The Never Ending Apology

Lets say I’m a comedian, politician or what have you. I’m at a big shindig and tell the following joke.

“Some friends of an old gentleman decided to get him something special for his birthday. They bought him a hooker. She went to his house and knocked on the door. Upon opening it she said “Hi I am your birthday present.” He responded, “What am I supposed to do with you?” “I am yours for super sex”, she answers. He replies: “Well I am 90 years old so I will take the soup.”

Chances are I got lots of laughs, but how many people have I offended? Lets count.

1. the Religious Right (come on, they are offended by everything)
2. Politicians (they have to be offended to appease the Relious Right that might vote for them.
3. Parents (the parents who feed their children ritalin like it’s candy, but wont take away their game consoles when they are fat)
4. and possibly… Old men (obviously the old men that are politicians – are there other kinds of politicians?)

I also might be offended, I’m a man… and lets face it… I’m old in some people’s eyes. I’m also offended cause I’m gay, and having this heterosexual lifestyle thrown in my face is just not right.

Rule 42. Don’t take yourselves to seriously

Comedians make jokes, if you can’t take a joke you may want to consider doing away with entertainment in your life; but you should certainly not go see comedians. Rosie O’Donnel is not so much a comedian any more, but she certainly does manage to stick her foot in her mouth alot. Donald Trump is no comedian, but he has money so you laugh and he may pay you.

If the incessant apologizing continues, I’m going to demand apologies from any black comedian I’ve ever heard tell a white man joke. I’ll also demand reimbursment for every advertising campaign that misled me, jail time for politicians that lied, and mental health appointments for being forced to look at bad Hollywood makeovers.

The Trip

I arrived in Fort Lauderdale, on Thursday night around 5:00 pm. Michael K picked me up and took me to the resort, his place and then to dinner. It was a balmy 80 degrees, the sun was setting it was gorgeous.

It was a pleasure to see Michael again and hear about the goings on in his life. He looks well, and I miss him, but also loved his house and wish I lived in Ft Lauderdale… well, part of me wishes that.

The resort was simply stunning, Royal Plams, the room was immaculate. The pool a comfortable temperature, and the hot tub VERY HOT. They did a marvelous job with the foilage and the whole setting of the place. I did not see any men on my first night there, I went upstairs and watched CSI… yes I know, my priorities are a bit skewed.

Friday morning I awoke to cold, and rain… it stayed cold and rainy until I left on Sunday morning. I am not kidding. To add some more to the mix was wind from every direction imaginable.

I did go into the pool when the rain would cease, and I spent some time in the hot tub… until… my skin started to burn, chemical burn… seems the chlorine flow for the hot tub was on full blast and the water in there burned sking, reddened skin and even took off hair from parts of my body… ah the joys of vacation.

It was Saturday afternoon when I noticed a new arrival at the resort, yes there had been others, but no one was worth writing about. The new arrival, his name was William, was very handsome in his white robe, cigarette smoke billowing out of his goatee encircled mouth from his balcony in the pool suite. He smiled a knowing smile at me, and I truly believe I blushed. We played the glancing/smiling game for a while and I mentioned to the other guests that he was my objective. He came down to the pool, dropped the robe to reveal a barrel chest, with just the right amount of hair and tan all over. He then swam over to the side of the pool where I was reading and stared at me.

“What are you reading?” he queried

“Just a collection of short storys.” I answered, standing at attention while still sitting down.

He smiled at me and motioned me to come into the pool with him. I jumped into the pool and we had a marvelous time fondling each other in the pool he had me very excited and about to explode before I knew what was happening. We retired to his room and had some joyous foreplay before I begged him to take me… it was wonderful.

In the shower later he washed me, running the bar of soap in circles all over my body. “Just relax” he said. His hand rubbing me in every spot imaginable. He was really very sensual and romantic.

I did not fall in love with William, but he certainly knows how to show a guy a good time.

Sex

This Friday, December 8, 2006; marks two years since I have had sex…. With another person.

Why?

Well, I imagine there are lots of clever, spiritual, or meaningful reasons that I could give — but none of them would be true.

See what happens when I have sex, is I fall in deep lust almost immediately, sad really … I know. And the last time it happened was with Mr. Wright, nice name.. Who I had met in Florida in 2004 and had a fabulous time with. Believe it or not, he and I talked (email and phone) for another year before I finally asked him if it was ever going to go anywhere (he did say no, and I did move on).

At school last year, there was very little that I found worth looking at, let alone pretending to be interested for a quickie. I don’t want to put forth the kind of energy, that I think needs to be put forth, for something that is not going to last. Hey, I’m selfish that way.

Monday night on the metro home, there was a cute guy with an HRC hat giving me the eye, and I was giving him the eye back. Then I got off on my stop, smiled and him, and he smiled back – sounds lovely, I know. Tonight I saw him again, and this time, I saw what appeared to be the wedding band on his finger. So, I’m done playing eye games now, you may be cute, but your taken. If you’re not taken, don’t play with me.

What makes me happy about men, but doesn’t mean I’m going to marry them.. Is the little things. “Hello handsome” – says the doctor or the UPS guy stopping his truck (tonight, I’m not kidding) and saying: “Happy Birthday, I should have told you that earlier today.” he’s cute, but he might be married too. I’m not opposed to eye candy, just stupid games.

Speaking of DJ, the love of my life… he did send an email a while back and said we should hang out… but he’s married, and he’s married to a nice guy and I just can’t do that to him. Part of me might always want DJ, and most of me realizes if I had him I’d have to realize he would never be faithful to me, that’s just the way he is. Would he love me always? Yes, I think he and I have that… but would I be willing to put up with it? I’m not so sure. So I told him that I still loved him, and “hangin out” would be dangerous for us, and he had to realize I still loved him. His response: Always. Now I could read into that and spend time figuring out what that one word means to him and me or to him and his partner … or whatever, ok, maybe I have already a little bit, but it isn’t worth my time. There is a song by Lonestar, Not a Day Goes By, that pretty much sums up DJ: not one day goes by that I don’t think of him… and I don’t masturbate everyday so it’s not all sexual.

At 36 years of age, I do begin to wonder when or if I’ll find him. I wonder what he is, what is it about him that is going to make me realize he’s the one. I refuse to lower my standards though, and its not like I’m looking for a Brad Pitt type … I just keep looking for the one that wants to brush his teeth with me at night, hold my hand when we walk down the street, or even come and meet my parents.

Will I be sexless and loveless for another 365 days? Likely not. I fly to Ft Lauderdale tomorrow, where I’ll:

Meet a nice guy,
Have sex with him
maybe more than once
was that TMI?
Fall head over heels for him
Then come back to DC
Realize it’s not going anywhere
(we’ve seen this can take some time to sink into my head)
Become utterly disappointed in all men

Rinse, lather, repeat… Happy Birthday

Posted in Men

Six

I’m 36, and trying to decide if that means anything. I mean sure, 6 * 6 = 36, but that can’t mean anything right? 12/06/2006 lots of sixes in there also… 6*2 =12, 06 (duh), and 2006. 12*3 = 36 and of course 3*2=6. Number, math who needs its. Just one more strange coincidence…

Of course this year I also turned 12 years sober, there are two more. The Twelve Steps of AA, the Twelve Traditions, Promises, Principles… lots of 12s more so than 6s. Bill Wilson (the founder of AA) thought there were 6 steps in the Oxford groups, and based his 12 on those 6. The Oxford groups dismiss this notion, and say they never had any steps. But, if they did, perhaps the number six has more spiritual meaning than any of us realized.

Perhaps all those times in Vegas, when you bet on “Lucky Number 7”, had you bet on the real number, 6, you would have won. Cats with 9 lives? Lets claim dyxlexia, say the person to come up with this just saw a 6 and not a 9 at all… dang, are my cats doomed to pass on at any moment?

36, just another number, just another year surrounded by the best of people. I’ll never be able to find anything clever about 37… next year, we’ll just go off somewhere sunny and relax… oh, wait, I do that already.

The Next Right Thing

If AA has taught me any one thing it is to do the next right thing. Put one foot in front of the other, pick up that piece of trash and toss it in the garbage, pay this bill or be to work on time. So I trudge along, for the most part, doing the next right thing that may come across my path.

I would think this would lead me to a life of poverty, sure I’d be broke but I’d be a saint — this is, however, erroneous. I have a really good job, make really good money and am recognized as a superb worker (I’ve been told this so many times I am starting to believe it). I have a host of friends, none of them fair weather, who have stood by me through thick and thin. [I should note at this point, that my English professor would cringe at the amount of cliche’ I’m using. ]

I’m in my last week of being 35 years old. I’ve never been married or had any long term boyfriends (DJ, while the love of my life, does not count). I’ve recently attended school and will continue to take courses for the next several years.

I guess it’s just odd to look back at my first days of being sober, making $6.50 an hour and barely scraping by.

Posted in AA