A Means to an End

I did not know why he was distant. I always felt that he was not telling me the whole story. As an adult I look back at my life. The things I did and the people I hurt, the people I loved and lost. Life is so fragile, so fleeting. We are here and then we are gone and you don’t always get to say goodbye.

I met him for lunch with the director and producer of the play I would see that day. He bought me chicken and I stole the lead actress’s fries. The show was about to start in an hour and he asked me to go for a walk with him. Just 30 minutes he said.

We walked to Astor Place from 2nd and 2nd in Manhattan. The story begun light, he told about his first love. In his adolescence he had loved a man. A man he would later lose. As the story turned of loss he began to choke, tears ran down his face. That’s when he told me he had not been honest with me.

We met on Memorial Day. We were talking and then we were kissing. I didn’t know his heart belonged to another. Another with the same mine as my own. That’s when I learned the man he loved he had lost as well. In August he died this year, like the first love it was sudden. It all made sense now. The distance, the confusion. I thought he was just trying to keep me categorized and on the shelf.

He leaned on me and wept. That’s when he first told me he loved me. It had been many years that a man had told me he loved me. Loved me romantically.

This is not the first time Someone would love me after loosing a lover. When I was 18 I met a man who had a boyfriend with the same mine as me just like this time. He had blown his brains out years before. Like me he was also bipolar and like me he was lost, confused and depressed.

Earlier this year I decided to change the way i functioned. I added an antidepressant to my med regimen and it took some time to adjust but I did and then slowly but surely I began feeling better, I began thinking clearly. Sure I have my moments of repeating bad behavior but It’s not long-lasting and I always try again the next day, better than yesterday.

The people come to me. I stopped seeking friends and companions. They saw me, they are attracted to me. Unique and special, like snow flakes. Delicate and fragile. Perfection as they fall into my life and as the snow falls to the ground it does not melt. It stays there, it builds till you have to shovel it away. I keep my snow flakes in mind as they come and go. As they are born and eventually melt.

I went to the play. It was intense and the concept revolved around 2 weddings, a sudden death and a family that coped with the un imaginable. As a crime opens the play it closes it with a kindness. With forgiveness and a second chance. The victim forgives and the thief wants to be better. We are not whole unless we forgive, unless we love.

I do not know how much time I have on this planet, in this universe. From conception to birth, child hood to adult hood. Do we lose our innocence? Do we retain our sanity? In a world that humans are destroying and things don’t make sense anymore. As creativity reflects our culture. Movies, TV and plays are a mirror to the world consciousness and I’m left wondering who we are and where we are going.

He told me he could not be in relationship and I replied all we’ve ever had been in was a friendship and that I loved him too and I was not going anywhere, I cried with him as I held him in my arms I kissed him before he went to work before had to refrain his emotions and I knew nothing would ever be the same.

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Dating of the Damned, the 5 types & the friends that were always there

It always starts with a “Hello”. You seem nice, so does the other guy. Then it begins. You cyber stalk me. You find this blog, look me up on Facebook. Soon you are asking me about my home town which I never disclosed. Cybernetic-ally exposed. Then the psychoanalysis sets in. With in 24 hours you have built me up and broken me down.

You don’t compromise on a place to meet, you attack my interests and before the day is done I am the one being called weird. This is the type of gay man who lives on the Internet. They say “sorry I am inquisitive” which is code for: “will violate your privacy”.

I had mentioned to him I had a doctor’s appointment and soon I was under a microscope. What was wrong with me and why was I seeing a doctor? Soon a list was presented of reasons and I had to push back on not answering.

Of course these were all red flags, but as I like to see how far a person will go. How crazy they are and what will send me over the edge. Then there is the second type  the one’s who date and then come over to my place.

Somehow I always end up getting a blow job or they take off all their clothes and then the next morning act like I raped them. Fallowed by weird texts saying how uncomfortable I made them feel and how awkward they felt. How they are not really into me and that I am a turn off.

I am sorry do you not like feel like a slut? Don’t you think it’s slutty to pull out my dick and suck it for so long I grow tired and tell you to go to sleep. Did you think we had something special?

The funny thing is every time I meet these guys from on-line I am met with the same behavior. Let me not forget the third type. The one’s who share. Is it my face? Do I look like a therapist? I am not hear to emotionally support a stranger.

I am sorry your ex blew his brains out. Oh you are gonna lecture me on my habits. Tell me to lose weight, quite nicotine and how I should fit in your bubble. You buy me dinner and complain about life. I loose you at the bar because you are bringing me down. Your ego is suffocating me.

The 4th type, the new friend. We were not all that interested in dating but I made you laugh and I thought you were smart. Together we bring each other up. You walk me home when I am drunk. You buy my apartment gifts. You always respond to my texts. My friends become your friends. Sure sometimes we try to date but nothing really changes.

I may have a crush on you but I also have 50 crushes at work. Mark with the nice ass. Jeff who always says hello and the Attorney who saves me a slice. The girl upstairs who gifts me wine or the secretary who explains financial planning and her big plans for when she leaves the Firm. Friends take many forms. Friends lift you up when you are down. You are are there for them and they are there for you.

Then there is the type that does not get categorized but we will call him the fifth type. I met you at a parade. I met you at a bar. I took and hour long bus ride to see you and you all were the best people to happen to me. No rules. No paranoia. No expectations. I fallowed you after the parade, you were lost and so was I, and together we met.

Never felt that way before, was never sure I would again. It was Valentines day and I was in a new state, I brought you a rose and you gave me a new life. I was at a bar with a friend, you appeared with your white shirt and beard. I was not sure if you were even gay. We got to talking and then we got to kissing, you would not let me go and I would not let you go.

Over the rainbow of dating, I sometimes forget that the best people happen when you are just living. Nestled in my apartment, the sun rises and I am reminded of all that I have and not all the people who rejected me. Not all the people who treated me like a door mat but the ones I have connections with.

On NYE I would walk away from one situation and into the arms of a loving stranger. She has believed in me. She has listened to my pain. She has seen me sober, drunk, addicted and she still calls me lovely. If I am feeling lonesome I can stay with her. She was been the influential female that I have the most respect for. She makes me laugh and I play her Madonna, we do shots and discuss the future.

I had a house warming party where everyone showed up or called out sick. The effort was seen and greatly appreciated. I had waited 8 months to throw this bash. I carefully organized the food and drinks and made sure to accommodate my guests.

Because what really matters are the friends in your life and maybe that special guy I met a parade, at a bar or on a doorstep. They are all alive and well I speak to some more than others. I may be crazy, but it’s the kind of crazy people like or they would not text me late at night to explore the city of fly me around the world to be in my company.

Applebee’s & Clubland

I was skinny, blonde and full of adventure. I had come out of cabin fever due to a bad boyfriend. Held captive in the swamps of Virginia. We smoked a pack a day while he terrorized me with stories of complete destruction.

The Vampire ex released me back into the wild. I was hell bent on leaving home, but that wasn’t the right way to do things. So I did what every gay boy was doing.

I got on the Internet and harassed a man ten years my age into a date. I would shortly arrive on his doorstep that would soon become my home.

Fallowed by mind crushing fear and depression. I was gifted an iPod and soon began to wonder. To my surprise I came across The Regency Square Mall. Only a 20 minute walk from my front door.

I wondered the mall till I found myself in Applebee’s. The crazed host got me an application. I took their bullshit personality test. Mostly guessing what they wanted to hear. Before I knew it I was the crazed host.

A few months later my lesbian manager offered me a serving position. I quickly rose to management level but was to young to be behind the bar. I bought a car. I made friends. Guys from the military base constantly tried to get in my pants. I was in love with the dumb jock who spent his day staring at the TV and giving me rides home after midnight.

Two years of living the suburban life I decided to visit NYC with my boyfriend. Of course it would happen this way. Not a plan of my own but as it would seem a determination of fate. I had emergency surgery and was laid up for weeks. With no desire to return to Virginia we found an apt across the street and I transferred my job to a corporate Applebee’s flag ship store.

The hours were long. I barely slept. But I made money and I had a place to be. On call at all times. Madonna’s Hung Up played on repeat and I could barely manage the sexual harassment that fallowed on top of the nazi like regiment. My only friend was mail order Russian bride who dressed like a fancy hooker. Her name was Ulga and many times I found her crying in a pile of money. She was also my manager.

Most managers were jerks. The staff were made up of drug dealers and real hookers. If I wasn’t working I was clubbing. I tried to keep up but failed. I quit. Only later to find myself in time square with the same problems. This time would be my last serving.

The head waiter would demand sex and when I refused I would be locked in the freezer as punishment. Aderall Fridays was a thing. The bartender was always drunk and high yet I was the one who got fired 6 months later. Applebee’s gave me a start at my first real job. Looking back none of it was truly bad. Everyone is crazy and your food comes from a bag.

The addiction to adrenaline and the social buzz ran me straight into hardcore clubbing. I became an it boy. Given a VIP card to Pacha. I never paid for anything. I never waited in line. My friends always had the best drugs but I mostly liked picking up super model women because they just love crazy gay boys me in pajamas even though that wasn’t a thing.

Friends gained and friends lost. Friends incarcerated. Bodybuilders from Australia and people over dosing. That summer I would loose my mind. That summer the clubs would close and that summer Britney Spears shaved her head, show her twat and attacked people with umbrellas.

I’ve been pretty idle since then. Till I started working again. Till I started thinking about school. Till I wanted more than to just exist. I found my mind. I found my health. I’ve learned love isn’t something you capture but when it comes it hits you like jack hammer. Breaking pavements. Moods and drinking. I found myself unable to be alone. To be down. I had to be up and going and I’m still figuring out where I’m going.

Applebee’s was my first real job at 18. My first job in NYC. And enough trauma to pay my therapists bills for the next 10 years. I’d love to see a where they are now, of all my coworkers. I pass by the store fronts knowing the pain behind those walls. I never did go back to clubbing. Besides there were no clubs to be in. My solace and piece of mind is in an ivory tower. In my sunny studio and in the eyes of a stranger.

Where it all Started and How I learned to Snap

I had no where to go so I looked to the system. Rules in place I was given little to no choice. Sick and misplaced, I began my journey into the void. The halls were lined with marble and two men from India stood at the front. The elevator always brought down wealthy people of the UWS. It was winter and my stay on W.96th would be short.

I shared a room with a man who snored like a lion was eating his face. The radiator spewed so much heat I slept with my head out the window. The other roommates hated each other and soon learned why. When food went missing, when pots caught fire and the very ill man would lay on my bed and come in after midnight to wake up the snoring monster for cigarettes I knew I had to leave.

First came Christmas, it had not yet snowed and a crazed neighbor left us a rotting red couch. Insisting it was a gift for the apt, she was never to be seen again. My suspicions of what lived in the couch or what murder took place on it was enough to report it to the housing Authority. In our spacious 4 bedroom apartment that was so neglected, so smelly and so dirty the two Indian men from the entrance said it was worse than a third world country.

The ill man had a reputation for bringing home hookers. At first he befriended me before his paranoia set in and I was the enemy. I packed my bags and pleated to be relocated. After a month of ill consistent sleep I was shipped off to Lorillard in the Bronx. A filthy hood with frequent gun fire and all to often my street was roped off due to a murder.

People would fallow me home from the bus stop to the building where tenants slept under the stairs for not paying rent. Urination under the stairs was common as well. Frequently the mailboxes were jacked into with a crowbar and all mail was stolen. Life in the Bronx only got worse.

A Lifetime drama unfolded with the neighbor. Close to the brink, I started packing and planned to move home. At the last minute, shortly after a man shot his girlfriend in the head in front of the building I was relocated to Astoria, Queens.

The Fear fallowed for me for I was not able to adjust. It took many new friends and many months before I would feel safe again. My closest friends came to visit me often. I hosted Thanksgiving and had a house warming. I made new friends online and continued with life at the firm. I made a few mistakes with men but mostly found some great guys. The last guy I was seeing turned out to be a very good friend and I have taken comfort in that.

On my road I have fallen out of college prep for their silly antics on helping me come my mind. There is no coming my mind. I am wild fire that can not be tamed. So I resumed my regular work schedule and am now working out through out the week. I found peace in my spare time and a schedule that works for me. I have kept up with friends and insured my friend circle. I am seeing a great guy. He is a little odd but I only like him more for it. Life is not so bad and I am doing well for the greater good.

I finally learned to snap but not in the mind bending ways but in the truth of my fingers and the hearts of my friends. I will never forget how to be me and along the way I may feel lost but I am always free.

The Stranger at the Bar

I met up with a man I was not interested in. We talked and walked. His happy go lucky blind attitude annoyed me. We wound up at a bar. My friend was there I got very drunk. A man appeared he was talking to us then he was kissing me and I was kissing him. We could not stop then we kept seeing each other. Each time filled with deeper conversation and more passionate kisses.

He smelled of Tunisian Amber and a thick manicured beard. The hair on his head was thick his chest is furry. He wore a sporty hat and had fly shoes. He always wore a white T-shirt and had the best smile, cleanest mouth and great teeth.

He told me is Bipolar, I told him I am too. We discussed how we got to here and how we were going to keep on going. I mentioned Boston, I told him I want to live there. He told me he was planning on moving there too.

We have both decided to be sober, him a lot longer. This all happened about a week a go yet it feels like we have known each other a lot longer. We made clear that we would need to keep communications a lot clearer and that way not get lost in frustration and disappointment.

I met a guy like him once before. I was 16, he was 18 and we both turned out to be bipolar. He was my first love and it felt that lightning does not strike twice, yet here I am with a man I find myself most comfortable with just as I did when I was a teen.

Now 30 years old I had searched far and wide for a friend, a lover, a boyfriend and only ended up with upset. I do not know where this will lead. I do not know if this will be something to hold onto and nurture but I do know I have a bright future a head of me and I am not done yet.

The Worst

I said hi. You said hello. We talked about how great your life is and all the things you want to do. Then you tore me to pieces. Does it feel good to be cruel? Do you enjoy feeling superior. Who damaged you? Is your heart broken or have you always been broken?

I tried my luck. I put myself on the line. Dating in NYC is a joke. You’re lucky if you make a friend. Lets just have sex with strangers resulting in trips to Urgent Care. Every kiss filled with poison. Oh I’ve got strep now. The drugs aren’t working. Now I can’t breathe I’m dying on the hospital bed. Teach me to kiss a stranger.

Might as well get a cat and forget I’m at my peek. This life is not meant for me. Or maybe I’ve been doing it all wrong. Instead of seeing what’s in front of me I wander into cyber space looking for warm fuzzies and end up defusing nuclear bombs.

So this is my good bye. Like all the things I’ve had to quit. Over eating. Nicotine. Binge drinking. Dating apps were just another addiction to fill the void. To use up time constructively and instead zombie my way into oblivion.

Today I started rowing. I learned if you row hard enough you’ll be hot and also pass out and cry. Thanks to my trusty non evil gay friend I have a fit machine in my living room. I also threw my whiskey in the trash. I stopped vaping and then vomitted. From the bile that lives in me. Probably a result of all the toxins I consume.

So I went for a walk in the park and I put on Miike Snow and wrote instead of jumping in the lake. Words hurt even if they are from strangers.

February 13th, 2016

I bought a rose and boarded a greyhound in Charlottesville, VA for Richmond, VA. I was 18 and had been talking to a man for weeks on-line and was certain to give it my all. When I arrived at his house I was unsure of what would happen.

The grass was green and the weather was not so cold. 10 years later relationship passed, strong in friends. He was the only man that cared the most, loved the most, gave me all of himself even when he was not in love. Even when I was wicked and we did not talk he made sure I had a place to be. Safe now in my own apt, employed and financially secure. He gave me the support to find my own strength and personal interrogatory.

I loved a man for 10 years, at 28 I ventured out on my own. Support from the foundation and persistence in the right directions. I was down and out living where I had ended up. After a brief stint on the UWS of Manhattan and then a year long of a broke down hard life in the Bronx on 3rd avenue where sirens were a constant back drop to gun shots and screams, I feel like I endured a year in 3rd world country right here in my own back yard.

I escaped that situation with a letter and demands and was some how placed in Astoria, Queens. A life easier, more safe and convenient and close to my job. I found trouble, I found life here and I found myself.

I do know why I am here it has a lot to do with being able to advocate for myself and demand better living. Once they found out this show pony did not like being taken for granted I think I actually scared the organization because change was immediate and extreme. I live in comfort and sometimes it is hard to except I am not wide awake dreaming.

The job I got was through determination in fitting into the perimeters of what I was allowed to be, being on government assistance and allowed specific requirements to live in.

Somehow I managed and even though I left behind a life of comfort with the man I loved now gone but only a stone throw across the pond. He was and is the sweetest person I have ever know. Now that I am free to fall, make mistakes and realize how wonderful life is. I spent many years afraid of what was and what could be, never turning my doubt into light.

So on this date I am writing 12 years after that rose was bought and I find myself planting seeds into what can become more than I ever knew now that I am giving it all my effort to be something safe and sane and safe. May all my journeys be kept in the highest reality and care of the most extraordinary friends and lovers along the way.