Thursday, November 3, 2011


Ok, so it's weird to me when I think about how far I've come. In my 6 or so years in "adult" world or the real world as most say, I feel as if I have endured and experienced enough to know that I am a COMPLETELY different person today than I was then. And I'm mostly talking about my mind. I see things very differently than I did before. I'll be honest, too, I am very bitter and I take things with a grain of salt. I can give the run down to what I believe brought me to be so bitter but that's not the topic at hand. The topic I want to discuss is that, with all the cynicism I possess and all the hatred I have for society and it's rules, and all the bitterness inside of me for things in the past, how is it that I still believe in the magic of love?

I've noticed and recognize my gradual decent into the pit of cynicism and sarcasm and my excuse to calling it "Keeping it real" or just plain being "realistic." I've done a pretty good job at convincing myself to not have romanticized ideals about the world. Nothing ever turns out like the movies. And trust me when I say, I went through the emotion trials to get through it and now I can say I'm numb to the disappoint. I live my life day to day "keeping it real" and not expecting a happy ending. But something weird stuck from my younger, idealistic days. As a 24 year old who have never been in a real romantic relationship past 2 weeks, I somehow still have hope for that special someone.

I said magic earlier because I honestly do believe it has to be magic. I believe that when I do find someone, that they will magically find me as well. I know that magically as I will be crazy about them, they will be about me. I know that it has to be magic that makes them want to be with me at all times, as I know it HAS to be magic that that fact will not annoy me. It has to be magic that someone would see my faults and flaws as something that is beautiful about me. It's magic for me to love a person who is flawed but for me to be blind to it. It has to be magic that anyone could love me. It has to be magic that I could love someone who I feel loves me for me. It has to be magic.

But what's really magic about all of that I do believe it will happen. Someday.

Monday, October 31, 2011

My First Real Date...Fail

I remember when I first came out, I didn't like the expression "lifestyle" because I wasn't doing anything different than I was before. I was still in high school so what alternative "lifestyle" was I living. To this day, I still am not comfortable with that term but there are distinctive characteristics one may choose to live in this world that can be considered a lifestyle but I like to call it culture. Any minority that is suppressed by the society at large develops distinctive cultures. Like black culture, arts, music, food, and anything to bring happiness thrives and becomes original and like nothing else. From that example, I hate when people say "Acting Black" too but I'm going off on a tangent. I meant to talk about my first real date where I thought I learned something about the gay lifestyle but really it was something universal. Dating isn't easy for any race, creed, orientation or color. This one, I will always remember.

Before, I start it's really not as epic as I'm making it but it was epic for me.

Ok, so back in the day, I used to be on every gay dating site there was. This was after I had already discovered that you can't really expect to "date" from those and that it was merely for hookups. But after I got really tired of the random hookups, I thought I could be different. I didn't advertise any nakedness and I took down my genitalia statistics. It was not really getting me any attention but I expected it. I did come across one boy who would talk to me. He was so cute to me. A Mexican boy with the cutest cheeks and button nose. He was the same size as me physically so retardedly I got excited about sharing clothes potential. He was funny and seemed to really get my humor, which at the time, I didn't really think people did. We talked for about 2 weeks before I offered for us to go on an actual date. He accepted and I was thrilled. We had set it for the Olive Garden on friday night. This was the first time I was going on a date where it wasn't someone's house, where even though we talk the talk, only sex was expected. I was more than estatic but all the while being really nervous. I didn't want to fuck it up.

I got there early. It was expectedly busy but I didn't want to put my name on the list til he was there, just to make sure. You know. Fear of being stood up and highly embarrassed but he called and said he was parking and asked where I was.

He finally came up to me and shook my hand but he had a semi-surprised look in his face. Was I that different from my photos? As we sat waiting on our table, he was very dry and cold. I found myself trying to steer the convo a lot. Same when we finally sat and started to eat. He seemed very not interested and rushed for the check. At that moment. I knew. I paid and he shook my hand good bye and that was that.

I tried to text a couple days later to no reply. I didn't want to pester so I didn't go from there. But even though, I knew that was a norm in "dating" it really made me sad...Like, what was so wrong with me?

Oh well, a year later, I saw him again at school, we'd pass each other a couple of times. I'd respectfully nod or say hello and just go about my way. One time we passed in the bathroom and he kind of hesitated like he wanted to talk but I just kept on my way. Every time I pop up on a site, he'll try so hard to talk to me again...dude, no second chances. Fool me once...and never a-fucking-gain...

I haven't been on any dates since. I don't have any close gay friends, and in the past few months, I've cut off anything casual. I use the excuse that I am focusing on graduating getting my life set but in all honesty...I don't know how I will be able to handle another failed date. For some reason, I still believe in magic...that I won't have to try so hard to make it work...I won't go on a "date" but we'll just spend time together. I won't have to wait for him to call, because we won't be able to stop talking to each other...

Fuckin TV.

Friday, October 21, 2011

just a ho...

OK, FINE! I had advertised this blog as the place I would begin to tell my stories I mostly hint on to people that are the juiciest about my gay escapades, but frankly, I have been a little embarrassed to share with the masses some details. But fuck it, it is what it is. And it is ENTERTAINMENT! enjoy...and gets graphic.
I used to be on every gay "dating" site there was. I used dating in quotations because at this particular time I was fully aware that it was just a means of hooking up. And at this particular time I was very much into hooking up. No shame. I met this one guy on there, late 20s, nice body and from his pics, a beautiful penis. I was ALL ABOUT the beautiful dicks then. I wanted nothing more than to put it in my mouth and slob away. So...we set it up. And believe me, it's as easy as I just put it. I say what I want to do, he sizes my pics up, gives me a yay or nay, and we decide when and where. GayWorld, I tell ya.
He lived in the Montrose area, naturally, and we decided to meet up one late Saturday afternoon at his place. He was even better looking in person, which was a major plus. He kept giving me compliments which I always take as a defense mechanism when someone gives you one....except for me...I refuse to lie no matter how fine you tell me I am. I. Will. Not. Lie. But seriously, he looked good. My height, moderately muscular, cute face, soft spoken. He seemed nervous and shy which drove my demeanor in the opposite. I was driven and eager. After quick acquaintances, I pushed "Where would you like to go to do this?" He at first stated the master bedroom but was hesitant and then went for the guest room down stairs. I forgot to mention how gorgeous the house was. It was very deco-modern with plenty of art from sculptures to paintings with modern furniture. Large glass windows downstairs revealed a usual sized downtown backyard space covered in concrete for the pool and hot tub. But I was headed to that back room, fuck that house!

He nervously closed the door behind me, I stood there for all of two seconds before I went in for the kill. Again, we had only agreed for me to perform and enjoy fellatio on him...which I had started...but to be honest, I don't know what happened next but we both ended up naked and on the bed and I was the one received a lot of services not initially signed up for...but I wasn't complaining. I just contributed it to my sexy appeal. BAM!

After maybe an hour of messing around and all things were said and finished, we layed there on the bed and talk for a bit. He kept complimenting me on my "beautiful skin" which I bashfully said I was embarrassed for all my chicken pox scars but attributed it's texture to cocoa He talked about what he does and I talked about being in school, yada yada yada...then all of a sudden, the garage door opens...he gets wide eyed. Says..."oh no..." I say..."ah shit..."
He says, "My partner is home," I show signs of panic which he responds it's gonna be ok just for me to be quiet. At this point I'm looking around for places to hide, under the bed, in the bathroom, looking out the window to see if I can get to my car, luckily I parked down the street. But by the time I was scooping up my clothes, he was already in the house calling "Hello?! Anyone home!" My hookup had already replied, "Yeah, in here" again nervously. The partner came up to the door and asked, "You have company?" "Yeah, I do, " my hookup said somewhat ashamefully. "Oh ok," he responded. I then looked confused as I heard him walk away. I got a smug sideways smile from the hookup as he said "he's gonna wanna meet you." I said, sarcastically, "well that's great." I've seen relationships like this before but never first hand. A pretty younger guy "partners" with a older, larger man who has money to afford lovely homes like that but are protective of their property but allows them to roam from home occasionally but under supervision. I was fully expecting an intimating confrontation with a man who was going to make me feel like shit and want to shit on myself at the same time.

I got my clothes on and we walked outside to the kitchen where I could hear his partner was. I held my hands in my pocket and kept looking down. I walked slowly and took a deep breath. What greeted me was NOT what I was expecting. It was a short, cute, older latino man with a big smile. He took my hand and shook it softly and we exchanged names. He asked intriguely how "it" was and my hookup gave me a glowing review. He brought up how hesitant he was but how forward I was. He actually made it sound good that I was acting like a ho. We chit chatted a while, let them find out I was actually smart and trying to do well by myself, not just a typical teenage mo. His partner then gave me a tour of the house, which was odd but very nice of him, I guess. And invited me to come back again for maybe some more action with the two of them. At this time I had never done a threesome so I kept my answer polite but ambiguous as to whether I actually would. I left, weirdly, not feeling empty for being a ho, like I usually do, but actually satisfied. I had had just a random hookup that turned out more than I had originally planned but I also met a couple of nice guys. Mind you, I was fully aware that they were just hoes and I was just a hookup to them, but still, it turned out a lot more cordial than anything I had done up to that point.

Did I come back for that menais later? Maybe I'll tell ya at another time. But I did find out that I was not the only one that got an invite back for the both of them...almost every gay guy I meet has "met" the both of them...SMH....just a ho...

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

But I just gotta deal...

I like to think that as a gay, black man I have to struggle a little bit harder just to get by. I know that may sound like my typical "I'm the victim" banter but I think it's actually pretty valid in a lot of ways. But some universal themes of life are just as equally true to me as I know it is to others, in reality no worse and no better. But as I walk through MY life, shit just fucking sucks and I can't help but complain and bitch about it like it's the end of days for me and as I have explained before, this blog is for me to let it out so maybe I don't sound whiny to someone else.
The theme today is wanting what we can't have. And boy there are a LOT of things, I want that I can't have. I want a Lexus...can't have...right now. I want a nice house...can't have...right now. I want everything that Express sales, custom altered to fit my funny shaped ass body...can't have...right now. Well, really, most of the stuff I want I can't simply have right now because I haven't made it far enough in my life to make it happen but they are possible, right? So what is it that I can't have that isn't possible?'s boys. Specifically, the boys I fall for. And I know it's true for us all at one time or another...we always want who we can't have.
Now, in HeteroWorld, that may be because they are already involved or you may be already involved or they may "be out of your league" or plainly they just aren't into you. That's the suckiest one. Wanting someone that doesn't want you. GayWorld, that's 99% of the guys I'm into. But see, they don't want me because they just aren't gay. There is no hope as may be the case in Heteroworld, as I can tell. You may meet a girl and things don't work like magic at first but a few months go by as y'all become friends, she finds you funny and becomes comfortable. She starts to see you in a different way. Starts to feel things and then something might happen. That tale as old as time story is what gives any hetero hope when they are mad crushing. That maybe things will work out for them and statistically speaking (not that I really know the actual statistics) it happens pretty frequently. Now let's jump back to me...
I meet awesome straight guys. I am friends with awesome straight guys. And most of the time, I don't really feel anything towards them. Not that I can't but I'm not so lustful that I fall for everyone I meet. And being honest, some guys I'm not even sexually attracted to even though they may be physically attractive and cute. I just value my friendships too much to let anything jeopardize that and frankly, I think I just know it won't happen. But the thing a small amount of cases, I have fallen. So what happens mentally for me when I fall for a guy that will never want me? Freaking torture...
Now, there are those in GayWorld that believe that they can "turn" or "persuade" straight guys into sex. The good ol "get them drunk and possibly in a hot tub and tell them guys give better head" and yadda yadda yadda. But see, I'm not talking about hooking up. I'm talking about me generally having feelings for a guy and wanting to spend time with him. Be with him. Be intimate in a way that makes me feel like he wants me. He needs me...he loves me. Doesn't matter how many wine coolers you funnel down his throat, that's not something you can persuade. So in these cases, what have I done?
Well, I recognize that as a some-what sane individual, it is completely normal for me to have actual feelings. I also realize that even though I am aware that it will never happen, it is hard to diminish these feelings and that in time they will diminish themselves. I try not to act brash and just defriend someone just because I have feelings but I try really hard not to let it show and make said individual feel uncomfortable. I do sometimes purposely become better friends with them, which is unhealthy but it's better than nothing. Also, I'd hate to lose a real friend over my feelings. But this is what I have learned in my experienced days. Because in the past I wasn't so discreet...but was very fortunate.
As a new out gay way back in the day, I was of course hit with a flood of emotions. It was finally ok for me to express my feelings toward men and I was putting my heart out there. I fell really hard for someone who was straight and in that hope phase, I let him know. He was very understanding that I can not help who I felt what about but confirmed that he was not gay and it would not happen but wanted to be friends still as he did not think of me differently. That of course made me love him more, as I do to this day, but it doesn't kill me that it didn't happen. Again, time heals what do I do today when I am hit with the flood? Wanting something SOOOO bad but I can never have. Well I don't go telling people but try to deal with it silently. I try to reason myself out from wanting it but as sappy as it sounds, the hearts wants what it wants. But I have to be honest...

It Fucking Sucks.

But I just gotta deal...

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Who is Devonte Antonio?

Ok, so I figured it was time that I wrote this. Never mind me not keeping my promise to blog all the time, I've been busy and going through some things and not able to look at myself from the outside to reflect and put things down, although I really should start, if not publicly, for myself. But anyhow, who the fuck is Devonte Antonio? Lets see...

I was born Joseph Thaddeus Marshall. I wasn't specifically or purposely named after my paternal grandfather, that just so happened to be his name also. I never met him before he died. He was a baptist deacon in the backwoods of Louisiana and didn't really care to meet my dad's bastard son. Eh, I got over it. But I grew up being Joey since birth. I liked Joey, I always have, I liked looking at my name, liked writing it, it was cool. Joey. But in junior high, things started changing. As we were heading through puberty, and social cliques started to form and define, I felt as if I needed defining also. I became daJo-E and later theJo-E. That was when everyone was on AIM so I created all kinds of funky screen names. I was to be an entity. I felt like an outsider, like no one wanted me around so I thought to become something that maybe people would like. But really, I just trying to ok with myself, convince myself I was a cool person. I was also closeted gay and was dealing with that. At the time, I thought I was actually going to be able to just hide it my whole life...yeah, that's another post.

So I was trying to convince myself I was cool and then convince other people. I have always been loud and quirky but that was the time I really made an effort to make people laugh. I felt good when people would laugh at things I said or how I said them. As I grew older, it came naturally to where I didn't really have to try as hard, but it wasn't really me. It was me putting on a show. I still felt like Jo-E, or Joey. Smart, quiet and calm-natured that liked to keep to himself. But whenever I was around people, I'd be loud, always cracking jokes, and usually making a fool of myself. I got to the point in my late teens where I'd consistently feel the disparity at who I thought I was on the inside and who I was showing myself to be. No one began to take me seriously and I still never felt like part of the crowd although I was beginning to be ok with it.

But still, being the life of parties and having visual and audible proof that people were enjoying my company was very pleasing to me. I have always had an artist's heart. I'm pretty creative and as noted, I do like to express myself, but I was never really allowed as a child. I graduated high school and began a long and arduous path at independence and decided that maybe I should explore my nack to entertain people and maybe branch out and use some of my creativity in other ways. I created Devonte Maximillian Studdemeier just being silly one day...and probably drunk. Devonte was going to be superstar. Yeah, I know, how gay, whatever, but I wanted to be famous so bad...well still do. I can't exactly remember where the name Devonte came from, but it wasn't from anything I saw, I just knew it somehow. I read later in some spiritual book how we can have true names that aren't given to us but just come to us. Well, I wouldn't call it a true name because also at the time, I created some other aliases that stuck around. Antonio Valdez and Edward Jo. I considered my true self, Jo-E, being very humble, nice, smart, and a romantic. The person you'd take home to mother. Antonio was the opposite. Very bad tempered and full of attitude. Edward Jo was just a name I created to do things I'd be embarrassed to do in the day time...enough said because that's def a different post. Years later I created Ricky Martinez, after I got into a good routine at going to the gym everyday, he was my personal trainer. The unique mindset I'd find myself in when I was working out.

But Devonte was always the future star. I started taking dance classes, working out, downloaded vocal lessons and started exploring my creative side. I wanted to see Devonte's name in lights. I had this plan all mapped out that I wanted to have Devonte perfected by the time I was 25, to have my shit together to go around through the right avenues and promote Devonte and start the road to stardom. Well plans never really work out. I did a lot of growing in the years between 18-23. Very much mentally. Reality hit me in the face like a brick. Devonte was put on hold so I could solidify a Plan B in the very likely case he wasn't going to happen.

I grew angry inside. Upset. My life wasn't going the way I wanted it to. My comedy started to become more bitchy. Slightly funny but not really everyone liked it. I lashed out at people that didn't deserve it. Looking back, yeah, I think I would call it depression. I had got so excited at this concept I created and it just hurt seeing that it wasn't going to happen anytime soon or the way I wanted it. I wasn't content being Jo-E. No one liked Jo-E. I had convinced myself that years prior. I grew into being witty and having attitude. That was my day to day. At one time, I did call myself Devonte, but I gave it up. No use trying to explain him when I was clearly on my grind and too smart of a person to be oblivious to the judgment and criticism that it just might not happen. Hundreds of thousands of people are on the grind everyday to make it big, what made me any different other than creating a pretty cool name.

I stop going to dance classes and trying to sing. It was painfully obvious I wasn't good at either. I did get most of my shattered life together and remained in school while working full time to support myself. Now, I wasn't completely depressed, I still had a nack to make people laugh and now I had a new medium that gave me really good feedback. Facebook. Being a lonely guy, I started to get comfortable just posting my thoughts online as a substitute to actually talking to someone. People would comment and show that they thought whatever crazy nonsense I was saying was funny. Devonte was starting to smile. I changed my name on there to Devonte Antonio. It rolled off my tongue better and made since to combine some of Antonio's sass to Devonte's shtick. I would go to parties, get drunk and assume the identity of Devonte. Devonte was a good time and it felt easier to be him and have a good time, than it was to be Jo-E. I don't want to say I was being someone else, because I have always felt Devonte was me, just another part. In the dissolution of Antonio, some of his sass went to Jo-E as well. Ask the people I work with, I'm sure they can attest. But I didn't feel a name change in the sense was necessary. People already had a hard time with Jo-E, calling me Joe and shit...PSHHHH.

I grew to accept that maybe Devonte won't be a superstar, at least anytime soon. I was having a good time being a star in the eyes of the people that laughed at me. I still have school to finish. But I think I am taking my faith in my talent to make people laugh. Who knows what will come from that but I have definitely not given up. I call my online persona Devonte Antonio because the stuff you read on Facebook that just so ridiculously out there but LOL worthy is Devonte Antonio. Now, I know what you are all probably thinking? Jo-E, Devonte Antonio, Edward Jo, Ricky Martinez, whoever else? It sounds like I'm schizo. Well...I will never refute that, but trust me, things have been working best when I separate my mindsets, because conflicts do and have arisen and man, it ain't pretty.

Lastly, when I did officiate Devonte Antonio into existence, I was considering getting a tattoo to show how serious I was to make him happen. I did ultimately decide to get it WHEN and if he happens but I found one that was so perfect for me I knew it was meant to be. Go to and type in DEVONTE and ANTONIO into the generator and look at the first tattoo that comes up. They work perfectly together. I would get it on my ribs going down so I could lay one way and you can see Devonte and vice-versa. I had really thought I had pulled these names out of no where, but I clearly it was destiny.

Again, you may think I'm crazy but this crazy is gonna get me somewhere, I feel it. Time is all relative, so no matter how long it takes, I'm gonna make it. Devonte Antonio will be a star.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

TV has gone to hell!

…in my honest opinion. My opinion being based that the TV shows that I really like seem to always get prematurely cancelled, while others I would classify as…trash, continue. So I’m just going to sit my fine, toned ass on my high horse and talk down to all you people that watch these trash ass shows. I’m talking about these shows that glorify idiocracy and filth. I’m talking about all these shows that show the “real lives” of people you don’t know. I’m talking about the shows that follow through people’s dramas that have no positive contributing impact on the wellbeing of human kind. Trash Trash Trash. But as I am an analyst, I will look at all points of my argument as neutrally as possible. But first, I will bitch.

I am big fan of sci-fi and mystery. I just found out that latest installment of the Stargate franchise, Stargate: Universe didn’t get picked up for a 3rd season. I was a HUGE fan of the first series. It ran an amazing 10 seasons and from a storyline point of view, grew SO much from season 1 to the 10th. The premise of exploring the galaxy, later universe, was so fun for me. They is so much to pursue in this new series. As a child, I looked at the stars just in awe at how vast the universe is and the dream of even seeing a fraction of it. Stargate relieved my sadness at the thought I’d never get to see it in my lifetime. It was fun fantasy. Now, I’m a nerd, this we know, but is fantasy in space really different from the fantasy of a Kardashian lifestyle?

These celebrity “reality” shows are as much fiction, I believe as jumping instantaneously from one side of the universe to the next, but I just find it weird to watch someone else live their lives that they portrait to be real. I find it weird we glorify the sadness of teenage pregnancy to the point that girls are getting pregnant on purpose in hopes to become “famous.” I find it weird to watch other people get drunk and act a fool for no reason other than to act a fool.

I feel hypocritical to a point because I’m not one to be in a book at all times bettering myself for the advancement of human kind. But I want to. That being said, I think generalize fiction is better than the bull that is on TV that’s popular. I’m upset with Stargate, Firefly, and Veronica Mars mostly, but I know there are PLENTY of other really good shows they have given the ax to while green-lighting shows that seem to make normal individuals who think they are “a-list” into celebrities…for nothing. Glorifying elitism.

Just a bunch of bull…

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Good Hair.

This is the old as time issue with black people, mainly women, but men are guilty of it too but it's the issue of hair. Everyone has a take on it, there are so many articles and essays on it. Chris Rock did a movie about it and even Tyra did a whole show on it. We black people have an issue with our hair...but I don't talk for the people. I talk for myself. Here goes my issues with MY hair.

I remember when I was younger, all I'd be able to get was a bald fade. It was the staple. When it'd get too long, I thought I looked nappy and dirty, especially with the grease I had to keep in it, since I had dry scalp and would have flakes. I remember to jazz it up, I'd have our barber (may he rest in peace) stylize me a part, mostly putting my name in my hair. I thought I was the shit with my fancy parts that everyone noticed and commented on. The. SHIT.

I had a little cousin who is half white and had straight black hair. I used to say "I want my hair like that." Another cousin explained how, if I got a perm, then it would. I'd see a music artist on TV with straight hair and I was like, "Yeah, I should." Of course, my mother wouldn't let me, so bald fade it would stay.

When I was in the 7th grade, another cousin had got an S-Curl and I was amazed. Stunned by the sleek texture and defined curls. How jazzy it looked with the baby hair on the edges. I HAD to do it. So the summer between my 7th and 8th grade year, I snuck a ride to Walgreens and purchased one. It being the summer, I had no excuse to go get a hair cut and told everyone I was growing my hair out to get braids. I did the process and was amazed! I I kept it secret by picking it out when every my mother was around but she soon noticed the texture. She was surprisingly ok with it and as for my father, he dished it as a phase.

I kept up with it buying more and more products. It'd get longer and longer, til I just didn't want to deal with it. SO I cut it, only to miss it and grow it out again. As I got older, I tried different style and cuts and even straight perms with my hair. I was nevfer really happy ever how it looked. I had decided to get my hair braided while I lived in town on campus but a professional African hair shop. I had always heard they braided best. I am very tender-headed so braiding has alway been painful but this pain, was like no other. They braided so tight, you could visibly see the tension in my skin. At one braid, it looked that my skin was twisting. I took it out a week later because I couldn't take it and it wasn't loosening up enough. When I did, so much of my hair fell out. I took it out so fast, it wasn't neat and was left too kinky for me to try to comb out so I just cut it off. But all my hair didn't grow back.

Male pattern balding hadn't even been on my mind, since my dad didn't seem to have it. People used to tell me because all the chemicals I put in my hair, it was going to happen but I never believed them. But it was the fact...I was 21 and balding at my temples. I I grew my hair any how and it got to a point where it was either covered or the small hairs that did grow got thick enough that it didn't seem bad. I would listen to India.Aire and her message that we are not our hair and I'd think, you know what, I'm not and I'd cut it off again...only to feel ugly again.

I come from Gay World which is dominated by guys and their unique hairstyles that I surely notice and figure, with a bald head, no one will notice me...but at the same time I know I shouldn't let hair define me. I keep bouncing back and forth and don't really know what to do. I hate that my natural being isn't good enough and I hate that I don't think I have good hair that is acceptable with society. It's one thing to be ok with oneself but we live in a world based on interactions and if someone else isn't ok with you, how to do you live? How am I going to live? I'm already alone enough and this is just the issue with my hair....oh vey...

Monday, January 24, 2011

Is it me?!

Okay, so I have mentioned and hinted on the struggles I've had with my dad but recent events have reminded me of the worse bitch of them all. My stepmother. I don't know why or how but it's just not fairy tales or B-List horror flicks that tell the dangers of the step parents, this shiz is real life. It's embedded for step parents to be evil to the step children, mine TOTALLY not discluded (yes, I made up that word, ya gonna sic Webster on me?!)...

When I was 10, my father introduced me to a woman he said "did his taxes." My father was a playboy and had a lot of women over so I knew better, especially since my dad was way to fiscal with his own money to let anyone else deal with it. It was only much later that I found out the bitch was too dumb to count on one hand let alone do a man's taxes. But anyhow...a few months later, my father breaks it down that I may have a baby brother or sister. I was 10 and excited. Drama later ensued when I was told not to tell my mother and when she found out through other people, but that's another story. Fast forward 6 years...

I was living with my dad at the time because I was kicked out of my mother's home (Another story as well). I had always felt animosity from my step mother but it was nothing she ever really confronted me about. Just little things she would tell my dad and I'd find out through him, where he'd make it seem like it was something he was concerned about but I was too clever to not know it was her manipulating him. So, I retreated. I was very anti-confrontational and drama. I was working and still in high school so I kept busy and just kept to myself to avoid any more issues. Then one day, my little sister was aggravating me and I pushed her out of my room. Her being a young girl, over exaggerated and told her mother that I hit her. So Cindy (such a bitch name, huh?!) decided to bust open my door and demand I tell her what right I had to hit her daughter....

I calmly answered, "I didn't hit your daughter, I pushed her out my room." Then she yelled, "You don't put your hands on my daughter!" Not in the mood to argue with her ignut (yeah, I said it!) ass, I said, "Ok." Stupid, stupid me for thinking it would be left at that. She then went on how she didn't much mind my sassiness and the way I carried myself around the house not talking to anyone. I said, "...because every time I do something, you have a problem with it." At that moment, my dad was driving up from work. So then she started pulling all kinds of bull out her ass, while i just folded my arms and listened while I was getting ready to head to my grandmother's. I don't really remember what all she was shitting off about but the statement that set me off was "I'm not Judi, I'm not going to let you disrespect me however you want."...

...No this bitch muhfuggin didn't!...

At this time, my dad was walking in the firestorm. I said, "First of all, you don't know my mama, you don't talk to her, she doesn't talk to you, you keep her name out her mouth." She tried to interrupt, I said, "Nope, straight up, you don't know mama, you keep her name out your mouth and I'm being real serious about that. I don't talk to you because you were bound to act like this but I know for a fact, you gon' keep my mama name out your mouth." My dad was speechless for a while we were going back and forth before I started walking out the door. He said, "Hold up hold up, where are you going?" I said, "I was already leaving for my grandmother's when she came in starting mess." Then she went, "Pshhhh...she?!" I said, "I'm sorry, was there another appropriate pronoun you wanted me to use?!" She rolled her eyes, my dad sighed and said, "Ok."

Now, in the future, her ignorance was transferred to my dad and she didn't much have to lift a finger to get him riled up over some bull, but she has always made REAL sure not to ever confront me about anything. I thought I was being extra careful to not step on toes and stay out of everyone’s way to avoid any drama. But there seemed to always be a problem. My dad, when he knew she was in the wrong, tried his best to avoid another showdown he couldn’t pick a side for. In those cases, he made sure to let me know he knew it was bull but just wanted me to understand to avoid the conflict to which I much obliged. As much as I hated him, it’s not fair to put him in the middle. So I didn’t but what’s funny was, he was more concerned about her in the issue than me. He knew I could hold my own but he wasn’t sure if I would ever initiate so it was like he made sure to make me understand for his sake so that I wouldn’t. I haven’t had a need to start “mess” since elementary school. I go out of my way to avoid it and do right by others to not get it in return but with her, and later very much so him and others that are supposed to be close to me, it seems they go out of their way to start it. People wonder why I don’t get close to people. It’s these people that make me run from people….even my family.

Now, I would get it, I analyze myself way too much, if I was delusional to not believe maybe I bring it on myself, but being completely honest, I don’t. I avoid it like the plague but it keeps coming back…fortunately, I believe most people know, I’m smart and can hold my own and know I can call bullshit like no other, so I haven’t had any recent face to face conflicts. But as I type, it’s nippin…I just don’t understand…is it me?!

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Gays are pretty racists.

OK, I'm sure I've had a rant or two about GayWorld and it's flaws, so forgive me if it seems all I have to do is complain. (I mean, I do, but this is my blog and I shall do as I please, thank you!) But gay guys are pretty damn racists. Now now, if you are a gay man, your first response is most definitely going to be "Having a preference is not being racist!" Hey, I know it seems like we can't help who we are attracted to, if you think a guy is hot, he's hot. But casting out an entire ethnicity of people before any association or meeting because you just automatically assume you aren't going to like being racists.

I call myself "Ready to Date." I've had my struggles in GayWorld before, it's just not something I seem to fit in well, so I joined a couple of "Online Dating" sites for gay men to try to meet guys. "Online Dating" is in quotes because yes, a good 95% of the guys on there are looking for a hook up. Having pics of no faces, with just bodies and genitalia, trying to reel in the next catch. I have hope and stand my ground as being in that 5% that are looking to actually date. I show only my face, and yes, one body pic because, sure looking for someone is shape I feel is reasonable, but I clearly state that I will not hook up and I don't. I talk about myself, give some adjectives and hobbies and just sell me. A genuine online dating profile. (I've read enough books on it, I'm kind of a pro.) But I don't really put any restraints on the kind of guy I'm looking for. I know for a fact that a guy can not be physically what you may call "hot" but I'd be into him. I really don't have any physical preferences so I don't state any. But I feel like that's just me...

You have many,MANY guys who put the disclaimer "only whites/hisp...sorry just my preference." Ok, sure, like I said in a previous post, many gay guys are programmed by the gay porn industry to like a certain kind of guy. Blacks in gay porn aren't popular. Ok ok, It's pretty shitty but I call myself getting over that a long time ago. I told myself, ok those guys who are just looking for sex aren't the kind of guys you want to be around because that's not the kind of person you want to be. Fine fine. I get it. But here's the funny part. Guys online who claim to looking to date or better yet "make friends" also are sure to put the disclaimer of only whites or latinos. So, because you don't think/know you are/aren't sexually attracted to black guys, you don't even want to make friends or just take it one guy at a time? Ok sure, sure I may be generalizing, I can't speak for everyone, and sure some may be lying about what they seek on these sites, but from my experience, and what I can generalize....that's pretty dern racist, bud.

I know, this isn't a just gay problem. It's all over. But today, when I went to the bathroom at a heavily cruisy gym, on the stall wall, there was an etching that said "No blacks." My dumb fault for going to the gym hoping to find a boyfriend in all the lustfuls but I have few options, I don't get out much. But it just...made me sad. Online, I get blocked/ignored all over the place, guys won't even talk to me. Sure, I'm not the prettiest in the bunch and you have all the right to ignore me if I'm not cute to you, but the simple fact that won't even take a chance, I mean, I could be the best friend they ever had, no sexuality involved, but they will never know. I may be just bitching because I'm struggling in the dating world but this is fact...

The BEST part of this is, even black guys are guilty of it. The guys who consider themselves hot enough to get attention from a white guy will also put a disclaimer. Admittedly, when I first was "out and about" I thought I was only attracted to white guys too. But it changed. It changed when I saw what was really going on. It changed when I said I wanted to be better. I wanted to be real and I didn't want my "gay lifestyle" to be something that didn't have substance.

I can't say I'm all the way adjusted but things like this make me better. Sure, I get mad, I get sad, I have my moments that I consider moments of weakness and I break down, but I pick myself back up and stand my ground and I be the kind of guy I want to be. I may be one of a very few, but I can't be more proud to be it.