new friends' anyway.
Ugh. Well I'm not going to beat myself up about it tonight (I'm too tired anyway), but I just can't shake the images of the hot blondes in tight pants bouncing down the road to the clubs, while I walked home on another night. God, I really need to stop repeating this post over and over and over...
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Twas a hot and sunny day...
It's so warm out. And it has been for 2 days. Therefore it will probably be a blizzard by the end of the week...
I'm sorry for not posting sooner, but damn, I've been having another one of those weeks, including working with that crazy bitch I can't stand, who was equally as charming as usual.
The warmpth of these past few days has been amazing. It really does feel like spring is around the corner. It also feels like a cruel joke...that the warm will be taken away and we'll plunge back into the freezing cold. But for now I'm enjoying being able to stand on my balcony, not wearing a winter coat and scarf and gloves to walk to Starbucks, and the fact that the streets are bustling with people getting outside.
It makes me a little sad, because I'm starting to feel the pluse of the 'summer city'. People are out at all hours, walking, chatting, in good spirits. The warm smells and the feel of the air in the back of your throat are all the telltale signs that sleepless nights of 30 degree C weather are coming nearer and nearer.
I'd really like to experience a summer in the city, complete with friends on the balcony, cold gin and tonics, a barely-clothed guy standing in my living room...
But seriously...it's something that I've yet to get the full effect of. Since I'll soon be returning to the great hills of small-town-bum-fuck-nowhere, I won't get more than a day in the summer city. No overnights, random ice-cream runs, being driven mad with passion from the heat...
Where am I getting these ideas that summer + heat = sex? Bad romance novels? Or even worse...bad reality MTV shows?
Maybe someday I'll get to live in the city for the summer. Then of course I'd need to make a whole batch of new friends to actually kill the time with on those hot August nights, since everyone I know goes home. Oh well, maybe someday...
I'm sorry for not posting sooner, but damn, I've been having another one of those weeks, including working with that crazy bitch I can't stand, who was equally as charming as usual.
The warmpth of these past few days has been amazing. It really does feel like spring is around the corner. It also feels like a cruel joke...that the warm will be taken away and we'll plunge back into the freezing cold. But for now I'm enjoying being able to stand on my balcony, not wearing a winter coat and scarf and gloves to walk to Starbucks, and the fact that the streets are bustling with people getting outside.
It makes me a little sad, because I'm starting to feel the pluse of the 'summer city'. People are out at all hours, walking, chatting, in good spirits. The warm smells and the feel of the air in the back of your throat are all the telltale signs that sleepless nights of 30 degree C weather are coming nearer and nearer.
I'd really like to experience a summer in the city, complete with friends on the balcony, cold gin and tonics, a barely-clothed guy standing in my living room...
But seriously...it's something that I've yet to get the full effect of. Since I'll soon be returning to the great hills of small-town-bum-fuck-nowhere, I won't get more than a day in the summer city. No overnights, random ice-cream runs, being driven mad with passion from the heat...
Where am I getting these ideas that summer + heat = sex? Bad romance novels? Or even worse...bad reality MTV shows?
Maybe someday I'll get to live in the city for the summer. Then of course I'd need to make a whole batch of new friends to actually kill the time with on those hot August nights, since everyone I know goes home. Oh well, maybe someday...
Saturday, March 10, 2007
All it takes is a little antagonizing...
I love how things always find a way to work out. Even when it's something mundane, that you don't really put a lot of thought into, the Master Plan seems to make things fall into place.
I was musing earlier today about what topics to blog about. In all honesty, I've felt like I've drifted away from the original purpose of my blog, which was exploring the different facets of my new bisexual life. But when I tried to think of things that were bothering me...I couldn't. Not like there isn't lots about how lost I feel, even after beginning my journey in January. But I didn't have a specific problem about which I wanted to vent or explore.
Then last tonight, like so many other nights, I was inspired by what I saw.
Groups of guys, all different ages, all headed out for a night of dancing and...whatever happens after dancing. Oh, and I'm quite sure they weren't going to meet their girlfriends at the club...
So this isn't a particularily strange sight, especially on a Friday night. But seeing them in the flesh made me feel a little shitty. I've managed to repress the fact that there are guys leading the fabulous life that only I get to read about...and seeing them in person is a little shocking. It's as if you're meeting a character from a novel, you know they shouldn't exist, they don't in the confines of your reality, yet here they stand.
I was instantly reminded about my feelings about 'fitting in'. I realized how different I felt from the guys walking directly past me, how I felt ugly, unstyled, alone and clearly not knowledgeable of the scene. There I was walking home, my hair doing all sorts of insane things after a day in the wind, not dressed particularily chic, and headed home from a mundane night at the pub, when there were well-groomed polished guys headed out for an evening of fun and friskiness. About the only thing we had in common was the cigarette stuck between my fingers.
And it's not just about appearence. It's the fact that I'm walking home alone while these groups of eligble guys are headed out to party at clubs. It's the fact they have what I sometimes vainly wish for and wonder if I'll ever have.
The biggest mystery I have yet to unravel about my coming out is where I'll fit into the gay community. And I have no idea how that'll go down. I mean, I'm terrified because I don't stand in front of the mirror for an hour before going outside, let alone spend three hours getting ready to go out at night. I have pretty much no self confidence about how I look at the best of times. Because as we all know, its all about the looks. Even guys who aren't the hottest do wonders in front of the mirror and with their clothes. After all, it's a package deal.
So on my walk home, I was faced with my reality. For all the daydreaming and wondering and hopeful thoughts of the past weeks, I realized I'm no farther ahead in that department. I'm so scared that once I'm out in a broader sense, and maybe start making some gay friends, I'm not going to fit in, or be ostricized.
As I said, I don't even know where I want to fit into the Village thing. I know it will never take over my life, that I'll never live inside of it because I'm bi and that I probably won't know the names of club owners and shop keepers. But I also vainly daydream of 'fitting in' with these people. It just doesn't help that I feel worlds apart when actually confronted by them.
I was musing earlier today about what topics to blog about. In all honesty, I've felt like I've drifted away from the original purpose of my blog, which was exploring the different facets of my new bisexual life. But when I tried to think of things that were bothering me...I couldn't. Not like there isn't lots about how lost I feel, even after beginning my journey in January. But I didn't have a specific problem about which I wanted to vent or explore.
Then last tonight, like so many other nights, I was inspired by what I saw.
Groups of guys, all different ages, all headed out for a night of dancing and...whatever happens after dancing. Oh, and I'm quite sure they weren't going to meet their girlfriends at the club...
So this isn't a particularily strange sight, especially on a Friday night. But seeing them in the flesh made me feel a little shitty. I've managed to repress the fact that there are guys leading the fabulous life that only I get to read about...and seeing them in person is a little shocking. It's as if you're meeting a character from a novel, you know they shouldn't exist, they don't in the confines of your reality, yet here they stand.
I was instantly reminded about my feelings about 'fitting in'. I realized how different I felt from the guys walking directly past me, how I felt ugly, unstyled, alone and clearly not knowledgeable of the scene. There I was walking home, my hair doing all sorts of insane things after a day in the wind, not dressed particularily chic, and headed home from a mundane night at the pub, when there were well-groomed polished guys headed out for an evening of fun and friskiness. About the only thing we had in common was the cigarette stuck between my fingers.
And it's not just about appearence. It's the fact that I'm walking home alone while these groups of eligble guys are headed out to party at clubs. It's the fact they have what I sometimes vainly wish for and wonder if I'll ever have.
The biggest mystery I have yet to unravel about my coming out is where I'll fit into the gay community. And I have no idea how that'll go down. I mean, I'm terrified because I don't stand in front of the mirror for an hour before going outside, let alone spend three hours getting ready to go out at night. I have pretty much no self confidence about how I look at the best of times. Because as we all know, its all about the looks. Even guys who aren't the hottest do wonders in front of the mirror and with their clothes. After all, it's a package deal.
So on my walk home, I was faced with my reality. For all the daydreaming and wondering and hopeful thoughts of the past weeks, I realized I'm no farther ahead in that department. I'm so scared that once I'm out in a broader sense, and maybe start making some gay friends, I'm not going to fit in, or be ostricized.
As I said, I don't even know where I want to fit into the Village thing. I know it will never take over my life, that I'll never live inside of it because I'm bi and that I probably won't know the names of club owners and shop keepers. But I also vainly daydream of 'fitting in' with these people. It just doesn't help that I feel worlds apart when actually confronted by them.
Monday, February 5, 2007
Oh, the humanity (part two)...
I laughed and told Lisa, who then said:
"I'm a little worried about you. Not about the fact you're going online, but the fact you're sleeping with guys when you don't even know what you want."
I then got to feeling even worse than before. She didn't look down at me when I told her about my 'guys on the side' before, but tonight she seemed to be getting worried about what I was doing. I questioned her about what exactly she was 'worried' about, considering we'd had the safe-sex discussion, and the fact that I was actually enjoying some sexual activity.
"It's just, you don't know what you want with Jamie, and you visited that other guy more than once, does he mean anything to you?..."
I started wondering if the reason she was 'worried' is because I'm not being monogamous with any specific person. Sure, I got a few under my belt, but now she must think that I should settle for sex with one guy, regardless of if we're going out or not.
Now, I'm not entirely sure, because we never finished that part of the discussion. So I'll just have to wait and see what she says face to face.
I ended up telling Nate (the guy who messaged me, the one who I've hung out with twice) that I wasn't up for anything tonight, since I've got studying to do and have to be in bed at a decent hour. After that, I collapsed into my chair, and felt awful. Just a sick feeling, eminating from the pit of my stomach, totally distracting me from doing much of anything. I just felt so swallowed up in the immenseness of it all...not that I expect my change in life to be as simple as clicking my heels...but I've already worked through a lot of what I thought was bothering me in December. Now, I've got a fresh weight hanging over me.
I just want so desperately to be embraced by a boy, someone who wants to spend time curled up in bed with me, watching tv or reading, having a home-made dinner together, hitting the town for an afternoon of culture or an evening of drinking...
See, I missed the whole relationship-jumping in highschool. I had my fun with a few girls, but somehow stayed single for the senior years. I never got any of the fun, dopey, corny 'together time' with anyone special, since I was never really going out with anyone. And it's not like I think it's dopey or corny to want to snuggle with a guy my age while watching Boston Legal tomorrow night, or having dinner on Thursday evening...I know I don't want an infatuation, an obsession with one person where I can't spend a moment without them. I just want a little love and attention through the week. Unfortunately the only love and attention I can get right now begins with a conversation online and ends with cum drying on my body.
So I trudged out in the freezing cold once more to find some food for my single dinner. I went to the grocery store, found some good-looking frozen home-cooked-style dinners, but decided against waiting for the oven to blast the package for an hour. In January I promised myself not to go to McDonalds anymore, but tonight there seemed no other place to go, so I started walking to find one.
After getting very cold because I forgot my mits, I landed into a Micky-Dee's and hurried up to the counter. I just wanted my poison, and then wanted to get the hell out of there. But naturally there was a lineup (after 8pm on a Monday night...), so I waited paitently.
And who was ordering before me? Hot college-aged gay guys.
And how do I know they were gay? Other than the beautiful tans, the cleverly torn jeans, the overly put-together hairstyles and the all-telling fur-lined jackets, they were loudly making plans with each other (and other guys on the phone) about which gay bar to go out to tonight.
Fuck. I'm buying McDonalds on a Monday night feeling depressed and alone, and four rediculiously hot gay guys are making plans to go out to one of the gay clubs in the city, meeting more rediculiously hot friends there.
It's not that I necessairliy want to go out with the clubber-boi posse, but they make it all look so easy. No doubt they've got a huge number of personal issues, and they probably are all sleeping with each other's boyfriends...but fuck, they make life look so easy and fun.
I placed my order and paced the floor, wanting desperately to get out of the sight of these guys, and put the evening out of it's misery. Finally my food was ready, I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. But as I started walking, I skidded on the slick tile and slipped right into a table. Thank God I didn't fall over, because I would have died right there in McDonalds. I mean, I was reaching the point of crawling into a corner and crying myself to sleep, until the nice men with butterfly nets came and took me away. I recovered and without looking back stepped back into the frigid night, returning to my empty home, empty couch, and empty bed.
"I'm a little worried about you. Not about the fact you're going online, but the fact you're sleeping with guys when you don't even know what you want."
I then got to feeling even worse than before. She didn't look down at me when I told her about my 'guys on the side' before, but tonight she seemed to be getting worried about what I was doing. I questioned her about what exactly she was 'worried' about, considering we'd had the safe-sex discussion, and the fact that I was actually enjoying some sexual activity.
"It's just, you don't know what you want with Jamie, and you visited that other guy more than once, does he mean anything to you?..."
I started wondering if the reason she was 'worried' is because I'm not being monogamous with any specific person. Sure, I got a few under my belt, but now she must think that I should settle for sex with one guy, regardless of if we're going out or not.
Now, I'm not entirely sure, because we never finished that part of the discussion. So I'll just have to wait and see what she says face to face.
I ended up telling Nate (the guy who messaged me, the one who I've hung out with twice) that I wasn't up for anything tonight, since I've got studying to do and have to be in bed at a decent hour. After that, I collapsed into my chair, and felt awful. Just a sick feeling, eminating from the pit of my stomach, totally distracting me from doing much of anything. I just felt so swallowed up in the immenseness of it all...not that I expect my change in life to be as simple as clicking my heels...but I've already worked through a lot of what I thought was bothering me in December. Now, I've got a fresh weight hanging over me.
I just want so desperately to be embraced by a boy, someone who wants to spend time curled up in bed with me, watching tv or reading, having a home-made dinner together, hitting the town for an afternoon of culture or an evening of drinking...
See, I missed the whole relationship-jumping in highschool. I had my fun with a few girls, but somehow stayed single for the senior years. I never got any of the fun, dopey, corny 'together time' with anyone special, since I was never really going out with anyone. And it's not like I think it's dopey or corny to want to snuggle with a guy my age while watching Boston Legal tomorrow night, or having dinner on Thursday evening...I know I don't want an infatuation, an obsession with one person where I can't spend a moment without them. I just want a little love and attention through the week. Unfortunately the only love and attention I can get right now begins with a conversation online and ends with cum drying on my body.
So I trudged out in the freezing cold once more to find some food for my single dinner. I went to the grocery store, found some good-looking frozen home-cooked-style dinners, but decided against waiting for the oven to blast the package for an hour. In January I promised myself not to go to McDonalds anymore, but tonight there seemed no other place to go, so I started walking to find one.
After getting very cold because I forgot my mits, I landed into a Micky-Dee's and hurried up to the counter. I just wanted my poison, and then wanted to get the hell out of there. But naturally there was a lineup (after 8pm on a Monday night...), so I waited paitently.
And who was ordering before me? Hot college-aged gay guys.
And how do I know they were gay? Other than the beautiful tans, the cleverly torn jeans, the overly put-together hairstyles and the all-telling fur-lined jackets, they were loudly making plans with each other (and other guys on the phone) about which gay bar to go out to tonight.
Fuck. I'm buying McDonalds on a Monday night feeling depressed and alone, and four rediculiously hot gay guys are making plans to go out to one of the gay clubs in the city, meeting more rediculiously hot friends there.
It's not that I necessairliy want to go out with the clubber-boi posse, but they make it all look so easy. No doubt they've got a huge number of personal issues, and they probably are all sleeping with each other's boyfriends...but fuck, they make life look so easy and fun.
I placed my order and paced the floor, wanting desperately to get out of the sight of these guys, and put the evening out of it's misery. Finally my food was ready, I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. But as I started walking, I skidded on the slick tile and slipped right into a table. Thank God I didn't fall over, because I would have died right there in McDonalds. I mean, I was reaching the point of crawling into a corner and crying myself to sleep, until the nice men with butterfly nets came and took me away. I recovered and without looking back stepped back into the frigid night, returning to my empty home, empty couch, and empty bed.
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