Grindr: Bringing people together!

I've just in the past few months allowed myself to indulge in what many gay men have been doing for years now: partaking in gay iphone aps. I obviously wasn't doing it to hook up, I was just curious what all the hype was about. It's funny how this is something that I feel ashamed about while many men discuss it as openly and casually as if they were talking about facebook or instagram. It's just different for me.

˜ * Grindr * ˜

                             ˜ * Jack'd * ˜

                                                               ˜ * Scruff * ˜

Of the three, I've only ever installed Grindr and I only had it for a week or two. I am reluctant to write this because it may backfire, resulting in a lot of hate mail, but I was your worst nightmare on these aps. I was the person everyone hates. I was the one who used a fake pic and chatted endlessly with witty banter, charming remarks, and meaningless compliments. I had no intention of meeting anyone and I had no interest in having sex. I am already in a relationship, which DOES make me feel guilty for downloading it in the first place, but I can't help that I'm curious. I think the IDEA behind these aps is great, especially for people who are closeted and need a safe outlet to meet people--and even more so, if you are out, but not obviously gay, it is a good way to out yourself to people you see everyday. For instance, it's kinda fun to see who you recognize nearby and just be like, "Wow, I see that dude at the gym everyday,  who knew?!"

I think with anything that is fundamentally based on sexual attraction, it can get a little seedy, but I was surprised to learn that a lot of folks on there are just regular people looking to make genuine friends-- no expectations-- just meet up and see what happens, if there's chemistry great, if not, that's fine too. Maybe just a new friend. Harmless. I sorta liked that. 

Anyway, I downloaded the ap a few months back over the summer and would chat up random people. Some would offer up advice about how to best use the ap, showing me the ropes, some of the other regulars were just excited to see a new face and would ask for cock pics. It was definitely an experience. 

This one dude hit me up. He had a legitimate face pic, which right off the bat caught me off guard. He was impressively engaging. He responded well to my rhetoric and he seemed like a good guy. He caught all of my references which, to others, may have been obscure. He proved to be witty, intelligent, funny and just the riiiiiight amount of gayness. He knew enough to crack Lady Gaga jokes, but also knew enough about Colin Kaepernick (prob because he's hot, not  because he cares) to impress me. He was just likable. 

We talked for a good few days before I was thinking, "Crap, I actually enjoy talking to this person."

This all hit the "friend zone" really fast for me. Totally platonic. In fact, I'd seen enough pics where I realized I wasn't even sexually attracted to him. Either way, I was like well, shit, this person is cool and it's only a matter of time before he wants to hang out in person-- too bad I was using a fake picture. So I told him straight up, I had to be honest, I didn't have much to lose anyway.

I said, "Gotta be honest here, just so you know that pic I sent wasn't actually me. I was only on here to browse, nothing more. I have a gay friend who I don't want knowing so I never use my pics." This is true. I was referring to Alex, who you can read about now if you like. 

He was surprisingly chill about it. He was like, "Ok, well figures, that pic was probably too good to be true anyway." So then he asked the obvious next question which was, "What do you really look like?" I felt reluctant to share because 1.) I felt guilty for using the ap in the first place and 2.) Sending my pic would make it real, it would remove all anonymity which was, in a way, appeasing some of that guilt. It would make me a real grindr user. 

But I was like, fuck it. I'm 26 years old, I am allowed to make gay friends. It's probably healthy for me to make gay friends my age. This is OK. This is going to be OK. You aren't doing anything wrong, just live your life.

So I sent my pic. 

He was like, "Daaamn, this is better than the fake!"

Which half flattered me and half made me nervous that he was interpreting this all as more than just platonic. 

So we eventually exchanged phone numbers to continue texting without the ap's overtone of shame tainting the convo. 

His name is Josh.

Josh came over to my apartment one night over the summer and we had a blast. It was super natural and really fun. We just drank whisky, chilled, and then went out to some nearby bars. He's 25, so just a year younger than me. He's half white/half Japanese and has done a lot of cool shit. He works downtown DC in website design so he's got this edgy/hipster/i-hate-hipster kind of style which he shamelessly admits is way over-thought and too deliberate to actually be considered cool. He's from Texas but went to college in Florida where he studied design and ended up getting a job through some random connections in DC. He sorta has a chip on his shoulder about having got the job the way he did and feels that he doesn't completely level up to some of his other coworkers. Whatever, he is a hard worker and is well liked so he is surviving. 

All in all--- he is a really cool dude who I am happy to have met. We hang out all the time actually. He's becoming a really close friend and has introduced me to two of his other gay friends: Amaad and Lal. They are two hilarious Iraqi gays who crack me up. We all go out together and have a great time. If you've read this post about gay bars, I've definitely evolved since then as these punks drag me out way more often now. It's sorta fun, sorta exhausting. 

Amaad and Lal look intimidating as hell, but are the nicest, goofiest people you'll ever meet. A little naive, a little dumb, but super sweet. Amaad is divorced and left his ex-wife and son back in Iraq. He is ridiculously handsome and masculine looking, but as soon as he opens his mouth there is no doubting he likes cock in there. 

"Guuuuurl, I am so sleepy. I needa go home right now, hunni!" 

He apparently watches BET day in and day out and is only attracted to black men. He has thus learned to speak English like a sassy black woman.... but with a thick Iraqi accent. It's the strangest thing I have ever heard. He works out a lot and has a really great build that he flaunts regularly on social media. It's actually embarrassing how shameless he is with his selfies--but it's all worth it when I read the terribly written English captions.

This cracks me up. I have to share. I love foreigners. His written English is pretty bad--so bad in fact that he rarely texts and just ends up facetiming everyone to make plans or chat. Anyway, I never noticed him do this while speaking but in writing, he always types "I" instead of "it". I couldn't find the screen shot but my favorite one was:

"Had an amazing night with friends. I was awesome!" 

But these are good too (notice fb profile pic is a shirtless selfie #loveit):

This one is cute too. Aww, Amaad. Glad Beyoncé could help.

And then this. Yeah. Can't tell if this is a joke or if he really wants all of fb to know his current state:

Anyway, I'm teasing him above I really do like him. He's a sweetheart when you meet him, just very different from how I approach things, particularly social media. Anyway, he is very well manicured so his beard is ALWAYS perfect to the point where he must tend to it daily with a straight blade--- whereas I have a perpetual 5 o'clock shadow. Even after I "trim" people think I look sloppy. Every few years I think I can use a real razor but I am reminded how terribly my body reacts. I always wear a beard no matter what, since I was 19, so when I trim, I really just mean cleaning up my neck and trimming the beard down a bit. I get terrible ingrown hairs and razor burn, it's always a disaster. It's so bad that I can literally tell you exactly when the last time I used a razor was: the day before an interview for my first job down in DC, I woke up the next morning ready to rock the interview to find that I looked like someone slashed and whipped my neck. It wasn't a good look and I vowed to never use a blade again. It's been 4 years--- so yeah. 

Amaad's also got a shit ton of tattoos that make him look fucking terrifying. Josh always teases him about his terrible taste in tattoos: for example a peacock feather on his upper chest/shoulder and some random design on his neck. It's pretty terrifying, I'm not going to lie. Despite being the oldest (I think he's 27) and having a son, and coming from Iraq, he is definitely pretty naive. He told me quickly after meeting me that he was in love with this dude he met online but never met. The guy lived in Baltimore (which is close 50 min north of here) and was all excited to meet him for the first time a few days later. Come to find out, the dude did actually come, but they had no chemistry and when I asked him how it all went afterwards, he forgot who I was even referring to and then was like, "Oh hunni, it was OK, nothing special, whatever." Then I found out he was seeing some new black dude. It had been like a week later. 

Lal is much more personable in that he is a complete goof and doesn't give a shit. He's still vain and overkill with the selfies but he has this air to him that just seems more "present" or more "relateable"... or maybe he just speaks English better haha. He is definitely younger and less intimidating looking compared to Amaad. He is very care free and just funny. He loves to get fucked up and dance but often ends up feeling lonely at the end of the night according to Josh. I'd never seen it but who knows. He and Josh actually have a history in that they fucked a few times, but that is completely in the past. It's weird to even think about that actually. Anyway, Lal is a very chill dude. Loves making friends and is very warm and welcoming.

Totes Bffs

Anyway, the two of them are definitely still acquaintances and I consider them "Josh's friends" more than "my new friends" despite them trying to take it to that next level with me. I am still a little weary just because I get the sense that Amaad thinks I'm fucking with Josh's head. They all know that I'm in a relationship and they understand the convoluted, semi-unhealthy details of that relationship (I've never explained it in my blog, it's too hard to write about) but I get the feeling that Amaad thinks I'm leading Josh on. 

Apparently Josh did develop a "crush" on me after we hung out the first few times. I think this is the context in which he first starting talking about me to them. So when Amaad later found out that I was seeing someone, I think he was like "Red flag! Red flag".  I suppose Amaad is just being protective of his buddy, which is admirable---but at the same time I think he is the one fucking with Josh's head considering some of the things he tells me. 

Ahhh, as I type this I am processing how I must sound! Basically, this is exactly the stuff I am trying to avoid! They seem a little too

into the "drama" and the whole "gay scene" for me to really want to get too close to them. They are the type to "grind" all day, let dudes come over and fuck them, and then leave, and then cry about it. That being said I am trying my best not to judge since I truly think they are good people and it's great to have this new outlet that exposes me to a lot of new gay things that I have really been deprived of up until now. They've definitely added a little twist to the end of my summer and the fall season. 

We will see where these new friendships lead. #smh

LGBT...A...B..C?.. Me!

Everyone has heard of "LGBT", right? So I am part of that. I am the G. The L's and the B's and the T's are my people too. I am part of a culture of people that includes LGBT's. That's cool. It's great. I love it. I know people from each category and I love them. Fine.

    LGBT = Lesbian Gay Bisexual & Transgendered

I think more recently this acronym has grown. Now it's:

LGBTQ.

Queer.

Cool.

But have you heard? Even more recently it's:

LGBTQI

Intersex

Ah, OK. Got it.

Oh but wait, hold on. No, I'm not shitting you. There's this too:

LGBTQIA

Asexual

Oooook. Don't get me wrong, I'm accepting of all people, all perspectives. I don't judge it's fine. But really? Come on. How about we just add an "H" for heterosexual people too? So that we're alllll encompassing. Then we can just eliminate the ENTIRE acronym and make it "E" for eeeeveryone. Let's just make a subculture of all people.

I'm joking. But truly my motto is: "You just do you, and I'm just gonna do me." That's it. Easy. 

My grandma used to have this corny frame hanging on a cabinet in her kitchen. It always struck me, even as a little kid. I later learned it was called the Gestalt Prayer: 

That's truly how I feel about everything. I am happy to love and be loved but as long as I am doing me, and you are doing you. If what I do works for you--- and what you do works for me--- then it's beautiful. Otherwise, fuck it bruh.

Anyway, I wanted to comment on my friend Lily, who I've mentioned a few times in this blog. Lily is my "queer" friend--one of my best friends in DC. Love her to death. Great soul but so confusing. I understand that sexuality isn't as clear cut as it is for me. I know that I am a man and I like men. Period. The end. Maybe I'm lucky? I am open minded enough to understand it isn't that easy sometimes. But I just don't get her sexuality. I used to say she was a lesbian but she has since corrected me. She condescends, "Don't call me a lesbian, I hate labels." As she sort of rolls her eyes, then continues, "I like queer, just call me queer". I refrain from pointing out that "Queer" is also a label. But I decide I don't want to get into semantics. Whatever she wants, great.

Her sexuality has evolved a lot over the years. When I first met her she was straight. Obviously started off dating dudes but admitted to never really having any sexual chemistry with them. She then admitted to not really understanding what her vagina was all about and thought maybe she should explore it. I suggested she try masturbating to figure out what she liked. Nothing. Then she just made this HUGE assumption without any real evidence, "Well, if guys aren't really doing it for me then I MUST be a lesbo!" She then, almost overnight, was an out and proud lesbian. She started dating girls but found it to be only moderately better. She said she's not really attracted to penises or to vaginas, it's the person attached to it. Which is sorta nice, sorta poetic, but just not how I operate. Then she started dating a FTM (female to male) trans-guy and got all "high and mighty" about pronouns and asked me things like "Johnny, what is gender anyway? What is sex? What is preference? What is identity?" 

Honestly, I don't care if someone is trans, FTM, MTF, I don't give a shit, you just gotta do you, I get that, I don't judge. What got under my skin was Lily's approach which was to force this onto everyone around her, almost like she was looking for confrontation so she could publicize her advocacy for transgender people. 

Pronouns! Fucking pronouns! I never thought so hard about something so simple. Something we take for granted. It's literally wired into my brain. I told her it was a language thing, not a society thing--not an ignorance thing. When we meet people we don't think about what pronoun we use, it is implicitly applied.

When I would talk about Lily's boyfriend, I would say she, She, SHE! I couldn't help it. I tried to take my time with it, I would speak slowly and that worked for as long as my attention could bear it, then once I let my guard down and started talking more freely, a SHE would pop in there and Lily would literally start punching me each time. And it bothered me. I even decided to just always fill in pronouns with his name to avoid the dilemma altogether, but still, even that act is hard to keep up and doesn't sound natural:

"So then Cris texted me and said Cris would be here by seven, but then Cris realized Cris forgot Cris' jacket so Cris had to go back home. Bottom line, Cris is going to be late!" 

To make matters worse, Lily sometimes used the neutral "they" pronoun which confused everyone all the time. 

Lily: "Oh, they will be here soon!"
Me: "Who?"
Lily: "Cris"
Me: "Oh, who's she bringing?"
*Punches me in shoulder*
Me: "Eff, sorry, who is HE bringing."
Lily: "No one, why? He's alone."
Me: "You said 'they'."
*Condescending eye roll*

OR

Lily: "Errmahgerrd, they licked my pussy so good!"
Me: "Daaafuck you do last night?"

I would try to justify my inability to refer to him correctly. I said maybe it's easier for me with MTFs? I was good with RuPaul afterall! Then I made the worst mistake ever and said, maybe he's just not that convincing, and that's why my brain hasn't made the switch. That did NOT go over well. I kept blaming my brain, not myself because her argument was that I was ignorant and insensitive, but my point was, no matter how aware I become, I could sit down with him, get his whole story, try to understand his struggles, try to empathize and sympathize and become as educated as I can, and still I think my brain would slip in some "shes" here and there. I took a psychology of gender course in college, I know what Gender Identity Disorder (GID) is, I watched America's favorite trans kid: I am Jazz. I find it hard to just accept that she thinks I'm ignorant when she goes around saying, "Well I think being gay is a choice." That! Is ignorant and if you're choosing to be gay, then you're probably not really gay, honey. You're just riding a trend or really confused. 

I don't think I'm ignorant to transgendered people. I think there is a bigger issue at hand.

Anyway, Lily dated Cris for a solid 5 months or so (you decide if that's a long time or not, I don't even know what's normal anymore) when out of the blue she just decides she doesn't want to do it anymore. She breaks up with him cold turkey, no warning signs, just fucks him over completely. Newly single Lily then decides she needs to "look more lesbian-like" but remember, she doesn't like labels, or stereotypes or anything, so she cuts off all of her hair and stops shaving her armpits. 

For the past 2 summers she's been going up to NY state to live on a Yiddish farm (I swear I can't make this shit up) and she just got back last week. And. This. Time. She. Came. Back. With....

.... A boyfriend.

Which is fine. She doesn't need to know what she likes-- more importantly she doesn't have to like ONE thing. Sexuality is fluid. People are people, and some people just love people. It's almost enviable-- but for me, I'm happy being simple. A man who likes men. It's definitely not the easiest combo there is, but hell, it's a lot easier than what she's been dealt, so again...

"I do my thing and you do your thing.  I am not in this world to live up to your expectations and you are not in this world to live up to mine... "

So to each his(her?) own. 

Je ne veux qu'un gay confidant: Part II

ATTN: This is part 2 of an epic drama series. If you haven't already read: Je ne veux qu'un gay confidant: Part I please do so before proceeding. Note** this used to all be one long, wordy entry, but it is easier to chew as 2 distinct ones. Enjoy.

So I will pick up the story back in the US right after college graduation....

I was living at home for a month or so before picking up and moving to Washington DC for my new job. One night Matt and I went out to a bar and ended up getting really drunk, just the two of us. 

Upon coming home, we decided to go for a walk to the beach. The beach at my parents’ house is very beautiful and rocky and when it’s low tide you can go out to some of the larger rocks that would otherwise be submerged. So we drunkenly stumbled to a rock that had a crevice where you could sit comfortably and since it’s oriented towards the ocean, no one can see you from land.

I love this rock. I grew up on this rock, smoked weed on it, got drunk on it, studied for school on it, got hand jobs from girls on it… I was young…it’s pretty much my childhood in rock form.

This is what he was experiencing but...

Anyway, I have no memory of what we were doing or what we were talking about but out of nowhere Matt aggressively started to kiss me. We were making out hard. I was drunk obviously but was forced into sobriety because this was NOT what I wanted nor was it something I was expecting. I panicked but instead of pulling away I allowed it. The following thoughts were frantically racing through my head… verbatim mind you,

“Whaaaaat the fuuuuuck?!”
“Fucker Fuck balls! Fuckity fuckity fuck!?”
“Should I stop?”
“No, that would make him sad! He might crumble!”
“Should I stop and then laugh and then say, ‘Ohh weird!’ And then run away?”
“No. Hmmm, what would Matt do?”
“Oh he would keep kissing because he would be liking this… he would get a boner!”
“Shit, does he have a boner?”
“Should I be getting a boner?”
“No! Don’t get a boner! Good, I’m not! Good, right? What a relief! Wait… is it!?”

Next thing I knew… I was still kissing him.

“Dammit, it’s too late to stop now!”

Then I guess he stopped? Or maybe I stopped? I don’t remember but I wasn’t happy and it doesn’t get better. 

...this is what I was experiencing.

We walked back to my house and proceeded to hook up in my bedroom, next to my parents’ room mind you. I hated it.

I bet Matt thinks I’m really bad in bed--like a wet blanket. A passionless wet blanket.

Basically, to spare everyone from the boring back and forth details of what happened next I will summarize it. Basically I moved to DC and I think Matt was expecting me to be his “something more”. When I would come back home he would try to hook up with me, when he visited me in DC he would try to hook up with me and I had to literally nut up and be like, “Matthew, we're much too good of friends, I'm barely out [at this point he had been out for like 5 years] and we're just not in the same place in our gay-hood. I don’t want this and I don’t want you to want this… do you understand?"

He said he did but definitely did not. Proof being…the following day, I woke up and he was trying to blow me. I was like, “Huh, what is this amazing feeling I am waking up to? Oh Hi, get your face off my dick!”

“Matthew, OFF!”

Anyway this back and forth happened a lot and it really made me look like the bad guy because I was always telling him NO! But sometimes it got so awkward and uncomfortable I would just give in—which is horrible! I am a wet blanket.

He ended up moving down to DC for graduate school a year after I did (to this day, I pray it wasn't because of me).

Anyway, a few months before he moved down here I started to see this other guy on the regular, let’s call him Sean. First love of my gay life for sure. I am still head over heals… read those chronicles here.

Anyway, this looks terrible and makes me sound like a fucking drug head but I swear I am a smart, respectable, responsible, charming young man with a bright future and a very successful past! I swear! But one night Matt was over and we were hanging out with my roommate drinking a lot. We, for some reason, started snorting vicodin off my dining room table (which is very out of character for all of us, that roommate is now getting his PhD from Columbia but sometimes we do weird shit).

So Sean is very sweet and caring and a little older than me so to him, snorting vicodin literally sounds like insane person behavior (not that I’m justifying it). I had been texting Sean a lot that evening and Matt was obviously very very aware of it.

*Text sound*

Matt cringes.

*Text sound*

Matt’s eyes start to twitch.

*Text sound*

Matt starts to groan. Does a line of vicodin.

*Text sound*

“Who the hell keeps texting you!?!?”

“Oh, no one… not important.” I do a line of vidodin.

*Text sound*

Under the table, I text Sean, “I just snorted vicodin.”

*Text sound*

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TEXTING?! STOP TEXTING IT’S RUDE AND YOU’RE A DICK HEAD”

“Ok, yeah you’re right, I’m sorry I’ll stop.”

*Text sound*

I ignore.

*Text sound*

I ignore and Matt’s face is growing red.

*Ignored text sound*

*Ignored text sound*

*Ignored text sound*
*Ignored text sound*

Sean is freaking out because the last text I sent was, “I just snorted vicodin.” And then I stopped responding in fear of Matt’s outward rage. So now Sean is at home panicking.

So he calls. I need to answer it. I look at my phone, I look at Matt glaring, I look back at my phone and answer it while still looking at Matt’s face as if I am expecting him to whip out a crossbow and shoot me in the chest.

I then (oh-so-not-casually) walk off into my bedroom to explain to Sean what was happening and that I wasn’t overdosing on drugs. Also keep in mind, I think I’m portraying the situation much too coherently because we were all wasted (except Sean) so it was probably much more slurred and messy.

Obviously, Matt followed me to my room and was listening outside. Meanwhile my poor roommate was probably thinking, “What the fuck is going on?… Why is Matt so concerned with this whole matter?… What is going on? This is not healthy. Who are my friends?”

So when I got off the phone, Matt came bursting in my room forcing me to explain myself. I guess I was pretty much caught. Notice how I use the word “caught”? That is what our relationship had become. It started off so fun and innocent and easy and healthy but it had turned into secrets and lies and me being in a situation where I was being “caught”. Matt was supposed to be my gay confidant: my best friend. It wasn’t what I wanted.

Anyway, I told him everything about Sean and he was heart broken but he was a champ and did his best to set it aside and still be my friend. We continued to hang out but slowly things started to feel tainted. Our friendship turned sour because he was constantly angry that Sean existed and that I didn't love him. I had to be very careful about receiving texts and making sure my phone was on silent in case Sean called. Matt knew Sean was in my life but to help keep his sanity, I just never mentioned him. It was definitely hard and took a toll on us.  We pretended like things were fine and that our platonic relationship was still platonic but he couldn’t hide that he wanted more.

My attempts to pretend like everything was normal came across as "dismissive" or "distant" or "insensitive". Matt eventually quit on me cold turkey. Haven't talked to him in years at this point.

The story behind this is again complicated. Quick background information: Matt promised to help me move into a new apartment. Unfortunately the timing was pretty shitty so I was going to be homeless for a night, but Matt said he would be fine helping me pack up the U-haul on one day, and then waking up the next morning and helping me move into the new apartment the following day. I forget exactly how it went down, either he asked, or I offered this information, but in discussing the plan, I informed him that I would be taking my fish and staying with Sean for the night while I parked the u-haul safely on the street behind my old apartment… locked up like a billion times.

Upon learning that Sean was involved, Matt’s insides melted right before my eyes. It was super awkward but I didn’t know what else to do; I was desperate and could not do the move alone. Not to mention, Matt agreed months prior and nothing was news here. Matt knew Sean existed, he must’ve known he would be involved, but the fact that I mentioned his name just reminded him that Sean was a reality and that made him lose it—but not outwardly until the next day.

Matt called me at noon the day of the move and said, “Man, sorry but I just can’t help you move today!”

My stomach dropped but I stayed calm, “Ok, Matt, why not? You’re supposed to be at my house in an hour? What happened?”

He told me,  “I gotta work today, they called and asked me to come in.” (he meant they had an ASL interpreting gig for him).

I said, “OK, Matt, but you told me that was very unlikely and on the off-chance they offered a gig, you would say you were unavailable.”

He was getting pretty aggressive,  “Yeah well, you gotta work, and I gotta work so I’m taking the job.”

“Matt, fine, I’ll pay you what they’ll pay you, I just need help moving!”

Then it started to make sense, “Why don’t you just make Sean do it for you?”

I got it now. “Matthew, Sean works full time, I couldn’t ask him to take off work…”

“Ok, well now I have work so we’re in the same boat and he’s your boyfriend so you’re his problem, not mine.”

Ouch. But OK, fair enough.

Then he said, “Why should I lug all your shit around, then let you go off with your little boyfriend and have a sleepover, while I go off to my place, then come back the following day to help you unload all your shit while your boyfriend goes off to work!?!”

Yeesh. OK. Double ouch but fair enough.

“OK, Matt you’re right. You’re totally right, I will call Sean and we’ll sort this out.”

Then he lost it. He started bawling into the phone.

“I am so sorry but I think about you constantly. When I wake up, I think about you, when I'm in the shower, I think about you, when I am at work, I think about you... I should be focusing on myself and my career but instead I'm thinking about you!"

I was speechless.

Then finally I said, “OK, Matt, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I

don’t know what to say! I don’t want to make you so upset.”

The fuck?

To be honest I don’t know how the conversation ended but I got off the phone and just sat in shock at my desk for a good 5 minutes, thinking how did this get like this? How is this the same friendship that started off so fun, so healthy, so exciting? It's now just based on lies, secrets, false hopes, and awkward hook ups. It was terrible.

Anyway, luckily Sean pulled through and was able to help me on the first night and Matt was able to set his feelings aside and help me on the second day.

So come that second move day, Matt showed up on time (which is very rare for him). He is always late for everything. Obviously it was a little uncomfortable at first given our conversation the previous day but after being in the u-haul for a good 10 min, we are both naturally inclined to get along and laugh so we made the best of what we both knew was a pressing, sort of heavy situation.

We finished moving in all my belongings and we returned the u-haul and he was driving me back to my new place in his car. 

Everything was fairly normal on the drive back, the tone had lightened and we were both in good spirits. I figured it was now just a confrontation behind us, so I was surprised with what came out next.

He said, "So... can you please just do me one favor?"

Of course I said, "Sure, anything, what’s up?"

He said, "Can you like… just please never call me again… Just don't try to contact me for a while."

So, without really knowing what to say, I said, "Ok." And nothing more.

Then he said, “I mean for  like… a very very long while.”

I said, “OK, yeah.”

Then silence.

Until he practically blurted out, "Well, FINE, that's all you have to say? That's it?!"

So I said, "Dude, who am I to say, 'NO! I am going to keep calling you! I won't stop talking to you', of course I’m going to agree if that’s what you want…"

The timing was pretty impeccable because we were essentially at my place. There wasn’t really enough time for awkward silences or any sort of argument after that. I just got out of the car calmly, said goodbye, and closed the door.

And that was it. We’re still not talking.

The only contact we’ve had since that day was a lone facebook message. Initially I thought it was pretty catty and immature but he un-friended me completely. I guess it’s what he needed and that’s ok. Despite no longer being his ‘friend’ he sent me a message right after Christmas, which was only 5 months later. It was strange and said I was the best friend he'd ever had, that friends like me are hard to come by, and that he'll never forget me.

But that was it.

Oh, and he attached a youtube video of “That’s What Friends Are For” performed live by Dionne Warwick, Stevie Wonder, and Whitney Houston.

Dionne & Friends

So weird.

I did respond to it, saying something nice, neutral. Said I was doing OK and when/if he was ready to be friends again. I would be here.

That was 2011. We're still not talking.

Google+ Gays

This is why I am not on Google+ for longer than 5 min at a time:

This is his cover photo:

This is his location:

I persist.

So I figure I'd test him. He should know this one... right?

Notice he spelled Miami wrong (again)

He passed that one, but definitely wasn't instantaneous, he could've googled it, or he could've legitimately been doing something else at the time. Anyway, I'm not convinced yet.

Going to reiterate his answer:

"American former technical contractor for the NSA."

Is he wrong? No. Is it the best answer? Not really.

But my favorite part is yet to come. Trying to convince me further, he tells me he learned of Mr. Snowden in school. Oh, he's in text books already? Daayum. 

But I know better. I am still suspicious. Plagiarism? It smells strong. Yeeeuck. So strong. But unmistakable.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Snowden

Oh, but wait, he has one quick question.

 Bravo, sir. Well played.

DC Pride and a Dash of Dyke

DC Gay Pride festivities were last weekend. The parade was Saturday. The weather was perfect: sunny, warm but not too hot and sweaty. I went with Alex who I've mentioned before in this blog. He is gay--and getting better at it I think. 

Anyway, if you're an avid reader of my blog, you might know that Alex doesn't know I'm gay. He is one of the last few social groups I have down here that doesn't know. This is deliberate. Anyway, again I am in a situation where I am amongst the gays, but as a straight ally--not a fellow homo. This is fine with me. I am comfortable with it.

Alex was pretty tame the whole day---I thought he would wear some bright neon orange tank top or some assless chaps--just because he could get away with it and not even get a second glance. Instead he just dressed and behaved normally-- I think he's gotten the whole "I'm gaaaaayyyy nowww" thing out of his system. Speaking of, I overheard a seemingly new "lesbian" begging a gay man, "Teach me how to be gay!!" to which he paused, sensed her overzealous approach, and then said, "Well... just... pace yourself."

Which immediately reminded me of Alex. Pace yourself. Sure you've been closeted for the first 23 years of your life, sure you've got a bunch of pent up sexual aggression, sure you've got endless opportunities to get your ass hole licked via craigslist, grinder, and and that other grinder that's for hairy people (I don't remember the name, maybe some of you out there know it)--- BUT point is, you've got plenty of time, you're whole life even! So just pace yourself! Anyway, I thought that was a pretty witty and honest response for being put on the spot. 

So anyway, the parade was fun, we got drinks before hand, met up with a ton of other people, gay and straight, guys and girls, so it was completely normal for (straight) me to be at this event. No heads were turned, no suspicions sparked. We watched the parade flow through Dupont (DC's gay district--even though according to the elite gays, it's moving elsewhere). Occasionally the parade would come to a stop for whatever reason and you'd be stuck staring at the same float for a while. Funnily enough, instead of one of the many many many PG13 harmless floats--like the pro-gay Mormon float--THIS is the one that happened to stop RIGHT in front of us. 

One of the more raunchy floats and DEFINITELY the float with the hottest/fittest guys on it-- BLASTING that song by.... googling it.... googling it now.... Icona Pop "I love it"

So imagine THIS:

Dancing to THIS fabulous jam. I DON'T CARE! I LOVE IT.

Pretty awesome.

Anyway, later my friend Lily, who I've also mentioned a few time in this blog, is lesbian(ish) now. She thinks. Or. She's decided. For now. She got a short haircut? So... yeah, she's a lesbian.

I think she describes herself as "queer" but I call her "sexually flexible" because I think she's just exploring. She grew up in an environment where boys were off limits. Even inter-sex high-fives were seen as punishable acts. One day while blowing a dude she looked up at him, cock-in-mouth, and started bawling, "I hink hymah wessian". Translation sans the cock: "I think I'm a lesbian."

So, she pretty much forced me to attend a Drag King show at Phase 1 lesbian bar in SE DC. Which to me, half sounds awesome and half sounds dangerous. I've hung out with a few butchier lesbians, some are cool with me, others not so much.

I've been judged before. 

I'm gay, but don't look or act like it, so I'm not like the happy-go-lucky-fun-sassy-boa-wearing gay, so even if I were like, "No, no, see, it's cool, I'm not a threat. I'm gay..." they would just roll their eyes. And from their perspective, I can't blame them... what do I offer them? I'm like the worst. 

Obviously, I'm not a girl-- and the only overlap we have is the gay thing--but they invalidate that-- so whatever. Some lesbians think I'm a cute and fun masculine gay--maybe a fun accessory-- but the less fun ones almost seem like they're masculinity is in question because they're being one upped by a gay. Whatever. 

I'm not being terrible, I swear-- I'm basing this off of one (emotionally fucked up) lesbian and her dyke buddy--whatever, so be it.

Anyway, the King show was fun and different. Lots of beautiful tattoos, risky piercings, and short haircuts. Oh, and lots of beer. One girl asked me if she should start drinking protein shakes because she wants big arms. I shrugged and told her yes.

There was a shockingly low-level of energy considering there were people literally performing in drag no more than 4 feet away from any given person. 

I would scan the audience and see a bunch of motionless manly looking women, arms crossed, heads baaaarely bobbing-- it was like a straight bar full of stoic men who were too afraid to show the slightest bit of rhythm. It felt stifling. 

But honestly,which is more engaging?

These charming fellas:

Or these beautiful gems:

Not bashing the Kings. I think they're great. It's awesome when people find a community where they can express themselves and feel accepted and behave they way they were born to live. It's fantastic and admirable. There were even a handful of transgender performers who had gotten top surgery. It was awesome to see them feel "at home" for once and totally accepted and loved for it.

And I'll end this blog with a zoomed in pic of my favorite DC pride parader. If only we could all be as care free as this priceless gem: