Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Category: Gay

  • End Of the Engagement Woes

    Even planning to get married is expensive, I’ve put down $1,600 in non-refundable deposits since October. He fronted deposits for other things as well, but I don’t recall the amount right now.

    For the reception I booked the San Francisco Marriott Fisherman’s Wharf, I put down a non-refundable deposit of $900. That guaranteed me rooms for 50 nights (10 rooms on Thursday, 20 rooms on Friday and Saturday) at a special rate ($160 a night) and the ballroom. I thought that was a pretty good deal…. until I tried to cancel the reception.

    That bill is $12,989.44. I seriously said WTF when I saw it. So first I emailed and asked for explanations and was told: The contract I signed says that if we cancel for any reason I’m responsible for paying for any revenue they wouldn’t get for the rooms and the ballroom. So reviewing the contract with my boss, it does kind of look like I should have read it better than I did. So we drafted a letter that basically said:

    This letter is being provided in accordance with Section Five: Cancellation/Modification and Section 7.5 Dispute Resolution.

    Due to unexpected and unfortunate circumstances, it was necessary to totally cancel this event. Accordingly, notice was formally given to the hotel on April 21, 2011.

    Considering that notice was given more than 60 days prior to the scheduled June 25, 2011 event and prior to the May 27, 2011 cut-off date for room reservations, I request that we mutually agree to cancel our contract without penalty.

    In addition, I request that you refund my $900 deposit as, in accordance with 4.1 Deposit, it was provided solely for the purpose of securing the room block which has been released back to the hotel more than 60 days prior to the event.

    I thank you for the opportunity to have scheduled this event and am both sad and disheartened that it will not occur as had been anticipated.

    I should note here that on April 22, the hotel started to phone the guests who had booked rooms to let them know the event had been cancelled and if they still wanted their room they would have a new rate of $239 a night. Some of these guest hadn’t heard yet that the wedding was off so I received frantic phone calls asking what was up.

    The hotels sales manager contacted me back and said: awww, that’s too bad. When are you going to pay us our $12,989:

    I am very disappointed to hear that you will no longer be having your event beginning on June 23, 2011, with us at the San Francisco Marriott Fisherman’s Wharf.

    As I am xxxxxx xxxxx direct supervisor, I asked her to forward all questions regarding your contractual obligations to me so that I may answer you directly.

    Per the points that you address in your letter to us – please note the following:

    1.) We did receive formal notice of your intent to cancel your event on April 21, 2011. In your letter, you imply that this date is relevant to your cancellation obligations. The date of cancellation, however, has no bearing in section 5.1, which outlines your cancellation fees.

    2.) Your cancellation obligations are outlined in your contract dated October 20, 2010, in section 5.1, entitled “Group’s Cancellation”. Pursuant to this paragraph, “100% of all estimated revenues” are owed to the hotel at time of cancellation. Additionally, the definition of “estimated revenues” is listed in this paragraph. I believe that xxxx has sent you an invoice outlining all liquidated damage fees, totaling $13,889.44.

    3.) We have applied your $900 deposit to the above total, making your current outstanding amount owed at $12,989.44. I see that in your letter you request that we refund this $900 deposit to you. As xxxx mentions below, pursuant to section 4.1 of your contract, deposits are “non-refundable”.

    4.) As you mention in your letter, the cutoff date for your attendees to obtain your discounted Group Rate was indeed May 27, 2011. This date, however, has absolutely no relevance to your cancellation fees. All cancellation obligations are outlined in section 5.1.

    5.) You reference section 7.5, Dispute Resolution in your letter. We too always prefer to have contractual questions first addressed through informal means, versus immediately pursuing legal opportunities. So I appreciate the opportunity to address your questions and clarify your contractual obligations.

    Please let me know if there is any further clarification you require as well as your estimated timeline of payment.

    So I asked her if she didn’t think she could resell the rooms, to which I was told

    We have had this space blocked off for your event since October of 2010.
    Thus, we have turned away multiple opportunities from groups looking to
    contract both the guestrooms and function space.  Now that we are only
    two months away from your originally scheduled date, however, we do not
    anticipate being able to resell this space at this time.

    So, first I said, “it’s Gay Pride weekend in San Francisco, I think you’ll be able to sell the rooms” then I said: “Could I resell them on Craigslist? I know I could sell them”. Apparently not:

    It is a violation of our contract with Marriott International to allow
    anyone other than an approved Wholesaler, with a registered Wholesaler
    license and tax-exempt status, to “re-sell” guest rooms.

    So now I’m not sure what to do, I’d rather not think about the wedding at all, but these folks want $13,000 for rooms and space I can no longer want to use and am sure will be resold at a higher rate. I’m running out of options here and am looking for advice on what to do. One person told me to file bankruptcy, but I’m really not a fan of doing that. I just really don’t think I should have to pay for something that 1. I’m not going to use, 2. will be resold at a higher rate, and 3. reminds me that I was going to get married.

    *sigh*

  • Still Confused After All These Days

    Last night I dreamed that he wrote a long email to his friends and cc’d me to let them know the reason he decided to call it off was because I didn’t have good earning potential and that he really didn’t like cats after all. Seeing as how I’m not really sure what his reasons were these reasons seems about as sane as any other.

    I’ve been asked over and over again if there were any clues to this coming, what happened, and what happens now. It’s been suggested to me that I help clear up some of that so folks will have a better grasp of everything.

    He arrived on Saturday and I really didn’t have a clue that anything was really wrong until Tuesday. In fact I would say Monday was one of the best days ever and he had expressed having a really great day as well. We had dinner with two friends on Monday night and after those two friends knew we were deep in love – so did I.

    I had printed out a DC marriage license and suggested that he fill it out as he has better hand writing – and I found it odd that it sat there from Saturday until he left. That was the only big thing that should have given me warning that something was up.

    We didn’t argue about anything major, nothing that’ll really knock your socks off… some of it had to do with Dancing with the Stars, Glee, Cleanliness, neatness, vacations, and the definition of a relationship. He seemed to think that I needed to watch all the TV shows that he watched, and do all the things that he wanted to do.Part of his vacation plans each year are one week in NYC and one week in San Francisco, and I suggested that we might need separate vacations – not just because I’m not a fan of San Francisco – as I would only have 2 weeks of vacation a year at a new job (hopefully) and I’d like to enjoy that time. This was apparently the last straw for him.

    It seemed to me like he wanted me to like all the things he liked and do all the things he did. I told him that wasn’t reasonable and that a marriage wasn’t about me just fitting into his mold, but us making new molds together. His argument was that if we were together I should have a good time regardless of what it was – my retort was that if I took him to the dentist I’d still not have a good time. He just stared at me like I was speaking in tongues.

    Full disclosure here – he had expressed interest, when we planned this trip here, to go see the monuments. I was very clear that this wasn’t something I had any interest in doing. I’ve toured the monuments every time a friend or family member has come to visit and they really don’t do a thing for me – He’s been to DC several times and had seen them before. I suggested that he do this while I was at work, but he was adamant about it and I finally gave in and went with him. I was NOT over-joyed, but was a good tour guide, I pointed things out he might not have known about (the FDR and it turns out he hadn’t ever been) and talked about the cherry tree’s and we got to see the MLK Monument construction. I only complained during this tour after what had to be the 25th photo of the Washington Monument. As we left the Jefferson Memorial I reminded him that he wanted to see Dorothy’s Shoes – and he said it wasn’t important, so we headed home as we had a play to see that evening.

    At this point I really don’t think anything is wrong, the previous night we had a minor tiff and both apologized to one another and slept like normal people. But he’s apparently been holding on to somethings (including not seeing Dorothy’s Shoes, having to vacation in Maui with me for my birthday…) which he’s about to bring up. So we had the same argument again basically and then walked in virtual silence to the play. I really couldn’t tell you if the play was good, it might have been had he and I been talking to one another.

    On the walk home he finally started to talk to me and said he didn’t know what to say. So I opted to talk and it went something like this:

    “I don’t want to hurt your feelings or anything but I think I have to tell you something.” me

    “I completely agree” him

    “You don’t even know what I was going to say” I say and look at him, I can kind of tell what’s coming but can’t really believe it. “I think you should go to New York yourself this weekend and figure out what you really want.”

    “I don’t want to marry you.” he says

    We’re still in the street on the way to the house and it’s like I’ve been slapped in the face… but I say: “Ok”

    When we get to the house I tell him to sleep upstairs and I’ll sleep on the couch. I text my best friends to let them know what’s happening and try to get some sleep.

    (it’s Thursday) In the morning I heard him finish packing and I offered to print his Amtrak ticket info for Friday, he said “that would be nice” and I did so.

    When I cam down stairs and handed him his Amtrak info he looked at me and said:

    “Please don’t stay in touch, I’m not at all interested.”

    …

    Really, that’s how it happened – I’m really flabbergasted. I’ve cried quite a bit, I’ve had hours of lying in my bed trying to sleep and entirely to many hours thinking and replaying the whole thing. I keep wondering what I really did wrong or what the truth is, as none of this seems plausible at all. Several people have pointed out that it’s better we discover this now instead of waiting until I was fully immersed in TX.

    How am I doing? Well, I’m still pretty screwed up about the whole thing. I’m really tired of all the phone calls and texts from friends, yes I know they do it because they love me and they know it annoys me so I know that brings them joy. 😛

    I’ll get through this and move on to better and brighter things and maybe some day I’ll discover what really happened here… but apparently not today. 

  • Invitation to the Royal Wedding

    By now some of you have received your beautifully designed invitation to the Royal Wedding. Some of you have responded via the self addressed stamped envelope and that is very appreciated. You have no idea how much coordination goes into planning this kind of a shin dig and RSVPing with the provided materials is so very helpful. Sure phone calls, emails and telling the couple in person is a nice touch, but they went to the trouble of putting a stamp on the envelope, not only to help fund the Post Office, but to make each attendee counted on all the official forms. At the very least you should send it via mail and be counted like most of the other common folk. Bill and I are working diligently on the wedding details and head counts are very important in this phase of the planning…

    What’s that? There is another Royal Wedding? I hadn’t heard – I’ve been so wrapped up in contacting you to get you to actually mail the RSVP that I haven’t had time to notice other Queens getting hitched.

    What’s that? oh, those Royals… well sorry for any confusion.

    Sure our attendees wont be heads of state or celebrity soccer stars, but it will be during Gay Pride week in San Francisco and really doesn’t that sound a whole lot more fun than a bunch of photo hogs … well I guess SF Pride has those too… My point being everyone who’s anyone will be in San Francisco for my special day. At least I hope so, it’d be nice if they actually RSVP’d. Why is this such a big deal for you folks? The card  saying yes or no is there, the envelope (which is stamped and addressed) is included – how hard can it be to seal this thing and drop it in the mail? The Post Office needs work folks, help them out here.

    Some people, who shall remain nameless, begged and pleaded for an invitation to the wedding and then promptly declined. Like I knew you would Julie Zielger!  Oh… sorry about that, I forgot. She still managed to drop the card in the mail and if SHE can do it, really anyone can do it.

    If you haven’t received and invitation at this point chances are you probably aren’t going to get one. I’m sorry but there is only so much room and only so much food I’m willing to purchase. I’d be grateful since you don’t have to fly all the way to San Francisco.

    One of the most often asked questions is “Can you legally get married in California now?” and well, the answer is no. There was a time in California when same-sex couples could marry, but people who think the Church should be able to decide what’s legal have put a stop to freedom of love – temporarily. Bill and I will have to fly to Washington, DC after the ceremony in San Francisco to be legally wed in our nation’s capital… that is unless that is the next thing on the Tea Party’s chopping block. Well, I’m hopeful that we’ll be able to pull it off without a hitch… so to speak.

    For those of you that weren’t invited, once again so sorry to hear that you wont get to come, I’m hoping to get a webcast of the actual ceremony and I’ll be posting that information when it’s available… see, you don’t have to dress up, don’t have to fly all the way across the country and you can watch from the comfort of your own home.. unless something entertaining is on.

  • Chapter Five

    so at this point I’ve given up the whole charade of making my life fiction… and I’m telling the truth instead, I’ll have to edit the parts of Chapter 1 where I talk about things that weren’t true.. oh well

    Chapter Five

    Just the act of keeping a secret gave me stomach cramps on and off for about a year. It was bad enough that I had been in and out of the doctor’s office trying to figure out what was wrong with me and no one had a clue. I didn’t think it was the secret that seemed silly; a secret couldn’t do that could it? I guess it depends on how big of a secret.

    A bunch of us boys had gone camping with one of Mom’s friends that weekend, there was some festival that all her friends and her wanted to attend so we were sent camping. Just two tents in our area and yes they were large enough, but soon it was me and the adult sharing a tent and a sleeping bag as all the other spots were taken. I really didn’t think anything of it and soon enough I was asleep in the tent.

    I woke up rather startled when I felt a hand on my pants unbuttoning the top button and soon the zipper being pulled down – I bolted up in bed, left the tent and lit a smoke (I was a rebellious teen who smoked and drank already at the age of 12) making sure to redo my pants. He stayed in the tent and I just chain smoked for a while, but didn’t do anything else. Nothing else happened that weekend while camping and I didn’t think too much of it after – when he dropped us off at my Mom’s I overheard him relating the story of having a dream he was with a beautiful girl and when he went to fondle her found something unexpected. He and my Mom laughed it off, but I knew he was establishing a cover for himself in case I said anything – which I didn’t.

    A smart kid would have kept his distance at that point I think, but he was the first adult male to pay attention to me in my memory so I wasn’t sure if this was wrong or not, I did have a feeling of uneasiness at first but that was quickly replaced with love and admiration.

    In the beginning of the seduction of me he would bribe me with alcohol or cigarettes to get me to try new things, sucking on his cock or kissing him, but after a while I would do it without any external reward at all, I spent most of my free time with him.  He came home from a weekend away and said he brought some porn for us to watch, when he put the video in he pretended to be shocked that it was all guys, claimed he bought it from a large bin of unmarked tapes. I don’t know why he was still playing that particular part, but I didn’t buy it I knew he liked what we were doing and at that point so did I.

    I thought he loved me and that I’d likely spend the rest of my life with him, never mind the fact that he’d also taken advantage of 11 other young boys some of them while I was there participating – he would be mine I was sure. At twelve years old I didn’t really have concepts of what a lasting relationship was, most every adult I knew had been divorced at least once so this was new to me. He never hinted that he would keep me forever and knowing something about pedophilia now I know he would have needed a young boy, he would have little interest in me in a few years.

    Why I didn’t say anything? I don’t know, I didn’t want to ruin it probably. He never asked me to be quiet about it, but it was understood that this would not be accepted behavior somewhere in my consciousness. I never told any of my friends nor did I write about it in my diary it was all internalized though and I would frequently wonder where this was all going if anywhere at all.

    He and I took a trip to Chicago together one weekend and I had some initial fears that he would sell me off or introduce me to other adults that would have their way with me but none of that happened – I met some of what he claimed were his family and we turned around for home.

    During all this I started to get my stomach cramps, they were painful and had me in tears most of the time that they would happen. Nothing seemed to make them better or go away and there were no triggers, it would just start to hurt for no reason at all. At first my Mom and Grandmother didn’t believe me, but the pain was real and soon we’d be at the doctors. They ran all kinds of tests and x-rays, he even came in for visits during one hospital visit where they were running extensive tests. I wonder now if the nurses and doctors didn’t spot signs of abuse when they were examining me or if they just ignored that as a symptom.

    When the end came it was a boy younger then me that finally told an adult, and then everything came apart. All the boys that spent time with him were questioned and we were all kept apart from one another. I think everyone of us were called to court to testify about what he did to us. I remember them asking me questions before court, but I only remember one specific question “Did he make you and the other boys do anything together?” or something to that effect, and I said no. I think they asked several times, but each time I said no and I know they knew I was lying. I was convinced that if I admitted to those things that I too would be in trouble and be considered a monster as well. The way my Mom had been looking at me I knew she already thought I was a monster, and it hurt. Sitting in court facing him and feeling utterly alone was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. There were a ton of people in the courtroom but he was the only person I could see. I knew I was betraying him when I sat on that stand, but I think he knew that I didn’t have a choice. Not once during my testimony did he look up at me, and God I wanted him to. I wanted him to look up and reassure me, make me feel better or give me a knowing look that would let me know it was all a dream. Once he went off to jail I would be alone again and no one would love me. Sick isn’t it?

    The seduction/abuse led to years of therapy (mostly against my will) where old men would ask questions and I would lie to them, or occasionally tell them the truth – that usually ended badly. I’ve even looked at Rorschach tests for hours on end, didn’t make me feel better. It really seemed to me that these professionals were more interested in finding out what was going on in my head and not really interested at all in how to make me feel better about what had happened – maybe they weren’t supposed to do that, but I sure wanted that. Perhaps if I had told the truth consistently they would have seen that I needed and wanted to feel better about the whole mess. Mostly I feared that if they heard the truth they’d lock me up in a room or put me in jail, the thoughts that traversed through my head weren’t thoughts that the general population would accept, somehow I knew. Once Mom came to a session and I told her I had no steady father figure and didn’t know better – this was a slap in the face for her as at this point she’d been married three times already and the steady stream of men coming out of her bedroom was confusing even to a twelve year old.

    So the question on most people’s minds is “Did being abused make you gay?” and I really don’t think so, even before he touched me I had thoughts about Superman and Batman kissing and sleeping in the same bed – not that I had any clue what they’d do in bed together at that point. For one Halloween I dressed as a woman and no I don’t think that had any effect either – didn’t make me like drag either thank God.

    Friends in high school who I let know about what happened made it their goal to have me have sex with a girl, but they were unsuccessful, there were a few girls that were interested but I wasn’t. I waited to have sex with a girl until I was nineteen years old, and then I only did so at the insistence of friends who didn’t want me to turn twenty a virgin. I was nervous, but I knew what to expect as some of the porn I’d watched was hetero. The sex was ok, nothing that really made me want to do it again there was no emotional attachment to this girl. I didn’t have sex with a man again until I was twenty-one and then again at twenty-four, it was never something that I sought to have – a part of me believed that any sex was bad and wanting it made me a bad person. That’s a little emotional damage from the events of my youth that I did eventually get over.

    It does make me not want to have children as I’ve read time and time again that those who were abused become abusers in an endless cycle. Which is really silly, I’m attracted to older guys not younger guys – always have been. People in my life that know my history have never once shown any concern when I’m near their children – for which I’m grateful, I have a ton of adopted nephews and nieces that mean the world to me. I’d probably make a great father but fear keeps me from wanting to. I don’t fear being a violent abusive husband like two or three of Mom’s husbands were, I’ve never been violent.

    So it really all boils down to fear. Fear that a man who was hurting me wouldn’t love me, fear that other people would find out about this love and fear that I will be stuck in an endless cycle of abuse of others. You can outgrow fear, or so I’ve read, you can establish a foundation of hope and trust amongst your friends, family and power greater than yourself so strong that fear cannot penetrate it. I tell myself that some fears are healthy, that’s where my foundation sometimes fails and lets the worries in.

  • Wedding Wrench

    Planning a wedding can seem like an insurmountable challenge. There are things that keep coming up that I haven’t thought about, things that I thought about but not enough about… it can seem like a lot to get done. Fortunately everything is still months away and will likely go smoother then I anticipate right now.

    I sent an email to a hotel in San Francisco for the reception giving them the parameters of the wedding (e.g. how many people, dates, vegetarian, non-drinkers, and so on) and the next day, as promised, I received a call asking me more details about the event which I provided. I was told someone else would be contacting me about specifics.

    When that someone contacted me it suddenly became clear to her that Bill and I were both guys, I don’t know how she missed it earlier. She then said “Oh, I was told this was a wedding and didn’t realize it was a commitment ceremony, I’m very excited for you both”.

    That was the last I heard from her, I was handed off to someone else who apologized for the “confusion and the change of hands” and said she would be my point of contact from here on out.

    I know it may seem silly and petty to some folks, but it’s not a commitment ceremony – it’s a wedding. I am going to marry the man I love in a church, in front of the people who love us and in the eyes of God. I may not be fortunate enough to get the same rights and privileges that straight couples get on that same day, but I will someday and I resent that you think my special day is “less than”.

    I want someone to explain how my love of someone of the same-sex is somehow not as valid as the eight times my mother married, the three times Rush Limbaugh married or countless others have been married.

    While we were in San Francisco two weekends ago we heard talk that the State of California plans to validate the marriages of any same-sex couples that were married before Prop 8 is finally struck down for good, and they believe it will be. I hope so, but it really doesn’t matter, as far as I’m concerned and as far as the God of my understanding is concerned – Bill and I will be married on June 25.

  • San Francisco – 2010

    Although I’ve never been a fan of the city, I just got back from an extended weekend in San Francisco with Bill where I grew to appreciate it more (thanks honey).  The trip out there didn’t go as smoothly as I would have liked (lack of coffee and good customer service were not helping) but once I arrived it was nice to see Bill there waiting for me.

    We stayed with one of Bill’s friends, Dorothy, who has a great view of the city and if it’s not foggy a view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Our first night there we went for a walk in the Golden Gate Park, which was beautiful, the weather was just about perfect and the company really was. It had been a long day so we were in bed pretty early.

    Saturday Bill was kind and made sure we were up and about early so I could get to a coffee shop, we found a nice little place and the coffee was just right. Afterwards we spent the rest of the day with another friend of Bill’s, Patrick and a few of his friends touring the city. We hit Twin Peaks, Japan Town, Cable Cars, Zachary’s Pizza, Humphry Slocombe Ice Cream (where I tried several of the flavors but settled on “Elvis (the fat years)” which was quite good) and many shops in the Castro.

    Sunday, we again went out for coffee early, intended to go to the Folsom Street fair early, but ended up napping (and snoring if you believe Dorothy – Bill and I both deny we snore) while Dorothy, a nurse, went off to volunteer her skills at the first aid station at the festival. That afternoon Bill and I did get to the fair, briefly, before walking to the Castro and just being touristy until that evening when we went to the Castro Theater to see the classic film Metropolis which, despite being made in ancient times, was really quite good.

    Monday morning we went out for coffee and breakfast before heading off to the church where we plan to be married in June, The Interfaith Center in the Presidio. It’s perfect, cozy, sweet and just right…. I know, I know… but it really just felt like the right place to come to get married. Bill and I met with Sandi, the director there, and made arrangements for the day, we also asked her to officiate the event. She was wonderful and we hope you will think so too.

    After our visit to the church Bill and I drove up to Bodega Bay, CA where Alfred Hitchcock shot the film The Birds. If you didn’t know, Bill is a big movie buff, and this was always something he hoped to go visit, so we did. We  used my phone for it’s GPS and by the time we arrived my battery was dead so I don’t have photos to post from there, but we did have a really nice time there and the cooler weather was a nice change (it was in the upper 90s in SF most of the visit and remarkably cooler on the coast). Then we drove up Highway 1 for a bit before stopping in a very gay friendly town near the Russian River for Ice Cream and then headed home through some wine country.

    Then, sadly, I headed for home on Tuesday morning. Bill will be there visiting friends for another week. Fortunately, I’ll get to see him in San Antonio in just two more weeks :-).

  • Reflections on a Starr

    My sister Amy asked me to post some fond memories of my Grandmother Starr the other day on Facebook. At the time I couldn’t recall any pleasant memories as I have a particularly unpleasant one that happened during one of our last communications.

    My Grandmother is old, but not dying to the best of my knowledge, but there was a recent scare and everyone got all sentimental. Well, I’ve kind of distanced myself, so I didn’t… I’m just mental everyday. She must be in her late 80s or early 90s at this point and I haven’t seen her since my mother died, which I think was in 2004, but I can’t recall, at my Mother’s funeral and Grandmother didn’t even know who I was, so I can’t imagine that she’d remember me today either.

    I was told that my Grandmother provided food and shelter to my mother, my sister (Dawn) and I when I was a newborn – as my father was always drunk (or so they say). She often provided food for my family in later years when my mother was always drunk.

    When Dawn and I were fairly young we would join our Grandmother at Nuclear Protest rallies where she would take up her guitar on the large stage and sing protest songs, songs that she had written and speak out against nuclear power. Dawn and I would sing together songs that were familiar to us (Barbara Mandrell, Oak Ridge Boys, Alabama… mostly country stuff) on the stage to much fanfare while Grandmother played the guitar. It could have launched our careers and turned us into 1980s version of Justin Beiber, but alas – I was a big old drama queen and would throw fits if Dawn started the song on the wrong beat or sounded off key… yes, on stage. Me? I was always on. 😉

    The family curse (that when you become a teenager you can’t live with Mom anymore) sent me to live with Grandmother. I was horrible to her, often stealing money from her purse, cutting the screen windows to use the screen as a filter for bongs, burned bibles (one I understand was a Family Bible – whatever that means) and just being a general shit head. She tolerated a lot of shit from me and my friends while I lived there, she should get recognition for that if nothing else.

    I will always remember her bringing music into my world, exposing me to the Dulcimer, the Guitar, the Piano. She’s the one that got me writing, she kept a diary and wrote her own songs and stories. She really was/is something special.

    In 1998, when I came out of the closet after I had moved to Washington, DC, I received a letter from her basically damning me for my “choice” to be gay. That’s the most current memory I have of her and it’s not a pleasant one. Since that letter I’ve had very little to do with her or her other children – truly I’m probably better off.

    I hope that in this life those who got to know her, got to know the parts of her that inspired, taught and sang to me and not the parts that led her to condemn me to hell.

  • Unsettling

    To be honest with you I’ve dumped guys for quite a few shallow reasons. Reasons that some friends have suggested were worth overlooking if the other parts of him were acceptable. I’ve disagreed on numerous occasions – which is why I’ve been single so long probably. However, if I’m going to invest in something long term I certainly don’t want a flawed version.

    For the record I’ve dumped guys for the following reasons (just a small sampling, the whole list is much too long):

    • Bad breath – Once is perhaps understandable, twice is unforgivable but everyday, all the time is a deal breaker
    • Obsessions – one particular guy was very obsessed with Christmas – tears everyday, it was just overwhelming
    • Angry Penis – you know the kind red, bulbous, throbbing. I really need this thing to look happy, not pissed off that I’m interested in it.
    • Odd penis – it bent the wrong way, looked droopy and sad – as I said earlier, this thing should look happy that I want to spend so much time with it – I’m happy, shouldn’t it be happy too?
    • Odd first name – I’m not going to tell you what it was, but I couldn’t find myself whispering it, or moaning it or even calling to the kitchen
    • Sick Dog – this one proves I’m heartless, I didn’t know the guy that well and helping to take care of his sick dog while he was traveling just didn’t fit in my plans (he also had a small penis – the sick dog was the last straw … no, it wasn’t quite THAT small)

    Now I’ve heard people talk on both sides of the coin: settle or don’t settle. My Mother had been married 8 (it’s a guesstimate some were questionably done) times by the time she died and I really have no intentions of following her path to matrimony. Why on earth would you want to go through that so many times, that most of the guys ended up being real losers was a testament to her picker. She should have stopped at number two, all her children had been born at that point. For all I know the men actually wanted to marry her, but that seems odd to me, would you want to marry someone that had been married 5 previous times? 6?

    I’ve been fortunate to have lots of guys fall in love or lust with me. A few have become obsessed with me, one is a stalker and the police have been notified. I don’t know what I do that has this effect on them, but it really does happen. If I could have found a way to turn it off I likely would have. In most of those cases I’ve not fallen in love with them, I faked it for a while but kept looking for that spark that I hoped would be there and it just never arrived.

    Others told me that the spark was a myth, that it didn’t happen that way and I should try to look at love more realistically. That I should have given some of those guys more time or another chance. Truthfully, I didn’t really want to, once I set my mind to the end it’s the end.

    So I refused to settle. I still refuse to settle. If he’s going to be mine until the end of time, I want him to be just how I want him.

    Good things come to those who wait. I found the guy I’d been waiting for. I got my spark, he got his. He says he loves Christmas, this doesn’t bother me, he likes the Wizard of Oz, which does bother me, but he hasn’t insisted that I have to watch it with him (don’t get any ideas). We’ve just started our journey, but we’re both very hopeful for the future.

  • Uphill Battles

    I’m sad about Maine. Once again in the land of the free, people have gone to the polls to deny others the same rights that others take for granted. I say for granted because hetero couples get married all the time and then divorced – rinse lather repeat. Divorce rates in Maine are 13th (Source) in the nation. My biological mother was married 8 separate times. But if two guys or two girls want to get married and live together with the same rights and responsibilities of a hetero couple this state says NO.

    Our side raised more money than theirs, I donated several times promoted on Facebook and via email. I’ve talked to people about the issue, I know a lot of our side was up there working in the field, making calls from all over the nation.

    It’s disheartening and it makes me want to quit giving money and quit caring. It makes me want to quit struggling in this battle and just let them win. For only a moment.They want us to give up, they want us to be quiet, they want us to accept less-than-equal and we can’t let them.

    This was only a battle in this war we’ve been on, only one defeat today. Tomorrow is another day, another opportunity to educate, another chance to win.

    Other groups that have had to fight for their rights faced the same ignorance, hatred and church filled bigotry and managed to overcome. So shall we, one person at a time if we have to, this nation of ours will live up to the promise of freedom and equality that we deserve.

  • Coming Out

    For the past few days I’ve donated my status on Facebook for National Coming Out Day to say the following:

    “Jamez Ronald Prudlick is gay. There are 3 days until National Coming Out Day and I pledge to have heartfelt conversations for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender equality.”

    I think providing resources to people that are interested in coming out of the closet is very important, I didn’t have knowledge of resources when I first came out and they could have made the event much less traumatic. At 27 years old I still had plenty of old ideas about what being gay meant and I was terrified that if I came out I might be more susceptible to AIDS, become a creepy guy that always lived alone and was avoided by the general public, that my wrist would have to be a lot more limp than it currently was and I could look forward to a life where I was considered wrong. (A lot of that comes from growing up in the Midwest in small towns and some of it comes from lots of poor gay role representation on television back in the day).

    I “came out” to my two best friends in 1997. I asked them both out to dinner to “discuss something important” and let them know I was buying – probably a big clue that something was up as I was poor. The days and nights leading up to the dinner were filled with restless sleep, doubts, upset stomach… it was horrible. My mind kept asking the same questions over and over: What were they going to think of me, would this be the end of my friendships and would I be outcast and ostracized by them for being a sexual deviant. Why did they need to know anyway, why does anyone have to know? If I’m careful maybe I could just keep quiet about it and be fine. What if I just haven’t met the right girl (OK, I didn’t really think that last one, but I think the thought is funny.). I hadn’t even come out to people in my 12 step meetings, I didn’t know who I could trust or who would just hate me outright for something I had no control over.

    “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself” – FDR

    My friends were understanding, loving, and terribly worried about me as I had stressed the hell out of myself with needless worry. They said they knew, and had probably always known and “can we have dessert now”? The two most important people in my life had accepted me unconditionally and that meant the world to me. Wow!

    That really didn’t make it any easier for me when I decided it was time to tell my family. I had less irrational fear for this event, but still had a bit of worry that I would lose the family that meant so much to me. I did work myself into a little bit of stress, but when the time came Ma and Rhonda were both very patient and understanding. Yep, they had known all along and it didn’t matter to them one bit. My Ma said that when I find him we will both always be welcome in her home – which is just about the most wonderful thing she could have said to me at that moment. My Ma’s one hell of a cool lady.

    So during the time period that I’ve been lending my status to the National Coming Out Day campaign a close minded, Fox News watching, Wisconsinite “friend” from when I was a kid posted “it’s only 6 more days until coming out day is over and all the faggots go back in the closet.” Having had endless arguments with this person and his wife about President Obama’s birth certificate, equal rights, and other trivial matters I decided this person could be un-friended on Facebook and it would probably be for the best. That person and their attitudes towards gay people is even more reason to help support gay people during their coming out moment and to be open to talking about the issue when asked.

    If you’re in a closet somewhere afraid to come out, try to remember what FDR says above. It’s not always a pleasant experience and there are examples of people that don’t understand why I have to come out and of people that have broke off all contact just because of it, that is their right. Hopefully you’ll have understanding loved ones that can support you and show you that it’s going to be ok – that no matter what they’ll always be there for you. I hope and pray that your coming out can be as wonderful a release for you as it was for me.

    There is a lot of love out in the world, a lot of understanding too, don’t let the flares of ugliness deter you from trying to enjoy life to it’s fullest extent – there is hope out there, hope that all people can be equal in our great country and that someday men and women of all ages, that happen to be gay, wont have to live in a fear filled closet.