Married Gay Man

November 24, 2014

I Got Blue Halls and I Need to Deck Them

I cannot wait for Christmas.  It has nothing to do with the usual trappings associated like, presents, candy, holiday pastries, or family.  No.  What I’m looking forward to is decorating.  That has to be one of gayest statements I’ve ever made…  But it’s true.  A few of my favorite parts is throwing up some tinsel, the tree, and all my various Christmassy knick-knacks.  It honestly brings me more joy than it should.

My husband on the other hand… Well, he leans more toward the Grinch than anything else.  He hates every piece of garland strung in our house.  I had originally wanted to decorate at the beginning of November and his response was “You’re trying to kill me. Do you want me to die?”  To this, I say… Yes.  If he gets in the way of my “festive faggottry”, he had better just accept his demise.

In his defense, he told me that the other day he saw a sign advertising for someone that installs Christmas lights and he took the number down.  That’s adorable and completely out of character.  Slowly but surely I’m chipping away at his anti-christmas exterior to reveal the shimmering Christmas bulb beneath.

My husband’s dislike of Christmas stems from the fact that he came from a single parent family.  His dad up and left with his secretary (no joke) and left his mom to fend for herself.  She was in her mid 20’s and stuck with raising and providing for two kids.  That means she was solely responsible for buying gifts and making the season wonderful.  Although there is only so much one woman can do on a bar tenders salary.  So, for him Christmas has always been a stressful event.  He is much too worried about his mother spending way more, in an attempt to make her kids’ Christmas ‘magical.’ The result is his current dislike of the holiday and everything that comes along with this time of year.

I guess I just had a lucky youth.  It probably helped that I am an only child.  Which is probably why I feel the need to give every one of my friends and family a similar styled Christmas.  My husband likes to say that I think I have endless amounts of money. I do, Charlie. Why, why are you trying to burst my bubble of delusion?  (Probably because he’ll be the one paying it off down the road.)

To give you an example of my “money is free” mentality, I went nuts while in London at Mark & Spencer’s.  They had so much nifty Christmas stuff that I ended up buying: an ugly Christmas sweater (I tried to get one for the hubby but he was having none of it), Christmas underwear, socks, and a knitted Santa cap with corresponding knitted beard.  Needless to say, I’m ready for this shit to begin.

November 14, 2014

I’m so sick of hearing/reading “it’s against my religious beliefs.” Fuck you.

I’m broken. I know I am. I have this absolute need to be completely accepted and loved/liked by everyone. The thing I know but have yet to grasp is that will not under any circumstance happen. It’s impossible. And whether they like me or not does not guarantee I will like them in return and I probably won’t. (Just kidding.)(maybe)

I bring this up cause last weeks topic for my Human Sexuality class was about the LGBT community. And per usual we were required to have a “discussion” on the weeks topic, which consists of listing the required media and our personal views on the topic. Let’s just say the posts were… Uh… Well, they were colorful. They brought up a time in my life that made me more miserable than I care to mention. But it was because of my undying need to be loved and accepted by everyone.

I broke down and responded to one of the hate filled posts. I know I shouldn’t have but… Fuck it was like someone punched me in the gut it was just so hateful! It’s amazing how behind a keyboard and people can and will say anything. I find it impossible to believe that these same people would have made these comments in an actual classroom. In fact I think they would have said nothing. You know why? They’d be embarrassed because in some corner of themselves they know they’re full of shit and an all around terrible person.

November 4, 2014

Cemetery Birthday Bash

This is the last birthday of my twenties. In just one more year and it’s all down hill. To get the ball rolling the common theme of this years trip to London has bee death and the after life. For instance I went on a ghost walking tour of London and that was exciting and today I went tromping through a grave yard in the pitch of night, but let me explain.

The man I claim for my want and desire to be a writer is C. S. Lewis. After I read “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” in the third grade I’ve wanted to be an author. Since then I’ve read all of the Chronicles of Narnia and some of his religious studies but… Those are not my cup of tea considering I’m an atheist. (Haven’t always been.) Regardless of my dogmatic views I value the man more than anything. So for my birthday I wanted to take a day trip to Oxford. It’s where Lewis studied, taught, and lived. We went on a bus tour which was lovely up until it began to rain. To escape the wet weather I forced my husband into the shelter of Blackwells book shop where I bought a journal he swears will sit unused and two autobiographies I can’t get in the states. I had intended to buy another copy of “the lion…” But my husband asked “how many copies would that make?” “4.” Yes that’s excessive but it was purchased in Oxford! Whatever.

Finally I ate dinner at the pub he, Tolkien, and others of the Inklings met every Tuesday to discuss their literary works. And serendipitously it just so happens to be Tuesday. And to top it a off, the table I chose at random was 12, which holds no significant meaning to Lewis as it does to me. (It’s my lucky number.) After our meal I was ready to go. It was getting dark and my plan to visit his grave seemed like a pipe dream. So, I accepted the pub visit to be it, but my husband attempting to make my birthday special offered to walk to the cemetery where he had been buried. I warned him that it would be a long trip but he assured me that it’d be fine.

Before we had gotten even a quarter of the way there it was night, since it gets dark at 4:30 in the United Kingdom. Fun. And hoofing it at our quickest speed wasn’t cutting it so luckily we caught a cabby and he took us to the Holy Trinity churchyard. He dropped us off and backed out the long single lane drive.

Using the light of my phone we searched the cemetery reading every headstone. After going to every single market it wound up being the final one. Isn’t that typical? I said a few silent words thanking the man for giving me a dream and held back the tears. There’s nothing more than my husband loves than to see me cry. He’s a freak. (Says the guy who wanted to spend his birthday in a cemetery searching for the grave of a man he never met.)

At the end of it we are both exhausted, but it was fantastic and a trip I won’t soon forget.

November 3, 2014

We’ve mainly slept in London

We’ve been in London for two days and already we have fucked up our schedule. Jet lag is a bitch, yes, but there are ways to make it worse. For instance, he got the advice from his father that the first day you arrive try to make it to 9 o’clock. The last time we were here we failed to do that and end up waking at early hours. This time I suffered through the first day just craving sleep and walking around like a zombie (I had gotten 0 sleep on the plane.). We make it to bed by 9 and are out instantly. We then proceed to sleep until 4 in the evening. Evidently we were tired. So my tip: sleep when you’re tired. Good thing we have 2 weeks here or I would have been PISSED to waste an entire day sleeping. By the way, it gets dark by 4:30.

To not make the day a complete waste we went on a Walking Ghost Tour led by an amazing guide named Sara with a thick Wisconsin accent. As it turned out she was from Michigan but most people think she’s Canadian and the Brits love Canadians. So she goes with it. The tour was par for the course. It was good and very little happened. Except when the tour wound its way to St. James park and she explained that this park had a tendency to have moments of debauchery. My husband and I turn to each other and go “what kind?” Debauchery is such a vague term. Our ideas of misconduct happen to be sexual, cause as it happens in our little neck of the world parks are notorious hook-up spots.

So far things have gone well. We got ourselves set up with a weekly tube ticket that, when purchased at any train station (not tube), offers a good number of 2 for 1 specials on different tours, sites, and dining. Today’s ghostly tour being one of them.