The Musician

Sorry I've been away for so long--I know you're all starving for juicy gossip. Between work and men, I've been quite the busy bee lately. Let's break this down a bit...

Work: This week I've done 4 states in 4 days. Monday: Delaware; Tuesday: Ohio; Wednesday: Maryland; Thursday: Florida. Much of this is related to our much anticipated, largest annual conference in New Orleans starting January 20. And for those of you in the government and contracting sectors, you'll be quite amazed that I've somehow gotten work for free out of a contracting company, albeit the one I work for. What a coup!

Men: I've been dating a guy for the last two weeks. Longest streak in years! I really enjoy his company--and even the Mexican has given his initial blessing, though the Imelda is quite jealous that he's taking away her husband, I suspect. I am resisting getting sucked into the lesbian relationship, so I'm going to start setting some ground rules soon--otherwise I'll never get to the gym, swimming, or see my friends. Cant have that. Plus he likes to be controlled, so I'm sure he'll go with these restrictions.

Oh right...he is called "The Musician" because he plays in a band. No, not some 930 Club'esque gay punk band. Nope, the Air Force ceremonial band. He plays the euphonium. Sexy? Well, at least when he's wearing the uniform it is!!

Men Are Becoming Superfluous

Let's think about my reasons for having a man:

• Confidant/entertainment


• Sense of love/acceptance


• Sex


• Massage


• Cuddling


• Shared home/expenses
  

I've begun to analyze these points and determine whether I have them in my life, especially given the ever-increasing technological breakthroughs of the 21st century. Let's face it, the older you get, the more successful relationships become less about sex and physical attraction as fun and entertainment. If you have a great set of friends--which I'm slowly accumulating--what's the need for a bf? Granted, those friends may never love you, but they provide that much needed sense of acceptance. Then there's sex: the mother of all components for a young gay man...but let's face it, we all admit that jerking off is just as effective, if not better half the time. And once I start taking yoga, I'll be able to lick my own ass and give myself head. Or I can just become a bottom and experience the joys of vibrators/dildos/plugs/beads. Now I've always admitted that a good massage is much better than sex, and leading the active lifestyle that I do with constant walking, biking, gym, and swimming, I'm always in need of a good rub-down for my many sore muscles. Enter my new partner: the Homedics shiatsu massager.

I no longer need a man to rub my back, shoulders, or feet. And the best part? This one can go for hours. I think last night I literally let the thing work out the knots in my back for 2hrs straight. Put it on the floor....feet are taken care of. And no complaining about hands being tired. Couple that to a nice big body pillow, and you've got all the physical needs for having a man covered. Now I just need to find someone to split my overly inflated DC rent costs.

The Cyber Closet

Most of us reading this blog are proud to be openly gay citizens, though the degree of outness sometimes varies--are you out to just yourself, family, friends, coworkers, ex-girl friends? I'm not passing judgement on what degree is good or bad, we all come to that position of acceptance and comfort at different stages in our lives. However, no matter how "Out" we seem to be as gay men, there's still the last closet door that many are unwilling to open: admitting you met someone online.

Let's face it, we all do it. In fact, this medium, along with sites like Myspace, Friendster, Gay.Com, ManHunt, etc all promote online meetings. Where would we be without them? Hopelessly friendless or frequenting bars and bathhouses more often is my bet. So right...we've all met friends online. Why then are people afraid to admit to friends that they met someone online? Like coming out, it took me a while to feel comfortable saying it, but now I look back on how absurd online closets are. There's nothing funnier than the dynamic of standing with a group of friends at a bar, another acquaintance comes over, you introduce them. Inevitably the next question is "so how do you know each other?" In days past I might say, "Oh we have a mutual friend in Atlanta" or something else almost as believable. Now I say, "we met online"...and there appears the look of shock on both the faces of your group of friends and your "acquaintance"...HE SAID THE O-WORD!!

Now if you're The Imelda and drunk, you'll press even more to make the O-closeted acquaintance even more uncomfortable..."so which site was it?" I think that might be a step too far, I don't want to really "out" the person for being on men4menwholovechickensex.com or something of the sort. But I have no problems admitting it.

Continued Frustration

Two days ago the lawyer asked me out to dinner on Sunday, I happily agreed. Today I got a group email:

Hi boys,

Mark/Rick/Steve, a newby to DC from Texas, and I (also a Tex-patriot) want to find the best, cheap authentic mexican food our nation's capital has to offer. To do so, we intend to hit up every mexican-esque joint in the district. This weekend I thought this quaint little joint on Columbia rd just NE of 18th street would be a good place to start. I believe it is called Mex Tex.
I was thinking that Sunday night might be the best night to do it but am open to other suggestions.

Let me know if you are interested.
The Lawyer

So much for a quaint, romantic dinner...

Foot Orgasms

I have an intimate relationship with my feet. As such, I need a partner who understands this, supports the relationship, and will satisfy my desires. This weekend I found one. You've all read about The Kid, and he was he who helped me discover this relationship. We were shopping at Pentagon City Mall when I saw my future partner from afar. Top level, somewhat inconspicuous. There it was...Clark. The Clarks store has brought joy to my life.

My attire at work is formal to business casual, either way I'm wearing dress shoes. Herein lies the problem: dress shoes aren't compatible with my 6 block walk to the Metro each way. In the year and a half I've been living in DC, I've gone thru 6 pairs of dress black shoes--or worn them enough to know that my feet deserve better. Like with men, I don't fuck around, I dump em as soon as I am confronted with even the slightest sign of incompatibility. But alas, I think I've found a true partner. Its amazing to see the evolution of shoe choice, it parallels my taste in men.

I started off with, of course, the cute Kenneth Coles. You know they look good, you think they're comfortable. But after I few weeks you tire of them. However, you keep them around for the rare dress occasion--dates, weddings, etc. Sound familiar?

I then moved on to some comfy Bass dress shoes. I actually had a pair of these before KC, but wore them out and decided to try something new. I came back to the old-standbys. They're similar to the KC's, but more walkable. Gave up after 3 months. This would be like my ex Greg, the hot caucasian Enrique Iglesias look-alike. All the features ya want, just not made for long-term durability.

Next was the Rockports. Not as cute as the KC's or Bass, but distinctive and good looking nonetheless. I still wear them. And for $75, you cant beat the comfort they provided. But alas, things wear out, and you must move on. As we used to sing in the Brownies, "Make new friends, but keep the old...one is silver and the other's gold." These are my "AtlWreck" of shoes...always gonna be there at some level.

At one point I started to question the overall comfort of the Rockports and decided to go completely with function over form. Enter the Merrell "dress shoes". Whenever I put them on, I thought of myself as the Monster from Young Frankenstein--Peter Boyle wore shoes with exaggerated soles. Eventually, my gay gene kicked back in and I couldn't wear these anymore. Plus I think they were worse for my feet, as I now have planter fasciitis. I'd compare these to the unnamed ex that we all have--we make some compromise and decide to go out with them only to realize it was a big mistake. Never compromise!

And then the skies opened, and there was sunlight. I bought a pair of Clarks as my dress brown shoes a while ago, they're great. I considered getting the same ones in black. Good thing I constantly procrastinate purchases. For it was then I discovered the Clark Privo! line. They're like wearing slippers...so comfy, great for walking, not horribly styled either. I probably could get away with them even in a suit for work--especially since straights dont look at shoes like we do. And they weren't nearly as expensive as those crappy shoes they sell at the stores on Connecticut near Dupont Circle--overpriced, and not really for walking. I have yet to find this man.

Alas, I'm happy again. Now if only I can get someone to rub my feet at night!

The Kid Report

The common assumptions when meeting guys from online:

• Add 25lbs
• Subtract 4 visible abdominal muscles
• Subtract 2 penis inches
• Add 5 years
• Add 1 octave to natural voice

So given those assumptions, I always have relatively realistic expectations when meeting people online. Luckily I had seen all the goods of The Kid from years of chatting, swapping pics, talking on the phone, and caming (back when people did that). But there's still room for surprise. I must admit, I was very pleasantly surprised with how the weekend turned out. He was cuter, same body, much bigger, and more down to earth than I expected. We did everything but get drunk--amazing for two gay guys, as bar/clubs are the social norm. Hopefully he'll come down for some more visits, I'm sure I'll head to Pittsburgh once or twice. No expectations, its just good to have fun in life.

The Kid

As alluded to in a previous blog, I should have another outta-towner visit this weekend. And, like any visitor, there's a helluva story that goes along with this one. I started chatting with this guy Mike online--I don't remember how/where we met. He was living in Pitt, I was in Atlanta. He was younger (like 18/19) but cute and sweet...and being 24, that was an acceptable age range still. We never really intended on meeting, just one of those long distance chat pals (or the equivalent of the modern-day pen pal). We stopped chatting when he started dating a 40-something man, who was obviously only into the relationship to keep Mike as his prize. I couldn't convince him of it, even though the daddy constantly cheated on him. Stuff like that frustrates me so greatly that I just need to cease communication with weak-minded (and willed) people.

After a two year hiatus, we reconnected a few months ago. And with it came a confession: he's now 21, which made him considerably younger at the time. Basically, he lied to me--he wasn't sure, but he said there was the possibility that he wasn't even 18 at the time. I got very disgusted over this, as I have never considered even chatting with a youngin--even if it was legal in good ole Georgia, where I lived. Oh well...water under the bridge now.

So now that I'm in DC, he's lookin forward to meeting. I'm slightly apprehensive, as nothing good usually comes from meeting someone you've "known" for so long. Its usually quite disappointing. (WOW...I have a classic story to share when I have the time) But what the hell...cant hurt. If he's absolutely annoying in person, I'm man enough to say that now, and Pitt isn't too far a drive back home anyway.

Big Dicked Bottom

The Big Dicked Bottom, or BDB, is a guy I met online last year. Unfortunately he lives in Eastern Shore, so my exploits with him are somewhat limited. But our story is quite amazing. The BDB somehow chose me above all others on Myspace to hang out with....his first gay friend in DC. At 25, and a big Italian stallion muscle stud, he had never been with a guy before. WHAT?! Yea, I'm not shitting ya. So after "chilling" for a bit--mind you he brings out the butchest side in me, but its ok--we start messing around. I can tell he's not lying about me being his first guy as 1. he's obviously nervous and 2. isn't that 'good'. But these are the things you need to put up with when dealing with virgins.

Let's just say his virginity didn't last too long. He must've been fantasizing about this moment for a long time, as he was very willing. I doubt I've ever encountered anything hotter than a big muscle bottom begging for more. His ass is named "Henry" because its so large it requires naming. Wow. And not flabby, all muscle with some padding. Obviously, with a name like BDB, he ain't hurtin up front either.

So the good news...he's making a return trip to DC this weekend. I guess this will be our 4th meeting. It really is a shame he doesn't live here, nor is he planning to move. Oh well. One more potential that has no potential.

Cobbwebs

In my first blog, I mentioned that one reason I'm trying to regularly write things about my life is because my memory isn't nearly as sharp as it used to be, which troubles me greatly. Case in point: last weekend there was talk about some cute, slightly hairy new guy at practice who mentioned my name. They said his name was Jared, which didn't ring any bells in my head. No big deal, I figured there was a mix up. Then last night I see this hot guy stretching on the pool deck while I'm doing warm-up. Naturally, I stop to gawk. As soon as he sees me he smiles and says my name--I'm caught off-guard. Has my reputation preceded itself that bad/well? I could only hope. But no, somehow he knew me and my name, though I couldn't ever remember seeing him in person. Of course this leads me to assume we've chatted online. So in my head I start running through the various face pics of guys I chat with lately. FACE RECOGNITION: NEGATIVE. Luckily I briefed SD on the situation and the did the very outspoken, "Hi my name is __, what is yours?" Phew, at least now I knew his name.

After practice ends I rush home, look through the folder I keep of guys face pics, each saved by their online alias--I can never remember who people are otherwise. Nope, he's not in there either. FUCK! I wait 30min and then get an IM request. DING DING DING. Chatting back and forth for a few minutes, then comes the flashback. He has a boyfriend. STATUS: NOT A REAL PERSON.

Just my luck. Someone is excited to see me, but is already hitched. GRRR! JB, where's my drink?!

My Life Starring Parker Posey

We often see a movie and self-identify with the character, then argue with our friends saying, "no, that was totally me!" Tonight, however, was different. It started with a bit of masochism--TOA asked me out to a movie yesterday, I agreed. We went to E Street to see Sicko (though I wasn't too keen on it). Luckily "Broken English" started at the same time. I had no idea what the movie was about, never even saw an advertisement for it before. All I know is Parker Posey has a habit of picking good films, and it beat watching Michael Moore bitch for 2hrs about problems we'll never fix.

I enjoyed the movie thoroughly, laughed at PP's hangups, neuroses, and marveled at her amazing character acting. Some parts were eerily similar to my own life. There I was, sitting next to the guy I still have a crush on, him rubbing up against me in the movie theatre, watching a story about a girl who always thinks she finds the right man, only to be let down by some unknown detail--they're already taken, don't live locally, not interested in relationships, etc. And her solution? Drown her sorrows in wine, stiff drinks, and pills. Atta gurl! She totally lived the "Sure I can get laid, but no one will love me" life. In fact, a striking comment (amongst many) was Mom: "You've had some good boyfriends"; PP: "Mom, those were in college" (as she's 30 now). As I'm approaching 30, I realized tonight that I haven't had a relationship since grad-school (which were really my college years, since I lived it up then and not during undergrad).

As TOA and I left the theatre he said that he didn't like the movie, I mentioned that I liked it, probably cause I could identify with the main character. He, obviously, didn't. It was hard for him to grasp the concept of ignoring past mistakes while getting swept up in the moment of puppy love. Of course the movie ends happily, but it caused the walk home from the Metro to be entrenched in self-reflection. The point of the story was that you cant have a decent relationship unless you know and love yourself first. I totally believe that, and always lookout for #1 before all others. But I don't think that knowing, loving, and taking care of oneself will protect you from the shitheads out there. PP had a string of men like TOA in her life, as I have too. And, like PP, I sit here blogging and drinking my glass of Malbec so I may find satisfactory sleep.

Of course I didnt eat yet

Yesterday was quite spontaneous, in contrast to my typical Sunday of swim practice, brunch with the boys, maybe the gym, lil bit if the Circle, then home to watch Family Guy. After skipping out on a lame party Saturday night (I used the excuse of swim practice), I got to bed at a decent time with all the intentions of going swimming at 10am. Nope. Got up, dicked around online while drinking coffee, made my way to So's Your Mom (awesome deli in Adams Morgan), got a lox n bagel, headed to the circle. Did my usual chill there for a bit with every intention of going to the gym after I digested. That never occurred. I figured, I'll bike over and check out H&M for a bit to kill time. As soon as I got there, my friend ATL-Sean called and whisked me away to Tysons Corner to go shopping. YAY!

After a hard day of that we head to Cafe 17 for drinks and dinner. Just as we're finishing up dinner I get a call from TOA--usually I never answer my phone while at a restaurant, but it was TOA after all. So he asks, "Have you eaten yet?" My response: "Nope, not yet." BURP. So he invited me to meet him and some friends at Perry's on the roof deck. Awesome. As I arrived, I couldn't figure out if the guy he went there with was a kinda-sorta bf from outta down (long distance thing). I was very territorial and on-guard. A few minutes later another friend arrived, so it wasn't to odd with just the three of us. $50 each of sushi and martinis later and we head for beers at another bar, then over to TOA's. As I'm finishing my first drink at his place he asks, "Would you like me to make you another?" I decline--the ConsummateAries never lets others make his drinks, as they are never strong enough. Atta Gurl! So TOA then asks, "well would you like me to show you to the kitchen?" DING DING DING....we have a winner!! He cuddle walks me into the darkness of his keep made of stainless steel and granite. After a quick makeout, we're back on the sofa watching Robot Chicken with his friends, quasi-cuddled, with a fresh whisky and coke. And as I leave, he gets the pillows and blankets for his friend from out of town to crash on the sofa. Awesome!

Lesson learned: It pays to never take "No" for an answer.

So just how many sports clubs are in Washington?

It was almost the perfect gay date. Last night TOA asked me if I wanted to go workout with him, of course I said yes. Now we originally met at the gym--we're the two remaining gay stragglers that haven't made the switch from Washington Sports Club to Results. He was going at my usual time (8:30/9pm). Perfect. So I hurry up, tidy up my apt (just in case he needs a shower or massage after), put on a nice tight tank top to show off the guns, and bike on over to WSC DuPont. I notice his bike outside--he has a decent Specialized mtn bike (yes, I'm a bike snob), but has a big "granny seat" on it. Very odd combination. So I mosey on in and start lookin around for the hottie TOA.

Oddly I don't see him anywhere. Send him a txt, no reply. Maybe I missed him? I do the casual "I cant decide what to work on next" downstairs so I can check out all the machines and benches. Still no TOA. After 45min, I gave up all hope. My pecs were already engorged with enough blood, and my abs were tight, so I headed home.

Later that night I get a call from CSV. "Ohh...you went to Gallery Place?" Jesus-titty-fuckin-Christ! My date was ruined because of those capitalist bastards must continually expand their fitness empire. 18 WSC's in the Metro area, we obviously had a difference preference that night. grrrrr. So I sat home alone with my pint of Ben n Jerry's strawberry shortcake ice cream, Harry Potter, and porn. (no I didnt do HP and porn at the same time, that's very "dirty old man")

Where's my U-Haul?

After last night, I think I'm becoming a lesbian. No, not cause I want to chow down on some meat curtains. Instead its cause I felt that ridiculous "wow, what a perfect guy!" emotion after drinking with TOA (The Other Aries) last night at Halo. Granted, get a few Makers and Coke in me, and I'm ready to marry anyone--if their collar isn't popped. But how do I know its love and truly meant to be? We discussed Star Wars and other geeky shit for a good 30-45min. And not just the superficial Star Wars movies topics, I'm talking Star Wars Universe (plots outside of the movies). And then to top it all off...he drank bourbon with me. *le sigh*

Reality check: He's a lawyer (not real people), and apparently part of the A-List (not real people). But at least he doesn't pop his collar of fan the flames of his faggotry. So we shall see how this plays out.

To Kiss and Tell?

I'm beginning to see how blogging can become addictive. Any major thought or event and I think, "wow, how can I blog about that?" Case in point: date last night. As its a current and on-going event, I wonder how much detail I should divulge. What is crossing the line as far as the privacy of the other person, especially since I'm sure other readers on here (GCC, Mexican, Arian-Mexican, JB, etc) might meet the guy if things go well. We all want to juicy gossip, but at what point is it just too much?

"Sure I can get laid...

...But no one will ever love me. " That was our theme from IGLA. And it really does carry over into my every day life. Lately I've really begun to reflect on that quote, by my quasi-twin brother GCC. Don't get me wrong, I'm perfectly content with my current life, but I'm always plagued with the question, "why are you single?"...and its true, I always am. Granted, I'm very picky in relationships: I cannot abide snorers, guys who are at all effeminate, primpers, the song/dance crowd, or those reallly into money. I need someone who can hold a conversation but doesn't talk my ear off constantly like a chick, athletic, and outdoorsy preferred. Not toooo much to ask for is it?

Before this sounds like yet another personal ad, let's get back to my self-analysis. I remember clear as day many years ago one of my friends having a drunk confession: I'm a mean drunk. He meant that I picked on him too much. I'm sorry, that's my sarcastic, witty personality. I thought it was part of my charm. Prince charming I am not, apparently. You see I grew up being the shortest guy in the class, characterized as 'gay' as a kid (even had a lisp before speech therapy), and had a last name that was easily mispronounced as "Piss it"...so you can imagine how I had to develop a thick skin and learn to roll with the punches early on. I guess I assume that other people have a similar leathery hide (and not just from fake baking). They don't.

Recently I was labeled as emotionally cold (thanks GCC). Maybe that's due to being constantly single, or dealing with moving around a lot and losing contact with those people I care about. I think I should just make a new t-shirt that says, "If I insult you, its only because I love you." Maybe that will solve my problems of seeming to be a lil asshole and unloving.