gay

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.

September 30, 2022

The Soundtrack of My Life – 33 – Heaven

My entrance into any kind of gay community was very limited, unfortunately. I look back and I have a lot of regret that I wasn’t able to spend a little more time in that kiddy pool while I could. On the other hand, I was also self-destructing at the time and very likely would have ended up travelling a very dark path. Like with most “missed opportunities,” I’ll never know what could have been.

Right when I started dating Travis a little establishment opened up in downtown Bakersfield that was a beacon of hope for young gay youth. The club was titled “Bam-bams” and it was an experimental 16 and up disco. There was no liquor served, just looks, attitude, and dance moves. There was a cover charge, which is why most weekend nights it was more entertaining outside of the club than in. If you happened to hand over the $5 cash, you would find an empty black-box room filled with multiple video screens and dance music. Mirrors adorned the walls, to entertain the one lone dancing queen, wearing a crop top and shorty-shorts. The first time I went in I was so disappointed. It turned out that I was one of a few f*gs in this little town. I’d make the rounds and then tote myself back out front to chit-chat with the poor kids and the young queen working the door.

“Heaven” was one of the songs I discovered at the club. I still remember the music video, and one time even asked the lone bartender/owner to play it in the mix. He gave me a thumbs up and a wink.

Every Friday or Saturday night I would tote myself and my friends to Bam-Bams (aka BSqaured). I was beginning to build a community and make new friends that quickly replaced my hetero ones. None of the connections I had made during that time are currently in my sphere. They’re not even Facebook friends. It’s almost as if they never really existed. They were just phantoms. They helped me come into myself as a gay man and through my break-up of with Travis. I also frequented this little establishment because it was just around the corner from the actual bar my tatted ex liked to haunt. If I went I had the off-chance to catching a glimpse of him.

Oh, youthful infatuation.

As I was want to do at that time, that guy was quickly replaced by my next relationship, which happened to be to my future husband. One of our first ever pictures was taken outside of Bam-Bams.

My friend Eddie had taken the photo. He did it as “side shade.” He HATED Charlie with a passion, but that was because he had wanted to date me. (Good Lord I sound conceited.) He was one of the ones who encouraged my “bad habits” at the time. Regardless of his intentions, this moment is forever with me.

The last time I went was when I had been caught making out with a dude who was not Charlie, by a couple friends of ours. They pulled into the parking spot me and this guy happened to be macking in front of. Once they got out, and I saw who it was, I tried to pull it off like nothing had happened. But we both know they had seen what I had been doing.

That night I got unbelievably wasted. Charlie picked me up on his way home from the bar down the street, and walked me back to his apartment. On the way there he found my pack of cigarettes, Camel Turkish Gold, in my pocket.

“What are these?” He said and proceeded to leave them on the lid of a trash can.

“Hey!” I had said, but he acted as though nothing had happened and ushered me further down the street. And being so drunk I quickly forgot about them.

He hated it when I smoked. And this discovery went against my previous statement that “I was quitting.”

That night I sat on the floor of his bathroom, at the edge of his toilet, puking my guts out. At one point I demanded he give me bread, as one of my friends had said it helps sober you up. He laughed and brought me a slice of sour dough.

“Not this,” I had said and threw it in the trash.

In the morning I came clean about what had happened that night. I was caught. And when I am found out I don’t lie my way out of it. I rather face the consequences than make it worse. Plus, I didn’t want him to hear it from someone else. The truth would be better delivered from me, than a casual acquaintance.

He was angry and barely spoke to me. For whatever reason he kept me around the rest of the day. We went and did his laundry at a laundromat across town, where he continued to ignore me. I didn’t know what I was doing there and all I wanted to do was leave. Little did I know he had been working out if I was worth the trouble of keeping around.

As the present can attest, he decided to not break it off. (Stupid man.)

It did however initiate my pattern of doing horrible shit and getting caught. And our subsequent knee-jerk reactions of implementing restrictions to my life to avoid any more of these cruel/stupid choices.

In reality he should have ended it with me. I was mess at the time and didn’t, even remotely, have my shit together. It didn’t occur to me until doing this project, just how fucked up I was. In the span of a year I was dumped 3 times, by 3 different guys. That’s bonkers. I was newly out and discovering who I was as a gay man, and that wasn’t the most simple of tasks as I was coming from a very, very religious background/upbrining.

If he hadn’t stuck with me, I am genuinely curious how I would have ended up. More than likely I would have contracted HIV, because my sex education focused more on the “don’t do it” than the “USE A GODDAMN CONDOM!”

I don’t think I would have abused recreational drugs. That was the one thing about Christian school that had stuck. I would however, have been a raging alcoholic. And most likely would have jumped from one job to the next without ever having any ambition to go back to school or start an “adult” career.

But this is all speculation. None of this could have happened. I could have moved away and started an entirely different life. Who fucking knows. All I can say with certainty is that I wouldn’t be where I am now.

September 29, 2022

The Soundtrack of my Life – 34 – Chicago

After a 3 day stay in Chicago we are back on the road heading to Akron. This little road trip of mine was concocted to celebrate the one we took for the hubs’s second opinion at the Mayo Clinic. It was also a defiant choice because he told me previously that he wanted our Alaskan cruise to be his last trip. I can’t have that. Not yet. He has since recanted his statement. Instead he has corrected it to be “no more road trips. Only cruises.”

That’s fine, punkin. Whatever you want.

Other than the title of the song, this doesn’t make me think of Chicago in the slightest. I thought it was a good choice seeing as how we had just been there. Expect the forthcoming songs to be similar in nature. What’s fun with my future choices is that they do in fact remind me of moments in my life.

The first time I ever heard this song, and immediately became obsessed with it, was from the opening credits of the Netflix show “The Politician.” It may have aired in 2019 but I didn’t get around to watching it until the first Covid lockdown. It had been a special request watch from the bf since it had his crush, Ben Platt. My interest in a Ryan Murphy program was minimal at best. So, I had kept pushing it off until we were faced with copious amounts of time and nothing to fill it with.

Covid truly changed my life. As I’m sure it did for everyone. But it feels like for me it changed everything significantly moreso. For the better.

Up until lockdown, the interaction between my husband (Charlie) and my bf (Josh) ranged from non-existent to limited. For the first 2 years of Josh’s and my relationship it had been very, very separate. Per the bf’s request and just the newness of polyamory for all of us. When everything closed and we couldn’t go anywhere, we were forced together.

We all started watching tv together in silence. It was awkward at first. Josh didn’t know how to act around Charlie and vice versa. It took some time to reroute old habits to where they began to have their own rapport.

My two relationships are very different in how they function. My husband is not very affectionate, we are more mentally intimate (conversations/debates/discussion.) Physical intimacy is just not who Charlie is. A peck on the lips every once in awhile satisfies his needs.

The boyfriend on the other hand… he’s attached to the hip. He has to be touching me. And I don’t say that as a complaint, it’s just how it is. I appreciate both forms because they suit me. I am someone who is happy when my partner is. So trying to find a balance with the two was a challenge.

This song brings back those first few months of mixing the two lives. If you compared how they are now to then, night and day. We’ve done many trips together. We’ve shared a bed (in a non-sexual way for you nosey betches) and we’ve all gotten comfortable around each other hanging in our hot tub in the buff. Again, nothing sexual.

I have to recognize how much the bf gave in the beginning. This was not initially the situation he wanted. There were other boundaries in place that kept everything separate. I imagine to keep himself from being hurt by seeing me with the husband. He was making himself fit for me. Either he has grown accustomed to it and appreciates the relationship for what it is or he’s tricking himself. I hope it’s the latter. I constantly worry that I have somehow manipulated him into this relationship. I do not want that at all. My number one goal is ALWAYS consent. And when I have brought up these same concerns to him he has always affirmed that I have not. He is here of his own choice.

Unfortunately the bf is not with us on this trip. A month off is entirely too long for him. He will however be meeting us midway through, for the weekend, and at the end. And I’ll be happy to have my whole family together again.