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July 29, 2005

Circle Chomp

I was the unwilling participant in a circle chomp the other day at the gym. I was minding my own business working out alone in a corner when this nelly, leathery figure decided to lift his weights next to me. No problem, I thought. Then I noticed in the mirror this enormous wad of gum snapping loudly from his mouth. He was going to town on that poor thing. Chomp, chomp, chomp. Snap, snap, snap. I thought perhaps he was related to Britney Spears or maybe worked at the DC DMV.

If you want to chew gum, that's fine. But please do it in a somewhat civilized manner like, oh, I don't know, with your mouth closed. It is possible, people. Insert gum into mouth. Close mouth and chew. Continue chewing your little heart out while your mouth remains closed. I don't need to see what's in your mouth or how many fillings you have or what color the piece of cud is. Also, please remember, if you do chomp your gum like a cow you will be one flatulent motherfucker in a couple hours. Remember that, people. All that poor air you are inviting in needs to go somewhere. If you see your friend doing this you might want to avoid them later on. You've been warned.

Another man shows up with his friend and they are both chomp, chomp, chompin' away. They pick up their weights and force me into the corner even more. They were chomping AND talking. "Did you [snap] happen to see that Blowout show the other [pop] day? Gurl, that Jonathan [snap] Antin queen is [pop] such a bee-yotch!" Chomp, chomp, chomp. Ssssnap, ssssnap. "Oh my god, I hate [pop] that show. That guy is sssssuch a dicky head." [snap]

I looked around and saw yet another man chomping away. Was this a new gym policy no one had told me about? I appeared to be the only one gum-less. Then I thought I was being Punk'd but, luckily, remembered that I am not a celebrity.

I was trapped by the circle chomp. I was feeling claustrophobic. My face was getting flushed. Must remove myself from frightening situation.

I went to the gym for a nice workout and ended up in a Rice Krispies commercial starring Snap, Crackle, Pop and me. Ugh.

Posted by durban bud at 09:18 AM | Comments (8)

July 27, 2005

Pigs With Feelings

My good friend Matt and I were having a discussion about our apparent pigginess lately. Okay, maybe it's more ME than him (but I seriously doubt it). We also were talking about our affection for man porn. I said to him, "We're a bunch of pigs." He said, "No, we're pigs with feelings." I like that. I'm a pig with feelings. So be nice to me.

Oink.

BTW - Is almost every gay man named Matt? I communicated with 4 different homo Matts today. Kinda sketchy if you ask me.

Woof.

Posted by durban bud at 01:18 AM | Comments (11)

July 25, 2005

Bob Movement

So this past weekend was all about Bob.

I stayed in Friday night and watched the train wreck that is Whitney Houston's life on "Being Bobby Brown." I have surmised that I never ever want to be famous. It makes you crazy and freaky. No thanks. I felt really dirty watching it. I knew I shouldn't but I couldn't stop. I should not be supporting that crap. Tos can do an awesome impersonation of Whitney from that show. If you see him on the street, ask him to do it for you. It will make you giggle.

Saturday, we hung out with our buddy Joe. Joe is hot. He's a big teddy bear and a really sweet guy. Plus, he gives good bear hugs and is a great kisser. I'm just playin'! I wouldn't know anything about that. (Or would I)?

We went to Lauriol with Joe, Tos, and Matt B for dinner. Ira and Shawn showed up later. I'm not sure where Tattoo was. I knew it was gonna be one of "those" nights when Joe ordered a pitcher of margaritas when we weren't even half empty on the other one. The waiter said, "You still have some left." Joe snapped, "We need another one." No, we didn't.

We made plans earlier that we were gonna go to Blowoff that night. Believe it or not, we do not go out much at all. I know that's hard to believe with all my party stories this summer but it is rare. If we do go out, it's usually at the beach or at the Blowoff party. Tos kept saying all day that he wasn't going to go. He ended up going. It was pretty funny. We had a wild time. I love my friends.

Sunday, we went to an album release party for Bob Mould's new CD, "Body of Song." Have you ordered your copy yet? If not, please do so now. It comes out tomorrow. You should definitely get it. I think he wrote all the songs about me.

It was a good time. At one point, I thought that maybe I had stepped into a bloggers' convention. All the boys were there. I finally got to meet the infamous Jimbo. We all made out and then got our laptops out to write about it. It was hot.

They were raffling off a boxed set of his new CD. I won one of them. I never win anything so I deserved it. The last time I won something was in 6th grade when I was given an Excellence in Sports award. I didn't win it for my athletic ability though. I won it for having perfect attendance in gym class. How sad. I still have it. It's plastic and about 3 inches high. I keep it around so I can remind myself that I did, in fact, win something at one point in my life.

Oh yeah, Rob finished reading the latest Harry Potter book. Do you wanna know who dies? ;-)

Posted by durban bud at 11:24 AM | Comments (8)

July 21, 2005

Haunted Gay Cruise

As I mentioned before, I am going on a gay cruise at the end of August. Now I find out that someone was killed on our boat earlier this month. I am now going on a haunted, gay cruise. Could there be anything worse?

On another note, I downloaded a couple Eminem songs the other day. Does that make me a bad homosexual?

Posted by durban bud at 12:49 PM | Comments (12)

July 20, 2005

Making Out

I like to make out. I enjoy it. Some people do not. I don't get this. I would rather kiss you than play with your manly cooter. I know that may seem odd. But I am odd.

Just for shits and giggles, I asked Rob if he wanted to make out this morning. He laughed at me. That wasn't very nice. I was kinda serious though. I would have done it if he seemed somewhat interested. Whatever, his loss. I give good tongue.

When we first started dating, that's all we would do. I remember listening to the Tears For Fears Greatest Hits CD TWICE while we were still doing the spit-swap. My jaw hurt so bad the next day.

I would not give up my cherry until I knew he was "the one" for me. I had given that up too many times before and to way too many trolls. Now that I think about it I do believe I made out with Rumpelstiltskin. Ugh, I wish there was a rewind button.

I was good and I was patient. It was well worth the wait. Every time Rob would try to cop a feel, I would put up my cock-block. I just wanted to be held and loved. Is that asking too much? I was such a dirty, little cock-tease. I still am. Whatever, it prevents scabies crabs.

We still kiss a lot but it's usually followed by sweaty, naughty, hot man sex. Sometimes, I just want some tongue action though. So, if you're at the Blue Moon in Rehoboth, I might accidentally kiss you. Please do not get mad at me. I just like it.

Posted by durban bud at 09:52 AM | Comments (8)

July 18, 2005

durban bits

The new Harry Potter book came out this weekend. Rob bought a copy so I played the part of the Invisible Man all weekend. He would only acknowledge my existence when he wanted some pooty tang. So rude.

The Heat Miser is still wreaking havoc on DC so I watched a lot of crappy TV, listened to music and played on the Internet. Here are some of my observations:

* Bobby Brown is one of the most foul creatures to roam this planet. He is repulsive. He is right up there with Karl Rove. I want to know what kind of drugs he and Whitney are on. I think they are hooked on some sort of prescription drugs but I can't figure out which one(s). I'd like to know because I will never take whatever they are taking.

* Lisa Kudrow's new show "The Comeback" on HBO is freakin' hysterical. One of the best shows on TV right now.

* I love Six Feet Under but haven't seen any of the episodes this season. I finally watched one last night. It was pretty good. The gay couple gets on my nerves though. The white guy is so bitchy and the black guy cannot act. You would think after 5 seasons he would have gotten better. Nope.

* Can you imagine having sex with Karl Rove?

* Who watches that show Entourage? I tried to watch an episode last night. I have tried this before and failed so I thought I would give it another shot. I could only handle 5 minutes. I don't get it.

* "Celebrity Skin" by Hole is a great pop-rock record. It's a shame it didn't do so well. I think it would have done well if Courtney was sober while promoting it. There are some great pop songs on there.

* I realize my blog entries tend to be really long. When I visit other blogs and I see long entries I tend to not read them. I would understand if you do this to mine as well. Although, you don't know what you're missing.

* I did not get to see Charlie & the Chocolate Factory this weekend. It was too hot to hail a cab. I would have melted. Ba-da-boom. After hearing what Steve and Chris had to say about the movie, I'm not in a big hurry anymore. I will still see it though.

* "Celebrity Fit Club 2" is wonderful trash TV. I want to know how much they pay these people to make complete fools of themselves. What the hell happened to the lead singer of Warrant? Poor guy. Ugh, aging sucks.

* We ordered 3 movies from Netflix 2 months ago. We still have the same ones. One of them is "Sideways." After all the acclaim I thought I would rent it. Everytime I go to put it in the DVD player Rob and I look at each other and say, "Nah." It looks so boring. I should probably send it back. We also rented "Hotel Rwanda." Everytime we suggest watching it we both decide that we do not want to depress ourselves on a weekend night. We should send that back too.

* My site looks like crap in Firefox. The links are all messed up. I appreciate Firefox and how they are trying to compete with IE but I really don't feel like learning their interesting little nuances to make things look pretty. Not yet. Maybe later.

* When someone arrives at my little web site through a search engine I can tell what keywords they used. Here are just a few from the last week: "fuck buddies in durban," "baptist anal sex," "charlie and chocolate factory porno," and my favorite, "dry humping boxer briefs." That is not a joke, people. It's for real. There are some freaky-deaky people in this world. More freaky is the fact that my site comes up when those words are typed in! They must be sorely disappointed to arrive at my silly, non-pornographic online diary. I should probably tone down my use of vulgarities and sexual innuendo so this doesn't happen.

Nah, fuck it.

Posted by durban bud at 09:44 AM | Comments (11)

July 15, 2005

Swimmer's Ear

I went to the beach a couple weekends ago. It was that weekend when I wore my lime green bathing suit. It was also the same weekend that Ira forced me to drink a lot without letting me have dinner. You know, when you go to happy hour at 6pm and then realize at 11pm that you probably should have eaten something because you begin to fall asleep while standing up? Yeah, that weekend. Anyway, while I was frolicking like a little kid in the water I got hit by a surprise wave. My ear got clogged. Most of the water came out but there was still a little left in it. And it's still in there.

It's not so bad that I can't hear out of the ear, it's just annoying cuz when I turn my head a certain way I can feel it. I decided to do something about it. I asked Encyclopedia Tos what the best remedy would be. He told me they have stuff for "Swimmer's Ear" that I can pick up at any CVS. He said it's basically alcohol and then proceeded to give me a demonstration on how alcohol and water interact with one another. Apparently, someone watched a lot of Bill Nye, The Science Guy when he was a wee lad.

I went to CVS and picked up something called Swim-EAR. I was so excited to get rid of this little annoyance. I get home and read the directions. Here they are: "Apply 4 to 5 drops in each affected ear." Okay, then what? Am I supposed to tilt my ear up so it soaks in? Am I supposed to tilt my ear down so it runs out? How long do I leave it in before I should move my head? Do I shake my head? Do I do the hokey-pokey? WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO?!? I looked for one of those 800 numbers on the label to call for assistance. No such luck.

I decide to proceed along with their instructions, modified with some of mine. I tilt my head to the side and put 4-5 drops in my ear. I don't know how anyone is supposed to do this because you cannot see inside you ear cavity how many freakin' drops you are putting in. Instead, I start "listening" for 4-5 drops. I think I have put 4 or 5 drops in but I may have put in 7, or 3 or even 12. I don't know because I can't see in there!

I let it soak in. I tilt my head back up and a bunch of the alcohol fluid drips out of my ear. That's not good. I tilt my head back. I let it soak in some more. I tilt my head back up. I can't hear out of the ear anymore. I shake my head about. I tilt my ear down trying to get the fluid to drain out. Still can't hear. I stick my finger in and try to pull out the fluid. Nothing. I can't hear out of my freakin' ear anymore! Now I have salt water AND alcohol stuck in my ear. My problem has been exacerbated. I can't hear and I now speak like Marlee Matlin. Thanks Swim-EAR! If anyone has any other suggestions, do let me know.

On a separate issue, a friend of mine has a question. Let's say my friend did a load of laundry. Let's say my friend washed a brand new cotton shirt and then put it in the dryer. Let's say my friend noticed that the shirt is now much smaller after drying it. Is there any way to stretch it out ever so slightly? My friend said the shirt is not ruined but is probably more appropriate for a 5 year old boy instead of a 34 year old man. Does anyone have any suggestions on how to fix this (without having to buy a brand new shirt)? I'll ask Encyclopedia Tos but I thought I would ask you first. My friend would really appreciate any help he can get. Thanks in advance.

Posted by durban bud at 09:02 AM | Comments (12)

July 14, 2005

Props to Ali G

Da Ali G Show just got nominated for 2 Emmys for Best Variety, Music, or Comedy Series and also for Best Writing. This is hysterical. Suddenly, everything is right in the world.

He's up against Letterman, Jon Stewart, Bill Maher and Conan O'Brien. Bruno is the best character but Ali G is cool too.

This was Ali G's statement on the Emmy recognition:
"I iz well excited to be nominated for a Grammy cuz I iz gonna get to meet dem Desperate Housewives, who, after spending de night wiv me, will ge goin home very Satisfied Housewives, innit!"

Respek.

Posted by durban bud at 10:19 AM | Comments (1)

July 13, 2005

Charlie & the Chocolate Factory

That's a great name for a gay porno.

I can't wait to see this movie. As I've mentioned before I just don't like to go to a lot of movies now-a-days cuz they're usually just dumb. I know this is a big budget hollywood movie but...it looks kinda fun and I read the book. I love Johnny Depp and Tim Burton (except for that awful Planet of the Apes movie). And the kid from Finding Neverland is playing Charlie. I love that kid. He's a great actor.

This was also one of the few books I read when I was younger. I rarely read any of the school books I was forced to read but somehow I got by. I would start them but get bored. Maybe it's the ADD. I actually got put in some book club for advanced student readers. We had to talk about the books. I never read any of them. I don't know how I did it either. Guess I was a good little bullshitter. I hope none of my teachers are reading this. If they are, I'm just kidding.

During my youth, I read Charlie & the Chocolate Factory, Tom Sawyer, all the Encyclopedia Brown books and a bunch of Stephen King books (which, I realize, is kinda scary but keep in mind my dad took me to see Halloween when I was, like, 8). I'm pretty sure that's about all I read which is even scarier.

Anyway, I want to see this so if anyone else does this weekend, do let me know.

Good review too.

Posted by durban bud at 08:58 AM | Comments (7)

July 10, 2005

1994

This is not a funny story. This is not a pretty story. Most people don't know this story, not even some of my closest friends. But it is a real story. And it is mine.

I have a wonderful life: Great partner to share it with. Awesome friends. A loving family. Nice home. Life is very, very good to me. However, it has not always been this way. I hit rock bottom in 1994. And I hit it hard.

I've been analyzing a lot of my life lately. I've been talking more honestly about things that have happened to me; exploring new things I thought I would never do; I've also been looking at some of my behaviors throughout my life and trying to figure out how they might have looked from someone else's perspective. This has actually been a good thing and a cathartic thing. Not sure why it's been happening now. Maybe it's a midlife crisis; maybe I'm just getting a better perspective from experience; maybe I just need to get it out there.

I grew up like most people who tend to be somewhat sheltered; never visited any big cities; never explored different cultures; never traveled far; I went to church every Sunday; I went to bible school every Sunday; I went to vacation bible school every summer; I made jokes about gay people; and I eventually registered as a republican.

SIDENOTE: I also thought Red Lobster was a 4-star restaurant (I seriously did. I still like it, people. It's a guilty pleasure so if you want to take me, I'm game. But don't tell anyone). That was catty to say. Whatever.

We think black or we think white. Churches teach us to think this way; family members teach us to think this way; politicians teach us to think this way; we do so because that's what we only know.

My parents both come from huge, deeply religious, conservative families and have a large amount of conservative friends. Here a republican, there a republican, everywhere a re-pub-li-can. We did tons of family trips to see these people, or they were always over visiting. Most of these people were so sweet and friendly, but the way some of them talked about certain things was not so loving or sweet. I kept getting mixed messages about everything. I was confused. Some of my uncles are ministers and they would throw the "N" word around left and right. This seemed a wee bit odd to me.

Don't get me wrong; my parents were wonderful to me and are very loving and accepting people. They even had a gay friend (a quick shout out to the "Kinny"). I think it's cuz they escaped the hills of West Virginia and moved to a somewhat more progressive place. They were the exception, not the rule. However, the environment (and I'm not just talking about family life; I'm also talking about school life) I was raised in was not always that way. I was surrounded by homophobia as, I think, most sheltered people are.

I was this guy growing up in an environment that I totally did not fit into-- a square peg, if you will. I knew I was different but had no idea what to do about it.

In 1991, my hormones were raging. I was 20 so I thought it was about time I did something about my true sexuality. I was gonna see if I could secretly meet some guys for dating. This was such a taboo and dangerous thing for me to do. No one knew my secret. This caused me severe anxiety and panic attacks. I had trouble getting through class. I couldn't work. I didn't want to get out of bed. I decided I needed some serious help.

I told my mom I wanted to see a psychiatrist. Sorry, no psychologists, no social workers. I wanted the top of the heap. This was really hard for her to hear, but I assumed it was better than her hearing, "Hey Mom, I kinda like guys' butts!" The stigma attached to the word "shrink" was devastating to her because of what she was taught. This was a black and white issue and it was definitely on the negative side.

Since my mom is so amazing and always wants me to be happy she found one for me (recommended by a co-worker who had a son who was also in therapy).

I went to see him one time. And ONE time only. I explained my panic attacks. Of course, I never said the word "gay" through the whole session. Outing myself this early on would be too scary. I would be judged badly and that would be just too hard to handle. He recommended I try breathing exercises. Umm, okay. If that doesn't work then we'll try medication.

I gave the huffing and puffing a try. Hmm, this doesn't seem to be working. I tried again. Nope. Not gonna work. I called the guy back.

"Not gonna work, doc." Okay, I'll mail you a prescription. I get it in the mail the next day. Perfect. 40 milligrams of Valium a day. I get it filled and suddenly I am mellower for the next two years. I would get a month's worth and call the doc when I ran out. Next day I would get it in the mail. We had a great system.

I came out to a few close friends (first to my amazing friend Pam) and even went out to some bars.

I moved to DC in the summer of '93. I knew virtually no one. I had only a couple friends. I was such a naive, inexperienced kid from suburbia but knew that if I didn't make a big change in my life I would not live a happy life. I was close to graduating back in Rochester but threw all my credits away and started over at AU. But it was something I had to do.

I was moving to a new world where I was about to get a huge perspective change. I only had one perspective on things -- black or white. There were no gray areas except that huge gray area of my sexuality. I remember hearing how bad being gay was in church so I always thought to myself, Hmmm, I don't think I'm a bad person. I think I'm pretty good actually. Maybe some of what I'm hearing is bullshit because people think only in terms of black or white. They don't see the gray area or another perspective. Some people don't want to listen to facts or see someone else's point of view based on THEIR life experiences.

Anyway, I moved to DC and immediately got into a relationship. A very, very, bad relationship. Since I had never truly dated before I was a complete basket case. Again, so naive and inexperienced AND ignorant.

While this new relationship was happening, my 40 mg/day drug habit was about to end. Badly.

I didn't realize what a gross amount of the drug I was taking until I ran out. I called my doc on my Thanksgiving break while I was back home to refill the prescription. He said, "No." I'm like, "Why not?" "Because you live out of state and I don't feel comfortable prescribing this to you. You need to find someone down there." Umm, okay Dr. Dickhead. You've totally got me addicted and we've only had ONE session in TWO fucking years and now you want to be ethical?

40 mgs of Valium is just insane I have since learned. I remember doing a school paper on a biography of Truman Capote (much later) where in the book it said something like, He had taken 40 mgs of Valium, which to the average person you could blast a car horn in their ear and they wouldn't flinch. And I had been taking the shit for two years every single day.

Obviously, I went through severe withdrawal. I had awful shaking, sweating, crying. I wanted to die. Feelings of hopelessness. The works. I had it all.

I went to a school counselor (cuz it was free) during one of my less than happy days and told her I was having suicidal thoughts. I told her I was gay but not out to my family and a lot of other friends. Only my close friends knew. She told me I should speak to someone who is gay. Thanks, lady. I left.

Now I'm no expert on school counselors but if a student is talking about ending their life, you might want to, oh, I don't know, call them later to see how they are doing. I got nothing. Bitch.

I spoke to my primary physician in DC to see if he could recommend a shrink in DC. My insurance did not cover "mental illnesses" so I was very reluctant to go to one. Even though it was life or death. He referred me to someone. Somehow I found some money and went to see him.

Keep in mind, at this point, I still did not know that the drug I was taking every single day was a huge amount. However, he did know after I spoke with him. I was heavily addicted. He also mentioned the gross negligence on my doctor's part back home.

How wonderful I thought. I go on a drug to help me deal with one problem (my dirty little secret) and now I have TWO fucking problems. He put me on some new anti-depressant to counter the awful feelings I was experiencing. It was none of the popular drugs we see advertised all the time now. Some weird name. I was to take four pills a day for the next few months. It would take about two months for me to start feeling better. Great, two whole months before I feel better. Tick. Tock. This new shrink actually seemed to care though. He gave me his card and deliberately wrote an emergency number on the back.

I was already on a downward spiral. I didn't seem to care or really take notice. If I missed a dose, I would double it up. I also continued the extremely toxic relationship. I couldn't speak to my parents about it because they didn't know my deal. It was a very, very, very, very lonely time.

January 14, 1994 is a bit hazy but it did happen. I woke up that morning and had sex with my ex on his twin bed we both slept in. Well, I wouldn't really call it sex. It involved him dry humping my leg to ejaculation. I know what you're thinking. Ew. So am I. In fact, I want to barf. He then would look down on me as if to say, "Do I really have to finish you off now that I'm done?" I looked at him and said, "Don't worry about me." He hopped up and went to take a shower. I got up too as I had to leave for school. It was a few metro stops away and a shuttle bus ride.

I got on the metro. The metro stop for AU was coming up. The metro stopped at the station. I did not get off. I don't know why. I don't recall having ANY other thoughts. I felt okay. I lived at the next metro stop in Friendship Heights. I went home.

My apartment in Friendship Heights was such a shit hole. I lived in a basement studio apartment. It was awful. Very dark. Full of bugs. Antique appliances. Brady Bunch colors. But it was cheap and close to school so I lived there.

I went into my apartment and grabbed my full container of anti-depressants (oh, the irony) and got a glass of water. I had a full bottle of Jim Beam on the counter and I thought about using that instead. I stared at it for awhile and decided against it. I used the water. I also got out my shrink's business card with the emergency number on the back.

The rest is a bit hazy. But I realized I had done something so fucking stupid.

I called my only real close friend in DC at the time, Cristina. She was so good to me. She was/is an angel. If anyone knew what I was going through at that time, it was her. She saw things firsthand. Whenever my ex and I would go through one of our 20 breakups within the eight months we dated she was there for me. I would call her at 2 am to explain the latest breakup and she would cab over in the middle of the night and just hold me on my bed while I cried like a baby. I love this woman so much for all she did for me. I still talk to her. I don't get to see her much anymore but we share an unconditional love and bond I will never forget.

Anyway, she picked up the phone and I just said, "Something's wrong" and hung up. I immediately dialed the emergency number on the back of the doctor's card. That's all I remember.

My poor parents had been notified by phone that I was in the hospital. My parents got in their car and drove 7 hours to see me. My mom would stop at a gas station pay phone to check on my status. She asked them, "Is he going to make it?" The doctor told her, "It's too soon to tell." They finally arrived to see their son lying in a hospital bed filled with tubes and wires surrounded by 6 doctors and nurses trying to save his life.

I woke up in the hospital the next day. My ex was there. And my ex's roommates (one of them being Cristina). They explained to me that I had been on life support. The surgeon told my parents she had never seen someone recover from something like this. She worked so hard to save my life and did. And I am so grateful.

SIDENOTE: The doctor also said they found large amounts of Ibuprofen in my system. So I guess I grabbed a bunch of those while inhaling the other bottle. Guess I really wanted to finish the job. Sarcasm, people.

The hospital would not release me until they felt I was no longer a danger to myself. They assigned me to a shrink on staff and put me "upstairs" with the other loons. I was mortified. The people up there had severe mental problems. Psychotic problems. Schizophrenia. Hurting Others. It was terrifying. I thought, I'm not like these people. I'm just, like, gay and anxious about it. Please release me.

I had to attend group therapy and I recall some psychotic woman (I think she had a "shit throwing at other people" problem) telling me that I have a chip on my shoulder cuz I wasn't very friendly to the others. The nerve. I told her, "Look, Sybil. I don't belong here. I am fine now. I did something very stupid but I will get better if I get out of this hell hole so shut up. Someone please sedate her." Hospitals should have purgatory-like places for people in my condition to go to rather than the hell that is the loonie bin. I realize that is insensitive. You stay there for a week and then tell me I am insensitive. It was making me feel worse.

My new shrink was really good to me. My ex was really good to me as well. The sick thing is this was the only time we were so close. He genuinely seemed to care (at least in front of me) and I thank him for that. Because he was around so much and affectionate, people knew we were together.

The new doc knew this "area" of my life was part of my downward spiral and anxiety and, more importantly, my cry for help. He told me I had to come out to my parents. So I did. From my hospital bed. They were wonderful as usual. And, of course, told me they already knew. My dad said, "Are you sure you're not bi?" Only in his southern accent it sounded more like, "Are you sure you're not bah?" I'm sure this was his one glimmer of hope. I said, "Sorry, Dad. No."

I'm sure this news was devastating to my parents. They took it very well in front of me and I love them for that. The guilt I felt for putting my family and friends through this ordeal could have led me back to the hospital but I knew I had to move on if I was ever going to get better.

I was released from hell a couple days later. I continued my toxic relationship for a few more months and finally broke it off.

Coming out to my family was the healthiest thing that came from this. In some sick way, maybe this was meant to happen. It was a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. I do realize, however, that my parents' reaction is far from what most gay people get in return.

I'm not proud of what happened at all and take full responsibility for my actions. I do think though that it happened for some reason (and I'm really not a superstitious person at all). It's just too weird. I also think that my story is not all that uncommon. I just think those people are not around anymore to speak about what happened.

I was at rock bottom and turned my life completely around. Will there be bumps once in a while? Sure. Have there been? Absolutely. But I can handle them better.

Now all you scientologists out there don't get a woody from what I've written. As I've said before, there are some bad doctors out there BUT, more importantly, there are very good doctors who are responsible with prescriptions and help save lives. I wouldn't be here today without their help.

Oh yeah, I'm also no longer a registered republican. I'm a registered independent so I can see all perspectives of an issue -- black, white, and even gray.

Posted by durban bud at 07:14 AM | Comments (14)

July 06, 2005

Halloween

My friend Matt has an unhealthy obsession with the movie "Halloween." I don't know what the hell is wrong with him. It's very strange and unnatural. Here's the funny part, I have the same obsession. And we're both very non-violent people.

We both can quote lines from the movie verbatim. When I was little, I used a tape recorder to tape the movie when it premiered on network TV. No video, just sound. I would play it over and over for my relatives and friends to listen to while I explained what was happening. They must have been so annoyed. The more I think about my childhood, the more I realize how, um, different I was. I now own the soundtrack. I have 2 DVD versions of the film. I have the vinyl of the sequel music.

My dad took me to see it when I was 8 years old. (I think that's a little odd too). However, I think Matt knows the film even better than me.

Anyway, Matt just spent the last two days with us. He is a wonderful guest. If you are low maintenance, you are welcome to stay with us. If you desire a lot of attention and need assistance to visit museums and clubs, please move on. I hear Marla has a sofa bed and a cool pair of pussies to hang with so you can call her to be your tour guide.

I met Matt back in 1999 through Todd (who you all know if you are a regular reader of my silly blog). We were big flirts but never became good friends until a couple years ago. He finally found a great guy. He dated for a long time but never settled (which is admirable cuz he could have).

Sometimes it is harder for a couple to be friends with a single person (especially if that person wants to go out to bars a lot of the time like Matt did at the time ;-). I just really can't do that much anymore. Not a big fan of the bar scene (and all the smoke). We will go out once in a great while (mostly at the beach) but it's usually for a purpose (e.g. someone's b-day get together). I think luck and timing play a huge role in how we end up with our lifetime partner. But then, I guess it's all relative.

The first guy I met/dated/fucked around with I met through a personal ad in a newspaper way back in 1991. I said I was bisexual in the ad. Please stop laughing. He actually introduced me to DC so if I had never placed that ad I wouldn't be here in DC and my life would have taken a completely different direction.

Anyway, Matt and I totally bonded. He's become a great friend and we love him very much.

I would like to add, however, that he purchased a DVD of Culture Club videos and made me watch them. That wasn't very nice. "War, war is stupid and people are stupid..."

Rob, Matt, me

Matt and me gettin' crazy

Matt & Rob are very photogenic. I am not. There is nothing I can do about it. Some people look great in pictures. Some do not. And that is me. Such is life.

Posted by durban bud at 11:33 PM | Comments (5)