Midnight Memories

So to set the scene I recommend listening to “Blinding Lights” by Loi. It’s probably the best version of the song and the tone of it completely encapsulates the memory I’m going to share.

The first thing my husband ever said to me was through an instant message on AOL. He let me know that he and Diego were still together and not knowing who he was (and being the annoying teenager I was) I continued on the conversation as if I knew him and what he was talking about. I finally dropped my charade and asked him who he was and it was then that I added him to my buddy list, cchuck77383. From then on I would message him whenever he came online because I just knew things with him and Diego were on the way out.

This all happened at the very end of September 2003 after an abrupt break-up with my third boyfriend. (Who has since passed of stage 4 cancer.)

I was taken by him (my husband) because he happened to share that my ex wanted him, but my husband was not even remotely interested. This made cchuck77383 immediately attractive to me.

I wasn’t a good person then and I know that now… but regardless of what got me to meet with this man doesn’t matter now. I am still here.

After things with Diego fizzled out he agreed to meet me one late night at a Denny’s.

I put on “sleeping beauty” in my bedroom, snuck out my window, and drove across town to meet this stranger I had only ever spoke with online.

He didn’t tell me what he drove, but I knew he had arrived the moment his white mustang drove past me. For the next hour or so we sat in a booth talking, while I watched him nervously spin his silver Motorola flip phone, twitch his nose, and run his index knuckle up his phantom mustache.

For whatever reason he liked me and invited me over to his apartment downtown to watch a movie.

The first thing we ever watched together was Philadelphia. Which, if you don’t know, is the story about a man dying of AIDS. He swears now he had never seen it, but I remember him telling me it was a good one to watch. However he had also just started collecting DVDs at the time and it is highly likely that he hadn’t. I tend to rely to heavily on my own memory. And I am (at times) wrong.

That early morning, when the movie had ended, he walked me to my car and kissed me, wishing me good night. I drove away thinking I would never see him again, feeling satisfied that I got to make-out with the guy my ex wanted but couldn’t have.

Little did I know that this dude would then call me every subsequent day and talk my ear off. There isn’t a day since that he hasn’t. It kills me most to know that his disease will eventually take that from me. I have spoken with him at length ever since then and to think I will have to face a day where I don’t just cuts my gut.

NaNoWriMo – Chapter 3

Mark looked at his phone one more time, just to see if his message had been read. He opened up stream of messages and saw his lone message “wanna breed this hole.” Down at the bottom, above the keyboard, showed the notification that it had been read, yet there was no response. His face flushed red hot as he closed it and chose to open one of the others, reading the same message. Each one showed the same thing. The only one who had responded had declined his offer.

He locked his phone and threw it across the bed.

Fuck these guys, he said, exhaling all the breath out of his nose.

It was just going to be a dull night, once again. All he wanted to do was get fucked. Isn’t that what the app is for, he kept telling himself. Recycling it through his mind until his rage grew in his chest. What was even the point?

He stood up, undressed and crossed the room to his computer. He had just resigned to the fact that he would have to help himself out. No one else was even going to bother. He opened the browser and type in a single w and the bar was filled with his usual go-to, amateur site. There he found messages. His heart gave a leap. As he scanned them, each one telling him how hot his videos were, but all of them were either in another state or a separate country altogether.

He opened up a video he had uploaded a couple weeks ago. He watched himself laying on his bed with his near naked body, lay on all fours, for the stranger to enter the room. His dick stirred to life. There was nothing he loved more than watching himself get used by an anonymous stranger.

A memory sparked at the back of his mind, the video from a week ago. He hadn’t even had the chance to watch it, what with his boyfriend coming home almost immediately after. That had been a close call. He didn’t know what Sergio would have done if he had come in at that exact moment.

The video was hidden deep in a Russian doll of files. At the very bottom he opened up the video and leaned back in the computer chair with a creak.

He watched himself in the usual pose, the orange glow of the street light filling his room more than the light on his nightstand. He got harder.

Somewhere in the distance the microphone picked up the soft click and shut of the door. Just like he got aroused at the anticipation of the stranger then he did again. Then there would footsteps and the slim frame came into view, the frame ending at shoulder length. The man removed only his jacket, and laid a hand onto his plump left cheek. He caressed it, while reaching out to grip the waist band of his jock.

Mark mirrored his moves of the video and wrapped his long fingers around his cock.

The man on the glowing computer screen, got to his knees and pressed his shadowed face in between Mark’s butt cheeks. The silhouette of the man ever-so-slightly rimmed him. Mark went into euphoric recall. He remembered what his wet tongue had felt like as he gently probed in and out of his hole.

The man reached under and up and began to slowly jerk him off.

Video Mark stretched his arms above his bowed head. He heard himself moan on the video and he could feel himself getting closer.

The stranger continued on in the same manner, until Mark’s voice and moans grew in frequency and pitch. He watched his back arching as he pushed himself against the stranger’s face.

Damn I was loving it, Mark thought as his hand picked up speed.

Just as he rose about to cum in person so did his video self. The only difference was he was beginning to glow yellow. His hand slowly came to stop as he watched himself turn into a light bulb, that then froze in time. The light that had shone from his skin leapt into the air forming a billowing cloud above him.

Mark watched with wide eyes as the stranger stood and scooped a handful of the gold into his hand and into his mouth.

Mark’s heart hammered in his rib cage.

The man went to take another swipe at the air, but stopped. He shook his head and returned to what he had been doing before. He resumed his actions and the light was pulled back into Mark’s body like someone releasing a tensed rubberband.

The room went dark and the camera went in and out of focus multiple times before the man finished Mark off, donned his coat, and left without saying a word.

The video stopped.

Mark stared at the still, final image of himself turning off the camera, not knowing what had at all just happened.

His mind whirred to life as he struggled to make sense of it. Who had that man been. His hand went to the mouse and he slid the single dot along the player bar. The stills of the video flashed by in jerky awkward shapes. He stopped right At the moment when the light had left his body. For a split second he saw the man’s profile, but nothing that jogged his memory.

Mark spun around in the chair and grabbed his phone from the edge of the bed. He opened up the hook-up app and began rooting through the messages. The video was two weeks old. He ran through the rolodex of images, and could only think of three men that it could have been.

This was the only time he wished he hadn’t messaged multiple people in one go.

He returned to the computer and watched it one more time, trying to make heads or tails of it as he watched it. He slowed it down, examined every scene pixel by pixel. But nothing he could think of made sense.

Opening a new browser, he typed in the scene that had unfolded and searched for any results but there was nothing. At least nothing that made sense.

Finally he returned to the amateur porn site and created a new file. All he could think of was that there was someone, anyone that could explain what had happened to him.

He titled his newest clip, “WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?” In the short description he outlined the details to best of his abilities. Once he was satisfied with his explanation he sent it out into the electronic ether. There it would get the attention and answer he long craved.

Mark stood and looked around his room. Whatever had happened he found himself no longer trusting that he was by himself. He could sense that something had been taken from him, but what he wasn’t sure. The anger and frustration pulsed through him as he looked for some way to feel safe. For a brief moment he thought about contacting the police, but he waved it away almost immediately. What were they going to do? He couldn’t even tell them who it had been.

The only thought he could do was bunker himself down. He locked the deadbolt and the slid the chian, checked all of his windows and grabbed a knife from the kitchen. Placing it on the bedside table he grabbed his found and wrapped himself up in his blanket. Once again, he returned to the trail of messages and he went through each and every one of them. One of the men there had to be the stranger.

He knew it was only a matter of time until the video was seen by the world. He would get his answer. It was just the waiting that cloaked him an overwhelming sense of dread.

Did they know I was filming? He thought to himself. And that single thought lit a fuse through his mind sending fearful question after another to his mind. He grabbed the knife at his bedside table and laid under the cloak of the blanket. There was no doubt in his mind he wasn’t going to sleep that night.

In the morning, as the sun was peeking between the high rises of the city, a key worked it’s way through the pins of the lock. The door thudded against the door.

“Mark,” said the voice of his boyfriend, “Open the door.”

Delirious from the lack of sleep Mark sat frozen in fear.

“Mark, open the chain now. I want to know what this video is about.”

Mark through the blanket off of him, set the knife on the beside table, and rushed to the door. His fingers fumbled awkwardly with the chain. He opened the door and hugged his boyfriend, happy he was finally not alone. Sergio, stood rigid for a brief moment before he pulled himself from his embrace and stomped into the apartment, dragging Mark with him.

“What the fuck is this video?”

Mark shook his head.

“Tarryn sent a video to me a guy fucking you.”

“Did you see what else happened?” his voice broke.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Sergio said, “You’ve been cheating on me. I saw the rest of your fucking videos.”

“But did you see what he did!”

“I don’t give a fuck. You’re a slut and I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

Sergio ran through the apartment in flurry, grabbing whatever was around and shoving it into the gym bag he had retrieved from the bedroom closet.

Mark ran to the computer and pulled up the website. Down below the video it showed a total of a million views, over night. The comments below ranged from shock and utter disbelief. Some even claimed that he had better special effects than most big budget movies.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Sergio said from the bathroom. Rattling objects along the glass shelves.

“How did Tarryn find it?” Mark called.

“Check the fucking news.”

Mark instinctively opened another browser and there, for the whole world to see, was a story about his video begging for questions.

Word Count: 5,896/50,000

Tales of Pink-Eye and Cancer

My this has been one hell of a week.

It began on Monday where I made an eye appointment because my eyes were red, itching, and would not stop crying. I was certain when I made the appointment with the optometrist that it was probably pink-eye. The doctor however looked at my eyes and deemed it allergies. I was skeptical because I have had allergies my whole life and never had I experienced JUST a reaction in my eyes, but as he was the “professional” I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

The following day, Tuesday, I finally had scheduled a CT scan that I had kept putting off because I had no time to do it. My work schedule has been (and is) hectic, so I never had the time but I figured that since I was so panicked about the blood in my underwear (coming from somewhere it should not ever if you’re a dude) I should make the appointment and follow through.

I went for my exam and during the procedure while they were injecting the dye into my vein it collapsed and instead of coursing through my body, probably, about half of it went into my right bicep. So for a couple days I had a bulging arm, much like popeye. After the procedure I felt silly going because I hadn’t had any further symptoms from the initial shock (aka blood.)

By Wednesday, the “allergies” only got worse and so I made a very quick follow up appointment. While rushing to that I get a call from my doctor. They had gotten back the results of my CT scan and it showed that my spleen and my prostate were enlarged and I was being referred out to a urologist for further examination.

After that lovely phone call, the optometrist (now a plucky, quirky young woman) told me I did in fact have viral pink-eye, the super contagious kind. This was after touching my eye with her bare hands (Smart) and swabbing my eyes with a giant q-tip. The cotton swab must have been just for fun because she did nothing with it and never mentioned it was being sent anywhere for testing. Her answer for my diagnosis was “good luck” and a referral to another optometrist.

Later that same day I got a call from the Comprehensive Blood and CANCER Center. They were following up because I was referred to them by my general practitioner (GP). They needed info to get the ball rolling, one piece of which was my blood work I had done the week prior.

The following day they called again to schedule a consultation for November where I (imagine) will be told I have prostate cancer.

To be fair, I don’t know this to be my prognosis. I am making a giant assumption but all the signs point to that and just like my certainty of having pink-eye I am certain that this is the case.

A few things come to mind, one of which (if there is one) god has a sense of humor. Prostate cancer is slow but trying to cure can result in sexual complications. I won’t die from this cancer, it will just kill any semblance of ever having sex again without the aid of a pump (hard pass).

I found out about a year ago that my uncle had been diagnosed with prostate cancer and instead of doing anything about it he let it sit and it has now spread to his bones. At the time I didn’t understand how one could do that. “It’s such an easy fix.” Sitting in the same position I can see where one would refuse to do anything, as that is the road I will most likely take.

The boyfriend, upon hearing my decision, was quiet. He didn’t really have any response. The husband however was annoyed and told me that my decision was bull shit and I was going to do whatever it took. While I respect his opinion more than likely I won’t be doing anything. What worth do I have if I can’t have sex? I know that’s such a petty thing to think but the psychology behind never having another erection is staggering. I remember a statistic about the army spending thousands on viagra, and I get it. For a very brief time I couldn’t get an erection and maintain it and it is a huge mind fuck for one to endure. (At least it was for me.)

As of right now, this is all just theory. I don’t have solid facts to determine anything or if what I assume to be reality is in fact true. The most comforting thing I do have is that I have two men who have repeatedly told me that they will be there for me and that is what’s getting me through, between my sudden outburst of tears (though those could just be from the pink-eye.)

Acceptance and Other Tales

Self-acceptance is something I was mildly blessed with early on. I say it that way because there is still much of myself I dislike or haven’t come around to realizing is just who I am. Yet even with that, I still have come a long way to have confidence. I think that is why I have to remind myself that not everyone has gone through the same or probably ever will.

When I was younger I fought the idea of being gay tooth and nail. I was raised in a deeply religious home, went to Christian school and being gay was never an option open to me. The idea of even telling anyone I had those thoughts was a flat out no. I grappled with my sexuality. I prayed, in tears, that God would take away those feelings. I didn’t want to be a sinner or disowned from my family. I wanted to have the “right” life with a wife and kids. Yet, there was no denying that I was not attracted to girls. The idea of being with them ended when it came to sex. I love women and could have a deeply emotional relationship but that was where it would end. I wouldn’t be in for the deepest part of commitment and whomever I would have been with would deserve better.

I very nearly lived a “straight” life. I had girlfriends, I did the song and dance that came with it and if it hadn’t been for one fateful night I probably would have driven down that hetero-road and dealt with the consequences that came with it.

The first person I ever told I was “bi” was my friend Becky on her birthday, which is only a week away. I had been so entranced with this boy named Sergio at her birthday that I felt compelled to tell her in the hopes maybe he too… As it turned out he was and he ended up being my first boyfriend and first heartbreak. I fell hard and fast for this kid. When he ended it with me, I was devastated. It took months before I was able to move on because I wasn’t ready. I am someone that is so desperate for love that I dive in without even thinking. I envision this life of bliss and when everything turns out to be the opposite I am hard-pressed to understand that the dream I had was only that. It’s probably a sickness.

The first few days after I told Becky I was so furious with myself. “Why did I do that,” I kept thinking. It wasn’t true. I wasn’t gay! But I was still in denial. It wasn’t until I met with that boy, for our first “date,” that something in me turned and I never wanted to go back to pretending. Being with him came easy. Sergio, or “the s” as I called him to hide his gender and identity, was my first kiss. Real kiss. He was my first boyfriend. And my first infatuation.

I thank him for making me who I am. I learned so much from the short experience. For one, don’t get involved with someone young because they (unlike my freak self) haven’t made peace with their sexual preference. After Sergio I only went for older guys because I couldn’t deal with the heartbreak I had felt when he went running. I know now that I came on too strong and he just wasn’t ready. As a result, I learned to shield myself from people. Well, at first. The moment I get a compliment or am shown just the slightest amount of attention all walls come tumbling down. I am just that desperate for love and attention.

I’m almost certain I’ve shared this story on here (or other blogs) countless times. I probably even wrote it in one of my columns for the Renegade Rip. I almost never told Becky my truth. I went to her bowling party and played my role as a straight dude well, and at the end of the night went to leave. However when I got to my car the battery was dead. I called my parents to help me out and while we waited for AAA I went back inside and whispered to her the words I never thought I would say. It’s strange to look at tiny moments as mundane as a dead car battery altering the entire course of one’s life, but it did for me.

My hope is that others can find the same peace I found when I finally just accepted me for me. My natural follow-up is that it is a hard journey, but in all honesty it wasn’t for me. I have lead the most charmed life. The only real moment that was rough was my mother’s acceptance. She was very much not on-board at the start, but since then she is someone else entirely. Sure there is bigotry, but I rather be at peace with myself than fighting a battle I would never win. Denying your truth is a tortured life, full of secrets and lies that only grow as time goes on.

P.S. May I suggest what spurred this blog post, it’s a song by Brandon Stansell “Hometown.”