Yes, there are reasons that I haven't been posting at all.
To leave you all mid story is horrible, but my life has been a huge challenge since the day I came out to my father. There has been lots of good, mostly thanks to being back in the city I love, seeing people I love. But there has been bad, including a lot of family stress and a funeral, which I'll explain at some point soon.
And there's been the busy. I've been run off my feet, to say the least, since the first second of the academic year. I'm a project manager of our practical exercises (and more I cannot say, I'm sorry :p), which requires me to be on call (and on hand) 24/7. Seriously, this is the first night since starting out that I've been home by this early part of the evening. It's enjoyable work, but it's draining; I have basically no life outside of what has now become my 'job' and I feel like I'm missing out on a few opportunities to get back into the swing of Toronto life.
Still, I've managed to be as social as possible throughout all this, even if it means getting fairly little sleep. As one friend put it, I'm still putting myself out there, even if I'm sacrificing sleep and laundry time.
But none of this is really what spurred me to write this post today. I've got bigger annoyances at the moment.
It's my birthday this week.
Again, the year has gone by, and it's once again time for me to 'celebrate' my being born. And again, it's once again time for me to be more stressed and annoyed than celebratory.
Already, my close friends have asked me what my plans are. Where would I like to go? What would I like to do? How would I like to celebrate this joyous occasion? My answer is the same as every year: I simply don't know.
Like every year before, my birthday brings out more stress and anxiety than feelings of happiness and love. The same questions are asked, the same answer given. To put it bluntly, the sum of all my fears can be expressed in one question:
If I had a birthday party, would anyone come?
Sounds insane, I know. But it's something that has always worried me. I have great friends, know people in different walks of life and different towns and cities. But I don't have the archetypal 'group of friends' that so many people identify themselves with. I've got small pockets of people, but not enough to fill a room simultaneously with 30 people who all know each other.
And each time I get asked what I want to do, my insides shrink a little. I don't want to say aloud that I'd have a hard time trying to figure out just who would exactly care enough to spend the evening celebrating my birthday.
So as usual, instead of trying to set up an elaborate series of birthday-style events, I've simply stuck my head in the sand.
Another sticking point is the gay thing. My roommates want to be a part of my birthday, but they want me to be able to kiss boys if I want to. I appreciate that fact, since James will most likely be part of my birthday plans. We can't make out drunkenly at a straight bar...it's just not done. But at the same time, no matter what I wind up doing, I'll have to be as inclusive as possible.
"So, we figured that we could have dinner on Friday night together," one roommate said, "and then you and James can go out with your gay friends."
In my mind, I heard a very loud voice ask, "What gay friends?"
It is truly annoying to be reminded, at a time when you're supposed to be happy and exuberant, that there really is something amiss. While I'd love to go gay for my birthday, the fact remains that I just really don't have any gay friends. Guys I dated aside, I still don't have my 'gay group', even though the rest of the world apparently thinks that I do.
Then again, I'm still overwhelmed when I think of having to attempt to round up a group of people, gay, straight or otherwise, to be in the same spot at the same time on my behalf.
I don't have long to decide. I've never really had a 'great' birthday before, merely a slew of unremarkable ones (and a few crappy ones, like last year). For my part, I'd almost prefer to pretend that it's any other day, and to just carry on with life as is. But I question whether that's because I'm truly non-plussed about the event itself or because I'm horrified at the implications of a poorly executed celebration.
Maybe I'll just close my eyes, and hope that someone else will just do it all for me...
Showing posts with label New Roommates. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Roommates. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Friday, August 10, 2007
My night...
The months had felt like years, but flown by too quickly to remember.
I arrived at the apartment feeling jittery and nervous and needing a drink. This sometimes (always) happens when I'm meeting someone, the flux between horny excitement and cold questioning that seems to insert itself into the moment. Really this should not have bothered me, because David has been coming over for a while now, only interrupted by the summer months and my temporary relocation ("Why are you living out there?").
My roommate and I sat at the new old kitchen table, me swigging quietly from a glass of gin and tonic and her pulling from a pre-bottled cocktail. The sun beat through the windows and gave the room a sickening shimmer of heat, pushed away every few beats by gusts of cool air. Tension lifted and we talked about our evenings and she said, "I hope you have a good time," and got in the shower.
The next few hours were spent idly watching the clock, paging through a forgettable paperback left under the coffee table and sipping from a new glass of gin and tonic. He was supposed to show up at 10:30, and by midnight I was getting nervous again. Finally the phone vibrated and he was downstairs worrying his car would be stolen or he would be shot and how can I live in such a fucking ghetto?
I opened the door to him and he smiled with his big lips pushed apart. I smiled sleepy and lightheaded and we took a tour of the apartment where he stopped and sat on my bed. I offered him a drink, closed my door and sat down.
The next several minutes were spent on how summer sucks when you don't got anywhere and how many different job's he had that went nowhere. I forgot to ask him about a road trip he was going on. Then he pulled his wallet and phone out of his pants and lay down on the bed. I pulled the chain on the bulb beside him and lay down.
Over the next two hours we moved around every imaginable angle grasping each other's bodies. He was on his game, more interested than I'd ever seen him before, and I fueled from his energy. The stress and nervousness and worry (this is the first sex you'll have in months...) were gone and all that was left was lust and pleasure.
He finally came while I was inside him, a quiet acknowledgement seconds before the oh-oh-oh's and then I came and we collapsed onto each other and my breath was ragged and the sheets were soaked. Time stood still as the curtain played back and forth in the breeze.
We stood naked in the dark, the angles of his body barely visible and after hearing a noise he says, "Is someone home?"
"Sure, probably. My roommate was out earlier..." It's now 3, and I'm not surprised she's home.
"Cool. Is she hot?"
"I guess. Yeah." I think about it for a few more seconds, but that sounded right.
"So would she let me fuck her?"
I tilted my head. "Probably not. She likes her boyfriend."
He giggled and said too bad and just stood there. We waited there, waiting for the other to give a cue for the next move.
I offered him a shower and he accepted while I tip-toed out to see if my roommate was home. She smiled slyly as she opened her door and I laughed with guilt and at the fact I had just slept with a boy in my new apartment while my friend was home and it was OK.
We all went out for a smoke on the balcony and he introduced himself to her ("I do really want to meet these boys, you know...") and they shook hands. He talked about his school and she talked about her classes and I sat there not saying much because I was tired and spaced out. David inhaled, then exhaled, talking nonstop about his favorite clubs and where all his friends go and where they might be tonight. There was talk of some friend-of-a-friend he knows who's dating Amanda Bynes, and I realise that he really does know (or thinks he knows) people who know people. He then talks about his dreams to move to California with a friend who wants to get a record deal and how he might go because it's great out there, it's all he's wanted to do in life.
"But what's in California?" she asks, because she can't see past Toronto.
"Everything," I say from my chair, and David giggles again.
I tune out his praise for L.A. and wonder why he's so interested in talking to her anyway and shouldn't he be going home soon because it's getting late?
She excuses herself and he sits for a few more minutes dragging on his third smoke. Finally he runs out of things to say and I sit there because I never had anything to add anyway, so instead he gets up and motions to leave. We get to the door and he makes another joke (seriously though) about getting shot on the way to his car and I tell him not to worry, turning the handle. He sticks out his hand for a high-five and I grab it awkwardly not really believing this is happening again.
"Is that how you do it on the west side?" I ask, expecting a more complicated hand motion, but he laughs. "Not really."
Then he's gone, loneliness filling his previously occupied space. I get a glass of water because my head is starting to hurt, then I slide into bed with my roommate who's watching some rerun on TV. We talk for a few minutes about our nights and I start out really happy because I'd had great sex but realize how odd it had been. It all came crashing in, all of a sudden, and I shut my eyes but it didn't block out the dim flicker of the TV.
I was 'that guy'. You know, 'that guy' that he sleeps with between trying to pick up girls in his social circles and pretending he doesn't like bottoming in bed. Part of me wonders if his musician friend knows where he is tonight. I feel strange, because it's not like the casual times like before where its just gay sex and everyone goes home. I'm playing some part in the theatre of his life, a cutout from some novel. This amuses me because I never thought I could get involved in these 'complicated' social affairs, but it's filled with self-doubt. Please, let me go back to 1953 when nobody had sex and good boys read their bibles before bed and marry the girl from down the road and everything is simple with little room for though.
Moments go by and I realize she's talking to me, asking why I said it was a little depressing. Quickly I explain that all I really want is someone to hold and be there the next morning and actually be interested in me, and not ask to fuck the female roommate as soon as I've pulled out of his ass.
"I wonder if I'll ever see him again," I whisper more to myself than to her, but she sits up and asks why. I know why (because I'm less than just a one-time hook-up) but I just say, "Just a feeling I guess." I pull her tight and tell her I love her and she says it back and how it's nice I'm living down her hall, then I slip out of bed and into my own room.
I change the sheets and open the window to change the stench of sex for some exhaust fumes, pulling out new sheets for the bed. A moment later and I'm under the stream of the shower trying to get the latex smell off of me and ignoring my headache.
I finally go to bed at 4:03.
I arrived at the apartment feeling jittery and nervous and needing a drink. This sometimes (always) happens when I'm meeting someone, the flux between horny excitement and cold questioning that seems to insert itself into the moment. Really this should not have bothered me, because David has been coming over for a while now, only interrupted by the summer months and my temporary relocation ("Why are you living out there?").
My roommate and I sat at the new old kitchen table, me swigging quietly from a glass of gin and tonic and her pulling from a pre-bottled cocktail. The sun beat through the windows and gave the room a sickening shimmer of heat, pushed away every few beats by gusts of cool air. Tension lifted and we talked about our evenings and she said, "I hope you have a good time," and got in the shower.
The next few hours were spent idly watching the clock, paging through a forgettable paperback left under the coffee table and sipping from a new glass of gin and tonic. He was supposed to show up at 10:30, and by midnight I was getting nervous again. Finally the phone vibrated and he was downstairs worrying his car would be stolen or he would be shot and how can I live in such a fucking ghetto?
I opened the door to him and he smiled with his big lips pushed apart. I smiled sleepy and lightheaded and we took a tour of the apartment where he stopped and sat on my bed. I offered him a drink, closed my door and sat down.
The next several minutes were spent on how summer sucks when you don't got anywhere and how many different job's he had that went nowhere. I forgot to ask him about a road trip he was going on. Then he pulled his wallet and phone out of his pants and lay down on the bed. I pulled the chain on the bulb beside him and lay down.
Over the next two hours we moved around every imaginable angle grasping each other's bodies. He was on his game, more interested than I'd ever seen him before, and I fueled from his energy. The stress and nervousness and worry (this is the first sex you'll have in months...) were gone and all that was left was lust and pleasure.
He finally came while I was inside him, a quiet acknowledgement seconds before the oh-oh-oh's and then I came and we collapsed onto each other and my breath was ragged and the sheets were soaked. Time stood still as the curtain played back and forth in the breeze.
We stood naked in the dark, the angles of his body barely visible and after hearing a noise he says, "Is someone home?"
"Sure, probably. My roommate was out earlier..." It's now 3, and I'm not surprised she's home.
"Cool. Is she hot?"
"I guess. Yeah." I think about it for a few more seconds, but that sounded right.
"So would she let me fuck her?"
I tilted my head. "Probably not. She likes her boyfriend."
He giggled and said too bad and just stood there. We waited there, waiting for the other to give a cue for the next move.
I offered him a shower and he accepted while I tip-toed out to see if my roommate was home. She smiled slyly as she opened her door and I laughed with guilt and at the fact I had just slept with a boy in my new apartment while my friend was home and it was OK.
We all went out for a smoke on the balcony and he introduced himself to her ("I do really want to meet these boys, you know...") and they shook hands. He talked about his school and she talked about her classes and I sat there not saying much because I was tired and spaced out. David inhaled, then exhaled, talking nonstop about his favorite clubs and where all his friends go and where they might be tonight. There was talk of some friend-of-a-friend he knows who's dating Amanda Bynes, and I realise that he really does know (or thinks he knows) people who know people. He then talks about his dreams to move to California with a friend who wants to get a record deal and how he might go because it's great out there, it's all he's wanted to do in life.
"But what's in California?" she asks, because she can't see past Toronto.
"Everything," I say from my chair, and David giggles again.
I tune out his praise for L.A. and wonder why he's so interested in talking to her anyway and shouldn't he be going home soon because it's getting late?
She excuses herself and he sits for a few more minutes dragging on his third smoke. Finally he runs out of things to say and I sit there because I never had anything to add anyway, so instead he gets up and motions to leave. We get to the door and he makes another joke (seriously though) about getting shot on the way to his car and I tell him not to worry, turning the handle. He sticks out his hand for a high-five and I grab it awkwardly not really believing this is happening again.
"Is that how you do it on the west side?" I ask, expecting a more complicated hand motion, but he laughs. "Not really."
Then he's gone, loneliness filling his previously occupied space. I get a glass of water because my head is starting to hurt, then I slide into bed with my roommate who's watching some rerun on TV. We talk for a few minutes about our nights and I start out really happy because I'd had great sex but realize how odd it had been. It all came crashing in, all of a sudden, and I shut my eyes but it didn't block out the dim flicker of the TV.
I was 'that guy'. You know, 'that guy' that he sleeps with between trying to pick up girls in his social circles and pretending he doesn't like bottoming in bed. Part of me wonders if his musician friend knows where he is tonight. I feel strange, because it's not like the casual times like before where its just gay sex and everyone goes home. I'm playing some part in the theatre of his life, a cutout from some novel. This amuses me because I never thought I could get involved in these 'complicated' social affairs, but it's filled with self-doubt. Please, let me go back to 1953 when nobody had sex and good boys read their bibles before bed and marry the girl from down the road and everything is simple with little room for though.
Moments go by and I realize she's talking to me, asking why I said it was a little depressing. Quickly I explain that all I really want is someone to hold and be there the next morning and actually be interested in me, and not ask to fuck the female roommate as soon as I've pulled out of his ass.
"I wonder if I'll ever see him again," I whisper more to myself than to her, but she sits up and asks why. I know why (because I'm less than just a one-time hook-up) but I just say, "Just a feeling I guess." I pull her tight and tell her I love her and she says it back and how it's nice I'm living down her hall, then I slip out of bed and into my own room.
I change the sheets and open the window to change the stench of sex for some exhaust fumes, pulling out new sheets for the bed. A moment later and I'm under the stream of the shower trying to get the latex smell off of me and ignoring my headache.
I finally go to bed at 4:03.
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...
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