32 of my 33 Christmases have been in California. The one straggler was in Orem, Utah, with my first stepfather's mormon family, and as you can imagine it was horrendous so I won't even start with that story right now. Let's talk about a Cali Christmas.
The sun is usually shining on a Cali Christmas. When I got bikes, remote-control cars, or actually anything as a kid, we went outside and played with it. As an adult now, I start Christmas with a cup of coffee in my shorts on the balcony, reading the paper. The air is dry and clear, and in the winter my mom has the best view of eastern San Diego, with the mountains resting in a purple haze on the horizon, framing the city.
My family is the stereotypical over-the-top liberal California family too, and its never more apparent than when we're all together during the holidays. My sister and I both have a Mexican father. Each of my sister's 3 girls have a black father. And we celebrate at mom and Bob's house. Bob is mom's gay best friend that morphed into family about a decade ago. They own a house together now, even sleep in the same bed (they like to cuddle, how sweet :-). So that's us, just your average Homomexiblack-American family.
We ate our dinner early at 1pm, and thank God the turkey coma hit the kids. For the first time all day, there is quiet in the house. Bob and I are drinking Bloody Mary's (we don't feel guilty about being drunk in the daytime if we have a breakfast drink for some reason), and Bob is talking to my ex-boyfriend on the phone. I am at once relishing being with my family and bored out of my mind, so I guess its not so different from most peoples' Christmas after all.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
Life and Love in the Big SD (San Diego)
San Diego is such a time warp for me. I lived my early gay years there (1993-2000), and I go back every year to hang out with my family at Christmas.
I'm here now, and today my mom and I went to Target to get stocking stuffers for my nieces, and in the 45 minutes I was there, I saw a guy I dated for a couple months in 1998, a guy I had sex with at some point that I can't remember, and my friend Mark who was part of my extended raver family throughout the mid-90's. All this at Target!
In my first day back, here is what I saw while driving around the streets: strip malls, socks and sandals, a drag queen with a red beehive going nowhere in particular, hundreds of people drinking coffee at outdoor cafes, people riding bikes in shorts and tank tops in December, gays from ages 20-50 all wearing the same sports gear, hot marines, ugly marines, girls with big butts who are dating marines, men with moustaches on motorcycles, new lofts where empty parking lots used to be, lots of empty retail spaces with realtor signs in the window, cheap faux-mission tile rooftops on everything that'll stand still, yet another used clothing shop across the street from two older used clothing shops, and perpetual sunshine.
In the next week I am going to do all the same things I have done in San Diego for the last 14 years. I will go to my friend Vince's house and get drunk. I will go to a bar with my best friend Umecke and get drunk, and maybe eat. I will visit my mom's friends who have become my friends, Christopher and Michael, and we will eat at some trendy cafe and then get drunk. When I'm not drunk, I will be sitting in my mom's loft, just like I'm doing now, practicing alternate forms of relaxation (watching DVD's, reading the paper on the balcony, playing on the computer, taking a nap). This is life in San Diego.
I love it here. Absolutely love it. As long as I only come here 2-3 times each year, I can appreciate the magical blandness that makes me feel home.
I'm here now, and today my mom and I went to Target to get stocking stuffers for my nieces, and in the 45 minutes I was there, I saw a guy I dated for a couple months in 1998, a guy I had sex with at some point that I can't remember, and my friend Mark who was part of my extended raver family throughout the mid-90's. All this at Target!
In my first day back, here is what I saw while driving around the streets: strip malls, socks and sandals, a drag queen with a red beehive going nowhere in particular, hundreds of people drinking coffee at outdoor cafes, people riding bikes in shorts and tank tops in December, gays from ages 20-50 all wearing the same sports gear, hot marines, ugly marines, girls with big butts who are dating marines, men with moustaches on motorcycles, new lofts where empty parking lots used to be, lots of empty retail spaces with realtor signs in the window, cheap faux-mission tile rooftops on everything that'll stand still, yet another used clothing shop across the street from two older used clothing shops, and perpetual sunshine.
In the next week I am going to do all the same things I have done in San Diego for the last 14 years. I will go to my friend Vince's house and get drunk. I will go to a bar with my best friend Umecke and get drunk, and maybe eat. I will visit my mom's friends who have become my friends, Christopher and Michael, and we will eat at some trendy cafe and then get drunk. When I'm not drunk, I will be sitting in my mom's loft, just like I'm doing now, practicing alternate forms of relaxation (watching DVD's, reading the paper on the balcony, playing on the computer, taking a nap). This is life in San Diego.
I love it here. Absolutely love it. As long as I only come here 2-3 times each year, I can appreciate the magical blandness that makes me feel home.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
I gotta get this crap off my chest about the last guy I dated
I'm at the airport going home to San Diego for Christmas and my plane is boarding in like 5 minutes, so I have to keep this short, but I just got a text from the last guy I dated, and I feel like I need to let some shit out:
- Met on my birthday the first week of September in Fire Island
- The first weekend was like the opening scene of Grease, except that we went all the way (it was really great)
- Started dating back in the city
- Got intense quick
- I thought it was a sweet sign when he said that he didn't want me to sleep with other people, and that we should try being monogamous as we got to know each other
- Kept dating, having fun
- He had been staying with a friend, but that friend had other friends come to town in early November, so he needed a place to keep his stuff for a few weeks; I let him stay with me
- He goes to Puerto Vallarta with friends for Thanksgiving, and then his communication gets weird
- When he gets back he comes to the house, takes his clothes off and cuddles up next to me; the first thing I ask is if he slept with someone
- He did
- I was probably just starting to fall for him; I am hurt
- We talk
- I ask him to leave and say its over
- Two days later he comes back to get his stuff and says he is leaving town (Fantastic! I love when they leave town!)
- It comes up in conversation that one of his closest friends never knew we were dating (uh, that's weird...)
- I then hear a couple weeks later that he met a friend on the beach in PV and told the guy he was living at 14th and Ninth (where I live) yet never mentioned to the guy that he was dating someone
- I start to wonder if I was just being used???
On my way to the airport, I got a text from him saying that he is in San Diego for Christmas, and he wished me happy holidays. Dammit! That's where I'm flying to! It was a great coincidence that both our families lived in San Diego when we met, but uh, not so funny anymore.
Maybe he didn't use me. Maybe he's not a complete dick. I can't really tell. But I know that I can't find out in a text, and I'm sure as hell not gonna call him, right? No, no text, no call. So maybe he'll read this, and if he does (if you do, if you are), then Happy Holidays to you too Brett.
Addiction
I want to preface this posting by saying that you should not read judgement into my words. I am about to start a disclosure, a discussion, but not an argument.
I have been affected by addiction my entire life. Not my own addiction, but the people I love. My mother left my father because he was an alcoholic, and later in life when I got to know him, I let him go again because he had also become a drug addict. In my immediate family there are 3 more alcoholics and 2 food addicts (yes, it really is a debilitating and life-changing addiction). I started dating my first boyfriend after he got sober from crystal addiction, and then he struggled with it through our relationship. One of my best friend's from my college years went on to become a drug dealer, and had his house raided by the police and got himself thrown in jail. The man who really taught me that I was worth loving when I was 27 died this year of a drug overdose after struggling with addicitions to a variety of drugs for 25 years.
One of my new friends in New York is a recovering drug addict, as is one of my oldest friends from San Diego (a different one from the ones mentioned above). I relate to each one of these people, try my best to understand and share their struggles, and in most cases love these people with all of my heart. And more times that I could ever count, I have thanked God for sparing me the agony that they go through.
Addiction is a strange, complicated thing. The crazy thing is that most addicts dislike the abuse, and yet are compelled to abuse whatever it is (food, alcohol, drugs) anyway. So some guy might see that his crystal use has cost him his job, or a relationship, or his family, and he feels so guilty and ashamed. He starts to dislike himself, and pulls away from his loved ones. And then the guilt and shame and isolation pile up and (here comes the twisted part...) he believes that taking more crystal will make him feel better. That's where us non-addicts are lucky. At those moments where we realize that our use of whatever has gone too far, we draw a boundary. We stop, or at least regulate, whatever use we are concerned with, and bring our existence back to homeostasis. Addicts can't do that.
I guess I can't offer complete understanding to those addicts in my life. As much as I want to empathize with their struggle, all I can do is listen, do my best to see the world through their eyes, and congratulate them for their accomplishments. I wonder if they see my ability to set boundaries as a strength? And to take that a step further, maybe that's the real value in friendships. Maybe we seek strength in others where we are vulnerable.
If any of those friends should read this, then please remember these things:
1. I love you for who you are, including the struggle.
2. Maybe you will be sober forever, but should you make a mistake here and there along the way, I will still love you.
3. I feel like many of you don't see the magnitude of your own strength, but I see it, and I will help you find it when you need it.
Man, this is getting way to serious. I could really use a cocktail to lighten the mood (ha ha).
I have been affected by addiction my entire life. Not my own addiction, but the people I love. My mother left my father because he was an alcoholic, and later in life when I got to know him, I let him go again because he had also become a drug addict. In my immediate family there are 3 more alcoholics and 2 food addicts (yes, it really is a debilitating and life-changing addiction). I started dating my first boyfriend after he got sober from crystal addiction, and then he struggled with it through our relationship. One of my best friend's from my college years went on to become a drug dealer, and had his house raided by the police and got himself thrown in jail. The man who really taught me that I was worth loving when I was 27 died this year of a drug overdose after struggling with addicitions to a variety of drugs for 25 years.
One of my new friends in New York is a recovering drug addict, as is one of my oldest friends from San Diego (a different one from the ones mentioned above). I relate to each one of these people, try my best to understand and share their struggles, and in most cases love these people with all of my heart. And more times that I could ever count, I have thanked God for sparing me the agony that they go through.
Addiction is a strange, complicated thing. The crazy thing is that most addicts dislike the abuse, and yet are compelled to abuse whatever it is (food, alcohol, drugs) anyway. So some guy might see that his crystal use has cost him his job, or a relationship, or his family, and he feels so guilty and ashamed. He starts to dislike himself, and pulls away from his loved ones. And then the guilt and shame and isolation pile up and (here comes the twisted part...) he believes that taking more crystal will make him feel better. That's where us non-addicts are lucky. At those moments where we realize that our use of whatever has gone too far, we draw a boundary. We stop, or at least regulate, whatever use we are concerned with, and bring our existence back to homeostasis. Addicts can't do that.
I guess I can't offer complete understanding to those addicts in my life. As much as I want to empathize with their struggle, all I can do is listen, do my best to see the world through their eyes, and congratulate them for their accomplishments. I wonder if they see my ability to set boundaries as a strength? And to take that a step further, maybe that's the real value in friendships. Maybe we seek strength in others where we are vulnerable.
If any of those friends should read this, then please remember these things:
1. I love you for who you are, including the struggle.
2. Maybe you will be sober forever, but should you make a mistake here and there along the way, I will still love you.
3. I feel like many of you don't see the magnitude of your own strength, but I see it, and I will help you find it when you need it.
Man, this is getting way to serious. I could really use a cocktail to lighten the mood (ha ha).
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Don't Ask, Don't Tell
My friend Dave had sex last weekend with a 23yo guy. It was great, and they spent the rest of the day together. Later in the afternoon, they were watching a tv show and the subject of HIV came up on tv. The 23yo said he would never have sex with someone who was HIV+. Dave, who is HIV+, understandably got a little nervous. He asked if it would be ok as long as it was safe sex. It should be, right? And 23yo said no, that he still wouldn't do it. He said that condoms are never 100% safe, and he just couldn't.
Dilemma.
Again this is such a good reminder of the extremes we face. Here is this 23yo kid, who moved to the big city 7 months ago and is just figuring out how the whole scene works. He thinks he has never known anyone who is HIV+ (even though works out at the gayest gym in NYC, if not the world...God Bless David Barton). Dave, on the other hand, has regular experiences with boys on the completely opposite end of the Innocence Spectrum, like the "Bug Chasers" (guys who purposely have unprotected sex with HIV+ guys because the danger excites them). I have always thought Bug Chasers were an urban legend, but apparently they are real and sleeping with Dave quite frequently. So my friend's perspective, which I think is mirrored by most of the gay community, is that disclosing HIV status is unnecessary if you have safe sex.
I remember the first time I had sex with a guy who was HIV+. (I have no idea who will ever read my blog, but just in case it is a straight co-worker or something, I want you to know that I am not scared of you reading this. If more people talked about this then maybe there would be less of a stigma for people with HIV.) I was also 23 actually. He was older, probably 40, but we just hit it off. We went on several dates, and he was such a nice guy. Construction worker, very content, affectionate, simple. Before we had sex the first time he told me he was HIV+, and while I might have been scared of the idea when it was a theoretical possibility, I now had a face to attach to it. A smiling face, from a kind man who genuinely liked the kid he was dating, and as I contemplated what to do the fear I had just melted away. I could protect myself...everyone knew how. Just one simple condom. So I had sex with him. And it was the same as any sex I had had before (actually he was gorgeous, so probably a little better ;-).
Dave is the first person I have known who is faced with playing that educator role for someone else now. But I can see that he is scared. He stands a very real threat of rejection. Would 23yo be wrong for rejecting him? I don't know. The San Francisco liberal in me wants to say that it would be hurtful, and uninformed, and that he needs to grow up. But maybe that's just it. He hasn't had time to grow up yet, and I guess he deserves to be as confused about this as we all were about something when we were growing up. So maybe 23yo will reject Dave. Maybe neither of them are wrong, and yet they both end up unhappy. I hate when there's not a happy ending.
First, I hope that 23yo can accept the reality of today's gay culture immediately. But if he can't, I guess I just hope that he has a good friend to guide him through the scary stuff. And I'll be that friend for Dave.
Dilemma.
Again this is such a good reminder of the extremes we face. Here is this 23yo kid, who moved to the big city 7 months ago and is just figuring out how the whole scene works. He thinks he has never known anyone who is HIV+ (even though works out at the gayest gym in NYC, if not the world...God Bless David Barton). Dave, on the other hand, has regular experiences with boys on the completely opposite end of the Innocence Spectrum, like the "Bug Chasers" (guys who purposely have unprotected sex with HIV+ guys because the danger excites them). I have always thought Bug Chasers were an urban legend, but apparently they are real and sleeping with Dave quite frequently. So my friend's perspective, which I think is mirrored by most of the gay community, is that disclosing HIV status is unnecessary if you have safe sex.
I remember the first time I had sex with a guy who was HIV+. (I have no idea who will ever read my blog, but just in case it is a straight co-worker or something, I want you to know that I am not scared of you reading this. If more people talked about this then maybe there would be less of a stigma for people with HIV.) I was also 23 actually. He was older, probably 40, but we just hit it off. We went on several dates, and he was such a nice guy. Construction worker, very content, affectionate, simple. Before we had sex the first time he told me he was HIV+, and while I might have been scared of the idea when it was a theoretical possibility, I now had a face to attach to it. A smiling face, from a kind man who genuinely liked the kid he was dating, and as I contemplated what to do the fear I had just melted away. I could protect myself...everyone knew how. Just one simple condom. So I had sex with him. And it was the same as any sex I had had before (actually he was gorgeous, so probably a little better ;-).
Dave is the first person I have known who is faced with playing that educator role for someone else now. But I can see that he is scared. He stands a very real threat of rejection. Would 23yo be wrong for rejecting him? I don't know. The San Francisco liberal in me wants to say that it would be hurtful, and uninformed, and that he needs to grow up. But maybe that's just it. He hasn't had time to grow up yet, and I guess he deserves to be as confused about this as we all were about something when we were growing up. So maybe 23yo will reject Dave. Maybe neither of them are wrong, and yet they both end up unhappy. I hate when there's not a happy ending.
First, I hope that 23yo can accept the reality of today's gay culture immediately. But if he can't, I guess I just hope that he has a good friend to guide him through the scary stuff. And I'll be that friend for Dave.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Liesl is 16 going on 17, I feel like 32 going on 100
So every Thursday night at Chelsea Cinemas they play some fantastically camp movie. I heard about it once when Heada Lettuce was the host for Showgirls, but I couldn't make it. But tonight my friend Mike asked me if I would go see Sound of Music, and I thought sure, why not?
Can I just say what a great movie that is? Did they realize how crazy over-the-top it was when they were making it? Actually, I'm getting side-tracked. My point of this entry was about the romance part. At the beginning, Liesl von Trapp meets her soon-to-be-Nazi boyfriend out by the gazebo. They exchange these adorable little snipets of conversation, then burst into song about how she's young and naive and needs someone older to take care of her. Someone like him, who is 1 whole year older. She's 16 going on 17, he's 17 going on 18. Is this ringing a bell?
Can I just say what a great movie that is? Did they realize how crazy over-the-top it was when they were making it? Actually, I'm getting side-tracked. My point of this entry was about the romance part. At the beginning, Liesl von Trapp meets her soon-to-be-Nazi boyfriend out by the gazebo. They exchange these adorable little snipets of conversation, then burst into song about how she's young and naive and needs someone older to take care of her. Someone like him, who is 1 whole year older. She's 16 going on 17, he's 17 going on 18. Is this ringing a bell?
So I'm sitting there thinking, "Why don't my dates look like this? What does a boy have to do to get a little romance?"
I think my feelings might have been exaggerated by the conversation I was having with Mike in the theater before the movie started. He's a big ol' top, and apparently he meets a lot of guys who want him to shoot a load up them on the first date. I've watched a bareback movie or two myself, so we started laughing about the whole vocabulary that goes along with the fetish. "Breed my man pussy." "Churn the cream." "Fill me up with your hot load."
The 16-going-on-17 scene ended with a kiss, and Lisa looked like it was the best thing that ever happened to her. It clearly wasn't even their first date. So what happened in the last 50 years? How did we go from magical kisses that made us fall in love to breeding pussy boys long before it's even acceptable to talk about love?
Did you think I was moving toward an answer? Nope.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)