a Valentine's Day Fairy's Tale

Once upon a time there was a boy...we'll call him KoolAidBoy (again). KoolAidBoy always hated Valentine's Day. Why, you ask? because every Valentine's Day that he could remember seemed like an exercise in humiliation. like all the other kids at St. Frances Cabrini Elementary School, a couple of weeks before V-Day he'd pick out a box of cards to give to each of his 39 class mates, usually featuring Snoopy and the Peanuts. a couple of days before, he'd sit down and write them out, saving his favorite card, with Snoopy and Woodstock hugging on the front, for the girl he loved: Alyson (yup, with a Y). she was pretty and quiet and had the nicest hair of all the girls; and was French (not from France, but she was descended from French people; that made her so much more exotic in a neighborhood of mostly Italian and a couple of Irish kids). she also didn't know he was alive. well, she knew, but she didn't exactly care. Anyway, Valentines Day would arrive and every year it was the same thing:

the teacher would have her Mailbox all set up and all the kids would drop there cards in. then someone would be chosen "mailman" (usually the teacher's favorite student: the abnormally tall and brainy buck-toothed girl with the braces and heavy Italian accent). not everyone subscribed to the notion that everyone should get a card and only got cards for their immediate circle of friends, so it really was quite interesting to watch who got cards and who didn't. Every year, KoolAidBoy watched as Alyson tore into her cards while eating her little candy hearts and Enteman's sugar topped cupcake. not once did she even blink when she got to the Snoopy and Woodstock card (the one that came to symbolize a deep and meaning full love, a love for all the ages); it was just tossed in the pile with the rest.

every.
year.

KoolAidBoy came to associate Valentine's Day with this same level of rejection and being ignored, well into his early 20's (tricks and hook-ups tend to look at you funny when you ask if they would be your Valentine) and even went on an Anti-Valentine's Day Ski trip with two of his favorite girl-friends, in college (they never made it to the slopes, just sat around drinking and smoking and hating guys who didn't ask them to be their Valentines).

his 1st real Valentine was a boy he had met online and had become fast friends with. they both worked in the mall, a couple of stores from each other, and would spend equal amounts of time running back and forth. by the time V-Day rolled around, it was candy and a Tinky Winky doll. KoolAidBoy was so happy when the feelings were returned! a week or two later, KoolAidBoy met his 1st boyfriend (VegetarianDelawareBoy), and the quasi-romantic vibe between him and his mall buddy morphed into friendship (one that's spanned almost 10 Valentines Days). he remained KoolAidBoy's only Valentine till KoolAidBoy met a guy with who came to be known only as Shithead. it need not be mentioned that Shithead was a lousy Valentine.

then KoolAidBoy met a guy. this guy (who we'll refer to as SexyShavedHeadGuy) swept him off his feet for three consecutive Valentine's Days: romantic dinners, flowers, a trip to DC and finally an engagement ring. KoolAidBoy (now KoolAidGuy) was...is...completely head-over-heels in love. SexyShavedHeadGuy makes every day feel like Valentine's Day.

KoolAidGuy does have one regret, though:

he wasted all those Snoopy and Woodstock cards on some silly faux French girl.

"They say that bears have love affairs...we're merely mammals...let's misbehave"~Let's Misbehave (Cole Porter)

Ring-a-Ding-Ding

I’m not gonna quibble over the semantics of the word “married” versus “committed” or “domestically partnered”; for all intents and purposes, on October 6th I will become a Sadie*.

Five years ago, the idea that I’d be getting married seemed like an impossibility. It was a very nice dream to have, but that’s all it was: a dream. Sure, Sh-thead and I talked about “forever” but after the 1st couple of months I could barely stand being around him for more than a couple of hours. It was apparent that our “forever” actually meant “till one of us smothered the other in his sleep”. When he and I were over, I went back to my old tricks. A creature of habit, I fell back into the same behavior I’d displayed whenever a relationship didn’t work out: I hooked up with whomever, whenever, wherever. I knew that I didn’t want to be in a relationship; that I wasn’t really ready to settle down with someone again, for fear that they’d turn out to be a liar or a jerk like Sh-thead was. Gradually, I fell into that dark place where I was sure that there was nobody out there for me; that I’d be alone for the rest of my life, cruising and slutting around till I died in my 80’s. It was all very melodramatic and “Miss Havisham Meets Belle Watling**” and incredibly internalized (I don’t think I ever shared those feelings with anyone, but my closest friends)..

Now, don’t go and think that CawfeeMate was the Gay Messiah that saved me from a life of self-pity and licentiousness; when we 1st started talking online, I was on a downward arc. I’d actually had enough of one night stands and was ready to get back in the game of dating. I’d went out with a couple of other guys with whom there was no “spark”; they were nice enough, but didn’t have it. then CawfeeMate and I started talking online and he tried everything he could to convince me that I wouldn’t like him. Not one to have his mind made up for him (and completely enamored by his picture), I told him that I was very open minded and would reserve all judgment till we met (in truth, I figured that at the very least I’d go our for dinner and make out with a hot guy). The rest is history: like one of the old ladies said in When Harry Met Sally,” you know; the way you know about a good melon”. I knew right away that he was “next boyfriend” and assumed that we’d be together till he realized what a loser I was (with my mall job and dank apartment). It wasn’t till later on that I knew he was the “last boyfriend”.

I don’t know how it happened, but I’ve gone through a lot of changes since we’re together. I miss hanging out in clubs and bars till the small hours, but not as much as I thought I would. It’s same thing with my job in retail; not that there’s anything to miss about retail. It’s amazing that something that was such a part of your life for so long could be so easily replaced. My point is that it’s starling how much your life can change in a few years, especially when you’re not expecting it to change or never thought that it could change. I guess what I mean is that even though I look back on my past and both smile and groan, the ide of my…our…future makes me both excited and nervous; like Christmas morning. If my life has changed this much in the last 3 years, what’s going to happen in the next 3? Or 30?

Whatever happens, I just hope CawfeeMate never comes to his senses…
*if this reference is completely lost on you, please refer to your Gay Manual’s chapter on Funny Girl.
**see the chapter on Gone With the Wind

Every Time a Bell Rings...

i come to you today a man prepared to eat his own words. for years, i've poo-pooed and spoken out against an American Christmas tradition. last night i finally broke down and watched It's a Wonderful Life, in it's entirety and cried like a premenstural woman.i don't mean i teared up idly at the smattering of sentiment. oh no. from the scene where George saves Harry on the frozen pond to the last dingle-dingle i openly wept, bordering on sobbing.

i was completely overcome by the message of "every man's life touches others'" and absolutley shocked. granted, over the last couple of years, i've become more moved by movies and tv shows. this i attribute to Stephen's influence. not to sound too cheesy, but before i met him i'd kinda shutdown emotionally (for which i can thank Shithead) for a couple of years. i was immune to the charm of movies, song lyrics and Hallmark commericals. then, after spending a week with Stephen, it was like all the walls tumbled down and i was as sensitive as a sore tooth. movie trailers, books, commercials, etc get me misty. it's almost pavlovian the way i react to cheap sentiment now. if it's sappy/schmaltzy/cheesy, i'll cry.

if you've never seen It's a Wonderful Life, you must live in an area where they do not have televisions, pop-culture or Christmas. if that's the case, you probably also don't have a PC and can't be reading this. on the off chance that somehow you've lived your life in complete isolation but managed to escape back into society and are reading this blog and now have access to a television, dvd player or vcr, i strongly suggest that you rent/borrow it. if you've seen it in the past and rolled your eyes at gobs of sentiment being tossed around like snowballs, i suggest you give it another chance. it may surprise you...

Ex Marks the Spot Pt. 2

So I told stephen about the ex (to whom we’ll refer as Shithead, since that’s how I usually refer to him), and he seemed remarkably unfazed. He was glad I told him, but knowing most of the details of our break-up/relationship he also knew I had no intention of seeing him again or of replying to the e-mail; case closed. The next day I told John, and he wanted to know what my reply was. When I told him that there wasn’t going to be a reply, he was genuinely surprised. (I’ll spare you the long story here) his opinion was that “it was so long ago and it seems silly to hold onto what had happened. We’re all different people than we were then”. He’s right…in his own way… it was a long time ago and I am a different person: the kind of person that doesn’t want a liar in his life. At the end of our relationship, I didn’t believe half of what Shithead told me. I questioned his motives about everything and, to be honest I still do. our relationship made me alot less trusting of people, especially those I’m romantically involved with. Thanks Shithead!

Even if I did still “like” him (read: think he’s a good person; worth spending time and re-creating a friendship with) I’ll admit that I’ve never found it easy to be friends with my exes (no matter how few they are). With only one exception, almost all the guys I called “boyfriend” and I ended on “bad terms”. Our break ups were just that: breaking of emotion and/or communication. To be honest though, I can’t see any other way to end a romantic relationship other than a complete and total freeze out. I envy (the stereotypical) lesbians (of whom John is surely an honorary one) for having the ability to be friends with their exes, regardless of the circumstances surrounding their break up. It’s truly amazing that no matter how many times the cops were called, how many ER vistis there were, how many hurtful things were said, and how many hearts were broken in the process, that they can rise above it all and stay friends.
All kidding aside, I really do admire people that can stay friends with their exes. Stephen and I were in the car the other day and I asked him how it was possible that after a relationship ends, all the love and passion and friendship that existed during the relationship suddenly seems to evaporate? You’ve made all this emotional investment in the other person, and then walk away without so much as a person you can dish with over coffee? It sounds like a raw deal to me, but it’s what happens.

Stephen asked me last night if Shithead had e-mailed me again after not getting a reply (perhaps he isn’t as unfazed as I thought). I told him that he hadn’t, and that hopefully he wouldn’t. over the last few years I seem to have lost a lot of my “friends” due to circumstances; in a lot of the cases we just “grew apart” due to large expanses of time and space, but some just proved either not to be good friends or just not the friends that they started out being. While I’d never turn them away if they ever called me for help or if they were in need, I also wouldn’t look to them to ease my pain or need. I have other, stronger, friends to whom I’d turn.

I guess what I’m saying (about both my romantic and friendly relationships) is that, we “broke up” for a reason and sometimes that reason shouldn’t be forgotten; sometimes the hurt/scars/etc run a little too deeply.

Music Makes the People Come Together

Some thoughts on what's randomly playing on my MP3 Player from my as yet unnamed playlist...

1. Stand Back (Stevie Nicks): i can't stand her, but i love this song. i have no idea what she's saying; it sounds like she's stuck in a wood-chipper.
2. the Tide is High (Blondie): honestly, before their "comeback" Blondie could do no wrong. this song really is golden.
3. Heart of Glass (Blondie): see #2
4. I Would Die for You (Prince): i've always liked Prince, but Shithead was a majorly psychotic fan. it was terribly disturbing. i still listen to him now and again and thank Cher i'm with Stephen. :)
5. Edge of Seventeen (Stevie Nicks): see #1 (i think it's just the chorus i like about this song; all the rest is unintelligible)
6. Immature (Bjork): the lyrics to this song are awesome: "how could i be so immature to think that he could replace the missing elements in me? how extremely lazy of me!" say what you want about her, the bitch has a point.
7. the Queen is Dead (the Smiths): ah the angst of Morrissey. whatever happened to him?
8. She Bop (Cyndi Lauper): this was one of the very 1st albums i ever owned (on cassette!). i played it so much it wore out. it wasn't till, like 5 years ago that i realized what this song was about. that Cyndi! she was so naughty!
9. Frankly, Mr Shankly (the Smiths): this song is SO f'n snotty and peppy!
10. Take a Chance (ABBA): in college, Jenn and i used to sit in her car and she'd chant the "take a chance" part over and over again during this song. we always cracked up!
11. Blue Monday (New Order): holy '80's Batman.
12. Ask (the Smiths): *sigh* ah to be a buck-tooth girl in Luxemburg.
13. Shine (Cyndi Lauper): the 1st time i heard this song was live, when she opened for Cher during the "Farewell Tour". i still get chills when i hear it. love her!
14. No More (Jason Walker): holy crap. this song's lyrics are phenomonal and it was produced by Dynamix AND it was covered by Kristine W! the next time someone needs a Break-Up Mix or Anti-Valentines Day mix: this song is totally going on it.
15. Because of You (Kelly Clarkson): ok i admit it, i jumped on the KC bandwagon. this song is so gut-wrenchingly well-done, with her plaintive and desperate sounding voice, that it's hard to resist. i still won't watch American Idol though.
16. Everything She Wants (Wham!): yup i own Wham!, and i'm not ashamed. i love this song. she's a greedy bitch George! leave her and go back into the bushes!
17. Voulez Vous (ABBA): this song is so campy and so fabulous.
18. Paradise is Here [Junior's radio edit] (Cher): Cher and Junior is like chocolate and peanut-butter: fantastic separate, and mind-numbingly fabulous together.
19. Love is a Groove (Cher): it's that noise at the begining of song that really gets me. it sound like she's playing bottles filled with water. i live for that noise. then she says "Kathmandu", and i know that she can do no wrong.
20. Girlfriend in a Coma (the Smiths): (see #7) c'mon, who else could've written this song?
21. the Sodom and Gomorrah Show (the Pet Shop Boys): this song is like a Vegas production number. i *heart* Neil Tennant.
22. Faithfully [Valentin radio edit](Judy Torres): i usually hate covers, especially when i really like the original, but this one is phenomonal. she really makes it her own; incidentally, it's also a pretty kick-ass mix.
23. Regret (New Order): i absolutely love the opening bars of this song. wow, New Order; where are they now?
24. Mama Mia (ABBA): (see#17)
25. How Soon Is Now? (the Smiths): this song is deffinitely in my top 5 for all time favorites.
26. I Knew You Were Waiting for Me (George Michael and Aretha Franklin): this is the butchest i've ever heard him sound.
27. Gloria (Laura Branigan): poor Laura; dead. yet, her song lives on and on and on
28. Barracuda (Heart): this song always takes me back to Wednesdays at Barracuda; where we'd see the notoriously fabulous drag-queen: Shasta Cola. she tore the place up with this song.
29. I Wanna Have Some Fun (Samantha Fox): so trashy, so slutty, such a one-hit-wonder that somehow had five.

ok, i'm mad busy now. there's no way i'll be able to post more. until tomorrow!

Brunch: It's Like Breakfast, Only With Attitude

as i mentioned, Stephen and i went out for brunch with my parents on sunday. my mom had wanted to sample a place that she was thinking of having my sister-in-law's baby shower at so she made reservations at a place called the Bistro. the food was good, the menu was a little limited, and the Mimosas were quite botomless. all in all, i'd give the entire experience a 7 out of 10. the reason i bring this up, is because having brunch with mom, dad and Stephen reminded me of when i used to go out to brunch every sunday with a guy i was seeing in Brooklyn...

we would get up late on Sunday's and head over to Park Slope, called Sotto Voce. now for those of you outside New York, Park Slope is like Brooklyn's answer to the Village; it's where all the artsty/yuppie/crunchy/gay types moved when the City seemed too daunting or expensive. it's cute and full of brownstones and little cafe's and restaurants. like the Village, though, it's also got a discernible note of pretension and haughtiness about it; sort of an "I'm Too Sexy for This Borough" kinda deal. in the five months that Shithead the Pathological Liar (that was his name...really!) and i were together, i never felt cool enough to be there. my jeans were old (not distressed), my shirts were worn (not vintage) and my Docs didn't come with the hole in the sole (they were worn down). granted, i've definitely got issues when it comes to feeling out of place; call it paranoia or "social anxiety disorder" or whatever but i'm terribly self-conscious about being around my peers. anyway, the brunches themselves were absolutely steeped in an almost palpable amount of pretension and attitude. the patrons of Sotto Voce sat around like rejects of a Guess ad: all disheveled hair, wrinkled couture and dark circles under the eyes. everyone had that, "Roxy closed at 8, i've had 4 hours sleep, and now i'm here" look. even the waiters seemed to ooze a level of haughtiness that one does not expect from someone slinging hash. Shithead, however, loved it. he felt it completely boosted his stock and self worth; we were where we should be seen on a Sunday morning. Me? i just felt like i was paying too much for so-so Eggs Benedict and cheap-champagne-mimosa (i'm more of a "Diner Omelete and Bottomless Coffee" kinda gal). after a month or so, the whole experience really left me with a very poor impression of what Brunch should be: cunty queens and eggs.

i found out later that brunch is actually alot of fun with the right group of people, at the right place, and when you're not dating a Shithead.

"The world changes in direct proportion to the number of people willing to be honest about their lives"~ Armistead Maupin