Bronchitis

Head cold ----> goes in to chest = Bronchitis. Me ----> hacking up a lung = :-(

Box 4

Yes, I have managed since my last post to go through an additional 2 boxes of Kleenex and am now on box four. And I still feel like shit. Awesome. I have to go in to work for at least a little while today, however, never underestimate the power of The Price Is Right to make you feel a little bit better. God, I still love that show. I have got to get my lazy ass out to CA and hit the Bob Barker Studio for a taping. I just know I'll hear my name so that I can "come on down" in order to win a hideous La-Z-Boy and a popcorn cart.

File Under Ass

Unfortunately, I have been sick all weekend. At first I thought it was just my unbelievably crappy Fall allergies kicking in, but after feeling shitty most of the day on Friday, it was waking up Saturday morning at 5:15 after about 3 hours of 20 minute "naps" that finally confirmed for me that I currently have a miserable head cold. So Saturday, despite having plans to knock a number of errands off of my ever growing list, babysit a friend's child and have drinks with some former high school classmates, the only thing I was actually able to knock off was a bottle of DayQuil. Today, although still feeling as miserable, I managed to at least leave my apartment for about 10 minutes to grab OJ and a very necessary second box of Kleenex, this time with lotion. All in all, I feel like ass.

However, that is not the only reason that this particular posting's title is File Under Ass. Since I had nothing to do but watch re-runs of Meredith Baxter Birney movies on Lifetime (didn't even make it to Saturday Night Live last night) and the Redskins this afternoon, I decide today would be the perfect day to revisit my little online diary. When I write a post, I tend to write it, check it for spelling (although I always miss one or two) and then publish it. However, I got a feeling I needed to go back and really read everything that I have posted to date. And now, having done so, I have a few addendums I would like to add to previous posts.

First and foremost, as much as I might like to think so, and as much as my mom tells me, I am not perfect. I am far from it. In fact, in all likelihood, if there is a heaven, and if some day I am lucky enough to gain entrance to its main theater, I will probably have an obstructed view seat. In the third balcony. On a day when the air conditioning is broken. And I will be wearing a wool turtleneck. But I post on this blog on a not-so-regular basis in order to share some funny stories, feelings and experiences I have. Yes, I may have a touch of Carrie Bradshaw-like drama in my writing style, never the less, I have always tried to write with humor and good intentions. But as we all know, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Which leads me to my second addendum. Within the 24 posts I have made over the past several weeks, I have mentioned how difficult it is to find a guy in this city who is a) available to date (i.e., not married, partnered, boyfriend is out of town, boyfriend is asleep) and b) actually wants to date. Fortunately for me, I have been able to have 8 such dates with one such guy. Yet in my post on Friday, I made the comment that although I have really enjoyed dating this person, I was reading way too in to how this person may or may not be feeling; and since I have only experienced "insta-relationships" in the past (see next paragraph), I indicated that I was open to meeting others. For the record, since I first met this gentleman, I have had 8 dates. And only 8 dates. With just one guy, this guy I have fondly referred to as "quasi-dating guy." Period. Although I do feel that anyone in any relationship that has not reached the "exclusivity" phase has the right to see other people, I have not felt compelled to juggle five guys (as if that would ever happen) in order to see which man would be separated from the boys. With that said though, and for my own benefit only, I need to make the point that I have not been looking for the next great date with someone new, only the next great date with the one I have already met, although whether or not a ninth date will actually be in the cards for me remains to be seen.

Thirdly, and somewhat related to my second addendum, I have not actually gone on more than one date with someone in such a long time that I'm afraid that I am almost retarded on a dating scale. I don't know what it's like to actually take things at what many people would probably consider a normal pace. Let's see, the one guy I have actually lived with, moved in with me after three months (and that was SUCH a good idea), the guy I dated last winter had a picture of me on his fridge after our third date (creepy) and other than a gentleman I dated when I first came out four years ago, I don't have a lot to compare things to. And therefore in my own socially retarded way, I have managed to create drama for myself, where previously none existed (hence my previous post references to being a typical gay male).

There is a guy I know of who also has a blog with whom I have previously chatted with online, after his blog was quoted by a more national blog (and then national newspaper) that I read on a daily basis. Blog, blog, blog. Anyway, at one point he also wrote about a guy that he was dating and specifically wrote how embarrassed he would be if this gentleman ever found his blog, because in all likelihood, this gentleman would probably think he was crazy. I personally thought he was stupid to even think that, let alone write in a public diary. Wow, I am realizing how right his postings might be.

So, in closing this posting that has quickly become a novella, to my one previously unknown reader (no offense to any one else who may randomly stumble upon this blog and consider themselves now faithful readers), you may file Friday's post under ass. Enough said.

So What Now?

Well, it was bound to happen. I am a gay man, and therefore, I have to stir the pot every once in a while to add a little drama. Yes, I am referring to quasi-dating guy. I am sure everyone has been wondering, "what ever happened to this dashing young prospect?" I can assure you he is still in the picture. And despite conflicting work schedules, familial obligations and travel, we managed to have another date on Wednesday. Yes, for those of you counting, that makes 8 officially sanctioned dates with this gentleman. Very nice evening. Great dinner. Fun drinks afterwards. All in all, it was good, actually, great, to finally see him again.

Of course, now that we have reached 8 dates, in the back of my mind I am wondering what direction we are headed in. Although the majority of me actually finds taking this very "whatever happens, happens" attitude extremely refreshing and significantly less stressful, the tiny paranoid, pessimistic gay man in all of us reared his ugly head and whispered in my ear, "WTF?" I tried to ask him that evening, but three glasses of wine and four pints made formulating thoughtful and intelligent questioning nearly impossible. So I emailed him. Yesterday. Simply asking what direction he sees us heading in. I am not sure that went over so well. Short story from his end: Not sure where things are going...not sure where he wants them to go. I guess I should not be surprised, nor should I necessarily care. I do like him...he is attractive, smart, witty and a great kisser. But I was not picking out china patterns. Nor has he earned the priveledge of meeting anyone in my life; and the same holds true from his end. However, ultimately, if I am going to "see" someone more than once and over a period of several weeks, then I want to have a clear idea of where it might be going, or at least have the possibility of going. If I am just a stop over on the road to the next best thing, then that's fine too, just so that I know to keep looking on my end as well (which I still am).

This was not an "are we exclusive" talk. Neither of us are even close to that point. But this is a guy who can't commit to doing anything with my over the weekend yet tells me he wants to get together again "sooner rather than later." I am willing to meet him half way, but one can only put one's self out there so many times. Am I crazy, or for once, just actually reading someone's signals correctly?

The WTF Garage Sale

So my parents, who are about half a block from walking right in to the funny farm, decided to participate in their neighborhood garage sale this past weekend. Being the dutiful homo son I am, I dragged my brother (actually he dragged me since I need a ride out to the 'burbs) and we helped hock the crap that has been gathering dust in my parents basement for years. When I first heard about the upcoming jem and junk extravaganza, my only reaction was WTF? My parents are in their "later" sixties...they really have no business having some crazy garage sale. However, after perusing the items before they received their 50 cent price tags, I said, bring it on. The only way I could look at it is that they are saving me the step of having to throw all of this "stuff" (and I use that word loosely) out later down the road.

Of course, it rained on Saturday. My parents on had two sad, half-blown up balloons in front of their house, and despite my brother's and my best efforts to entice people up the driveway with our charm, wit and good looks, the final tally at the end of the afternoon was only about $250. Utterly pathetic. Many thanks to my co-worker, "Mama Jaxon" who totally showed up randomly to throw her support our way, going as far as even crossing the bridge over from VA to MD. Thank god for GPS, right Mama? :-)

To drown my sorrows from the lack-luster community pawn off, I polished off about 20 (+/- 5)drinks Saturday night. Yikes. Give me two drinks, and I start spilling the beans. And everyone knows loose lips sink ships. So, now that I have made my previously anonymous blog a bit more public (not that I tecnically having anything to hide other than looking like a ho), I have to say hello to my friend ______. I am leaving the name blank, as he has not yet decided how he would like to be referred to in blog postings. So once he has safely decided on a trick name, I will begin referring to him as such moving forward.

Au revoir clean apartment

I have to fire my cleaning people today. I know...just writing that makes me sound like the prince of snotiness (if that is even a word) but things have been going downhill with them over the past few months and yesterday was the last straw. And I don't do toilets. Period.

So, I have looked the other way when they opened my brand new fridge pack of diet Coke and enjoyed a couple. No problem, they work hard, enjoy a caffeine break on me. I even look past the fact that they simply "forgot" one time to clean my shower. Everyone makes a mistake, right? But upon inspection yesterday after getting home from nearly 12 hours at the office, I returned to find a broken vase. Now mind you, this is not anything expensive or meaningful, just a cool vase/candle holder next to my stereo. However, I listen to my stereo in the morning when I am getting dressed so I happen to see this particular object every day. I would actually be fine with them breaking something, but the fact that they left all of the jagged edges of the vase exposed and gingerly placed it back as if I would never be wiser, without leaving me a note of any kind, is unacceptable. I am sad because I started using this group after they came highly recommended to me by two separate acquaintances. I am even more sad because since I am working so much these days and am totally anal retentive, I am now going to have to spend 5 hours of my own time every weekend cleaning (yes, I really will spend 5 hours cleaning a 700 sq ft 1-bedroom) versus the mental respite I was having by knowing I was paying someone else to help me. I am most sad because this is the first time I have ever had a place I have lived in cleaned by someone other than myself. I told myself that when I finally owned my own place, that would be my treat to myself, and that's exactly what I did.

I know, I know, there are tons of other people out there who can step in to this group's shoes, but there's just something about your first....

Yesterday

Although I am quite sure everyone has remembered 9/11 ad nauseum at this point, I still wanted to make two small comments and then move forward. First, I watched about 10 minutes of the news in the morning highlighting the coverage from that day and thought I was going to throw up, so that was enough. The events of the day are still way too fresh, even for someone not directly affected. Second, one of my co-workers, who's then fiance, was killed in Tower 2, was out of the office yesterday to attend a service in NYC. When she and I caught up this morning, she was saying how she is so tired of being everyone's "link" to 9/11. I personally did not know anyone killed, let alone seriously affected in NYC or even here in DC. For the first couple of days following the attack, I would relay my story of how it took myself and several co-workers about 3 hours to get out of downtown, and then I was thinking of how lame that sounded in comparison to the tragedy that so many others faced. I decided that unless she ever wanted to talk about 9/11 again, I was not going to bring it up. At least I can be one link off of her chain to that day.

I had a meltdown at work on Friday and almost quit my job. Thankfully several gin and tonics later I was much better. And Be Bar was fun. I think the space is great and my friend and I walked over there from dinner in Logan. And apparently I was decent looking enough to actually get in the door, despite my earlier apprehension. I am sure it was the excellent haircut I had received earlier in the day and received a number of compliments on (Thanks Brennan!) Either I normally look like ass or this was a very good "do."

Finally, quasi-dating boy has been leaving me hanging recently, and I am not sure what, if anything, I am going to do about it. He wanted to get together last night with about 10 minutes notice, but I already had plans. He actually seemed pissed, although maybe that's me being dramatic. I asked him out for tonight and I guess he is pretty much booked through next week between work, travel for work and then a friend coming in to town for the weekend. I personally am going to read in to this as my kiss off, cause believe me...been there, done that. I will admit I am mildly disappointed; although he is far from what I would consider my ideal mate, he was definitely growing on me, and I thought I was growing on him as well. In a way, I think this is kind of his m.o.; he's a bit of a serial dater, but no real relationships. Oh well...onward and upward.

Friday Night Rush

So my friend and I are getting together tonight after not seeing one another for most of the summer due to conflicting schedules, and grabbing dinner and then hitting Be Bar for the first time. I have already told him that if there is a line I am not going in. I don't wait in line for a drink, not because I think that I am better than that (even though a tiny part of me thinks that I am), but because in th end, a bar is a bar, and no bar is worth waiting in line for. Also, I am like a 13-year old as I am in the middle of a massive breakout, my hair looks like a rat's nest these days and I ate and drank so much in CA that I added at least 5 lbs to my already loosening belly. Needless to say, my opinion of myself is at an all time low (from a physical perspective) and from what I can gander, Be Bar is Halo-ish in the fact that it's another S&M bar (stand and model). At 5'11", I will never be a model, so I have a feeling this may be my only trip over to Shaw for a Sapphire and Tonic for some time. But despite my Debbie Downer attitude, I am hoping to enjoy it and I am very happy that there is a new outlet for us 'mos to gawk at eachother.

File under TMI: A former FB of mine called last night out of the blue around 10 PM (I got home from work after 13 hours of hard labor at about 9:30) wanting to know what I was doing. WTF? We had some fun earlier in the year, and then he met a guy and it was over. No problemo. Last night, he dumped the guy, who, unbeknownst to me, lives just a few blocks away, left his place and called me for a little game of hide the sausage. Ewww. EWWWWW!! I am not sure which is worse: 1) I am the consolation prize when breaking up with a bf or 2) That he only waited 5 minutes after dumping a guy to look for his next trick. It was just wrong on about 18 different levels. Needless to say, he was not invited over. Once again, this guy proves my point that dating guys in DC is like tip-toeing through a mine field and that basically I attract pervs and stalkers. Awesome.

Did you Miss Me?

Hello my devoted fans. Since you all have innundated me with emails with inquiring questions like "Are you okay?" "Is your blog over and done with?" and my personal favorite, "Daddy and I think you are a slut" (thanks Mom), I knew it was time to climb back on the blogging horse and write again.

One of the many reasons why it has taken me so long to post an entry is I was away in CA for a few days of R&R. It was wonderful. When I die, I want my ashes to be scattered in Napa. That place is so wonderful. I also experienced Marin for the first time. Hello, movie set. Tiburon is so pretty, cute stores, on the water, great food. Oh yeah...did I mention there are literally no minorities there? I thought was in Stepford for a moment. It was creepy actually. They had a parade going through the town on Sunday that highlighted a fleet of "green" cars (i.e. Pruises), some politicos, doe-eyed Brownies and Girl Scouts and the admission committee for the Yacht and Country Club. Serious Valley of the Dolls complex going on. Of course, one tends to look past all of this because it's like 80 degrees, sunny and 0% humidity 360 days a year. That and there is a fine mist of crack smoke in the air, so one becomes quickly addicted to the positives the city has to offer and quickly buries any negatives.

I may have my gripes about DC, but I appreciate it's diversity so much, well...at least 90% of it. Tiburon, CA is the whitest city on the planet, full of white people who think they are open minded and accepting because they are Democrats and live in the Bay area. However, all the residents of Tiburon really want to do is escape up there in their $4M homes and drink Bloody Marys and Gin Fizzes on the deck at Sam's in order to get away from the "riff-raff" of San Francisco. Bizzarro.

On a side note, the friends who I stayed with live in Pleasanton, aka Agrestic (Weeds reference). That was scary too, and they even admit it. As we pulled in to Moller Ranch (their neighborhood...I know...I almost burst out laughing myself) I was sure I would see Mary-Louise Parker come zooming down the street in her Rover with the rims. Of course, I sang "Tiny Boxes" all weekend; once aloud, the rest of the time in my head.

OK...the other popular question (actually, no one emails me questions, but if anyone did, I would think they would want to know this) is how is the mystery date man? Honestly, he is well. I am surprised to say it myself. I am not sure what date number we are up to, but saw him again last night. Things are progressing slowly but steadily, which is perfect. I personally am in no rush.

Hope all is well with you all, my kittens (blech)