Wednesday, September 29, 2010
My father told me when I was little, during one of his man-to-man talks, that if I ever grew up to be gay, he'd kill me himself and then call the cops to tell them he did it. Needless, even though I knew very early on that I was gay, it wasn't something I expected to really become "out" about. I had never thought of the idea of being gay in the open. I knew no one gay, adult or adolescent, and there wasn't anything on TV about it.
Of course, I didn't much act like all my friends. It was hard enough growing up in the GT program where I was usually the only black kid in there and I was pretty smart. I just didn't fit in with the other black kids and when you are little and you don't fit in, it's usually noticed and teased. Now, I was never teased to the extreme some of these kids in the news have, but I had rough times. I would walk around certain groups to not get called names, I was really shy in gym class to not be made fun of and I was usually anti-social. Now, I had plenty of friends, don't get me wrong, but I was just...different.
In 8th grade, my uncle down the street had gotten the internet. We didn't have a computer a my house, so I would go down there to get on AIM, Expages, whatever...being a 13 year old boy, of course, I discovered other things. I had seen X-rated things before, but that was the first time I was discover actual GAY x-rated things. It was mind-blowing to know that there are those that cater and have my desires. I became obsessed. I would print out pictures and keep them under my mattress at home. After school, I would come home and well...I was 13. Get it?
One day, after my...happy time...I was careless somehow and left a picture out. It was around 5pm and I was doing the dishes as my mom came home. I'm not quite sure how she found it but it was apparently near my backpack. She came storming in the kitchen as was like "What the hell is this?!" I very obviously shocked answered, nervously "I don't know..." "It was by your backpack and it isn't Joshua's!"
At the time, all I could think of was to keep saying I didn't know, I wasn't smart enough to come up with a good lie as to where it came from or why I had it. She sent me to my room and called my dad. I couldn't hear everything she was saying, but she came in a few minutes later and handed the phone to me. My stomach felt like it was trying to escape my body. I talked shakingly, as he probed me with questions and I continued to respond with I didn't know where it came from. When I handed the phone back to my mom, I knew it wasn't over and I wasn't in the clear. My world seemed baron. Like I had no where to go and that I couldn't bare to deal with the consequences with what my dad may have just found out. I couldn't deal with the pain that he was sure to inflict on me and not knowing exactly how he was going to do it, was killing me even more. I couldn't take it.
I went to school the next day, the whole day on the verge of tears and not being able to tell anyone, anything. My mind was racing, I couldn't take it. Then IT went through my mind. Over. and Over. and Over again. If I couldn't take it, and see anything past that day, I had to end it myself. I had to end my life.
I always came home from school before my mom and brother got home so I had to act quick. I took the straps from a large duffel bag we had and made a noose and hung it in the closet. I tried not to think too much and didn't want to chicken out. I HAD to do it. Pulled myself up. Wrapped it around...and let go...
I was in a closet, mind you, so it didn't snap my neck instantly. I had to hold my feet up as the straps strangled me and cut all circulation from my head. I couldn't breath and felt myself going...
Just as my field of vision was going black and I was letting my last tears out, my mom came home early...I panicked and put my feet down and stood up. I didn't want to be conscious, somewhat, and deal with THAT. I ran out, too fast, because not all the blood was back in my head. I fell down. Then, like something came to me, I knew what to do...I ran to my mother and told her the well fabricated lie about how someone at school put that picture in my back pack. She seemed to believe it and I was so gleeful that I couldn't actually get away with it...before she asked for a name...
I made up the most horrible name and then thought I was in the clear...again. Nope. The next day, she called the school, no records of such a name. She finally sat me down and asked if I was just curious...it seemed like my best option...I ran with it.
Now, the talks and talks...and threats from my dad are a different post. But had not my mom came home early from work that day, I wouldn't be here today to know that it gets better. It gets better. Sure, as I came out, I dealt with some more brutal bullying and bashing, but I don't know, something from then, help me grow and be stronger to never want to end my life. Sure, I even gotten depressed about A LOT of things, but I can honestly say, since that moment, I haven't had anymore thoughts of suicide...They say once you hit rock bottom, there it nothing but up and that's how I feel...that was a dark, dark place...but it made me who I am...
Thursday, August 5, 2010
I don't really have the time, etiquette, or basis to really do a just analysis on it but the general idea is: We are men with raging hormones. We like other men with those same hormones. We know what we ultimately want and we skip the bull in between to get it. Now when that young gay discovers this, he evades the notion of heart break, and the like when someone tries to court, starts to date, and you know, falls in love. They are just happy to be fuckin' and it's cool to be like "Yeah, everybody wants to fuck!" But, see...I'm making it to the point where...I know what world I live in, I know that trying to follow heterosexual rules of courtship in Gay World will never work, no matter how hard I try, guys just want to fuck...so why do I want it to...
Now, before I get ahead of myself, yes, plenty of gay couples work, there wouldn't be such a civil issue right now about gay marriage if it didn't. But there are so many steps to get there...from what I can tell. Sure, it works both ways, you have to be physically attractive to someone in either orientation before anyone can even really get to like you. But what I'm talking about is the romance. The courting as I said before. What's wrong with that in Gay World? Again, not like it NEVER happens, just...not to me...this is my blog, goddamn, let me be selfish and unaware all I want...thank you.
I once met a guy online. He was visiting from out of state where he was stationed in the Navy. His family was here and as most gay travelers, was looking for a quick thrill. I invited him over "to watch a movie." He came. Totally cute white boy, dark hair, tall, with baby blue eyes, average build with a deep voice. He was a little ghetto, which I really liked. We didn't really "watch" the movie, as it just provided background noise for our flirting and eventual naked session. He was the first guy I've ever seen with a Prince Albert...I made SUCH the issue of it...but eh...I got over it, what it was attached to was GORGEOUS...but that's not the point I wanted to make...he spent the night and in the morning, it was...different...he was exceptionally sweet for a regular hook up. It was strange to me how he kissed me goodbye. It was soft. Sweet. Unexpected.
Now, I've never been a "phone talker." Not one to talk on the phone with someone til dawn the next day. To this day, my monthly bill detail is usually under 50 minutes usage a month. But something about talking to him. Was different. I can't even begin to tell you what all we talked about but I do remember never really searching for a topic to keep the momentum. I just remember being on the phone with him at every chance I got. We'd text during my work and classes. And then be up all night talking. When I would go out with my friends or something, he'd ask me to tell them thank you for taking me out. Now, I know how corny as hell that sounds. But from him and at the time, it was the sweetest thing I've heard. And it sounded genuine.
This lasted for maybe a month, if I recall. The thing was, he lived in Florida. It just wasn't going to work out and we mutually decided that it just wasn't really worth it. I had my life here, he had just bought a house in Florida. As much as we really liked each other, it just wasn't realistic. We still talk from time to time, but mostly we've lost touch, which is fine. My take-away from the time we did spent "together" is that no matter what world rules I decide to follow or not, if I'm lucky enough to find that guy that makes me blush, keep me up til 6am, make me feel like I don't have to be anyone else for him to like me 4 states away...or even make me not feel alone even though no one is around me, then I should take it as it is.
I haven't met anyone like that since, and I'm currently catching myself trying to force it. But this memory keeps my hopes up...one of these days, I know it's gonna happen again.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
SO I decided to get a second job and I applied at Express. I was a regular shopper at Express, I knew how to dress, and I figured I would be good there. It was a quick interview process, my supervisor at the time at Best Buy gave me a good reference and I was clearly fashionable. Got the job. Made up for the time I once applied at Buckle and interviewed in a Abercrombie shirt...I was SOOOOO stupid. ANYHOW...
I figured I'd work my 5 days at Best Buy and on my 2 off days, Tuesday and Thursday, I'd work at Express. Figured, I didn't do anything on my off days really so I wouldn't mind.
Started off like any other job, slow boring orientation, anticipating some live action. Discount was...eh. Ok. 50% off the first $300 purchase and then 20% after that til 6 months when it was raised to 30%. I worked only the men's side and at night. I'd go in at 7pm, we closed at 9pm and from there...it was one of Dante's 9 levels of hell.
For some reason, they always had me working the men's side by myself. It was relatively smaller than the women's side but still...it was a lot. Between all the shirts, and shirts to fold and then pants to hang and just stuff everywhere having to be perfect before we could all leave. It was ROUGH. We never really got out before 3am. And never was I really offered help but I wasn't even about to look at the women's side to see what everyone else was doing. But that wasn't the worse part...
I'm talking about the clothes that were there for you to buy...which were the same as the ones that I had to clean up and fix but during that 2 hour window I usually had where I didn't have to focus on straighting...I was shopping. SURE, I'd help customers out and what not...but boy...was I looking at what I could look cute in. And not only that, but back then I had a thing for graphic tees, and oh, boy, were Express' SOOOOOO NICE. And they just kept getting new ones every week. Oh and I love ties, I had to have them all! Even if they were $50 each, I NEEDED THEM!
I opened a Express credit card, because, DUH, I was broke already and how could I afford the clothes I desperately needed?! Note, also, I only worked maybe 12-16 hrs a week there where I wasn't making all that much. I would buy. and buy. and buy. More and more stuff. It took about 2 months before I realized that not only did I spend WAY more at Express than I was making there, thus defeating the purpose of a second job, but I had also quickly racked up a good 2 Grand in clothing retail debt that I shouldn't have. Stupid Stupid Stupid.
So I quit...and it took me 2 years to correct that mistake. Luckily, Express makes timeless clothes, and I take care of my stuff...and I haven't really grown so I can still wear a lot of those clothes...
Moral of the story however, is gay fashionable boys shouldn't work in gay fashionable stores unless they got money...in which they wouldn't even be working in the first place?....I've confused myself....good day.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
I'm feeling majorly plateaued. Like I'm in a stand still in life and not really going down but definitely not going up. I'm proud of the achievements I've made in the past 2 years at bettering myself and I'm not blind to the fact that I can still achieve more but something just suckin fucks right now.
I've become more financial responsible but I'm definitely not comfortable yet. Not that anyone really is at my age unless they have amazing parents but I'm not where I want to be. I still want to be living on my own and have a car that's reliable and not feel so penny clinched.
I'm back in school but I have yet to start back at UH. I'm supposed to this fall semester but readmission is tedious between schools. I'm hoping I meet my deadline. And on that front, I feel like I've been on my grind so long, but when I look at my degree plan, it feels like I haven't even made a real dent. And then UH doesn't help with some classes I need to take only being offered once a semester when I still have my full-time job with a non-negotiable schedule.
Speaking of my job...I'm getting close to my 6 year mark. 6 years! At age 23. Best Buy has been great to me, but I'm feeling...baron. Like, I'm not going to go anywhere else. I'm not really interested in retail employment as a whole but I can't really get anything else with out my degree that has as great benefits. And I'm always forgetting my backbone of good job security. No telling how I'd stand without that.
I'm ok. I actually feel better letting it out. One day at a time is a long time but it'll pass. I have nothing really to complain about. Just gotta keep on my grind.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
So why when I find a, let's say, larger than average weighted guy attractive am I the "chubby chaser"?
Let me break it down. I'm a small guy. Small framed that is. Don't get IT twisted. Sometimes, I like to "be" with a larger guy. It's just comforting and I won't get into too many details but it is what it is. No, I also wouldn't call myself a shallow guy. A cute face goes a long way in my shallowest point of view, so body type isn't number one most of the time. Second to only if you can speak and sometimes, that doesn't ever matter...because what I really want...is a nice. Fat. Ass.
OOOOOOh, Close your eyes and skip down if you are sensitive because I'm about to get into it. A boy with a nice ass will catch my eye sooooo fast, he could look as inbred, retarded, buck toothed, snot nosed as he wants. My logic states that if I get my way, that fugly face will be in a pillow, regardless of what it looks like or if the mutha fukka can even speak english. My goal is to make your teeth click so any syllable you can mutter will be close to some native African language and I'm all about movin' and groovin' to the sounds of my ancestors. The animal kingdom ain't got NOTHING on this wild dog. I can go into the specifics of the kind of fat ass I like but I do have a story to tell...just had to set it up that yes, I will do a fat boy, but I am NOT a chubby chaser...
A while ago I was "seeing" this one guy who was in fact a little chubby. Now, I've always had a little guy myself. Every since I can remember, I've had a gut. I remember in 1st grade I used to tell people I was pregnant and stick it out. Unless I go CRAZY with cardio and have NO fat in my diet, it's just gonna be there. One day, we were laying in bed and he reaches over and jiggles my chunk on my gut and says, "Oh, you need to work on that."
I cut him the most glaring eyes but he only added in the most serious tone and look like "What?!" Now, this was his apartment so for some reason, I was so reserved in my reaction because at the time I didn't want to be kicked out naked. Eh...I was young and stupid. But here's where he went wrong...he was CLEARLY ALL kinds of jigglier than I was. Damn there ocean didn't have as many ruffles and waves as he did when the groovin and movin was going down. He was the kind of that fat where I don't even remember seeing a penis. Wasn't important at the time. OK? The audacity. The Horror...The shame. Because I clearly didn't react as I would now. All loud and ignut, condescending to his fat ass. I only recall being quiet and just made some faces because I was still insecure about it. Now, I don't give a fuck, I'm healthy and active and I love me, ALL of me, so what the fuck eva.
Besides...after that I cut down on the fat boys. No way, I can be called a chaser. But boy...a fat ass....damn...
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Have you ever really heard a song, and listened to it's lyrical contents and thought "Man, that's exactly how I feel?" If so, then you are a pre-teen girl because I'm pretty sure it was to a Taylor Swift song. But I never really have. Half the time, I don't even listen to the words, and if I'm "singing" it, I've only memorized the sounds of the words that are said and may never really say the right thing. In my dance class warm up, I used to sing "Firebomb" when the word was actually "Unstoppable"...just ignut...but one song I can say that I've listened to, understood the words and thought, "That's exactly how I feel." "Numb" by Linkin Park.
I'm pretty sure I can make this a long post, but I'll try to keep it short.
In "Numb," it talks about being repressed and made into something you are not. I took it very literally with my father and I. I was tired of being what he wanted me to be. I had to dress a certain way, walk a certain way and speak a certain way, just to please him. It was exhausting. Anything I did independently was never good enough. He had a vision of who he wanted me to be and I just wasn't it.
I remember one time, at a family reunion in Louisiana, we had a dinner to go to with the family. I had dressed in a nice polo shirt and some black slacks. It wasn't acceptable. He said we had to wear a tie. When we went to the dinner, no one was dressed formally. I, of course, said nothing in fear of being back handed for being "smart" as I have before. I was never allowed to cross my legs, and I was even criticized for my steps not being wide enough one time. I'd brush my hair down after school so I wouldn't come home with it to hear his mouth about curly hair being for men that thought they were pretty.
I could only put on the front for so long, and like in "Numb" everything fell apart in front of him. In one quick blow did he realize I was never going to be what he wanted me to be and how very tired I was of putting on that show. It was too much for me to handle. I never felt like I was not being myself in my life, I live my life, but it's just not worth it to take that time in front of him. "Every second I take is more than I can take."
He has this perfect high yellow family in his mind, and the way he fights with my step mother, I know things aren't good on that front. And with my out the picture, who knows. Because I am truly numb. I don't care for him, I don't miss him, I can't even say I hate him. I'm just numb and apathetic. I have my life and I'm living it and doing what I see as fit.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
I do my workout, sauna, then shower. Naturally, the gym locker is a haven for the creeps and cruisers trying to get a quick peak. I cater to such, call me what you will, tease, dirty, what ever, but as long as I'm not doing 'em, eh...I'm good. It's sad I know, but it puts a smile on my face, just thinking "Eh...I got something good that somebody wants."
A couple of weeks ago, I gained a new admirer. He saw me in the locker room as I was putting my stuff up. He was undressing into a very gay swimsuit. (Not that I'm judging, go look at my current Facebook profile pic) But he kept looking and tried to make eye contact with me. I'm very fortunate at having a fantastic peripheral vision, thank you marching band, so I saw all his body queues to try to attract me. I then, totally by accident, turned my head his way and he asked me to take a picture of him...in his very gay swimsuit aka nekkid ass! He handed me his phone but almost immediately got real close to me to "show me how to work it". It was a rinky dinky ass HTC Hero from Sprint, how did I NOT know how to work it...but oh, he needed to get real close. Mmmhmm...he later "accidentally" walked into my shower stall. I gave him the evil eye and thought that was that.
I quickly acted like I was on a distressing call on my phone. I'M the smarty here, bud. I saw him again every now and then but I'm sooooo good at ignoring and dodging. But the other day, we passed on the way to the sauna, he was leaving, I was entering. I continued to ignore but as we passed, he reached back and slapped my arm and said "Oh, so you can't speak?" ...
...is not what I said, but I did give a forced smile and kept walking...I mean really?!?!?! I don't talk to creepers and cruisers...honestly...you can look but don't touch or speak...GEEZ. The funny thing is that he actually has a nice body....face is ehhhhhhhhhhhhNo.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
I was given an act of kindness today, no way I wouldn’t try to pass it along, even as simple as ordering someone’s food for them. If this was to go a rye, then I rather die knowing I was trying to help someone who asked for it. The woman told me what they wanted and I ordered for them. She handed me the cash. I pulled up and payed. When I was at the window to pick up the food, they sat on the curb away from the building. The lady in the window looked disturbed and annoyed at the people, probably since they probably tried to order to her saying no. She gave me one big bag full of everyone’s food. I then asked if she could just give me another bag. She very blatantly rolled her eyes and said sure. I pulled up and over, separated the food, and handed it through my passenger side window. They were very gracious, but then the man asked if I was I headed up the street, implying asking if I could give them a ride.
He quickly understood and I was on my way. Ok, so I know this late, this part of town, dangerous. But you got to take some risks sometimes. I’ve been on a mission to being nicer and I guess this was just a test. I’m not a religious person and I’m not too sure about karma. But I know if I was struggling and needed a little help, boy, would I want it. Wait…I was…today…no car…and see what happened…goodness is all around and I think we have to consciously keep it movin…
Sunday, July 4, 2010
So yesterday, during all the drama with my hoopty, my friend, his girlfriend, and I decided to take a lunch break at the local Subway. Local being little Mexico we call Galena Park. Anywho, my friend, Andrew, had to use the bathroom so Caitlin, his girfriend, and I stood in line. In front of us, there was an older, portly gentleman who donned a rugged baseball hat, jeans, with his button-up non-dress shirt tucked in and a burned leather studded belt with the words “Wild Bill” on the back. Now, Caitlin as pretty as she is, is a nice busty, blonde with blue eyes. Eye catching to all, but today, this gentleman was not impressed. He took one look at us and exaggerattedly rolled his eyes and made a very audible sigh of disgust.
Now we all know I talk a lot of game so naturally I ain’t do nothing but STILL. Caitlin and I both WTF’d at the moment and just thought how stupid. When Andrew returned, he continued to glance but with a confused look. Bitch, can’t we just be all friends in for lunch, ain’t no body runnin’ no damn train, DAMN and IF we were, I can pull a blonde piece if I wanted and it ain’t NONE for you to worry ‘bout, Ol’ G…punk ass. Don’t let me catch you in my Subway no’ mo, ho!....lol
It’s even more funny, how I was later watching “Save the Last Dance” and Julia Stiles and Sean Patrick Thomas’ characters were getting the same looks but were in an ACTUAL subway….HA! Life mimics art…or something like that.