Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Category: Men Behaving Badly

  • Catfished

    Catfished

    “Catfishing is when someone sets up a fake online profile to trick people who are looking for love, usually to get money out of them.”

    So I met a guy online (Bear411.com), handsome, charming, complimentary. A nice guy who really liked me. He had only one photo on the site, and I have a rule – that I break all the damn time – that says I should say NO to those profiles. His profile also had a red flag of not having any narrative. He’s in another state, Rhode Island, but all the really hot guys seem to be in another state.

    It started out innocent enough. He looked at my profile so I looked at his. He was handsome, I told him so by signing his guestbook..

    “You’re handsome” I post on his profile

    “Thanks so are you” he replies

    “How are you doing tonight?” I ask

    “Just looking at your gorgeous photos” he responds [should have known then that he was a liar]

    “How old are you?” I inquire, again nothing on his profile

    “I’m 57, 5’4″, stocky build, single” I respond with my stats, even though they are on my profile, men don’t read. I like his stats, he’s a little short but that’s fine.

    “Nice” and then “what would you do on our first date” [this gets my guard down, he’s not just after sex, he’s interested in more than that… it increases my interest in him]

    “Lots of kissing, get to know you, hold your hand and take you out to eat. Stare into your eyes” [he has blue eyes in his photo]

    The narrative goes on and on and gets steamy after a while. Our interests are the same, our sexual appetite synchs. He’s a great chatter and I find myself liking him more and more. We chatted on Bear411 for about an hour back and forth.

    At the same time we both post “If you want you can text me at 555-1212”

    I go to bed that night with pleasant thoughts of a guy I just met online.

    We start chatting right away in the morning. He’s pleasant and tells me he can’t stop looking at my photos online. I send him a few photos directly to his number, he likes those too and continues to tell me how sexy and attractive I am. I’m so into him, he’s really a sweet romantic and great guy… The texting gets very sexual and that’s all good stuff, I mean really good. Perfect even.

    I ask for a few photos of him and he sends them, about 4 photos and he’s still just as handsome and didn’t suddenly turn into a troll or anything. I call him to hear his voice – no personalized voicemail but I leave a message and tell him how sweet I think he is and that I’m looking forward to meeting him. He calls back, he’s at work and can’t talk but wanted to let me know he got my call.

    We text back and forth for days, I let him know I’d love to come visit and start looking at flights to Providence. He says that he works most weekends and only has one off a month and wants me to wait until he can get time off from his supervisor. He’s doing well at his job and getting promoted soon, being trained for a better position. I call again, get his voicemail and leave a message.

    I tell other people about him, they are all excited and asking questions. A few ask if I am sure he’s not leading me on or lying to me. One asks if we’ve Facetimed and I say we have, but we haven’t.. I’m not going to be scammed, I’m very internet savvy. People are happy that I met this nice guy, even if he’s in Rhode Island.

    One day he texts me that he’s sick. People get sick and it’s the Covid world now so this doesn’t shock me and I don’t lose interest. The next day he’s at the emergency room and then admitted to the hospital. I ask him for a photo in his cute little gown and he sends me one. I don’t notice the date on the photo.

    I show concern for his health, ask questions about how they’re treating him. Try to discover what’s wrong exactly. Ask if he wants me to send flowers to the hospital and he declines. I call to chat with him, he doesn’t answer so I leave a message. He texts later that he was sleeping and sorry he missed my call.

    He’s texting less and less. I attribute it to his being sick and in the hospital. He lets me know they took him into surgery on Sunday for a twisted intestine.

    Now in the back of my mind I remembering when I was in the hospital for a few things over the years but they never took me into surgery on a Sunday, so I have some doubts at this point if he’s being honest with me or maybe he’s just trying to blow me off.

    A few days later they release him from the hospital and he’s “safe at home in my little bed”. I’m happy for him and glad he’s home safe. He tells me a nurse came to check on him at 12 and would be back in the afternoon again to see him. This too I find suspicious, what kind of insurance does this guy have that that would happen.

    I poke at him that he could call me and I’d answer, he promises to call the next day.

    He doesn’t call. I don’t prompt him to call.. I want to, but I control myself.

    The next night while doing something on TikTok that required me to show a photo from years ago and one from today I see his hospital photo at the beginning of my photo feed. That’s curious to me, why would it be there. I open the photo and look at the metadata and see that it’s dated for October 2006.

    Now I’m convinced he’s telling stories… but still want to believe he’s not. Suzanne suggests I insist we Facetime, which I now think is good advice. I text him that night “We need to video chat as soon as you’re feeling better”

    I don’t hear from him for days. I don’t text or call him. Scared him off with the video chatting I guess.

    Now, he didn’t ask me for money and I’m not sure he would have. I think he was just after the romance of it and gets off on that. But it’s possible in a few days he would have asked me to send him money, I was already wary and don’t think I would have done that even if I hadn’t been.

    He did text me back after three days “I’m sorry, you deserve a great guy and to be happy. I was really falling for you” and that was it. I didn’t respond.

    I’m thinking he can do this to someone else, only with my photos that I shared with him. And I think he will, I’m not that bad looking… or maybe I am. I certainly feel stupid and maybe I look gullible.

    I am an idiot and started to develop feelings for this guy just over text and a few photos. I was genuinely concerned with his well being. I did that thing again where I thought positive about someone. I know better.

    I think a lot of people have that desire to find that special someone and it’s easy to get lost in it without following your own rules. So again Jamez – one photo, no narrative, too nice, too handsome, too sweet… probably a damn liar. Don’t trust anyone and certainly stop hoping – it only hurts later.

  • Got Trust?

    Got Trust?

    A few years back a psychologist helped me come to a conclusion on love – it has to be earned. No one gets a default feeling of love just because they are related to you, know you or were nice to you once in passing.

    I loved the idea of my mother – a woman who cared for me, loved me, made sure my needs were met. I didn’t really have that, but was stuck on an idea of obligation of loving her because she birthed me. Truthfully, she only loved me when she needed something – attention, pity, affection or my social security number when her credit wore through.

    Loving someone who doesn’t love you back, is using or manipulating you… not really a winning game. The same is true of trust and respect.

    I like to give people the benefit of the doubt in the beginning – I’ll trust you unless you give me a reason not to. Tell me you’re going to be somewhere at a certain time and I believe you. Tell me you’ll work on a project, call me, change or whatever – I’m gullible enough to think you’re telling me the truth.

    It’s the part of me that’s an optimist (it’s a very small part, most of me is a realist who thinks that people are designed to fail one another and that they like it), this idea that people are fundamentally good and want to help one another. I’ve always wanted to believe in the good in people, even though it’s seems to be the exception to the norm.

    There are acceptable excuses for lying – surprise birthday parties or gifts, if you’ll hurt someone’s feeling (ex. “Honey, do these pants make me look fat?” – that could be self preservation as well) or if telling the truth would cause harm to others. I think that’s about it.

    What really gets on my nerves is when someone says one thing one day but a completely different thing the next. When you try to bring up the old thing they look at you like you’ve gone nuts and it’s never happened (I guess it’s reasonable that I’ve gone nuts, not something I’ve considered on the matter… I’ll consider it). Changing your tune when the evidence is there in front of you just to get something accomplished – this should not be how it’s done.

    Yesterday “this is because of this” but tomorrow “this is because of that”… maybe I just need to surround myself with better liars who can keep track of which story to tell.

    Or manipulating a person to get what you want – that usually involves lying and deception as well.

    I’ve always found it best to be upfront about those things. If you want a particular result and I can help you get there – tell me. Don’t fuck around with my trust, belief and respect in you… just say it. I don’t do subtle well either… just spit it out. I’m a goal oriented, hard working person who gets a certain satisfaction out of doing the job… why would you fuck with that?

    So you trust and respect someone – in life or business and they start to lie or manipulate you… why wouldn’t you stop believing in their dreams, goals and the very words that come out of their mouth?

    If that person is a part of your own goals, say a linchpin in the plans you’ve made for yourself and they start lying… well then you need to consider your future and look at what you’ve started to build and if it’s worth continuing or not.

    It’s hard to think I invested so much in a future that isn’t solid.

  • Max – a short story

    Max – a short story


    It was the night of the school’s annual letterman ceremony and banquet, where kids in sports and art throughout the year were awarded letters and accolades for participation and excellence in extracurricular activities. Many families were in attendance, in addition to all the team members from Basketball, Football, Track and Field as well as Chorus and Drama Club members. Coaches and teachers were sprinkled amongst the tables, proud of their student’s successes. The many tables at the banquet were filled with the different clicks and groups. No one really sat outside of their comfort zone, with the exception of 

    Max Thompson, the team captain and quarterback of the football team sat next to his parents. He was to be the main speaker tonight after all the awards were presented. He had led his team this year to the state championship and they won, he was voted MVP and was admired by many. He was dressed in a shirt and tie that was very uncomfortable around his thick neck. He, once again, stuck a finger into his collar and tried to stretch it out… his mother admonished him for this “Stop it” she said. He smiled at her and gave an extra tug on the collar to irk her. 

    Cheryl Thompson was proud of her son, following in the footsteps of his father and being his spitting image as well. Her only child, she doted on him but was careful to not do so too much, no need for him to be dependent on Momma, especially when there was such a good daddy to look up to. She was dressed to the nines, wearing a dress that accentuated her breasts and lined her hips sleekly.

    John Thompson, a stoic massive man with bulging biceps and a square jaw, loved his son. He had raised the boy to be a continuation of his own great legacy in the town. While he was proud of his own trophies and accolades from high school and beyond, his goal with his son was for him to surpass him on all fronts and show everyone the merit of a Thompson.

    Across from the Thompsons sat Max’s best friend James and his family the Moore’s. The Moore’s, in comparison, were rather plain. Fred Moore was a skinny man in a plain suit and Sarah Moore wore a blouse and slacks. James too would receive accolades tonight and letter for the second year in a row.   

    Max and James had been best friends since elementary school, neither far from the others side. If Max signed up for an extracurricular activity, it was certain James would as well. They lived just houses apart and spent many evenings passing the ball around or talking on one another’s porch. Sleep overs were just a regular part of the week, many a night they’d be studying into the wee hours and just fall asleep at the other’s house. Vacations, sports, classes… they did everything together. Known throughout school as the dynamic duo – Max’s favorite person to pass to on the field was James, and they seemed unbeatable.  

    The basketball, baseball and chorus teams had all received their letters and accolades, football was up next. A good portion of the team lettered this year including two freshmen who were exceptional on the field. Max and James would be last to be awarded letters as was the usual for the stars, they like to build up to the excitement of it. As their teammates received letters Max looked over at James and smiled his wide smile. James looked back and winked. 

    As the night went on and dinner was served, the time of Max’s speech was quickly approaching.

    “Know what you’re going to say right?” asked his dad. 

    “Don’t be silly John, he’s wrote out a speech and worked on it all week. He’s been very nervous about it” his mother stated.

    Max turned red just thinking about getting up there and speaking to the crowd of people. He was getting more and more nervous as the hour approached. He filled his mouth with a fork full of prime rib and chewed slowly. Most of the time his parents didn’t need his input to have conversations around him, this was probably one of those times. James smiled at him, having been around Max’s parents enough to see this type of thing before. 

    As dinner was finishing up and dessert about to be served Max made his way to the main stage where he would be speaking. His mother was right, he had worked very hard on his speech and was certain it was perfect. He was nervous though about how it would go and what would be said after. He felt right about it, knew it had to be as he couldn’t contain himself anymore. 

    The emcee clinked on his glass to get the rooms attention and then coughed before introducing Max. 

    “As you all know, Max Thompson is one hell of a football player” the emcee said to a roar of applause. “He’s also in the top five of his class this year academically and an upstanding member of the community, volunteering at several good will institutions. Voted MVP this year for his exemplary work on and off the field with his team, please help me in welcoming Max Thompson!”

    The people clapped and stood in ovation as Max approached the dais. Max felt sweat roll down his back and hoped he wouldn’t feel it collect on his forehead as well. He took a sip of water and surveyed the room – his eyes focused on James and felt himself relax. 

    His prepared speech already on the podium, he began talking. He’d memorized what he was going to say so the speech was just a crutch in case he needed it or got lost. Teams, togetherness, hard work, and dedication were key points of his talk. He touched on certain teammates that went the extra mile, coaches who inspired and motivated and his own continued strivings through the team. He really felt at ease, he knew this stuff and knew what the crowd expected of him. 

    As he was getting close to wrapping up he grew more and more nervous. His hands began to sweat and he chided himself – here you are captain of the football team scared to death of some words. Scared to death of the truth. Scared to death to finally be himself. 

    “In closing,” he began “I want to thank the most important person in my life. The one person who keeps me going each day and makes it all worth it.”

    His father straightened in his chair and beamed, his mother placed her hand on his shoulder, tears filling her eyes. A few of his coaches sat a little straighter too. 

    Max paused to take a drink of water, his hand trembling a bit. 

    “My partner not just on the field but in my life, my boyfriend James. James,” he said turning to face him directly “thank you for all you do for me and for always being there with me on this journey, I love you.”

    The room was silent. The star QB was gay and in love with his receiver. This was stunning.

    Then there was applause, from the most unlikely source ever. Max’s dad. And he stood. Giving his son a standing ovation, slowly others joined in and then most of the room was standing and applauding. Max was shocked, he was in awe of the acceptance of his town, his school, his teammates and especially his dad. He looked out again for James and found him.

    His father and mother had their coats on and were dragging James out of the room. James looked back at Max, eyes wide mouth agape. Not a look of condemnation but one of love and fear. 

    Max, who moments ago was feeling elated at the support he seemed to receive was now crushed as he watched James get taken away. He hadn’t thought about consequences for James as much as he did for himself, he was the one who had opened himself up, it wasn’t James’s fault at all. He beat himself up, how could he not have foreseen this. 

    After the banquet and tons of people coming to him to say how this didn’t change how they felt or how proud they were of him. He did get a few that advised it was probably a phase he was going through and he might want to wait until he’s older. Overall though he felt he was received well. All through that he was anxiously waiting calling James or hearing from him to see what happened and if he was alright. 

    As soon as he was able he texted James “R U ok? Where r u?”

    James was usually pretty good about texting back right away, but nothing came after five minutes.

    He was worried and he expressed his fears with his parents, they tried to reassure him that everything would be fine. That this was just a big shock to James’s parents and they may need time to adjust. Max’s dad said, “Let it sit until morning, you can survive that long without hearing from him”. Max headed to his room to try to sleep, sent another message or two to James, but again heard nothing.

    He tossed and turned all night, kept checking his phone every hour or so for updates or word, but nothing was there. He woke up at dawn and decided enough was enough and headed over to James’s house. 

    He creeped as quietly as he could over to James’s bedroom window along the side of the house. He tapped on the window. 

    Nothing.

    He tapped again, a little louder.

    Nothing.

    Not giving up, he tapped one more time, still a little louder.

    A figure moved to the window and raised the blinds. James was on the other side of the window, the darkness in his room kept Max from seeing him clearly.

    “James,” Max said desperately “I’m so sorry, I thought it would be alright. Are you ok? Are you mad at me?”

    James mumbled something Max couldn’t hear. “What was that?” Max begged, “please talk to me.”

    James reached over and turned on his bedroom lamp and raised the window. What Max saw was outrageous. James had been beaten black and blue and had a bloody lip and what appeared to be a broken nose. His eyes were red from tears and maybe beating there too. 

    “James, honey, what happened” Max pleaded.

    “My dad, he couldn’t handle it, he lost it last night when we got back. He’s sending me away to boarding school and I’m forbidden to see you, he took my phone.” 

    Max grabbed James’s hand “Babe, I’m sorry this happened to you, let’s get you out of here to a doctor”

    “No, I’m going to be fine, no need for a doctor.” James explained “Let’s just let him settle down for a few days and get used to this, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

    Max wasn’t sure this was the best idea but didn’t want to push it. He squeezed James’s hand and leaned in to give him a kiss. James kissed back gently, not wanting to push his injured face farther than he had to. 

    Max was about to go when he saw a police car pull up outside the house. Thinking James’s parents had called the cops on him he glanced at James, who had also seen the cop and they silently agreed it was time to go. Max headed for home.

    When he arrived home his mother was waiting for him and gave him a big hug after hearing what had happened to James. She made him breakfast and said “all we can do now is just wait”.

    The knock on the front door came about twenty minutes later, James and his mother were standing at the front door. It had been his mom who had called the cops on James’s dad. He had been arrested for child abuse and was currently in the town jail awaiting trial.

    James’s mom hugged Max and apologized for everything, and assured him they would get through this together. Max grabbed James’s hand and held it tightly, not daring to believe it was all going to work out. 

  • He Hit Her…

    I know about the obsession of the mind that affects alcoholics, I know from first hand experience, it can overwrite common sense – it takes liberty with the past and tells you that this time it’ll be different, it promises you’ll finally get that feeling you’ve been chasing so long that’s been just out of your reach.

    I don’t understand the trick the mind plays with domestic abuse victims.  Time and time again they go back to the abuser “I’ll never do it again” he says… “I’m so sorry” he says… “Give me one more chance” he pleads… At least that’s what my Mother seemed to do.

    Domestic ViolenceI don’t remember the first time my step-father hit my mother, after a while all the times run together and every incident is the same. He started the same each time, he’d be normal, he’d maybe even be nice to people even us kids…

    Then there was something in his eyes that would change you knew right behind those eyes the rage was just itching to get out. You could see the rage back there and some times he’d temper it, he’d keep it glowing under cover but the embers were waiting to strike each time.  (more…)

  • My Tattoos

    More than a few men recently have commented on my tattoos (and piercings) and said that having tattoos means your into kinky sex. No really, this is what they keep telling me. This really kind of throws me, I’ve had tattoos much longer than I’ve been having sex. Also I’ve had sex with people who have tattoos and really – a few of those encounters were pretty boring.

    In the gay community over the years they established lots of little tells to let other closeted gays know they were there or what they were into. Rainbow stickers are everywhere now, but 10 – 20 years ago and longer people had to be much more discrete about these type of things so they developed these markers for others. There is even a hanky code for what you might or might not be into – I should warn you clicking on that link might be TMI for you.

    For me it’s about art, about expressing myself and the things I like. Each and every tattoo I have is based on something I like or something that means a lot to me. Superman, lightning bolts, Greek gods, AA, bear paw prints, old nicknames…

    My first tattoo was done by my friend Ted or maybe his brother Tim (I was 14, stoned or drunk and my memory isn’t what it used to be) using a needle, some thread and india ink. That symbol was painfully put on one needle stick at a time and represented the 12 Greek gods. It was crude in comparison to what I have on my body now, but at that age it was pretty cool thing to have.

    Since then I’ve gotten more complicated with what I want on my body – my first tattoo as an adult covered up that tattoo that I got when I was young, but I wasn’t very clear about what I wanted it to be and gave the artist too much leeway so it ended up being a question mark that isn’t really very pretty – it looks better now that I’ve surrounded it by a dragon (which was hand drawn on my arm by this guy at Jinx Proof, so cool. The next was the Superman symbol, then the lightning bolt, armband, bear claw print, tramp stamp (Zeus), AA symbol on my leg, and finally the ancient Greek Gods tat on my back.

    None of those, well except maybe the tramp stamp and the arm band, says anything about sex. Well not that I know of. Its like when I wear a cross necklace – I don’t wear a cross necklace because I believe in crucifying believers – I just happen to like how cross necklaces look sometimes.

    Recently with the Sikh shooter the press has been throwing this statement out there: 

    An agent from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms told ABC News that the shooter had tattoos.

    Tattoos don’t make a shooter anymore than sandals make a monk. That’s the motivation behind this post (even though I did have several men express that my tattoos meant I was into kinky sex – which I’m not…. well, what did you have in mind exactly? )

    I do sometimes worry about my tattoos and them being misinterpreted by others. Lightning bolts, dragons and Superman can all be associated with the KKK and I keep my head shaved. But really, I’m just an ordinary gay guy that likes tattoos – I have no hidden agendas (well none that I’m ready to share with the world, my manifesto will be on the New York Times Best Seller list – I’m certain) or particular hates of any kind of people. I dislike humans in general, but I don’t target specific groups to hate, really it takes too much effort.

    I just really don’t like when we associate bad/stupid/moronic/crazy people with what they wear or how they look. After the Aurora shootings movie theaters banned folks from wearing masks when going to the theater – the guy who shot those people didn’t buy a ticket, he came in through the back door. After Columbine schools across the country banned black trench coats. After the Amish school shooting in PA in 2006, our President expressed his concern of school violence (this last one I’m not sure which was the more bad/stupid/moronic/crazy  – the former President or the shooter).

    You know the old saying: don’t judge a book by its cover.

  • Joe

    I received news this evening that Joe Appel is “not doing well” and then received confirmation from my brother that he’s dying. Joe Appel was my biological mothers second husband, he’s the father of my little brother Ryan and little sister Amy. For most of my life my last name was Appel, I was adopted by Joe after he married my mother. For all of my childhood Joe was “Dad” at some point I knew he was my adoptive dad. I have some memories of the day that happened, I remember being dressed up in case the judge wanted to talk to me. He was all I knew I had as a Dad.

    Through my memories I see his fists flying into my mother, onto her face, into her body. I see her battered and bruised, I see blood on his fists that is likely hers and not his. I recall night after night of drunkenness where we lie frightened in our bedrooms wondering if tonight would be another night that we’d hear her scream.

    I recall the nights we spent in battered women shelters after one of those incidents – it never occurred to me when I was young, but as I type this and remember that place was full of families just like mine. The strange smells, the odd noises the crying in the cot not three feet from where you were curled up. That was better than the violence in our own home.

    We’d never know when it would be safe to go home, many a time we’d run away Mom and us, to a friends or to a shelter or to Grandmas. One time in particular he threatened to kill the cats if we didn’t come back right then.

    I recall only a few times when his fist hit me, I know he’s beat my brother senseless on many occasions. I don’t know if he hit Amy and Dawn, I have no memory of it happening, but my memories fade more each day.

    I remember distinctly a visit to his parents house where he started to beat on my mom and his family joined in. That was the day they didn’t matter to me anymore.

    He was, is, a monster. He would beat on Mom and then we’d get away or he’d get arrested… but he always came back, like a bad penny. I don’t think he has any remorse or regret for the pain he inflicted – hell I doubt he thinks he did anything wrong at all.

    I can’t say that I’m sorry to hear he’s dying, not when I’ve know good men that have died too young. Why would this bastard son-of-a-bitch get to live this long, drinking every day of his life and beating on people that depended on him as he wanted. Sure he’s spent some time in jail, but not enough. Sure he’s probably had some pain, but not nearly enough. He’s a veteran, doesn’t matter, doesn’t give a license to treat human being that way. He’s sick, doesn’t matter that’s not a get out of jail card either.

    Part of me can’t help but think back on all the times Mom would call from the hospital or the nut house saying “I’m dying” and we’d all rush home to be there and she’d disappoint us again – that sounds harsh no? but that’s what it was at the end for me one more time she couldn’t just go, just quit being sick and tired and go.

    So now I think about Joe, yes, it’s time to die – but there’s no way you’ve suffered enough. No damn way.

  • Stupid Valentines Day – All Men Lie

    I’ve fallen for that scam they call “love” before on an occasion or two – I hope I’ve learned my lesson and never fall again. Certainly initially the feelings can be overwhelmingly wonderful and everything can appear to be as if the stars have aligned. When that happens you’ve forgotten one very important thing:

    All Men Lie

    That’s the basic rule you need to hold onto to avoid falling into this trap of a boyfriend, partner, husband, spouse… They’re only after one thing: porn – oh, no… well ok two things…. they want to get their rocks off and they want to watch porn. The rest is a lie. All men lie. If you allow them to trick you into thinking there is something, anything more than them having their orgasm then they have effectively tricked you and you will eventually be hurt, usually badly. All Men Lie.

    Having that special someone in my life used to be a primary goal, but I’ve learned from those experiences. Yes, I’ve been duped and duped again. Yes, I fell into his eyes and believed the lies, took chances and thought “this time I wont get burnt” but I did, once again.

    All Men Lie

    You’re really better off using them for what they’re good for: sex, fixing the toilet, teaching you how to use the remote control or what have you. Don’t let them get emotionally attached, don’t let them leave a toothbrush at your house for overnights – just get what you’re after and send them packing. If they performed well, consider bringing them back for a repeat performance, but not immediately. If you bring them back to soon they’ll work their snake charm on you and before you know it they’ll have your heart in a vulnerable position once again. It’s not worth it. Don’t forget the rule:

    All Men Lie – it’ll serve you when they’re trying to worm their way in.

    I hope that today you’ve not already found yourself entrenched into some fantasy world that he’s spun, leading you to believe that he cares, or that he’ll always be there. I hope you see through the games, gifts and gratitude he expresses. Those just serve his purpose, those just sink you further into his trap of “love” that chemical reaction that you can resist, that you can defeat, that you don’t have to get burned by.

    After your done having fun with his stick, send him packing and bring on the next fool to use and abuse. Don’t get clingy, don’t get attached and never fall for their ever ready, ever present, ever self serving lies.

    All Men Lie

  • Finding a Safe Harbor for Children

    Last night on Twitter I saw more than a few tweets asking “is no place  safe to leave children with adults alone”. These questions came out in response to the Penn State Scandal where a respected coach was preying on young boys and the firings as a result.

    The answer to the question of “is no place safe to leave children with adults alone” is probably no. Not as we currently function as a society anyway. There are monsters and predators in all walks of life that have every job imaginable, we can focus on the ones in the churches and the schools but children are taken advantage of every day by people in all different fields of work.

    As a victim – I hate that word so lets start over.

    As someone who was sexually molested when I was younger I was thinking last night what could have prevented it from happening? Was there something my parents could have said or done to keep me safe? Would it have been better if I’d been secluded from others for all of my growing years so I couldn’t get hurt? Was there a magic word that wasn’t uttered? a prayer? None of those things would have mattered. Some parents are child predators, some relatives, and keeping me locked away from the rest of the world would only serve to make me that more vulnerable when I was released.

    What might have helped, and I’m just speculating on hindsight here, is a better understanding of sex. That sounds a bit out there I know, but when I was molested I hadn’t even had “health education” class yet and the only things I knew about sex were from the photos I saw in some dirty magazines one of my Mom’s friends or an uncle had in the basement (none of which were male on male sex). I was completely ignorant about all of it so when it was happening at the beginning I was mostly just confused. Pedophiles are very good at convincing the child of a few things, some work by coercion some by seduction, but they all get what they want out of it – the innocence of the child.

    For me, I was conned into thinking he actually loved me and that’s why he wanted to do those things to me. It never occurred to me that if he loved only me why was he doing it to the other 15 boys in town. He was smart, after the first night he fondled me, before working up to more sexual things he had a cover story that he fed my Mom that she bought – in her defense it was a pretty good story – and I was there when he told her and had learned early on that I wasn’t to contradict adults.

    I’ve digressed here a bit I think. I’m not a parent, but things that might have helped me I’ll list below.

    I think if we want to have our children be safer out there in a world with monsters we need to talk to them more about sex earlier – let them know we’re open to talk with them about anything weird that’s going on. Let them know that any naked secrets are bad secrets and any time they feel uncomfortable they should feel free to talk to us. We need to communicate with them and understand what’s going on in their world regularly. I don’t think kids should be left alone with an adult for a long period of time or at several different times over a long period. Children shouldn’t spend the majority of their free time with someone older than them.

    We also need adults that don’t turn a blind eye when a question is raised. Just because that person is from the military, church, school, or hospital doesn’t make them incapable of doing horrible things. If your kids pull away, start acting differently, bring up reasons to not hang out with someone – there might be something deeper there.

    What happened to me and has happened to millions of other kids in the world doesn’t have to happen. But if it does happen, those kids need real heroes to be there and stop the monsters. Be a real hero.

    Resources:

    Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline  1-800-4-A-CHILD

    Child Abuse Prevention Association: http://www.childabuseprevention.org/

    National Child Abuse Hotlines: http://reportchildabusenow.com/

    Adult Survivors of Child Abuse: http://www.ascasupport.org/

  • Men Behaving Badly – Las Vegas

    About eight years ago I was looking into moving to Las Vegas – no snow, lots of opportunities, lots of new housing. During a few of the visits out there I would check out AA meetings (which were pretty good) and modify my online profiles (gay men meet up sites) to let guys know I would be in the area.

    Before one particular visit I met a guy online who lived out there and we started up conversations leading up to my visit getting the small chat out-of-the-way. He had a nice looking photo and didn’t come across as an axe murderer – a good sign in my book. We arranged to go to dinner and the movies when I got into town, it was opening weekend for the Matrix Reloaded and I really wanted to see it. He agreed to pick me up at my hotel – so about 15 minutes before he was to arrive (I do these things to myself all the time – why do I wait 15 minutes before an event? not one clue, but I do it for almost everything) I was outside enjoying comfortable weather in Las Vegas.

    When he pulled up on time in an old beat up collector type convertible (I don’t know car brands, models and crap) I wondered if he was running late and had his father come to pick me up for him – he appeared much older than his photographs online. But he assured me it was him and then explained that those photos were about 10 years old. *sigh* Now you might think this is an uncommon occurrence, surely most people have a current photo on their online profile, but I’ve found numerous profiles with this same issue. This was also not the worst part of the date.

    The conversation on the way to the movies was good, he didn’t frighten me with erratic driving, nor scream at the other drivers even though I wanted to. Sure he looked older than the photograph, but he seems like a genuinely nice man. So when we picked our seats in the movie and he smiled at me before the lights went down I thought this might have potential. Then it happened….

    His cell phone rang. Wow, I hate when I forget to turn off my cell phone in a movie and I get all embarrassed… probably nerves from the first date I think… but no – he starts to have a conversation on the phone during the movie. Yes, the conversation was brief, yes he was quiet, but several people glanced back at us and I really wanted to move several seats away from him. What seemed to me to be an eternity of him talking on his cell phone finally came to an end and he said “Work” with a half-smile, like that was supposed to make it all better.

    So having been distracted from a movie I was just starting to enjoy I took some time in my head to go over the incident and thought perhaps he only had the conversation because he had forgotten to turn the cell phone off and was a bit flustered. This wasn’t a black mark on the date, people make mistakes and he probably wouldn’t do this again. But sure enough, twenty minutes later his cell phone rang again and he had one more conversation with – what I’m sure was the same person from before.

    After the movie I ask him to return me to my hotel, he asks if I’m sick or something or if he’d done something wrong. I stare at him aghast that he doesn’t know how rude his behavior was and I figure if he can’t figure that out on his own then my telling him certainly wont help.

    Now I’ve been to the movies with doctors, lawyers, judges, EMTs and they’ve all managed to put their communication devices on vibrate and a few times have left the movie to respond to an emergency – but this guy, he managed a hotel and couldn’t be bothered.

     

    REASONS THERE WAS NEVER A SECOND DATE:

    #1 PHOTO OVER 2 YEARS OLD ON HIS PROFILE

    #2 TALKING ON HIS CELL PHONE DURING THE MOVIE – TWICE