gay

June 27, 2023

Old Wounds, New Blood

It’s amazing how one never really gets over childhood trauma. One could spend copious amounts of time in therapy and working through it and it still finds a way to rear its ugly head.

The weekend after my first workplace “bullying” I kept complaining about it. Growing angrier as I recounted the story and even more anxious as it ruminated in my unending thoughts.

Then during a blur of verbal vomit I spat out the nugget of truth. I was hurt that once again, after I believed someone was my friend they betrayed me.

When I was a kid, and even still, I was so desperate for friends that I gave too much of myself. I’d do things for them, but then things, and tell them my deepest darkest secrets all in an effort to forge some kind of friendship. The problem with that kind of behavior is you tend to attract a lot of unscrupulous people. Which I did.

I was burnt and betrayed many times over my youth that I put up really high walls and a prize winning RBF that I continue to wear to this moment. It was a way of warding people away from me. And even though I was short I was broad as a preteen. (Aka I was a fatty.) Coupled with the mean mug I was thoroughly unapproachable.

This whole incident shoved me right back there, where I feel like an idiot and never want to feel that way again.

June 16, 2023

A Snowball Straight to Hell

Dude… the world is going to shit. I am astounded at the depths the Republican Party will sink in their quest to… what? I have no idea what the end goal is. I don’t understand. Are they sowing hate and division because they’re actively trying to start a civil war? Have they been corrupted by and actively working for a foreign power? Or is it that their platform has nothing to offer the everyday person that they get them riled up about shit that doesn’t concern them? Whatever the reason it’s finally reached me in my personal life.

It started as an innocent question. One of my co-workers, who knows I boycott hate-chicken, asked me if I was going to stop going to Starbucks because of their new policy that the stores must remove pride decorations effective immediately. I just groaned and said, “I don’t know.” As I took a sip from my iced mocha from the bucks.

From there it quickly devolved into a tirade by him that I would respond with (or attempt to) a different perspective. He was hitting all the same Fox News misinformation talking points. One that stuck out to me was he reiterated this bs point my niece had said to me about a little kids “tucking bathing suits.” Like it did the first time I had heard it, I immediately thought “that is bullshit.” But I won’t speak on something unless I know for a doubt. And I can’t even remember the last time I went into a Target store. So I answered with “if that’s true then just don’t buy it.” Then he gave me some ridiculous thing “about the kids.” Which is funny to me because this the same guy who made a point to showcase his NRA hat in the office parking lot so I would see it, (this was after I had made some comment, to my husband on the phone, by the way) and has no problem with “the little guys” getting murdered at school. So. Spare me the bullshit about “the kids.” Literally, the number one killer of kids in this country is guns.

This conversation escalated to a point where he made a “veiled threat” that I “didn’t want to make him mad.” That’s when I freaked out. Okay. That’s the end of it. And I shut down. However he clearly had an ax to grind and wanted to use it, so he kept going.

The second half of the conversation was him telling me what I have experienced in life. Like, how I didn’t know I was gay when I was a kid. One, I did. But two, the other kids who teased and bullied me, they called me faggot and gay way before I even knew. I VIVIDLY remember the moment I asked my mom what gay was. She explained it to me. I sat quiet for a moment and then said “maybe I am.” This was at 7 fucking years old. Her negative overreaction made me backpedal so fast, I should have gotten whiplash.

This argument crescendoed into him angrily asking me if I had ever been bullied. This was after I tried to answer all of his “questions,” yet he didn’t want to hear them. He just wanted to rant.

Finally he let me answer and I told him, “honestly, dude, I feel bullied right now.”

This dude exploded. He stormed through the office, slamming drawers and the front door, shouting. For the life of me I don’t remember what he said because I just wanted this to be over with. I am NOT a confrontational person. I like to think I am but I am ultimately a coward.

He left and I was dumbfounded. Never in my 20 years of employment had I ever experienced anything like that. Ever. Yeah I knew that there were people who didn’t like me. Sure. But never had I been subjected to this. It was unhinged.

I wasn’t going to say anything to my “boss.” If he asked where he was I would just say “give him a call.” I wanted him to explain it.

Up until yesterday I genuinely thought we were buds. He had until then been super sweet and this behavior was super uncharacteristic of what I had seen. So I can only draw two conclusions, he was riled up about some bullshit these people are peddling to rile up “the base” or he is bipolar. And I want to immediately state there is nothing wrong with that. At all. I am not shaming him. It’s just now I know.

He returned, calmer headed, and I immediately apologized. I should have stopped it after the first half by saying “hey we’re both heated, let’s not talk about this anymore.” But I didn’t. I instead chose to make this a “learning moment” because I stupidly thought I could offer my friend a different perspective. He just didn’t want one.

At the end of the day he had apologized to me twice. Once after I had and the other before he left, slapping me on the back.

I am just at a loss. I’m super depressed. The office used to be my one safe place. My one “haven” where I had some control. That’s all gone. I’m shutting up and shutting down. Work will just be me clickety-clacketing away while I listen to music or podcasts.

After I had apologized he had the nerve to say “well I don’t want this to stop you from talking about your life.” Oh, you mean my life that is “political?” Sure, jan.

My favorite part was, “I have gay friends.” No you fucking don’t, bitch. You have stand-ins, props. Either that or you have the faggots that try so hard to please their heterosexual counterparts to “fit in.” They thrive on your approval. I on the other hand do not give a shit. I learned at a very young age that my peers approval was temporary and situational.

My boss spoke with me and him. He said to keep “politics” and religion out of the office. You got it, boss! You can count on me.

June 2, 2023

On Repeat in My Head

The hubby and I have had many odd adventures throughout our nearly 20 years together. The weirder and more bizarre the better. They are the stories we tell when we’re drunk with friends or strangers. And I try and stick to the actual events as much as possible, because nothing is more disingenuous than fabricating details of a story to try and make it funny. It’s why I could never be a comedian. I can’t lie about details for the sake of a laugh.

I have this habit of putting a single song on repeat for hours, until the song holds little to no meaning for me. What I have discovered in my many TikToks is this is a habit of people with ADHD. Well, you pegged me again, you creepy app. Since last night I have been obsessed with a YouTube video of an unreleased Taylor Swift song. I don’t quite understand why this one didn’t make the cut for her album, it is truly phenomenal and I am OBSESSED. I’d post it here but I don’t want it to somehow get caught by the TSMachine and have them remove it. My queen should just release it! But she’s probably just waiting to do so with Lover Taylor’s Version. Sneaky gal.

Todays obsession reminded me of my first trip to London for my Honeymoon/Birthday. We dove head first into this trip without any careful planning. All we had on the agenda was our stay, a trip to Leavesden to experience the sets of Harry Potter (a different time kids), and we had purchased the “London Pass.” Nothing more. Which is kind of our M.O., honestly. I personally feel like that is the best way to travel because it always results in the weirdest stories. As in this one…

Charlie had asked “what are the most ‘English’ things you can do?” And the most obvious and desperately pathetic was to have “authentic” fish and chips. Of course we’ve had them here, but I thought maybe (just maybe) they were different in the land in which is originated. And… It did not disappoint.

The newly minted husband researched and found a place that was supposedly “the best fish and chips in London.” Obviously they had given themselves that name because… Dear god.

We grabbed a black cabby and made our way across town to a residential neighborhood to go to this hole in the wall restaurant. We walked in and the fry cook was listening to this sad, somber song at ear splitting levels. We made our order and then went and sat on the right side of the shop which I thought was this huge dining area. Oh no. It was this thin strip of space, with a counter attached to the wall with a full length mirror immediately above.

“This is going to be fun,” I had said, gesturing to my reflection. “I get to watch myself as I eat!”

“Eh, it’ll be fine.”

As we waited the sound level of the music was undeterred. At least it was an okay song. I have a tendency of getting easily irritated with music I do not like.

We got our fish and began eating. That’s when we became abundantly clear that the scales were still on the unbattered side of the fish.

“Oh my god,” I said, showing him the steely-gray side of my meal.

“Oh, that’s weird,” Charlie said, “Maybe that’s just… No. Mine too. Maybe that’s just how they do it.”

“Well, they’re doing it wrong.”

He chuckled, “Is that so? The place that originated-“

“Yes.”

As we picked it at our fish, trying to avoid the scales and the reflection of our grimaces in the mirror, it became abundantly clear that the song that had been playing when we walked in was on repeat. I started to laugh to myself as I concocted this elaborate story in my head how the fry cook was going through a recent break-up and just could not stop listening to this song.

I imagined the cashier reaching their limit and turning to him, “Oy, Trev, please play anything else. I beg of you!”

And Trevor would continue on, frying fish and singing along to the song. (Did I mention the fry cook had been singing along to the multiple repeats?)

The two of us couldn’t stand looking at ourselves eat this scaly fish any longer, while Trevor went through the motions, so we headed out onto the street and walked back to our hotel.

This is where I fell even more in love with the city. (Side note, it was guy fox day.) The gentle orange glow of the street lamps lit our way, as we passed by an old, old, old cemetery and a couple of boys who were kissing and hugging until they saw us coming their way. I wanted to say “Don’t worry, boys, this is my husband.”

Now that I have successfully bored you with my lackluster story, I will return to my repeated listen to “Need” by Taylor Swift. Please, excuse me.

November 28, 2022

The Soundtrack of My Life – 40 – Typical / Beautiful Mess

I’m sad that this band didn’t have any other hits after this one. The whole album is incredible and I fail to find a song that doesn’t rock or hit an emotional nerve.

The first time I heard “Typical” was by a “dedication” from my husband to me. This song climbed to popularity (on our local radio station) on the heels of yet another one of Charlie’s and my break-ups. However, this time was different. We may have “broken-up” but we continued to live together, sleep in the same bed, etc… Basically we created the life we have now. Except we were “broken-up.” My husband chose this route because he didn’t want to do an “open relationship.” He and I were of the same mind, at the time, and thought that those types of relationships were beneath us. They were stereotypically gay and we weren’t the norm. (Yet ever the typical fags…)

During this time the idea was for me to work on myself. I had cheated on him repeatedly over the three year relationship. I was meant to take this time to reflect and figure out if I wanted us to stay together or not. It was also at this time when I entered into the SAA program as part of “working on myself.”

Despite societal belief that it isn’t a real addiction, I firmly believe that it is. It’s received such a negative perception because it appears to have been used as justification for the infidelity of high profile celebrities. While the validity of that assumption can go either way, I tend to think there is truth in it.

For most addicts they have to go to a source to get their high. They have to drink, smoke, shoot, snort, and eat their demons. While sex addiction is an obsession over the chemical rush that forever resides in our brains. That overpowering sense of euphoria that fills our bodies from head to toe after ejaculation. Sometimes it’s purely the heightened state of mind that one may get caught or the danger of the action itself. In those cases it may be more of an “adrenaline junky” than sex addiction. Either way… these are substances we don’t have to go anywhere to abuse. We have it at the ready on a moments notice.

To this day I use sex as a way of coping. Whenever I feel disgusting about my body image or self-worth I head to some cruising spot or use the apps to find someone to want me, because at that moment I sure as shit don’t. Their approval gives me the go ahead to feel good about myself. And the reinforcement of the euphoric rush just rewards the behavior. Afterwards I feel nothing but shame and guilt in my actions and thus begins the addictive cycle.

For years I ran SAA meetings, after having the responsibility to find us a new location thrust upon me. I was invested. I had a few sponsors try and get me through the steps and even took on the responsibility sponsoring two people. However, I wasn’t what they needed. I have a more “it’s your responsibility not mine” approach to it. I will get one the info, be an anchor to keep one centered, or be a shoulder to cry on, but I will not be your parent. That is not my job. I also require people to be relatively self-aware and that isn’t something you cannot force someone into. You can’t even lead them to the it. They have to discover that on their own.

Even though I love my husband more than anything, I will be by his side until the very end, but this song is one that I use for emotional cutting. Even now… It’s one I can put on, as a joke to recount how someone one time called me a whore, but in reality it’s my way of harming myself. Because I am nothing more than a typical whore.

I think it doubly hurts because he has only ever “given” me one other song, and I derive so much worth and love from a song “dedication.” It’s truly bizarre.

It should be noted that at the same time as this song he gave me another one that… It encapsulates everything we had gone through at that time, and even still go through. It was so uplifting and beautiful for me and was the perfect balance that this song brought. “Typical” cut me down but “A Beautiful Mess” built me back up. To this day, if I’m alone, I will ugly cry to it.

At first listen it sounds like an insulting song, but it 1,000% is not. So, I will leave you with Jason Mraz.