Drama and Dating

I ran across this video this morning and loved it:

Think of how much less drama there would be in the world if all the gay men would take this advice and get over it when their friends and exes dated.  I've seen that drama first hand and could only shake my head.  The guy spent several minutes going on about how two of his exes were dating and even had the nerve to come into the chain restaurant that he worked at on a date.  He  spent that time trying to figure out why they'd do that, as if they might visit a chain restaurant simply because they liked the food they serve.

I think that's what gets me.  Drama over exes dating or friends dating your exes is all about making the whole thing about you and your past relationship(s).  My advice to everyone is simply, move on with your lives.  Your exes (or friends and exes) dating is simply not about you.  In fact, it's probably a good sign that your ex(es) are trying to move on with their lives.

Lather, rinse, repeat: Good for washing hair, but not your love life

In many ways, I'm still processing through the events and feelings about my mid-week date.  In many ways, I've started to become more convinced that I really dodged a bullet with this one.  One of the things I didn't mention in my previous post was that he shared with me a bit about his history, including how he came here.  Originally, he lived six hours away, but moved here for a guy.  He told me that he and his ex met online back in February, really hit it off, and decided to move in together, which for my date meant a relocation halfway across the state.  They moved in together back in April.

He's adorable, but is he really worth
packing and unpacking all those boxes?

So he's the kind of guy who met someone and within two months had decided it was True Love™and went through a major move.  That strikes me as...fast.  Granted, I probably wouldn't have always considered it fast.  As I noted in a previous post, there was a time in my life when I would've done anything for anything I thought was True Love™.  In fact, there was a time when I was seriously considering moving to another continent to be with the guy I was convinced I was meant to be with.  (Fortunately, he ended our online entanglement before that could happen.)  I'd like to think I might have still waited for more than two months before going through with it, mind you.  Still, I appreciate the mentality and understand how someone could actually go through with it.

What I don't totally get is that it looks like my date may be planning on going through it all over again.  On our way back to my car from Manly Bar and after he'd decided I wasn't The One™, he started rambling. One of the things he got telling me about is this guy he's been talking to who lives out in Arizona for some time.  He started telling me about how they seemed to have this incredible connection and just got each other on so many levels.  He said he's hoping to go for a visit in January, and that they've made plans to meet a few times but had to cancel in the past.  Listening to him talk (and thinking about it afterward), I realized that he's probably already making plans to move to Arizona for this guy, just like he moved here for his now-ex.

Well, at least he waited more than two months before plunging in.  After all, Arizona is significantly more than six hours away.

All joking and snark aside, this really does amaze me.  I understand impulsively uprooting yourself once for True Love™.  After all, we're all raised with pretty outrageous notions about romance and love.  All the movies tell us that these things have a magic way of working out, and such impulsive daring is rewarded.  So yeah, I see going through all that once.

What I don't get so much is going through that, getting burned, finding yourself in a strange place with few or no friends, and when presented with an opportunity to do it again, and thinking it's still a good idea the second time.

Maybe when I was younger and thought more like this guy, I would think it was a good idea too.  Who knows?  If that's the case, I can only say that I'm glad that I grew wiser over the past several years.

Friday Thoughts: Confidence and Mistakes

Normally, Friday Thoughts are something that's been on my mind and expressed in my own words.  This week, however, I've decided to "outsource" Friday thoughts, as this picture and caption are too perfect not to share.

For those who can't see the picture or read the caption:

Confidence comes not from always being right, but from not fearing to be wrong.

A pleasant but disappointing date

As anyone who was following my Twitter feed last night would know, I had a date of sorts that didn't go so well.  I originally met the guy through an online personal site.  I contacted him back on Sunday.  I have to say that I thought that my first email (and even the follow-up emails) was amazing, witty, and engaging.  Given that he responded earlier yesterday afternoon, continued the exhange, and proposed meeting in person later last night, I think it's safe to say that the other guy would agree with my assessment.  In many ways, I'm proud of myself for that, as I showed myself to be witty, passionate, and interesting, all characteristics that I was concerned other people might not feel I possessed as recently as a year ago.

That sums up how I feel.
Though I'm more up than down.

Granted, I was a bit concerned and even pleasantly surprised when he responded to my email.  After all, he was in his mid twenties, and I'm getting ready to exit my thirties in less than two years.  But I was pleased to see that I charmed him over and agreed to meet him at a coffee shop around 8:30.  We met there, then decided to go for a walk, as the coffee shop closed at 9 and was more crowded than either of us expected.  We made small talk as we walked and eventually decided to go to Manly Bar for a drink, which was several blocks (possibly a mile) away.  He had a bear and I had a couple vodka and cranberry cocktails.  We talked a bit more and decided to play pool.

Playing pool was interesting.  We both told each other that we weren't very good, which I suspect is the truth.  However, it was a bit embarrassing that I had one of those rare miraculous streaks where four of my consecutive shots actually went the way I intended them to, so I think he thought I had understated my pool playing ability.  (What a time to get lucky, eh?)  Even so, he still only had one ball left on the table when I sunk the eight ball for the win, so it went well.  (Though I'm a bit annoyed that he seemed to doubt my honesty when I said I just got lucky with those shots.)

Overall, I felt the night went really well.  I got out of the house.  I spent a couple hours with a guy who I thought I was both rather cute and pretty smart (if a bit on the insecure side).  Sure, there were a few awkward silences as neither of us were sure what to say (I felt like I was talking too much and had trouble spawning lengtheir responses from him).  But I was okay with that.  I've learned to accept awkward silences and let them naturally resolve themselves.  They bothered him, though.

And there was no "magic moment" where things were perfect and we fell instantly in love (or lust).  Honestly, I'm okay with that at my age.  I don't believe that such fairy tale moments are necessary -- or even conducive much of the time -- to meaningful or lasting relationships.  As such, I felt the night went well for a first time meeting and would be open to spending more time with him.  Even if we never clicked on a romantic level -- and I admit that there's a good possibility that would never happen -- I felt there was enough potential there for a good friendship.  Good friendships -- especially friendships with people I can go to a bar or do other things -- are something I could use more of, to be frank.

Alas, my date (though I'm not sure he'd consider it a date) doesn't seem to feel the same way.  He made a point both at manly bar and when we approached my car to end our night to tell me that he just didn't see any chemistry between us.  It seems he was looking for that magic "fairy tale" moment and is interested in nothing less.  As such, I don't get the impression he's interested in pursuing even a friendship.

While I'm disappointed about this, I accept it.  And while I told him -- when he asked for my opinion -- that I personally would like to spend a bit more time with him, I don't intend on pushing the issue.  If his mind is made up -- and it seems to be that way -- I will respect that.  To be honest, I like him and think he's a good guy, but I'm not going to push or beg for attention or even time spent together.

I did find it funny that he seemed to open up -- in that rambling "let me tell you my whole life story and all my inner thoughts and fears" sort of way (that included talking about some guy out west that he "just clicks with" and hopes to meet this winter) -- on our way home.  I don't know, perhaps that once he decided there was no way I could be "The One," he felt more comfortable and able to just say what was on his mind.  Well, he did that until he started realizing that he was rambling and worried that it would bother me.  (I actually enjoy listening to people ramble.  It's one of my quirks.)

In many ways, he reminded of me from a few years ago:  Insecure, too worried about what other people think, too desperate to find validation through others.  In reality, that probably means I'm just as well off letting him decide not to pursue anything with me.  It's still disappointing though.

But any way you look at it, I was charming and had a great time.  And in the end, I think that's the most important and most encouraging thing to me.

Plus, it's the first date ever in which I got to reminisce about The Facts Of Life.

Get Personal With Me: Music

This week's installment of Get Personal With Me was inspired by a last minute decision to go with Sassy Waiter to listen to a band play last night.

What's your favorite song?  Is it something that brings back a memory?  A song whose lyrics really speak to you?  Or do you just really like the lyrics or the rhythm?

Note:  Before you comment, please remember and even refamiliarize yourself with the comment policy.  Do not judge or otherwise negatively comment on any other commenter's answer.

Erotic stories, readers, and relating to them both.

Notice:  Frank discussion of sex and masturbation ahead.

I've mentioned briefly in the past that I write erotic fiction.  Or call them sex stories.  Or call them porn.  I'm sure different people would classify some of my stories as each of those things.  It's something that I enjoy writing.  It's a fun and interesting way to explore my own fantasies and desires.  It's something that helped me during the coming out process in my early twenties.  And sometimes, it's a good outlet for sexual frustrations.  Plus, like any form of writing, it's a way to explore and be creative and expressive.  Such stories for me -- even if they're too explicit or raw for some people to consider erotica rather than porn -- are as much about crafting something with my words about sex.  This is why, while I sometimes do masturbate after reading such stories, it's a rarity.  I find the writing process a sort of release in its own right much of the time, and see no point in seeking orgasm afterward.  It simply depends on my mood.

I also like to post my erotic stories online for others to read.^[1]  This is because I think they're awesome stories and I want to share them with other people.  I realize that this means that some people will be using my stories as "wank material."  I'm actually okay with that.  While I don't generally use my own stories to fuel my masturbatory fantasies, I certainly read others' stories for that purpose.  As such, I have no problems with the idea of someone using my stories for a similar purpose.  In some ways, I suppose I see it as a sort of compliment.  Plus, I also realize that once I release anything I write -- even non-sexual stories -- to the general public,  I have and should have no control how they take or interact with it.  In reality, their experience with my story does not alter my creative processes or my own experience of that process or the end product.

The sites I post my stories to permit my readers to offer feedback and otherwise interact with me.  In many ways, this is a nice feature.  It's always great to hear someone say that they loved one of my storie.  It's even better if they explain exactly what they love about the story.  (I had one guy practially rave about a creative seduction technique I used in one of my stories.)  I even welcome criticism and suggestions on how I could make a story better (though I certainly feel free to ignore the latter if I wish).  I even appreciate those comments that tell me someone just found a story I wrote "hot" or that it "made them horny."

One of the sites  I post stories to, however, also seems to allow for and in some sense encourage a kind of interaction that I don't appreciate.  In fact, I don't like it at all.  On that site, a small but regular number of readers contact me whenever they see me online in order to engage in cybersex with me.  And that's simply not something I'm into.  In fact, I find it quite bothersome.

I don't mind that people engage in cybersex, nor do I find anything inherently immoral about it.  However, I'm bothered by the fact that these people -- usually men, given my own sexual orientation and the nature of my stories -- seem to think that I'm interested in cybering with them simply because I write and share erotic stories.  And cybersex is not the same as writing an erotic story, at least not from my point of view.

For me, writing a story is a solo and deeply personal practice.  It's born out of my own relationship with the story.  By the time that the story reaches other readers, I'm "done" with it (barring those cases where I choose to pick the same story back up and play with it a bit more).  What the readers do with it at that point has nothing to do with me.

Cybering however is not a solo practice.  It's something that two (or possibly more, I suppose) people engage in for mutual creativity and titillation.  The assumption that because I share erotic stories I also want to cyber with a reader suggests to me that said reader has no respect for my own creative process and has assume that not only my writing, but my very existence is based solely on getting him off.

I have an issue with that.

---

^[1]Before anyone asks, no I will not post any links here.  Those stories are linked to my real name.  So to keep my anonymity relatively intact, those stories will not be in any way connected to this blog.

Some lessons are ongoing

Finding that picture of Stockboy (damn, I might have to add him tot he score card if I'm going to keep talking about him) got me strolling down memory lane quite a bit the past few days.  It occurred to me that my relationship with Stockboy was the beginning^[1] of a journey of healing for me.

Stockboy was my second boyfriend.  Before then, I had only ever been with Satyr Boi, an expereince that could best be described a train-wreck of a six month relationship in which I was emotionally entangled with someone who didn't know how to deal with his emotions and only showed any hint of caring about others through sex.  There's a certain sense of irony in the fact that I went from that disaster into a four year relationship in which the most physically intimate thing that Stockboy and I ever did was kiss each other on the cheek (and that only happened twice).

While I certainly would not want to be in such a non-physical, non-sexual relationship for so long now, that relationship worked wonders for me back then.  It helped me to start breaking down the cycle in which I confused love and sex and assumed that the absence of the latter automatically meant the absence of the former.  Being with Stockboy meant teaching myself to see signs of love and affection as they were expressed through other acts.  It broadened my horizons.

At a higher level, that relationship also taught me a lot about self-reflection and self-evaluation.  I learned to look at my behaviors and the underlying thoughts, emotions, and beliefs that motivated them.  I learned to see relationships as being as much about the process of personal growth as it is about finding true love or being with someone else.  In effect, it was that four year relationship that taught me to audit myself -- in a self-reaffirming and constructive manner rather than a self-denigrated one -- and see where I needed to change.  It's a lesson that I've sought to bring forward with me into my relationships ever since then.

Oh sure, I haven't done a perfect job.  On some days, I'm tempted to look at my subsequent entanglements with Sodomy Badge and Hot Pants and ask if I really learned anything from being with Stockboy.  On my better days, I know I did.  Even in those messed up relationships, my self-reflection process was going on.  There were things wrong in both of those relationships and I knew the problems existed at the time.  I simply chose to ignore them.  More often, I chose to make excuses.  "Well, yeah, I know Sodomy Badge is being selfish and mean at times, but it's because he's scared and lived a sheltered life."  "Well, yeah, Hot Pants is behaving horribly, but he's acting out from his painful past."

In those moments, I realize that the process that started with Stockboy simply hadn't completed by the time I got involved with others (and likely still hasn't).  I hadn't audited myself to the point where I realized that I made too many excuses for others or why I was doing it.  Those are the lessons I learned after going through those relationships, thereby continuing those lessons.

---

^[1]Actually, the journey probably started with a single event that took place in my life about three years before meeting Stockboy, but that may be a story for another day.  For now, we'll pretend that the story starts with him.

My curent frustration

Email from guy:  Hey!  I just saw your personal ad.  You seem like a great guy....

Reply from me:  Hey!  Good to hear from you.

(Conversation ensues.)

Guy:  This has been a great conversation!  So can you send me a picture?

Me:  Sure thing.  Here you go.

(No answer.)

(Weeks pass and I update my ad or create a new one.)

Email from same guy:  Hey!  I just saw your personal ad.  You seem like a great guy....

Reply from me:  Thanks.  Actually, I think we already talked.  This is me...

(Crickets.)

(Lather, rinse, repeat.)

Friday Thoughts: Self Esteem

If there's one thing I've learned, it's that other people's opinion of me matter less the more I love myself.

Get Personal With Me: LGBT-themed movies

Not one of my favorites,
but a good one.

I love LGBT-themed movies.  Whether their funny and campy or serious and dramatic, it's nice to see their tales unfold.  What are some of your favorite films in the genre?

Finding an Old Photo

Last night, I was sorting through my collection of journals, trying to find an unused one.  As I was checking each journal, a photograph fell out of one.  I glanced at it and I realized it was of a former boyfriend from several years ago -- before I moved to my current city.  For this post, I'll refer to this guy as Stockboy.  As I glanced at Stockboy's picture, I was somewhat surprised by my rather unemotional and matter-of-fact response to finding it:

Oh, it's a picture of Stockboy.  I wonder if I should keep it or throw it away.

I honestly wasn't sure what I wanted to do with the picture, which I found somewhat surprising.  You see, I didn't feel any desire to keep the picture.  My relationship with him is long over -- by slightly more than seven years -- and in the past.  I have no desire to resurrect or relive that past.  I don't have the slightest desire to seek him out and reconnect.  I could go the rest of my life without really thinking of him or my relationship with him and find it perfectly fulfilling life.

At the same time, I had no major desire or need to get rid of the picture.  I have no compulsion to keep Stockboy out of his life or bury lingering pains -- there are no such pains with regards to him -- by repressing memories of him or our time together.  I can -- and occasionally do -- talk about times I spent with him very matter-of-factly as experiences that contribute to who I am and how I got to whre I am.

In the end, I decided to toss the picture.  Since I had no desire to hold on to the picture and no need to cast it from my life, I took a practical approach to the question.  Since I don't need or absolutely love the picture, it's effectively clutter, something I have way too much in my life.  So I tossed the picture as something I don't need.

Besides, the memories are still there in the depths of my psyche.  I don't need a picture to access them.  Their presence there is a good thing.  They may surface from time to time of their own accord.  Or I may never think of them at all.  Either way, it's okay with me.  It's a part of my past I've made peace with, and that's all that matters.

Good weekend.

I decided to take a blogging break this weekend.  I decided it would be more personally rewarding to spend the weekend watching television and going out to Home Bar.  It was a pretty busy weekend at the bar this weekend.  The restaurant dining room had a nice flow of business both Friday and Saturday evenings, which is good to know.  I like that Management and his partner (who desperately needs a code name) get business, as it helps ensure that one of my favorite eating establishments stays open.

Saturday night, the place was packed, though not quite as bad as Pride weekend.  It only took me a few minutes to get to the bar and get the bartender's attention to order my cocktail.  On my second time up to the bar, some young thing (who budged in front of me) even spent a moment flirting with me.  It didn't go anywhere, and I half figured he as just being super-friendly because he was drunk.  (Actually, I'm not sure if he was drunk.)  Then I pointed him out to someone else and found out that no, he was being super friendly because he's a hustler.  Oh well, I'm going to claim the compliment anyway.

It turns out that just about everyone I knew was there that night and I got to see more of the same drama to remind me why I don't hang out with some of them.  Sweet Cynic was a drunk mess.  Rumor Queen was trying to play caretaker/babysitter to Sweet Cynic.  He even tried to enlist my aid in his caretaking efforts, which I politely (at least I think I was polite about it) declined.  At any rate, I had a pleasant time.

On Sunday, I went back out for a couple of hours.  Home Bar was having a black party to celebrate the holiday.  I have to say that I though I looked quite dapper in my black and gray vertically striped shirt and black jeans, not to mention my new plaid tennis shoes.  (Yes, I managed to get shoe shopping, and bought two different pairs to treat myself.)  Granted, only the one person at the convenience store complimented me on my outfit.  No one at Home Bar said a word.  Rats.  But it was still a pretty small crowd when I left around 11pm, and I did spend a lot of time in the kitchen to get away from the noise.  What is it with DJ's who seem to think they actually need to make the walls rattle with the volume of their music, anyway?

Beyond that, I spent much of my weekend watching science fiction on Netflix.  I'm getting back in touch with my inner geek.