Mental illness is a very hot topic these days. The days of crazy versus sane are gone. People are now depressed, manic depressive, schizoaffective, borderline, narcissistic, and it's hard to find, but just plain crazy. I don't know where I fall lately. I want to pigeonhole myself in order to make the process of coming back to reality a little easier but there are no titles to describe my emotions. I suppose I can try. Empty, deluded, roller-coaster, sad, apathetic, caffeinated, sexless, and more importantly lost. A friend of mine lost one of his old buddies in the military, an old friend of mine is off to Afghanistan and yet another friend is off to D.C. to start a new life. My sedentary lifestyle (oh god..why can't work and school begin again) also leads one to have too much time to think. If the brain is a muscle, mine looks much like Louie Anderson. The problem is not how I feel. These feelings will pass, at some point. They always do. I'm a chameleon, really. I change my colors in order to blend in with my surroundings. The problem is who will I hurt along the way.
An old friend of mine recently wanted to mend old wounds and put the past behind us. Could I? I'm so hurt by everything around me, I fear that it is much easier to hold on to the hurt and at least use that hatred to hold on to some sort of remnants of emotion. Working and studying in a mental health field, you come to realize that people do not let go of their emotions for fear of not knowing a replacement. It is hard to replace fear and hatred with love and forgiveness, especially when you've held on to that fear and hatred for so long. I hate going out lately. Being a gay man, like i've said before, is like being a teenage girl for the rest of your life. I see them, you know, talking. They chat and make idle conversation. The engines are always idling, waiting for someone to get in, go for a ride and then drop you off at your house. I don't think I have the mental capacity to deal with that. In the early years I was Mr. Socialite. I loved it. I'm a Capricorn and we're natural climbers, albeit in my case I should have focused on my career. We are pioneers and want to reach the pinnacle of anything we do. I perhaps pinnacled (is that a word?) and now I'm on a slow decline. I wear creams for old people. I don't wake up from a hangover and ten minutes later move on with my life (honestly how am I alive? Days of drinking and the next day I bounce back and go pick up auntie for lunch). Now I have to do this whole routine just to look human. I don't have the capacity of being friends with this old friend. He lives in the world of catty bitches and drama loving homos. I love drama. Trust me, I do, but lately I've been to lazy to put up much of a fight against catty bitches. I just sit there and think...you're gonna be a 50 year old lonely homo sleazing around bars trying to pick up 25 year olds at some point. Just give up the ghost. GIVE IT UP! Defeat, yes. Battle, yes. War, no.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
No computer...no blog
For the past 3 weeks I have been living without internet access. My laptop was sent off to some strange place in Illinois to get manhandled by another man and eventually fixed. Something about not having wireless, which in this day and age is outrageous. Well it is fixed now. Sort of. They wiped out my programs, etc. I had to reinstall everything from skype to an illegal program that helps me deauthorize DVD's. I'm just kidding about the dvd program. ehem. Anyway, I realized how much I need the internet. It was 3am, I'm watching stargate atlantis and I could not remember if I had seen a certain actor playing gay in a movie. It turns out it was Kavan Smith and the answer is no, meaning the delusion is in my head. Granted, I could go to the public library and use their internet, but the idea of reading my email with a bunch of transients seemed less favorable than just not using the internet. Things have been okay. Jessica will be leaving soon to the big D.C. where I'm sure she will hobknob with politicians and transients, perhaps even start her own political scandal. I abhor the idea of making new friends after she leaves. I was happy in my cocoon of Jessica. She's witty, smart, beautiful and most of all always ready for a great conversation. What will I do without her?
Perhaps, get a job...I know I know. It seems like something I should do even while she's here but with all that time on my hands, I'm willing to get a job at 7-11. Teaching has never panned out the way I wanted it too. I hate teaching. It's a loathsome and wretched profession. It is underpaid and overappreciated. I have my dog Ella, but she's a dog. I'm still finding somewhere in my cold heart to love her. I take her to the vet, care for her, feed her, things like that, but when I look into her brown chihuahua eyes, all I see is a dog. A dog that perhaps I would be devastated to be without, but unhappy with. I know, I'm heartless. I can't help it. She's always getting in trouble, never docile and always hyper and just right now I had to stop her from eating lint off the floor. That's probably why I hated teaching.It's like taking care of 20 Ella's. I signed up to be a substitute teacher next school year, but August 24th is just a few weeks away and already I feel the pangs of hatred for the job. Thankless and overpaid, which is somewhat appealing, until a kid calls you a "faggot" and throws his books at you. Welcome back to Hell, I think. I have been looking for a receptionist job but who the hell wants a male secretary/office clerk/receptionist. That's a woman's job (I live in an ignorant town). It's late and I'm tired from putting together my new dining room table. It's great. counter height. I feel like i'm on top of the world. Until some little fuck calls me a faggot and throws his book bag at me.
Perhaps, get a job...I know I know. It seems like something I should do even while she's here but with all that time on my hands, I'm willing to get a job at 7-11. Teaching has never panned out the way I wanted it too. I hate teaching. It's a loathsome and wretched profession. It is underpaid and overappreciated. I have my dog Ella, but she's a dog. I'm still finding somewhere in my cold heart to love her. I take her to the vet, care for her, feed her, things like that, but when I look into her brown chihuahua eyes, all I see is a dog. A dog that perhaps I would be devastated to be without, but unhappy with. I know, I'm heartless. I can't help it. She's always getting in trouble, never docile and always hyper and just right now I had to stop her from eating lint off the floor. That's probably why I hated teaching.It's like taking care of 20 Ella's. I signed up to be a substitute teacher next school year, but August 24th is just a few weeks away and already I feel the pangs of hatred for the job. Thankless and overpaid, which is somewhat appealing, until a kid calls you a "faggot" and throws his books at you. Welcome back to Hell, I think. I have been looking for a receptionist job but who the hell wants a male secretary/office clerk/receptionist. That's a woman's job (I live in an ignorant town). It's late and I'm tired from putting together my new dining room table. It's great. counter height. I feel like i'm on top of the world. Until some little fuck calls me a faggot and throws his book bag at me.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Ads, Money and Even More heat
Well the married man and I are no longer. There was a simple rondavue. We talked. At first things were great. We got along well. Then his sense of failure as a husband was suddenly an issue. He didn't want to hold hands. He became distant and in the end, it came down to guilt on his part. I'm glad he made the right decision. I have no hard feelings. Plus he has a son close to my age. Don't worry, I already asked and No his son is not gay. There, I beat you to the punch.
Went on another date last Thursday. This one was exciting. He was sweet and very cute. We emailed back and forth for a while. Thursday I had the evening alone and I invited him over for some wine. He had to work Friday so just one bottle. Sad, I know. He was dressed like he worked somewhere that required him to dress like a fag. I was guessing Banana Republic but it turns out he's a case worker. I have to admit here, I am not good at first dates. I get nervous and I start to ramble. I talk about getting married and divorced in Spain or why I have never done adult films. You know, the things that make first dates awkward. He talked wryly about his job. His BMW. Here I will fully admit he did not spew off the normal crap about how great his car is. He just said he always wanted to have one and he works overtime.
I'm sitting there, feeling sorry that I have spent time in the slammer and do not really work that often when he tells me he has a 6 year old daughter. Super cute, right? I say wrong! It's baggage. It's unnatural for young people this day and age to procreate. You might say, well he's gay,is that what you mean? No. Lots of gay people have children. He's a young 26 year old gay man. I guess when he was 20 he was bisexual. I didn't care to ask. Hate me for dating married men with children then hating young men with 6 year old daughters. Hey...I saw this guy as long term material. The married guy, I wasn't so delusional so his children were mostly his baggage for me to never see. My mind has been working backwards lately.
In the end, it really didn't bother me. Its progressive in a way. He has his life together and I forget to feed my chihuahua. Deep down inside it's jealousy. The married man was great, because I can have what I want and feel good about myself for making others feel sinful and lustful and do sinful adulterous things. This guy, he's great. He's stable, his baby mamma and him are friends, great job, very good listener and funny. I hope he calls me. I got a great good night kiss and I promise to everyone reading this hear and now I was not drunk (we shared a bottle) when I kissed him good night. I got really drunk after he left. I swear. I doubt he'll call though. It's been 3 days and I'm most definitely not Gigi from "He's Just Not That Into You". I look at the cold hard facts. I smoke like a chimney, drink like a fish and have enough pharmaceuticals in me half the time I can start my own mexican pharmacy. But yet...I still have hope everybody. I think I do. It's been a long week. Wish me luck.
P.S. Sorry about the ads. It's a dog eat dog world out there and I'm just a squirrel trying to get a nut (hopefully 2, because one always looks lopsided).
Went on another date last Thursday. This one was exciting. He was sweet and very cute. We emailed back and forth for a while. Thursday I had the evening alone and I invited him over for some wine. He had to work Friday so just one bottle. Sad, I know. He was dressed like he worked somewhere that required him to dress like a fag. I was guessing Banana Republic but it turns out he's a case worker. I have to admit here, I am not good at first dates. I get nervous and I start to ramble. I talk about getting married and divorced in Spain or why I have never done adult films. You know, the things that make first dates awkward. He talked wryly about his job. His BMW. Here I will fully admit he did not spew off the normal crap about how great his car is. He just said he always wanted to have one and he works overtime.
I'm sitting there, feeling sorry that I have spent time in the slammer and do not really work that often when he tells me he has a 6 year old daughter. Super cute, right? I say wrong! It's baggage. It's unnatural for young people this day and age to procreate. You might say, well he's gay,is that what you mean? No. Lots of gay people have children. He's a young 26 year old gay man. I guess when he was 20 he was bisexual. I didn't care to ask. Hate me for dating married men with children then hating young men with 6 year old daughters. Hey...I saw this guy as long term material. The married guy, I wasn't so delusional so his children were mostly his baggage for me to never see. My mind has been working backwards lately.
In the end, it really didn't bother me. Its progressive in a way. He has his life together and I forget to feed my chihuahua. Deep down inside it's jealousy. The married man was great, because I can have what I want and feel good about myself for making others feel sinful and lustful and do sinful adulterous things. This guy, he's great. He's stable, his baby mamma and him are friends, great job, very good listener and funny. I hope he calls me. I got a great good night kiss and I promise to everyone reading this hear and now I was not drunk (we shared a bottle) when I kissed him good night. I got really drunk after he left. I swear. I doubt he'll call though. It's been 3 days and I'm most definitely not Gigi from "He's Just Not That Into You". I look at the cold hard facts. I smoke like a chimney, drink like a fish and have enough pharmaceuticals in me half the time I can start my own mexican pharmacy. But yet...I still have hope everybody. I think I do. It's been a long week. Wish me luck.
P.S. Sorry about the ads. It's a dog eat dog world out there and I'm just a squirrel trying to get a nut (hopefully 2, because one always looks lopsided).
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Cheating, Married Men and Why is it so Goddam hot in here
As many of you know, I'm a former slut. I'm inclined to be reticent on the subject o my falls off the wagon but reticent is not who I am. I slip and fall of the chastity wagon every so often. I'm human, so sue me. Please don't actually. Married men is the term of the day. Most of my blogs happen due to arguments with friends. Some don't have blogs in order to espouse their side, so screw them. They should get their own blog. Anyway, talking to Melissa the other day, I told her this fantastic and extremely hot story that really did happen to me.
I was walking through Wal-mart. Already you know this story is full of surprises and pitfalls. Nothing good ever comes from being at that corporate hell hole. I was shopping for lean cuisines. I admit, I am getting hefty. Not noticeably but yesterday my stomach popped out from under my shirt. Also my belt broke at Dairy Queen while I was ordering a Hunger Buster. I took that as a sign. Normally at wal-mart i just get in, get out and go home. It's very much a casual relationship we have. I noticed this attractive man though while I was checking out the Kashi cereals. I glanced his way, pretty innocently. Perhaps my gaze was too long, but I paid no mind. I figured he would just walk on and be on his merry way. Suddenly I realized, he was following me throughout the store. Like pretending to be shopping in the same aisle, creepy type of following. I admit here, even though he's attractive, he was wearing cowboy boots but I forgave him because he wore great jeans and a tight blue button shirt that told me...he didn't need lean cuisine. Plus when you're feeling fat at wal-mart and someone thin and attractive hits on you, it's very flattering. More than flattering, it's fucking great.
Time passed on. He passed by me a couple of times but didn't say anything. I tried my best to be coy, but coy is yet another thing I am not. I think I blushed at one point and made a slight moaning sound (it's been a while, trust me). So as I finally gave in to my impulses, I walked by the ice cream aisle. Standing there contemplating and fighting demons, he passed by and simply whispered "Can I have your number?". He then kept walking very slyly. My heart dropped. It was all very exciting, and I shall explain. This man, my friends, was walking around with his 11 year old son, and a wedding band. In order for him to talk to me, he sent his son off to get milk or some other grocery item. Disgusting, I know. But I explain why I wasn't. I'm not married.
I walked off, my brain becoming more impulsive and lean cuisine seeming less and less appetizing. I walked off into the wine and beer aisle. My cravings became more sinful and married. I asked him if he had a paper or if he had his cell. He asked me if I was discreet and I said yes. He was a bit nervous, although for a married man to follow around a guy with his son and then ask for his number takes a lot of balls. He called me as I walked off. Told me he would love to hang out with me. That he really liked me. Thought I was hot. He has 3 kids mind you. 21, 12 and 11. He's 39 years old. A very fit 39 years old. He worked and lived in my neighborhood and said he was worried someone may find out. As we chatted over dirty pretty things, I stood in the checkout lane. As he passed by he winked at me. I could have melted.
Later, we met in some slightly secluded neighborhood. Nowhere unsafe, mind you. I'm not about to end up on the 10 o'clock news. We talked, kissed, he told me about himself and why he liked me. He told me his wife thought he was out buying some beer. I told him that nobody cared what I was doing. And there we were, two strangers in the night. He eventually tried holding my hand. An adolescent display of affection but I liked it. I don't know where I'm going with this. We parted ways. He said he would call and I figured, he has more to lose from any further "engagements" we may have so I left the ball in his court. I even removed his number from my phone book and call record. If he wants to call me, he can. I'm willing to see him again. Say what you will about me, I'm a very open person and he's the one cheating. A friend of mine judged me a little harshly and all I have to say is, "What am I doing wrong?". Nothing. Deal with it. Yay me!
I was walking through Wal-mart. Already you know this story is full of surprises and pitfalls. Nothing good ever comes from being at that corporate hell hole. I was shopping for lean cuisines. I admit, I am getting hefty. Not noticeably but yesterday my stomach popped out from under my shirt. Also my belt broke at Dairy Queen while I was ordering a Hunger Buster. I took that as a sign. Normally at wal-mart i just get in, get out and go home. It's very much a casual relationship we have. I noticed this attractive man though while I was checking out the Kashi cereals. I glanced his way, pretty innocently. Perhaps my gaze was too long, but I paid no mind. I figured he would just walk on and be on his merry way. Suddenly I realized, he was following me throughout the store. Like pretending to be shopping in the same aisle, creepy type of following. I admit here, even though he's attractive, he was wearing cowboy boots but I forgave him because he wore great jeans and a tight blue button shirt that told me...he didn't need lean cuisine. Plus when you're feeling fat at wal-mart and someone thin and attractive hits on you, it's very flattering. More than flattering, it's fucking great.
Time passed on. He passed by me a couple of times but didn't say anything. I tried my best to be coy, but coy is yet another thing I am not. I think I blushed at one point and made a slight moaning sound (it's been a while, trust me). So as I finally gave in to my impulses, I walked by the ice cream aisle. Standing there contemplating and fighting demons, he passed by and simply whispered "Can I have your number?". He then kept walking very slyly. My heart dropped. It was all very exciting, and I shall explain. This man, my friends, was walking around with his 11 year old son, and a wedding band. In order for him to talk to me, he sent his son off to get milk or some other grocery item. Disgusting, I know. But I explain why I wasn't. I'm not married.
I walked off, my brain becoming more impulsive and lean cuisine seeming less and less appetizing. I walked off into the wine and beer aisle. My cravings became more sinful and married. I asked him if he had a paper or if he had his cell. He asked me if I was discreet and I said yes. He was a bit nervous, although for a married man to follow around a guy with his son and then ask for his number takes a lot of balls. He called me as I walked off. Told me he would love to hang out with me. That he really liked me. Thought I was hot. He has 3 kids mind you. 21, 12 and 11. He's 39 years old. A very fit 39 years old. He worked and lived in my neighborhood and said he was worried someone may find out. As we chatted over dirty pretty things, I stood in the checkout lane. As he passed by he winked at me. I could have melted.
Later, we met in some slightly secluded neighborhood. Nowhere unsafe, mind you. I'm not about to end up on the 10 o'clock news. We talked, kissed, he told me about himself and why he liked me. He told me his wife thought he was out buying some beer. I told him that nobody cared what I was doing. And there we were, two strangers in the night. He eventually tried holding my hand. An adolescent display of affection but I liked it. I don't know where I'm going with this. We parted ways. He said he would call and I figured, he has more to lose from any further "engagements" we may have so I left the ball in his court. I even removed his number from my phone book and call record. If he wants to call me, he can. I'm willing to see him again. Say what you will about me, I'm a very open person and he's the one cheating. A friend of mine judged me a little harshly and all I have to say is, "What am I doing wrong?". Nothing. Deal with it. Yay me!
Monday, June 1, 2009
Dick Cheney, Same-Sex Marriage and Gay Pride
Dick Cheney said recently that he believes all people are free to join whatever union they would like. Ann Althouse called him the "handmaiden for the left". Let's not forget here, Dick Cheney is no leftist. He is a right wing, dare I say it, nut. Watch the whole thing and you see, sure we can join a union or arrangement we like, but we do not deserve marriage. It's easy to forget history. Dick Cheney shot someone in the face. He also was behind many of George Bush's policies and here I believe that Dick Cheney showed his true colors. I do not go as far to say that he is a horrible man, but as Vice presidents go, he was most definitely a puppeteer. Any arrangement we like can be interpreted into many ways. I can go into a legal arrangement with my television that it'll turn on when I press the power button. Would it hold up in court? Probably not. He skirts the issue, as he did so well in his 8 years as vp. Gay daughter or not, he did not further our cause, but simply gave us a soundbyte. I saw the headline earlier, "Dick Cheney believes people are free to join any union they wish". It sounds great, but like most things Dick Cheney does it just sounds great. Yet again good ol' Dick lets me down. Story of my life.
On another note, Gay pride. It is the local gay pride fest this weekend. I for one, will not be joining. Call me jaded, call me bitter, call me Suzy but it just seems so useless. Stereotypes dancing on floats, mardi gras like celebrating and more men to show all the normal gay men that we do not belong. It's yet again, like being a teenage school girl for the rest of your life. Are you thin, beautiful and popular? Well if not please do not show up. So, maybe I'm not fat, ugly and a social pariah, but I'm not the other extreme either. Our nation was built on diversity but gay pride is yet another event that makes me feel like the fat girl at the prom. Sure I might have a good time, but why even bother to show up? Plus Dick Cheney never returns my calls. So I shall stay home from the ball and eat cheese and crackers with some wine. That's all the pride I need. Former slut...out.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Why Gay.com is Bad for the Gay community
There's a real world then there's an idealistic world. Every major psychology theory has a yin and a yang. Carl Rogers called it an incongruence between the real and ideal self. Medical models will tell you there is a hormonal imbalance of the brain. Freud would call it Eros versus Thanatos (death drive). Reality therapists might say that we act dysfunctional in order to fulfill unmeet needs and that our "quality world" is at odds with the real world. Existentialists would say you have meaninglessness and death anxiety driving you to a neurotic anxiety. Gestalt would say that your lack of responsibility for your own actions may come into play, as you dichotomize your life and focus on meaningful wholeness but never achieving it. Individual psychologists would say you have a inferiority or superiority complex, or maybe you're the first born and are an overachivere. Cognitive therapists would say you have an ego disturbance or perhaps your automatic thoughts drive you to your own irrational behaviors. Consequently, all these theories have a major philosophy behind your neurotic and insane behaviour. You may not know it but at this very moment the things you think, say, worry about are destroying your lives. Well my life at least. I can't point the finger. Freud would say you might want to have sex with my finger. So stop thinking about my finger! But it's such a lovely finger. Long, phallic shaped, smooth but yet a little bit hairy. Do these thoughts make you want to smoke heroin? Who gives a shit. Freud was a cocaine addicted closeted homosexual. He's like a Viennese Karl Rove.
The point is, gay.com is a horrible, disastrous place. I tried searching "gay.com" and bad and well I'm sure I could find a few links to Anne Coulter. Beautiful woman. I'm gay and I'd fuck her, if she was tied up and gagged. I'm sure somewhere a Republican is taking that sentence out of context in order to prove that all homosexuals are deviants. I beg to differ Mr. Republican. All people are deviants, only some of us wear our deviancy on our sleeves. Homophobia aside, gay.com was a website I visited since the ripe young age of 13. I just know from here on out, this is not gonna go well for me in court. "I promise your honor, I wasn't 15 pretending to be 18. That was just some crazy blog I wrote. It's all fiction". But yes, when you are young you can try to pull off anything. I never did anything. Just chatted up people, pretended to be 18. I didn't want to push my luck by pretending I was say, 26. Hell, I am 26 and I have a hard time pretending I'm that age now. Again, I digress too much.
Gay.com is not horrible, but much like any new technology it has its throwbacks. If you live in bumfuck Nebraska, you can reach out to the world and connect with your fellow man (and I have to say legally, you must be 18 to join this website). You can chat with people that may be a little far but going through the same problems as yourself. Isn't that what the internet is all about? Reach out and touch somebody. My problem is, addiction. Porn is great, but if you find yourself in front of a computer screen beating off a few hours a day, then you have a problem. Television is great, but if you spend hours wondering what the weather is like in Akron Ohio or what far-fetched thing Star Jones will be selling on QVC (arm fat cream you say?) then you have a problem. Cell phones are great but when you're the douchebag on his phone in a theater and you accidently get kicked in the head, then you have a problem (and it ain't mine, because I swear my foot slipped and I did not appreciate getting called names or being thrown out of the theater either). Every new technology is great, until it turns on you and owns you. Remember that scene in Requiem for a Dream when Ellen Burstyn thinks her fridge is talking to her? You know, the scary part wasn't that it was talking, it was that we've all been there, am i right? Sitting on the couch eating Doritos at 4am wondering what horrifying thing your fridge has in it, perhaps you've had too much wine, and you look at the fridge and it looks human to you. It can feel emotions and somehow you've either pissed it off or made it happy. Oh yeah girl, yous gonna be on TV. And Jared Leto be getting his arms cut off because although I'm sure somebody on this planet does Heroin in moderation, your son sho don't. Uh huh. I have no idea why I said that. Anyway, stop eating is my point. Put the porn away, the chicken wing down, and turn off your fucking tv because its got swine flu.
And for me, click out of fucking gay.com. Hours upon hours spent talking to douchebags who probably use their cell phones in a theater, guys asking me if i want an enema or less likely to happen but occasionally it does, random small chats. Granted I can think that eventually I'll find a guy I like, we'll settle down and get married and have 1.3 children and .74 dogs, I personally doubt it. It's an ideal world, and like any ideal world, it's not always your ideal. Each person forms their own "quality world" and most of the time it clashes with yours. I just wanted to log in, talk and see what's going on, make friends and maybe a lover or two. That's not exactly what happened. It turned into a bitch fest. Everyone screwing each other, literally and figuratively. My nails came out and I found my fingers were doing most of my socializing, social ranking and decision making. Most of these people I knew in person. You go to some queer watering hole or other and there they are. EnemaLuvr and BigPowerBottom18 are standing right there, wearing whatever trend tells them they should be wearing, pretending they are somebody else yet again.
That's the scary part. That they are real people. You can see them in the grocery store or local adult theater. I live in a kind of small town. Number 21 or something. Anyway, the possibilities of meeting someone online in real life are endless. He's your waiter at Chili's or Applebee's (do they only hire homos?). The problem is, online everyone fantasizes. They make up their own lives. They come up with their own fairy tales, and I promise you after 4 years of therapy and 2 years into my master's as a therapist, real life is not so pretty. But it is not something we should be ashamed of, just something we should face. Sure he's not 6'3 and 180 pounds. Would you want him to? That seems a little anorexic to me. I admit, I cut myself off from the technological world in some ways, but I left one gay.com account. I love to see these baboons in their wild habitat. I feel like Jane Gooddall and all the apes love Britney Spears. Powerbottom18 is most certainly not of age and should be kicked off immediately. EnemaLuvr is 38 and needs to stop saying boi. I hate homos. Sure, take that out of context, but remember we are the most bitchy group of people you'll ever meet. Being gay is like being a teenage girl, for your entire life. Now who wants that? More to come y'all. Did I just say y'all? Well shut up. I'm gay. It's a homo deficiency. So fuck you. Keep on brothers!
The point is, gay.com is a horrible, disastrous place. I tried searching "gay.com" and bad and well I'm sure I could find a few links to Anne Coulter. Beautiful woman. I'm gay and I'd fuck her, if she was tied up and gagged. I'm sure somewhere a Republican is taking that sentence out of context in order to prove that all homosexuals are deviants. I beg to differ Mr. Republican. All people are deviants, only some of us wear our deviancy on our sleeves. Homophobia aside, gay.com was a website I visited since the ripe young age of 13. I just know from here on out, this is not gonna go well for me in court. "I promise your honor, I wasn't 15 pretending to be 18. That was just some crazy blog I wrote. It's all fiction". But yes, when you are young you can try to pull off anything. I never did anything. Just chatted up people, pretended to be 18. I didn't want to push my luck by pretending I was say, 26. Hell, I am 26 and I have a hard time pretending I'm that age now. Again, I digress too much.
Gay.com is not horrible, but much like any new technology it has its throwbacks. If you live in bumfuck Nebraska, you can reach out to the world and connect with your fellow man (and I have to say legally, you must be 18 to join this website). You can chat with people that may be a little far but going through the same problems as yourself. Isn't that what the internet is all about? Reach out and touch somebody. My problem is, addiction. Porn is great, but if you find yourself in front of a computer screen beating off a few hours a day, then you have a problem. Television is great, but if you spend hours wondering what the weather is like in Akron Ohio or what far-fetched thing Star Jones will be selling on QVC (arm fat cream you say?) then you have a problem. Cell phones are great but when you're the douchebag on his phone in a theater and you accidently get kicked in the head, then you have a problem (and it ain't mine, because I swear my foot slipped and I did not appreciate getting called names or being thrown out of the theater either). Every new technology is great, until it turns on you and owns you. Remember that scene in Requiem for a Dream when Ellen Burstyn thinks her fridge is talking to her? You know, the scary part wasn't that it was talking, it was that we've all been there, am i right? Sitting on the couch eating Doritos at 4am wondering what horrifying thing your fridge has in it, perhaps you've had too much wine, and you look at the fridge and it looks human to you. It can feel emotions and somehow you've either pissed it off or made it happy. Oh yeah girl, yous gonna be on TV. And Jared Leto be getting his arms cut off because although I'm sure somebody on this planet does Heroin in moderation, your son sho don't. Uh huh. I have no idea why I said that. Anyway, stop eating is my point. Put the porn away, the chicken wing down, and turn off your fucking tv because its got swine flu.
And for me, click out of fucking gay.com. Hours upon hours spent talking to douchebags who probably use their cell phones in a theater, guys asking me if i want an enema or less likely to happen but occasionally it does, random small chats. Granted I can think that eventually I'll find a guy I like, we'll settle down and get married and have 1.3 children and .74 dogs, I personally doubt it. It's an ideal world, and like any ideal world, it's not always your ideal. Each person forms their own "quality world" and most of the time it clashes with yours. I just wanted to log in, talk and see what's going on, make friends and maybe a lover or two. That's not exactly what happened. It turned into a bitch fest. Everyone screwing each other, literally and figuratively. My nails came out and I found my fingers were doing most of my socializing, social ranking and decision making. Most of these people I knew in person. You go to some queer watering hole or other and there they are. EnemaLuvr and BigPowerBottom18 are standing right there, wearing whatever trend tells them they should be wearing, pretending they are somebody else yet again.
That's the scary part. That they are real people. You can see them in the grocery store or local adult theater. I live in a kind of small town. Number 21 or something. Anyway, the possibilities of meeting someone online in real life are endless. He's your waiter at Chili's or Applebee's (do they only hire homos?). The problem is, online everyone fantasizes. They make up their own lives. They come up with their own fairy tales, and I promise you after 4 years of therapy and 2 years into my master's as a therapist, real life is not so pretty. But it is not something we should be ashamed of, just something we should face. Sure he's not 6'3 and 180 pounds. Would you want him to? That seems a little anorexic to me. I admit, I cut myself off from the technological world in some ways, but I left one gay.com account. I love to see these baboons in their wild habitat. I feel like Jane Gooddall and all the apes love Britney Spears. Powerbottom18 is most certainly not of age and should be kicked off immediately. EnemaLuvr is 38 and needs to stop saying boi. I hate homos. Sure, take that out of context, but remember we are the most bitchy group of people you'll ever meet. Being gay is like being a teenage girl, for your entire life. Now who wants that? More to come y'all. Did I just say y'all? Well shut up. I'm gay. It's a homo deficiency. So fuck you. Keep on brothers!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
