SPEAKING OF DATING

Awhile back I was working a closing shift with my favorite bartender, and she and I were talking about dating, specifically about the difficulties of dating when you are an service industry employee. Her experiences have led her to conclude that a relationship in this context will only work out if both people work in the same field. And I think she's right.

Take for example, my schedule for this week:

WED: 7PM-2AM

THUR: 5PM-?

FRI: 5PM-?

SAT: 10AM-6PM

SUN: 10AM-6PM

Not only do I not get home until 4AM sometimes, but then there are instances in which I'll be asked to turn around and open the next day. AND, the schedule is constantly changing and/or I'm being asked to work for somebody else. Usually I'm more than willing to take anything offered, but I'm afraid I'm not going to have a life outside of work, to say nothing of a boyfriend.

Speaking of gay + bar, everyone I work with now knows I smoke cock. I told 2 people and it spread to 20+ others in a span of a week. But no one seems to care. Which is cool. I don't have to worry about "hiding" although it's not as if I was before, it just wasn't known, you know?

I'm curious to know how other may have handled dating people with opposite schedules.

"YOU'RE A SHITTY F*G"

A week or two ago I was chatting on-line with a friend about, amongst other things, our mutual preferences in underwear. Whereas said friend prefers expensive and rather fashionable boxer briefs, briefs or trunks, I have always more of a "whatever" attitude towards what I wear beneath my clothes, (although for the record I do prefer black boxer briefs, and although I have a dozen of them, none are what one would consider to be a "designer" brand). This admission prompted my friend to call me a "shitty f*g".

OK, you might be asking why I would consider someone who would came me such an awful name a friend. Allow me to explain. This was not meant to be mean-spirited in any way whatsoever. If a random person came up to me on the street and called me that name, they would promptly receive a swift kick you know where. In fact, many of my friends have rather colorful "nicknames" for me, another example of which is "fuck face". This does not bother me in the least. The sense of humor between myself and my friends is rather playful, as you might have guessed.

However, having spent not one, but two nights carousing in Boystown this week (I was there last night for the Halloween festivities) I did observe certain differences between myself and the other gay men in attendance. In fact, since I did not wear a costume I joked to my buddy that I was dressing up as a straight dude. Of course, this is not a new revelation; I am all too aware that I do not conform to whatever stereotypes people may have of what a gay man is, or rather should be. Before I embraced whatever it is I am, this is something I used to think about all too often.

Then again this is not a concept that applies only to my sexuality. For most of my life I have been aware is how I am dissimilar from my peers. Honestly, it's something that used to seriously bother me to the point of being self conscious, especially in high school when I was really into punk rock, but also enjoyed consuming certain mind altering substances with my "hippie" friends while in turn being something of a theater dork. Of course this doesn't seem as much of a contradiction to me now (in some ways it makes sense), but it sure as shit did back then.

"The man who comes back through the Door in the Wall will never be quite the same as the man who went out. He will be wiser but less sure, happier but less self-satisfied, humbler in acknowledging his ignorance yet better equipped to understand the relationship of words to things, of systematic reasoning to the unfathomable mystery which it tries, forever vainly, to comprehend."
(from The Doors of Perception by Aldous Huxley)

Fast forward to who or what I am today and I think the above quote applies perfectly. The journey I have been on for the last 10 years has allowed me a unique perspective on life, one that I am constantly digesting, and entirely in a positive light. There is no such thing a perfect gay man, and nothing that could be defined as a "shitty f*g" (note to the person that called me that, I honestly thinks it's funny, so feel free to call me that again if you see fit as long as it is in jest). And this concept applies not exclusively to one's sexuality (or one's corresponding choice in underwear, haha) but to any facet of one's existence.

Or at the least, this is what I tell myself when confronted with something along these lines:

We are all unique in our own ways, and it's what I find most intriguing about people. This might seem like an obvious statement, and it is, but sometimes I need to be reminded of this fact, and every time that I am, I smile because it makes me feel alive.

SHEDDING LIGHT ON DARKNESS

“Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.”
-Jack Kerouac

This past weekend I had my "friend" in town (those of you who know his identity, please keep it under your hat for the time being) whom will be known as "Mr. X" for the time being. The reason for me being vague is not to appear mysterious, but rather for expediting this narrative.

There may be some confusion about my "out" status, so let me set the record straight (pun unintended). Over the last 10 months I came out those remaining friends of mine that were in the dark, and more importantly my Mother and Brother. Until now I referred to myself as 99% out.

The lone person I needed to come out to, or what I referred to in my mind as "the Final Frontier" was my Father. There are several reasons for my reluctance to tell him I am gay, but the over-arching concern was that I had my suspicions that...well...he might also be gay.

Bare with me here as until 48 hours ago I had only ever expressed this thought to two other people. There was always anecdotal evidence to doubt my Father's heterosexuality; for example his love of Broadway shows, extreme liberal point of view and his lack of female companionship after my parents marriage dissolved many years ago.

Now, one might think that having a possible gay parent it might make the coming out process easier, however, for reasons I am still processing, it did not.

In fact, it might have held me back in that him keeping his "other life" on the DL in turn had a similar effect on myself. Maybe. But really, if your Father is supposed to be your role model (and in many ways he is) it is not easy to divorce reality from speculation.

After successfully coming out to my friends and family, an irrational fear existed in my sub-conscious that had I came out to him, it might put undo pressure on him to come out to me, and I would never, ever want to do that to him.

No matter the person or the situation, I feel it is no one's right to pressure someone into coming out. I wavered on this previously, but I have solidified this belief recently, and stand behind this belief (gay closeted Republican legislators are an exception).

Emotional issues such as these are uncharted waters for myself. Fuck, I had to go through the entire coming process on my own, with zero help from any outside source, save the positive gratification I received from friends and family I came out to (after the fact).

That was one huge obstacle to overcome but I did it, and am a stronger, emotionally secure person for having done so. Obviously if I could go back I would have done things differently, but that is neither here nor there.

OK, I am wandering at this point, so allow me to get back on track. In addition to enjoying the company of Mr. X this weekend, this was also the weekend that my Father was moving to NYC.

Before he left to drive out east, my Father and I wanted to spend sometime together, but since he was busy packing and getting ready to move, the only time he could spare was a few hours on Sunday afternoon.

I didn't want to make Mr. X feel uncomfortable or that he had to meet my Father, but he told he he was willing to, which made me happy because, well, I wanted these two very important people in my life to meet one another. Also, I really wanted to see my Father before he left, and I could tell he wanted to see me too.

Another important aspect to this meeting is that also present would be the person my Father is moving in with once he gets to NYC.

[Flashback Alert] I met "Mr. NYC" a few months back, in June, on Father's Day, no less. My Father and I were to have a nice lunch when he mentioned that a friend of his would be joining us. OK, not a problem with me. I figured this was an old college friend or a close business associate.

My Father came to pick me up...and there was a mysterious man in the passenger seat of my Father's SUV. I say he was mysterious based solely on what he looked like: a well built Korean man in his late-30's/early 40's with long, black hair and impossibly chic eyeglasses.

Over lunch I learned that this man was an interior designer who lived in NYC. Red flags were going off everywhere - there was no way in hell this guy wasn't a 'Mo.

He was quiet but very nice and asked me all sorts of questions about myself and generally gave off a very positive vibe. I liked him, even if at the time I didn't quite realize the gravity of the relationship between him and my Father.

Fast forward to last month when my Father announces he is moving to NYC...and moving in with "Mr. NYC" (to quote the Lloyd Bridges from the film 'Airplane': "I picked the wrong week to quit smoking").

Fast forward yet again to yesterday when Mr. X and I show up at my Father's place to go out for lunch. I call my Father: no answer. I knock on the front door to his condo: no answer. I take a deep breath and use my spare key to unlock the door...and see Mr. NYC wrapping plates of china in newspaper.

He is wearing a sleeveless t-shirt which exposes his huge biceps. Mr. X turns to me and mouths "look at his arms!". He is friendly as I meet him for the second time and Mr. X and Mr. NYC introduce themselves to one another.

Whew, I need a drink, I thought to myself.

The four of us make our way to an Irish sports bar and have lunch (and Mr. NYC and myself have a few beers).

To make this as plain as possible, this is how my Father and I subtly (or perhaps not so subtly) come out to one another. Neither of us ever said "I AM GAY" but the thought was implied, one way or another through the meeting of our respective "friends".

Surprisingly this was not as stressful nor awkward as I had feared (I cannot speak for the other people present but it seemed very low-key) as we mostly made small talk and watched various football games on the 20 or TV's that thankfully diverted our collective attention at certain moments.

Hopefully the meaning of the quote at the top of this post now makes sense, but in case it does not, basically, rather than my Father and myself telling one another that we are gay, we showed another though the presence of our companions.

After I turned to Mr. X and said "I hope that wasn't too weird or whatever..." and he turned to me, and his perfect, evocative eyes meet mine and says (and I am paraphrasing) "it's OK...and yes, he [my Father] knows about you for sure now".

And now, I know for sure about him...

--

Rather than end yesterday there I feel I should proceed and tell the rest of it all. I figure this is rambling enough...so why not allow this momentum to continue, right? RIGHT!

After leaving the previous scene, Mr. X and I (trooper that he is) head to my Brother's place that he shares with his girlfriend, and on this particular night, several of his friends who gathered to watch the Bears game.

Me: "You sure you are OK going over to my bro's place?"
Mr. X: "...yeah, um, well, what are his friends like?"
Me: "...well, they are typical drunk North-Siders who gather around to watch the Bears lay on Sunday and..."
Mr. X: "...I mean...are they gay friendly?"
Me: "...oh yeah, they are really cool, after they all found out I was gay none of them treated me any differently".
Mr. X: [speaking in his distinctive lilt]: "uhkay".

We arrive and I proceed to introduce Mr. X to my Brother, his Girlfriend, their sweet dog (who seems to like Mr. X better than me, in fact he rarely left his side for the entire time we spent there, haha) and a few of their friends.

Honestly, I was a little worried that things might be awkward. Much like the situation with my Father, my Brother had never experienced first hand the reality that I am indeed a gay man. Obviously, he knew, since I told him. But that is different than bringing "someone home to meet the family", or as close to meeting my family as possible since my family (if you couldn't already tell) is rather unconventional.

--

I wish I could make this post more concise/precise, but at this juncture I needed to empty some thoughts from my head.

My shoulders suddenly feel light as air and my thoughts precede my ability to express them in any material manner...I feel as if this is the end of my closet status, and the beginning of a new, and positive chapter in my life.

As pretentious as this might sound:

"Forever expose the dark corners of my life and allow them to breathe with new life in rich light..."
-Me

2ND AND 3RD, UGH

Inspired by Closet NS' recent coming out to his best friend (once again, congratulations!) I thought about how similar his friend's reaction was to nearly all of my friend's reactions, which was along the lines of "oh, well, great man, good for you, this changes nothing between us" etc. This is a good thing as coming out to close friends is always stressful but in the end, usually almost always a non-issue, as far as the friend's reaction goes.

Now, out of all the friends that I have told there were two notable exceptions to the above example that come to mind. The first one that I will describe is kind of funny, the second one, not so much.

The second person I told that I was gay is my Roomie (how is Peru by the way my dear?). We were about to move into together and I thought it was not only fair, but practical to tell her before we actually did move in. This was only a few weeks after I told my other friend/the first person I came out to.

We were at a bar (surprise, surprise) and although I was certain of her reaction, I still needed a little "liquid courage" to get the words out. I asked her to extricate herself from a few other friends and we went to a corner of the bar, sat down and I said something like:

Me: (takes long and dramatic slug of beer) "before we move in together next week...there is something I need to tell you"
Roomie: "um...OK, what is it?"
Me: (pause for seemingly dramatic effect) "well, I don't know how to say this except just to say it..."
Roomie: "...yes...what is it you need to tell me?"
Me: "I'm gay"
Roomie: "HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Me: (totally perplexed look on my face) "what the fuck is so funny?"
Roomie: "You're hysterical, you had me there for a second"
Me: "what? I'm not joking! I like guys...I thought you should know..."
Roomie: (laughing manically) "Justin! Stop it! You're too much"

Of course since this conversation occurred a few years ago, and we were kind of drunk, the above transcript is not exactly accurate, but it's close (or at how I remember it, feel free to weigh in Roomie). Bottom line, she thought I was joking, which makes sense because we share a fucked up sense of humor like that. Regardless, after she realized I was being sincere she was awesome and gave me a big hug.

Moving on to the next, and third person I came out to. Emboldened by having just coming out 2 really close, and open minded friends, I decided it was time to come out to a good male friend, who conveniently invited me over to a bar he worked at as he got off his shift. Though this friend was a very good one, he was by no means my "best friend".

Despite this, I had my reasons to think he would offer another unique and valid perspective. I made my over to the bar (coincidentally the same one where I came out to the 2 other friends) and sat down and ordered a stiff drink. He finished his paperwork, removed his apron, ordered a coke (he doesn't drink) and sat down next to me at the bar.

Sober Male Friend: "so, what's on your mind man?"
Me: (dragging my heels) "well, there is something important I wanted to talk to you about"
Sober Male Friend: "OK, what is it?"
Me: "um...well, I'll just say it..."
Sober Male Friend: "...what? dude you know you can tell me anything..."
Me: "I like guys, I'm gay"
Sober Male Friend: "...."

With that this good/great friend I trusted stubs out his cigarette, gets up and leaves the bar without saying a fucking word. I left alone, in a huge, empty bar, TV's playing some stupid game in the background contemplating what the fuck just happened. Needless to say, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

After regaining (some) of my composure and inhaling another stiff drink, my friend reappears and says:

Sober Male Friend:"Dude...I thought you were going to tell me you have cancer..."
Me: (shocked and nearly speechless) "uh, what...the....fuck..."
Sober Male Friend: "you scared the shit out of me"
Me: (apparently) "...sorry bro, didn't mean to, it's just that..."
Sober Male Friend:"No, no, just stop...it's fine, I guess..."

I thought at that time that maybe he also thought I was coming out to him to profess my "love" to him, which certainly was not the case. I went home totally confused and lost and without stating the obvious that I was not, indeed, in "love" with him; rather he was just someone I felt I could confide in.

Turns out I was very wrong in that assumption. So "mixed up" he was at my admission to my being gay, he told 2 other very close, male friends of mine. At the time, I was PISSED. I wanted to come out to these 2 other people on my own terms, but he did so on his own accord. Not to spite me, mind you, he just didn't know better.

I have since forgiven this friend, but to this day, I almost regret my actions that one night. Looking back, I wish I could have changed things, but really, you can never go back, one can only look forward, which is what I decided to do, and have done since. In some ways, it was a positive experience...or at the least a learning one.

LOOKING BACK - THE RANDOM FRAT BOY

Not sure why I am choosing to write about this right now or why this particular memory just flickered to the surface of my mind, but since it's been a quiet week and nothing of note really occurred, so why not reach back for an old story...right? Right!

If any of you have read anything about my Summer it might seem like I'm always been hooking up like a drunken sailor while in port. Not true. In fact, from the first time I hooked up with a guy, which was when I was 20, and, oh let's say last December, when I was 27, there existed a yawning gap in almost any sexual activity.

Fuck. I can't believe I made it that long without getting any. All those lonely years when it was only me and my Right Hand Man. There are legit reasons for being so chaste, not the least of which was being outed to several people by said first hook up (btw, one day I will complete the three part series that I started here, but honestly, writing that so painful that it's not a place I care to revisit anytime soon). Other reasons included being depressed/stressed and living in the dull suburbs...but I digress.

One lonely night when I was 22 or 23 (I forget which as I was a serious pothead at the time) I was on-line in a chat room on gay.com. Honestly, at the time I was not seeking out a hook-up or whatever, but rather seeking another person to confide in about my situation at the time.

It was getting late and I was getting nowhere in that I was fending off all sorts of advances from people that I would never consider hooking up with. Then, like a beacon at sea on a foggy night Brian (not his real name) started a convo with me.

We seemed to have much in common, in that we were both college guys totally stuck in the closet and sick of it. We chatted for about an hour about all sorts of shit when he says:

Brain: "I want to meet you in person".
Me: "Me too, you seem really cool and I think we would get along..."
Brain: "Come over..."
Me: "What? Like now? It's almost Midnight".
Brain: "So what...we can make it work out."
Me; "...um, well, where would we meet...my place is a definite no".
Brain: "Come over here, it might be tricky, but we can make it work...I mean, but, like, only if you want to".
Me: "Oh, I , I really want to".

And oh did I want to. We swapped pictures and he was cute, and I was intrigued that he was a frat boy but didn't seem like your typical frat boy. Of course over the years I have learned that not all frat boys subscribe to what I thought at the time was my idea of what a frat boy was, but that's neither here nor there.

He gave me directions to his place and I got dressed. At this point in my life I was still living at home with my father and since he was sleeping, and I didn't want him to know that I was taking off at Midnight, I carefully unlatched the garage door from the automatic opener, pushed it up and rolled out, quietly closing the door behind me (in retrospect this probably was even shadier of me because I doubt I was that quiet).

On the ride down to Evanston (some of you might now which school I was headed to, but I won't make it that blatantly obvious) I chain smoked like I was waiting for test results. I was scared, nervous and really excited. It didn't help that I couldn't find his frat house at first...or that I was meeting a frat boy at his frat house.

Finally I found the address, parked a street over and called him. He answered on the second ring (I can't believe I remember these details so clearly) and I found him, literally lurking in a shadow wearing basketball shorts and a hoodie. Whoa. Hotness defined right there! More nervous/excited now that he was real and not merely an on-line profile.

He asked to wait where I was, poked his head in the side door, and waved me over. We "sneaked" into his room, which I remember being rather spacious for a room at a frat house. He explained that his Roomie was out of town fucking his girlfriend and we settled in on a couch/futon thing.

Right away he sensed my nervousness (as did I his) so the conversation was stilted at first, then flowed freely for about 20 minutes, then abruptly stopped. The sexual tension in that room was almost unbearable. I almost made a move, stopped, and then he said:

Brain: "So, um...do you want to..."
Me: "...yeah"

That was all he needed and he reached over and went right for my cock, leaned in and kissed me. I kissed him back but he pulled away.

Brain: "Are you a smoker?"
Me: "...well, no, um yeah...I was really nervous coming over here and..."
Brain: "it's cool...it's not my thing, but...

With that he somehow stood me up, took off my jeans and grazed his mouth against my boxers. Holy fucking shit, I was in heaven...but it was a quick tease. He then started feeling my body up and down and all over. I suppose you could consider it "G" rated sex but it was insanely hot and I thought I would bust a nut at any moment.

At my suggestion we traded places and tried my best to replicate what he had done to me to make me feel so good. Eventually he pulled out the futon so we could both lie down next to one another and fool around some more. At one point I remembered that I could hear the party going on upstairs...loud rowdy boys getting drunk and playing stupid music...

Long story short I was brought back to reality when I unexpectedly shot all over him. He had to tell me to be quiet and suddenly the gravity of the scene hit me. What the fuck was I doing here anyways? Who was this guy? I got all nervous and wanted to leave, much to his, not to mention my, chagrin.

He quickly picked up on this and offered to let me stay over, claiming that just last week another college guy crashed the night and "it was cool". He explained that we could watch porn or a just a movie. But at the time the only thing my in the closet mind wanted was a smoke and to get the fuck out of there.

I still feel almost bad about the situation, like it was somehow his fault when in reality I was not yet at a place where I could accept that I was gay and that I liked (really, really liked) what just happened. What a pussy I was! I declined his offer to call me and instead gave him my personal e-mail address, which was "tylerdurden@hotmail.com". Yeah, I gave him a fake e-mail address to Brad Pitt's character from "Fight Club".

What an idiot/asshole I was...

Long story short, I love how open and relaxed I am now with my sexuality. Bear in mind that have no intentions of meeting anyone on-line or at a bar anytime soon, at least not for sex. No, I have a FAR better appreciation for what I really want now...and more importantly, I finally feel ready for something real.

*Sigh*

OUTED - PART 1

Allow me to preface this post with a little background information. When I started this blog back in January (can't believe it's been this long) this was one of the experiences I wanted to share, not only because I thought that perhaps others out here may have gone through the same thing and also because I thought, or rather, think, that writing about this experience might finally absolve me of any lingering feelings of resentment. A tall order, to be sure, but I feel like I'm at a point where I can lay it all out on the table.

This is the story of how I was outed...

High school is difficult enough for any sane person to get through, and obviously it's even more difficult living "the best years of your life" (man I hate that fucking tired expression) stuck deep in the closet, as I was at the time. Freshman year I had a steady girlfriend and although she was great and we fooled around some (always initiated by her, I might add) that didn't last due to the gnawing feeling I had that something wasn't right. I forget the exact excuse I made when I broke up with her, but I remember it made her cry, which in turn made me cry since I was nowhere near telling her the real reason why we broke up.

There were a few other girls back then but none as serious as the first one, perhaps because I knew deep inside who I really was and didn't want to hurt them too. Still, I felt a certain pressure to keep up appearances. Also, I experienced what I think many gay men do before they come out, which is the thought that "maybe one day I'll meet the right girl and everything will work out right". Of course, at the same time I had huge crushes on two of the hottest jocks at my high school (both of whom have gone onto acting careers of sorts in Hollywood - gotta love "actors").

Needless to say I didn't meet nor hook up with any guys while in high school. In fact it wasn't until I was 20 that I had my first experience with another guy. Mr. X, as I'll refer to him as was 18 and had graduated from my high school a year earlier. We meet online one lonely night and decided to meet up over at his place. There were two logistical reasons why this made sense, 1, he was already out to his parents, and 2, he lived in a semi detached apartment from his parent's place, so effectively, we would be alone.

To this day I still recall that nervous ride over to his place, which was only a few miles from where I lived at the time. Having pulled into the parking lot I spotted a guy in a hoody wearing shorts and as I approached him he said "Justin?". My heart was beating out of my chest, not because he was hot (in retrospect he only moderately attractive) but because it was the first time I had ever met anyone else who knew who I truly was, gay.

Once inside his place we sat and watched a little TV while chatting. He seemed to sense how nervous I was and tried to get me to relax. I was not looking for a hookup but I still followed him into his bedroom and we laid down...and talked for about two hours, which was probably about the length of time it took me to relax. Finally, we stopped talking, he turned off his lights and we made out. Hard. Eventually both our pants came off and, well, he gave me the first blow job I ever got. Sweet, right?

There were two other times that we hooked up but those details are irrelevant to this post. What is relevant is was a party I was having at my father's place about a year later (he was out of town - a little more background, he traveled all the time therefore his house was the default party place for years). A group of about 8 or 10 of us were hanging out in my room listening to music (the band Phish, if memory serves) getting really, really high and drunk and generally having a good time. I don't remember what precipitated the following conversation, but here's how I remember it went:

Female Friend With Really Long Hair: "Hey Justin" (above the din of the music)
Me: "Sup girl?"
Female Friend With Really Long Hair: "I ran into someone the other day that says he knows who..."
Me: "Yeah, who's that?"
Female Friend With Really Long Hair: "I saw this guy I used to be in my BD class [behavior disorder] he says he knows you..."
Me: (clueless and very high) "What's his name?"
Female Friend With Really Long Hair: "[Mr. X]"
Me: (long pause followed by my blood pressure steadily rising) "...oh, um, huh, that's, uh, odd, I don't, uh, think I know him"
Female Friend With Really Long Hair: "He says you two have hung out a few times"
Me: "...that's, uh, really fucking odd, I have no idea who this person is" (gulp)
Female Friend With Really Long Hair: "really? he seemed to know a lot about you, he knows where you live, what kind of car you drive, what you look like..."

At this point the entire room had it's collective eye on me. To this day I don't know what well of reserve I drew from not to break down completely in front of several close friends and several more lesser friends/acquaintances. What the FUCK was she thinking?

Me: "that's really weird, but he must be thinking of someone else"
Female Friend With Really Long Hair: "he's totally gay"
Me: "don't know anyone like that...hey I think the phone is ringing" (to the room) "anyone need a beer?"

Without really waiting for an answer I quickly left the room went into the garage and did my best not to cry and/or puke. After chugging a Budweiser and smooooking the fuck out of a Marlboro Red I regained my composure and returned to the scene of the "crime". I remember thinking it was a great thing that everyone was really stoned and no one said anything (that I can recall) about the Most Embarrassing Conversation I had ever had. In fact, it was almost as if it never happened and the night continued without further incident. Since she never directly accused me of hooking up with Mr. X I played it off like Female Friend With Really Long Hair was just really fucked up when one of my friends later took me aside and asked me what that was all about.

To be continued...

REGRET IS A WASTED EMOTION

Seeing as I have nothing better to blog about at the moment, nor any obnoxious run in's with Dennis Quaid's film crew to bitch blog about, I thought I'd delve back into my recent past for a little story, (which happens to be somewhat relevant in light of me having come out to my Mom last week).

Previously I mentioned about how I went on vacation in Mexico last November to spend time with my Mom and my Grandparents, (also time relevant considering my Grandmother's recent passing). I winged my way out to sunny Cabo San Lucas from cold, gray Chicago just a week before this most recent Thanksgiving.

Stepping off the silver jet into the hot glare of the Mexican desert I was struck by amazing scenery and the fact that I haven't felt heat like like that in 6 months, which made me lightheaded (not to mention cursing myself for leaving my sunglasses in my car back home). After being conned into bribing the immigration official $30 (my passport was expired) I found a van that would take to me to the hotel where my Grandparent's timeshare was at.

The 4 us of did the "hello/how are you/so good to see you/etc" thing and I got settled in and downed a Tecate. We had lunch, went to a lame cocktail party, blah, blah. Eventually it was dark and just my Mother, a bottle of tequila, a 12 of Tecate and me. We drank. And talked and drank. After a few hours the question came up that always does, "so are you seeing anyone?/why not?". I gave my standard "aw-shucks/haven't found anyone yet..." response, which at the time was true, I wasn't seeing anyone.

Then she says, "you know, it's OK if you want to be gay". I swear the ocean breeze and the sound of the lapping ocean waves, not to mention my ability to speak all froze simultaneously. "I, uh, I...need another beer, uh, let's do a shot, but lemme piss first" was more or less my response.

NOW, if I could do that scene over again it might have gone something like this:

Mom: "It's OK if you want to be gay".
Me: "What do you mean if I WANT to be gay? It's not like converting to another religion, it's not like going from being a 'Ford' man to being a 'GM' man...it's not like..."
Mom: "Weeeell, if that's your choice..."
Me: "As if I decided, 'well, fuck it, you know it's just too difficult to be a straight man in this country, plus the new rules for the current NFL season make no sense anyways', plus, all the cool hipster boys are doing it, I might get some pussy mileage out of pretending I'm gay".
Mom: "You're drunk".
Me: "I'm on vacation in Mexico, you better believe I'm fucking drunk".

Of course, the conversation did NOT go like that, (perhaps that's a good thing).

But that one phrase, that one word "want" totally threw me off base. Funny thing is I knew the conversation was leading up to her asking me if I was gay, but I didn't expect her to ask me like that, so I avoided the question out of confusion. I blame it all on the tequila and the heat, (mostly).

Over the coarse of the week the 4 of us swam, sunbathed, shopped at Costco, ate overpriced Mexican food at touristy spots and generally behaved as most well to do, white Americans on vacation in Mexico do.

Then I pussied out again.

The last night we were there I finally whined enough to my Mom about coming all the way down to Mexico and not once getting on a boat (I LOVE being on the open water and unlike my brother or dad, I avoided that awful automatic sea sickness gene that runs through most of my family). We booked a Sunset (aka, Booze) Cruise and boarded promptly at 5PM. We sit down, each have a beer poured for us and there he was, Senior.

Senior was dressed in khaki linen pants, a tight green polo shirt and white loafers. Now that description does not do the boy justice, but I assure you he was fine as hell. It felt awkward sitting next to my Mom checking out his perfect skin, his "gawdaaaaamn" ass and his swollen pecs (ok, now I just sound like a 2-bit romance author, oh well). Hot senior was with a female and another male friend. They seemed local and wealthy.

The boat filled up with mostly sun burnt Americans and motored out towards El Arco where those of us that have never seen it before snapped away (sometimes it's fun being a dorky American tourist). We rounded the rock formation and watched the sun slowly go down over the water. In between staring at the breathtaking view I kept looking back over at Senior and nearly every time we locked eyes.

As we made our way back into port (which took at least an hour) the crew started rocking out to Daddy Yankee and some of the braver white peoples started dancing. I was drowning my horny sorrows in another Corona when Senior's Senorita grabbed my hand and asked me to dance. At first I was reluctant, but after some gentle berating from the Captain, I said "well, aight, fuck it" and started dancing with Senorita on the side of the boat.

Next thing I now I feel a THIRD hand on my ass, which, "si" belonged to Senior. He was behind Senorita and all of a sudden the 3 of us were having a three way/dance off. It was obvious they were as drunk as I was and we did this for a few minutes until Senorita disappeared and left me and Senior dancing for the drunk Americans, the Mexican crew...and my Mom. Once I realized the gravity of the situation I said "I'll be right back" in broken Spanish.

I wasn't sure how much my Mom had seen but after sitting down next to her she claims seeing me dance with Senorita for a moment before disappearing into the bathroom. My thought process was momentarily relieved...and then Senior sat down next to me. "Tu is un caliente hombre, como se yama" (sorry, my typing Spanish is obviously not so good). "Justin..." We tried talking but his English was as bad as my Spanish.

We tried talking about meeting up later that night but it wasn't easy, especially for me with my Mom in my right ear asking me what we were talking about (remember it was loud as hell with the music). "Pot Mom, he's trying to sell me pot but it's too expensive". That was honestly easier to tell my Mom at that point than to tell her in my needlessly closeted state that I was trying in vein to arrange a hook up with a local boy in Mexico.

Needless to say the boat docked along with the "just outside of my grasp" Mexican Sexual Adventure. On our way back to the shuttle to the hotel fortress I mentioned I was thinking of taking the bus home an hour later, but she offered (more like stated) she would wait for me, thus my Mom effectively cockblocked me.

As the Ford shuttle bus pulled away from the curb I turned my head and watched the lights of the El Squid Roe recede into the inky distant night where I knew Senior was waiting for me...

GIT-R-DONE

I saw the above phrase on the side of a 18-wheeler on my way to work this morning, and, well, I did indeed "Git-R-Done" in regards to coming out to my brother last night.

We were stuck in traffic and talking about random things when I said, "there's something I wanted to tell you, I'm gay". His response could not have been more positive. Like my Mom he said had his suspicions and also like my Mom he told me that as long as I'm happy that's the only thing that matters. Then he laughed and punched my arm. It was one of those little moments that I think I'll always remember.

Over pints of pale ale he asked me about the guys I've dated and whatnot. For some reason I thought it would be more awkward to divulge the aspects of my dating history but in reality it was anything but. We also discussed the reason why I finally decided to come out and I explained that a lot of it has to do with my Grandmother's death and seeing my extended family last weekend. There's obviously no right or wrong answer to such a question, but to make a long story short it really hit me how much love I have for my family. Friends come and go but my family is my rock and right now I feel as close to them as I ever have. It feels good.

The last domino to fall is my father. I plan on telling him soon, perhaps even this weekend but I'm not sure if I'll get the chance to see him. Regardless, I have no fear about coming out to him now.

In other news, the weather has finally decided to stop fucking around. I was running late to work this morning and when I called to talk to the office manager she told me about how bright it is outside. She was right. The weather is mirroring my mood right now, which is bright and sunny. Tonight, I'm going out with friends, tomorrow I'm playing my first whiffle ball game of the season with my friends in the burbs, Sunday I'm shooting 9 holes of golf with my brother and his friends, then seeing what should be a great concert on Sunday night.

Life is good.

PS - As I was finishing typing this up I got a text message from my brother's girlfriend: "mighty proud of you J, congrats".

One last thing, Hamilton suggested I off the comment moderation function, and in the spirit of "GITTIN-R-DONE", I followed suit. I really appreciate all the comments and e-mails. Thanks everyone.

THE MORNING AFTER

I'm still a little shock about last night's turn of events. I was talking to my Mom on the phone and she said "so what else is going on"? I paused for a moment and said "well there's something I was meaning to tell you last weekend when I was in Phoenix but I didn't think the timing was right…but I wanted to tell you I'm gay". Her reaction was by and large positive and but she did express concern for my health/safety, (I think there's a weird perspective on the "gay lifestyle" from our parents-age perspective, but that's another post altogether). Not that I can blame her; a good friend of hers from college and her one of her cousins died of AIDS back in the 80's. I explained I’m not running laps around Boystown having unprotected sex with random strangers, which seemed to mollify her fears.

Regardless, I'm glad that I finally did it. I suppose it would have been better to tell her in person, or perhaps told her before I told most if not all of my friends, but I'm genetically opposed to awkward situations and kept putting this off for years. Now that it's done and done, I feel like a slightly different person, yet somehow more myself. If that sounds vague maybe it's because I'm typing this from my desk at work and I'm a little hung over from last night.

I'm supposed to hang out with my brother and his girlfriend later tonight. I don't know if I'm brave enough to come out to them right now, but I'm sure as shit ready to be done with my semi-closest status. It's fucking exhausting.

This will not be a productive day at work.

I CAME OUT TO MY MOM TONIGHT

I did it and I can hardly believe it, but I came out to my Mom tonight.

Preferably it would not have taken place over the phone tonight, but when she asked me what was going on with me I more or less blurted out "uh, Mom, I'm gay" and left it at that.

Ugh, I need to rest my head and sleep on the night's developments.

MY WEEKEND IN THE BIG BIRD

I attended Mass for the first time in 10 years, changed a flat tire on a golf cart and came out to my stepfather, (in that order).

My brother, his girlfriend and myself descended upon the "valley of the sun" along with my cousin and his wife (who knew they would be on the same flight?) right on time and reported for duty at my Grandfather's house soon thereafter. Immediately we were all enveloped in a wave of hugs, kisses and "it's been so long so since we've seen each other" comments exchanged amongst the relatives. It had been a loooong time since we've all been in the same place at the same time and it felt good to see everyone, especially considering the circumstances.

Friday night was spent eating, drinking and watching old home movies with the family. My retired uncle had spent a considerable amount of time transferring old Super 8 film stock to a digital medium and everyone gathered around the television to hoot and holler at the old footage.

In a period of little over an hour we watched as my grandparents raised 5 girls, who in turn got married and started families of their own. I actually got to see my parents when they were still in the honeymoon phase (which was slightly odd for my stepfather, I think) not mention raw footage of both my brother and I while we were babies.

Whenever my baby mug flashed across the screen I was loudly reminded by my relatives of how much I resemble my Grandmother. It was a bittersweet evening to say the least and everyone was having a good time but the cloud of the impending funeral seemed to hang over every one's head and we called it a night around 10PM.

The next day everyone awoke to a beautiful spring morning in the desert. On the way to the church I tried to think about the last time I stepped inside a church and came up blank. Family and friends were milling about the courtyard and my brother and I were handed the words we were expected to speak before the audience. My brother was up first and performed admirably.

Random Catholic hocus-pocus ensued, another cousin made the trip to the lectern and then it was my turn. I'm told my voice held out but once upon the alter I was literally shaking as I read the words I was given, which was a series of prayers.

I kept reminding myself to speak slowly, clearly and avoid the gaze of my Grandfather, Mother and her 4 sisters so I could avoid the waterworks. My eldest cousin who was charged with the task of delivering the eulogy didn't fare as well. He almost kept it together but when he got to the point of explaining my Grandmother's love for my Grandfather, he lost it, which in turn made nearly everyone in the church also lose it.

The ceremony drew to a close and we exited.

Once back at my Grandfather's residence we did what most any large Catholic family does following a funeral...we started drinking. From noon to midnight we rekindled dormant family relationships, swapped common memories and generally whooped it up.

In the early afternoon one of my uncles suggested us cousins involve ourselves in some kind of activity other than drinking, so we loaded up my Grandfather's golf cart with a huge case cooler of beer and headed over to the bocce ball/basketball court/putting green area. Cases of beer were consumed, the volume of sarcasm increased and I got sun burnt.

In the process the golf cart developed a flat though it was still capable of limping home with my ex-cop uncle behind the wheel, (something tells me his girth combined with the load of the cooler exceeded the load capacity of the a the EZ-GO cart).

No one was interested/sober enough to try and repair the damage done save my uncle and myself so we took it upon ourselves to appropriate the jack from Grandpa's Town Car and remove the forlorn wheel (this took at least an hour) and inflate it at a gas station.

Once that task was completed I was in dire need of a shower and I pleaded for a ride from my Stepfather to take me back to my Mom's place to get cleaned up.

He obliged and on the ride back he remarked that I seemed to have a lot on my mind, (rather the understatement). I did my shower thing, felt refreshed and over some Heineken's I referred back to what he said in the car. "There was something I wanted to talk about this weekend but was unsure of the timing" came out of my head and I went with it...

I simply said "well, I'm gay". It might have been the effect of the beer, the sun, my Grandmother's passing or a combination of all 3 things but I threw it out there. His reaction was entirely positive, which was a relief, especially when he confirmed that my Mother had her suspicions, (although that might sound more ominous then it really is).

I wanted so bad to tell her and my brother, but there was never a moment we had private where I felt comfortable to speak my mind.

Perhaps I'm working up the familial food chain, but I now feel much more comfortable telling my Mom and my Bro, not to mention my Dad.

Whew. I think this is progress.

WEIGHTY ISSUES

Just before I left work yesterday one of the nice ladies in the office stopped by my desk and said "My, how you've grown!" to which I replied "huh?. She explained she was attempting to prepare me for the inevitable since we earlier talked about how it's been about 5-6 years since I last saw all the family members I'm about to see this weekend for the funeral. I then corrected her and said that my various family members will likely have the opposite reaction.

The last time I saw most of my extended family I was a year or so from finishing up school and at the time I was fat. Not Orson Wells circa 1976 fat, but at the time I was pushing 180+ on my 5'11 frame. I've since lost lost over 25 pounds so it will be interesting (and perhaps a little flattering) so hear/see their reactions. My hair is a lot longer now too so I hope they still recognize me...

The other issue that may or may not come up this weekend is me coming out to my family. I already expect the question from various family members, which is "do you have a girlfriend/why aren't you dating...?" I had worked up the courage to come out to my brother and was literally going to do it the next time we hung out, but between him starting a new job and dealing with my Grandmother's death that had been pushed aside. For a moment I thought that I might "drop the bomb" as it were on the flight to Arizona today, but then I quickly realized that coming out to my brother and his girlfriend at 30,000 feet might not be the best idea.

If I can steal away a moment with my Mom I very well might tell her, but then again I'm not sure if this would be an appropriate time, (I would feel almost selfish since this weekend is all about my Grandmother's memory, and not about me). I'm 95% sure she already knows since the last time we saw each other (drunk in Mexico) she straight up asked me if I was gay, but I was caught so off guard I could little more than stutter and issue a half assed denial. I know she won't care and will love me regardless, but it's tricky trying to explain why I haven't come out to her earlier, (same issue with my brother and my father for that matter).

On that note, it's time to hit the gym before winging my way to the desert. It's nice and sunny in the city of wind today...

COMING OUT FOR THE FIRST TIME

Just over a year and a half ago I began the coming out process. Red and I had been really close for several years, so close that most people assumed we were dating, and for all practical (but not romantic) purposes we were. I knew that she liked me as more than just a friend and for a long time I thought I felt the same way too.

Of course I never acted on any impulses...because they weren't any to act upon. The synapse in my brain that compels a boy to kiss a girl died a long time ago or was never there in the first place. I wanted to want to kiss her, have sex with her, etc, but at the end of the day I was interested more in the thought than the action and I was not going to pretend otherwise.

Eventually Red started dating one of my close male friends, which meant I basically lost my 2 best friends for nearly a year. After they came out of their love coma they started actually hanging out with other people again. We renewed our friendship and grew tight again.

When I finally decided I was going to come out of the closet I was not in the best place emotionally, or physically for the matter. I was constantly stressed, pissed off or both and I began to realize that a lot of that anger was a result of being stuck in the closet. I needed to talk to someone about the how I was feeling because if I didn’t, I felt the stress might literally kill me.

The decision to tell Red first was made because I trusted her and figured it would be a safe option. One day I called her and said that there was something important I needed to talk to her about. She seemed suspicious, especially when I asked to meet with just her (and without her boyfriend present). We finally decided on a specific night and I thought out everything in my head that I wanted to tell her. The big night came…and she blew me off, (I later found out that she “forgot” and spent the night at this asshole’s house so she could score drugs).

I was fucking crushed. And angry; I thought it was clear that what I needed to say was very important. The next time we spoke I flipped the fuck out and she apologized then promised not to blow me off the next time we made plans “to talk about whatever it is you need to tell me”. At this point I thought about not going through with it. Of course, there were other close friends but no one I felt comfortable talking to about being gay.

A few months passed before the planets aligned once again and we made plans to hang out and talk. We met at a bar and I had a few beers and shot while we made small talk. Finally she said "so what is it that you want to tell me". I tried speaking, but even after a few beers I had to force the words "I'm gay" out of my throat.

Cue the waterworks.

It must have looked strange to see a seemingly normal guy crying in the middle of a busy bar during “happy hour” but at that point I could give 2 shits about what anyone thought. We hugged and she said “it’s OK, I totally accept you for who you are”. I never once thought she would have any other reaction but a positive one, but until I actually said those 2 little words I couldn’t know for sure. Needless to say this was a huge, HUGE weight off my shoulders.

The last year and half have gotten easier with each passing day. Although Red and I are no longer speaking I’m still grateful to her for helping to set the wheels in motion. I’m proud to say I haven’t lost any friends since coming out (which truthfully was once a major fear) and in fact I’ve made many new ones since. Today, my perspective on life has improved considerably. Although I haven’t come out to my family yet I know that once I do they will also accept for who I am.

STUMBLING OUT OF THE CLOSET

At this point I'm out to all of my friends. Currently the "final frontier" is coming out to my family, which I'm confident will go well once I get the courage to tell them. But I think I came out to my brother and his a girlfriend last night. I'll explain. I went to meet a buddy at a bar to go and shoot some pool (although that never happened...couldn't someone have told me it was fucking league night?) and eat some food. My brother calls me and asks what I'm doing and since he lives near the place I was at he decided to meet for a drink or 3. As it turns out it was my brother's girlfriend's birthday yesterday so ended up putting back a few pitchers amongst the four of us. Anyways, I get a text message from this guy I'm really into (more on that later) and my brother's GF, who at this point is more than a little buzzed, grabs for my phone saying "oh whoooooooos that....your lovah?". Me: "Naw, naw, it's just a friend" meanwhile I can feel myself blushing and I'm certain I had a huge grin on my face. My buddy is just sitting there being very quiet not wanting to say anything. Coincidentally this occurred right after they had asked me if I was sleeping with my roommate who apparently dropped several strong hints at a party my brother had a few month's back. Not sure what the fuck that's all about...

Maybe I'm just being presumptuous and it's all in my head but the mood definitely shifted after that. It would also be fitting if that's how I came out to them because I'm long since abandoned the whole serious "we need to talk" song and dance. Of all my friends I only told 4 that I was gay and word just seemed to filter down.

Funny though how people I though knew didn't and therefore get confused when I make a comment like "oh man, I'd totally fuck that guy". This happened a few weeks ago with one of my newer friends. Although I never said, "I think you should know I'm gay" I was certain he already knew so when I made a comment (forget exactly what it was) the look on his face immediately changed and he asked "are you gay"? Not in a negative way or anything, but he seemed genuinely surprised, which in turn surprised the hell out of me.