That thing so good, you’ll never have it…

He’s that boy, for me at least.  He’s the one I knew I’d never have and I always wondered what it’d be like if I did.

He’s beautiful.  Completely.  He’s pretty in that Instagram, bartending-in-only-underwear way, and every detail is perfect.  The first time I met him was nearly a year ago. He was behind the bar making drinks for the crowd around him and I watched him for a moment.    I remember wondering to myself what kind of crazy perfect person I would have to be able to get next to the likes of him.

He is a very talented musician who is already well on his way to success – and hell bent on it.  He’s that kind of million-twidder-followers popular.  He knows every gay in the city (and I mean every single one), and most gays in other cities.  

The second time I met him was at his house (no, it’s not what you’re thinking).  I was with a friend who works with him at the club during a small gathering.  I casually asked him about his music and we ended up sitting on a couch chatting for awhile.  When I gave an awkward look he smiled and asked, “What?”

“I was just thinking about asking you to play for me.  I mean I don’t expect you to but…”

He interrupted me and said, “Sure, I’ll play for you.”

As I stepped through the doorway into his room I still had that thought of him in the back of my mind.  “I wonder what it would be like to kiss someone that beautiful…”  (Not that I ever would…)

He pulled out a black guitar and while he played the voice that came from him fit perfectly – it was beautiful.  He then showed me around, talking me through various recording equipment and discussing his plans to add more.  He sat down in front of a keyboard and toyed around with it for a moment.  I had my phone in my hand and took a picture of him playing.  He smiled and said, “What’s that?”

Just toying around...

Just toying around…

“I want to remember this, and I sort of take photos everywhere I go.”  He smiled and continued to play, pausing briefly to pull me towards him and wrap my arms around his chest.  I could feel the sound of his voice moving from his body into mine as he sang.  My whole upper body vibrated to the sound of his voice and I’m pretty sure I was trembling a bit.  Still playing, he turned and looked at me.

Then, he kissed me.

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…SMOKING! Arghh! There, I said it.

It happened to me again today.  I was in the checkout at Kroger, and among my various groceries was – brace yourselves – a box of  Camel cigarettes.  Normally this is not an issue, especially in Kentucky.  So I was only half-expecting it when the cashier said, “You know these are bad for you, right?”

I’m shaking my head just recalling the experience. “Yes, dear, it’s written on the box.” was my reply.

I would like to comment on this issue.  I was wondering how to approach the subject, and I knew I had to do it delicately.  Then I realized that I didn’t care so, as usual, I’m going to call it like I see it.

Let me start by saying something – I know that smoking is bad for me.  I know that it’s full of very bad things that, should I do it long enough, will probably cause me to meet my untimely demise.  I could go over the reasons why I smoke, but needless to say it would be a futile exercise and that’s not really what I want to talk about anyway.  So here goes….

Part. 1 – Things NOT to say to a smoker:

“That’s bad for you!”

I’m just not sure how people utter this phrase and expect anything but a snide remark in reply.  Normally I am nice about it, but at some point I am going to be inclined to point out things about other people’s health.  For example, I will not hesitate to ask, “…and your Big Mac is increasing your life span, is it?”  Smoking is bad for you, but so is being fat (among many other things).

I dare you to tell the Commander-in-chief that his cigarette is bad for him.

“Smoking is so unattractive.”

Several times I have had people say this to me, without knowing that I smoke, and then pretend that they never said anything when they saw me fire one up.  I do not believe that smoking is unattractive.  Some people may find it a bit of a turn off, but that doesn’t mean everyone does.  What I find unattractive about smoking is when unattractive people smoke.

If you don't find that hot, you're lying to yourself.

Now that your malevolence towards me is likely melting your screen, I would like to explore the other side of the coin.

Pt. 2 – Smokers, it’s NOT okay to do the following:

It’s not okay to smoke in inappropriate locations or situations.  I don’t care how desperately you think you need a cigarette.  You may think you are going to die without one, but trust me, you won’t.  For example, if you are in the car with a toddler in the back seat and a pre-teen in the front, it’s not okay to have a fag, people.  “What if I am not sure whether a situation is okay for smoking?”  I hear some of you asking.  If you are wondering whether it is…it’s probably not.

It’s also not okay to use a lack of nicotine as an excuse to be an asshole.  It may have been a while and you may be a little irritated, but trust me, it could get a whole lot worse.  So at the end of the day, you’re not really nicotine starved, you’re just an asshole.

Lastly – and this is a big one – it is not okay, while in situations where it is impossible to smoke (read: at work or on a plane), to constantly talk about how you “need” a cigarette.  You don’t need it, you want it, and I believe that part of being a decent human being is knowing the difference between the two.

Well… now that I’ve got that out, I feel much better.  I’ll be outside if you need me.

On dating, feelings, and that nonsense…

So dating then… never has something I desire caused me this much confusion and frustration.  To be honest, I don’t usually take dating or feelings seriously…at all.  In my mind, it’s not worth it, and I have never really met a guy that caused me to think otherwise….until now (ah, crap!).

A while back I met a boy (we shall call him Jack) for dinner.  Jack was polite, interesting, playful in conversation, and he passed each and every one of my “this is a trick question to see if you are just trying to get me naked later” tests.

A moment of honesty:  Sometimes I don’t mind getting naked on the first date (and usually in those cases, the last date), but this time I was hoping it was more.  As it turns out, I was right.

Jack and I hung out a few more times and on our third date I went back to his place.  We sat on the couch and cuddled while watching TV.  This is when the good part happened (no, it’s not what you’re thinking – get your mind out of the gutter, pervert).

In his Netflix favorites was Top Gear.  For those who are not familiar, this is a British car show and the reason that, on several occasions, I have nearly packed up and moved to England.  We watched two full episodes, and not once did he have that painful look that most gays have when I subject them to car talk.  That’s when I had that cliché moment of clarity and thought, “Where have you been?”

"This one's a keeper!"

Weeks and weeks went by, and suddenly things seemed like they weren’t clicking like they were at the beginning.  A large amount of baggage from Jack’s last relationship (like several suitcases and a trunk) and my sometimes annoyingly playful nature seemed to be taking its toll, so we ended it.  It was a very civil and clean-cut “we are just friends now” conversation.  Alas, it can never be that simple, can it?

Weeks later, I am still bothered by this notion that I let things go too easily.  I have dated (and “dated”) other people in the last few weeks, to no avail.  So I’m left with a decision:  I can let it go, and possibly always regret doing so, or I can take a leap of faith and ask him for another go.

I suppose this type of thing has been happening since the first young cave man decided to stop screwing every cave chick he could find and settle down.  I seem to be stuck in this mindset that I am in completely uncharted waters, though.  As I deal with most uncertainty in life, I suppose I’ll say to myself “Here goes nothing…” and see what happens.

Wish me luck!

A Message From Atop the Bar

Tonight I am off work, and I have plans.  More often than not, I call my friends and they have already planned my evening.  Tonight is no different.  They have decided that we are going to a bar downtown.  It’s within walking distance of the bestie’s apartment and it’s a somewhat seedy, hipster / gay, fairly popular place to get completely knackered.  Tonight will be interesting though, as Wednesday night there is referred to as “Techno Dance Night” and things tend to get a little wild – to put it mildly.  Just imagine rush-hour traffic without the cars, where everyone’s drunk, and that’s what it’s like.

The last time I went on a Wednesday, I woke up with an epic hangover – the kind that makes you feel as if you were put into a barrel and pushed down several flights of stairs.  That morning (by “morning” I do mean 2pm) a friend was showing me photos that he had taken the night before.  I stopped at a picture of a few guys dancing on the bar.  It was a somewhat blurry photo (he had certainly gotten his drink on that night), and I asked him who they were.  “Well, the boy on the right – that’s Chris, the middle one is my friend Keith,” and as he pointed to the third boy, who was shirtless, he said, “and that’s you.”  Oh dear…

Just then, a moment of clarity took place.  When I awoke shortly before, I became aware of an itch around my midsection.  I reached into my blue and yellow Express briefs and pulled out a dollar bill.  It had undoubtedly been inserted there while I was doin’ my thing above the crowd.

DISCLAIMER:  Don’t get me wrong – I’m not a terribly constant party animal, a drunk, or a drug addict.  I don’t do this often.  However, I wholeheartedly believe that there is no shame – NO SHAME – in letting loose from time to time.  Do what you’re going to do, and keep in mind that worrying about what other people think has never done any good for anyone.  Anyone who has ever lived in the wealthier part of the suburbs and gotten the hell outta’ there (and I have) will agree with me.  Cruel Intentions is a great movie, until you’ve lived it (but that’s a story for another time).

So, as I’m sitting here with my laptop, sipping on the finest Chardonnay that $12.99 can buy, I wish you all a happy and pleasantly eventful Wednesday evening.  Mine certainly will be – of this much I’m sure.

Meeting New People (…sort of) – GRINDR

Let me start by saying that if you don’t know what the grindr app is, do yourself a favor and google it.

For me this app is just a cure for boredom.  If I’ve got it open on my phone, chances are that I’m waiting in line at the grocery store.  I don’t, and wouldn’t expect anyone to take this app seriously (unless, of course, random sex is serious business for you, in which case you better log off wordpress and get cracking).  With profile names like “iBottom” and “Married Dad” it’s not hard to see why.

A little snippet of entertainment from a friend. I think Married Dad may have touched a nerve.

I have found that most of the profiles on grindr are or are a mixture of the following:

The Professional

This is the boy who is here to hook up, and he’s got it down to a science.  This is not his first rodeo, and it certainly won’t be his last.  Following a carefully perfected formula, he can crank em out at a pace that would make Gene Simmons look virtuous.  When two Professionals encounter each other, it’s a good chance there will be action in the time it takes to say “Ew.”

The Ninja

If you’ve ever received a message from someone who stated clearly on their profile that they were “NOT HERE TO HOOK UP” and then opened the message to find a picture of their gentleman’s area, you’ve been a victim of The Ninja.

The Mystery Torso

Similar to The Professional, the mystery torso often has one of two reasons for hiding his face.  He either a) has the good sense to keep from broadcasting his promiscuity to the world, or b) it’s ugly.  I think straight boys call that second one a “butter face.”

In this case mystery is a bad thing.

The Relentless

This is the one that does not know when to quit.  For whatever reason, this guy feels the need to carpet bomb grindr profiles in the hopes that someone will be horny or desperate enough to strike up a “conversation.”  How can you tell if you might be acting a bit like The Relentless?  If you were wondering, you probably are.

If I don't respond the first five times, you probably are not going to have much luck on the sixth.

I have made this bad habit of taking screenshots on grindr and sending them to people.  Perhaps I’ll start posting some on here.  That reminds me, I’ve got something really urgent to take care of…