queer

April 23, 2024

Loss in Polyamory

It’s funny, everyone always wants to talk about the “cheating” parts of polyamory and never about the fact that you have to travel the ups and downs of life with other contrasting personalities. When Charlie and I first opened up our marriage I was excited to see where it went but also so utterly terrified. What if he found someone that was “better” than me? It was the one thought that ran through my mind over and over. Luckily for me my husband had a type and it was “broken people.” He had a savior complex. He found the ones who were at their lowest and tried to rescue them. It is funny how many don’t want to be saved or out-right refuse it. (By the way, I’m not saying that I was or am better than them.)

In the end, all it really did (for both of us) is really appreciate the other. I know that sounds so counterintuitive to what society teaches you, but it made our bond that much stronger. We saw the best parts of our relationship and welcomed the parts that had become “familiar.” Most relationships would see it as being stale or stagnant but it became the thing that we treasured most.

Through our experiences with polyamory we have learned a lot through trial and error. There is no guidebook, and even if there was one that could prepare you it could never hit every aspect. Each relationship, like any connection from one to another, is different. Nothing in life is ever as precise as a puzzle piece. The only thing you can 100% expect from it is the requirement for communication and honesty. And honesty isn’t just being open to one’s “extra-curricular activities,” it is being truthful with one’s own emotions. The amount of self-awareness required to co-habitate with multiple personalities is insurmountable.

What none of us were prepared for being in our polycule was dealing with loss. Everyone is always hyperfixated on the sexual component which (spoiler alert) really does not come into play as frequently as those would believe. Then again, it might be different for others. I can only attest to my own experiences.

Before my husband passed he was so concerned with what would happen with his boyfriend when he was gone. He would repeat “you have other josh” to me so much to the point that I was growing exhausted with the observation. Sure I have him, but in a relationship people are not employees, you can’t just replace one with another. Charlie also neglected the fact that the one thing he and I held most similar is wanting to be the “white knight.”

How I describe his boyfriend (Tony) and I is that he is my brother. And I mean that. I am weird in the sense that I mean what I say and say only what I mean. It is genuinely difficult for me to give a compliment when I do not feel it is deserved. So, like I said with my friend Nick (lol IYKYK) who I have lain claim as my brother, it is a fact that comes from the bottom of my heart. It is stating that I love them more than I could love a family member and I will be there for them no matter what. No matter how much they may piss me off, irritate me, or hardly speak to me I will love them unconditionally.

So, my husband not taking that into the equation bothers me, but then again maybe he was pushing me to step up to the plate. Which… the man was a master at manipulation.

Navigating loss in this environment is so strange. I, again, try and struggle to keep everything balanced. I want Tony to know he will be okay, that he is wanted, and that we’re both in this together. With Josh I have to make sure he does not feel excluded, that he is apart of this also. I just worry my efforts are “indirect” and more distractions than solutions.

I will do what I must for everyone to feel okay and, much to my chagrin, it is impossible. Someone gets hurt in the process. Always. I just have to make sure we handle it through communication and reassurance.

I am trying… and will continue to do so until my efforts appear to be worthless.

December 12, 2023

Possession by My Mother’s Soul

I’m genuinely over war. I’ve grown weary of the constant state of creation of weapons to destroy people deemed “our enemies.” It’s exhausted and I no longer want to participate in it.

Now I can hear what some might say, “What if they try and attack you?” Let them. Let us use our weapons of “mass destruction” (oh, the irony) in use for defense instead of offense. Why waste resources and LIVES for the sake of… what?

It is abundantly clear that the primary purpose of war is for wealth creation. Not for the people, but for the select few who have access to this power. Whether it be directly or by association. I refuse to participate in the accumulation of wealth for those who see me as a pawn in a ridiculous chess game.

What is happening in Gaza is a display of overkill. It is genocide. You have a group of people isolated so much that to bomb them eliminates there presence, especially if they are not allowed to leave.

To justify their actions of “retaliation” by stating “they did it first!” makes one sound like a child. It’s amazing to me how many Christians will support this behavior when it is reported in their holy book to “turn the other cheek so that they may strike it too.”

Christ was a pacifist. To seek retribution only makes one the same as the one who instigated the first unwarranted attack.

This is a point I wrestled with the most as a child, growing up in the church. I wanted satisfaction. I wanted revenge on those who had hurt me. My mother was such an advocate for pacifism. She taught me that it didn’t matter, to just walk away. Lowering yourself to their level only proves that you are just like them.

At the time I hated hearing it and refused to let what doing so meant.

Seeing the hatred some gays have toward the “queers for Palestine” is truly unnerving. I get that we don’t have shared experiences or life lessons, but to advocate for the destruction of the people of Gaza because some of them “kill gays” is not a justification. At that point they are no better than the Muslims who want to kill them for being homosexual.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist one who is evil. But if any one strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also” (Matthew 5:38-39 RSV).

For the life of me I cannot believe I am quoting the bible in a non-ironic way. My mother’s spirit must have possessed me. There is no other explanation, because I am an athiest and think all religions are cults.

I have just reached a point in my life that I fully comprehend that: death is inevitable. We will be taken regardless of what we have done/do. If someone kills me for being gay, well, so be it. I am going to die one way or another. If it is at the hands of someone else’s bigotry that speaks of their character and not mine.

I will not concern myself with that fear anymore. Much like they should not concern themselves with how I live my life.

That said… I also won’t roll-over and “accept my fate” if I cannot escape any possible “threat.” Self preservation and the safety of those I love is my top priority. I just refuse to destroy my “soul” (for lack of a better word) by lowering myself to their way thought.

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.

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.