Debriefing the Boys

update

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 06:42:00 +0000

To respond to the many questions (and insinuations)...

Yes, of course I have a housekeeper. She just doesn't come every day, which is what would have been required to keep me sane. My guest continued to make hand prints all over the mirrors, leave towels on the floor, leave dirty dishes lying around, leave I-don't-know-what crusting on the hand towels and the bathroom walls, etc. I ended up having to hide my toiletries, my nice wine and my guitars. I stopped going into his bathroom altogether.

I kept asking him to shape up. I even wrote a note and taped it to the door that said "Lock the door, turn off the lights, turn off the air conditioner". A few days later, I came home to find all the lights on, the air conditioner on full blast, and the windows open...I'd been air conditioning West Hollywood all afternoon. But, ironically, that's the event that finally made it all ok. I felt a surge of irritation, and then I realized "You know what? Fuck it. I'm not going to let this upset me anymore. I am going to just make him pay the utility bills this month. And even if he doesn't, I can afford it. It's not worth being upset all the time." And after that, it was ok. I just got all zen and let it go. I even left the lights on when he left them on. It hurt the environmentalist side of me, but I just couldn't be his mom, following him around turning them off.

In the end, my poor housekeeper was able to clean everything up. As far as I know, I'm only missing one set of keys, one sock, a t-shirt and a parking permit. That's not too bad, all things considered!

Also, it turns out the friend who told me I was being unreasonable was just having a bad night, and apologized later for saying things he didn't mean to pick a fight with me. He agreed, wholeheartedly, that I wasn't being unreasonable at all. I knew that, but it still made me feel better to get the apology.

And no, I wasn't putting up with this just for good sex. I've actually never even hooked up with this friend. Yes, he's outrageously good looking. Yes, he has an amazing body, a perfect ass and a big dick. But we never did anything. One night we found a boy we both wanted to do, and who clearly wanted to come home with us. Unfortunately his phone died and he never made it. But that almost-threesome is the closest we came. Other than that, we just hung around the house naked one night. And he gave me an unusually long goodbye kiss before he left.

I guess one unexpected bonus is he kept bringing famous people over to hang out. Unfortunately I wasn't there every time...I missed this one model/actor who may be the most gorgeous human being I've ever seen. Alas.

Anyway, I learned my lesson. I love my friend (which is why I let him stay with me in the first place) but I don't want to live with him. I never want a roommate. I never want a house guest for longer than three days. And I've learned that it's important to speak up early and often. I'm entitled to be respected.

so beautiful

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Sun, 06 Nov 2011 18:05:00 +0000

So many beautiful things!

http://enochliew.tumblr.com/tagged/architecture

tell me if I'm being unreasonable

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 04:43:00 +0000

I have a friend staying with me for a few weeks, maybe a month. He's 20 years old, quite spoiled, and extremely self-absorbed. But very sweet.

I'm not charging him rent. I gave him the TV room, and his own bathroom. He has been doing quite a few things that annoy me. None of them, by themselves, are a big deal. But when added up, it's a lot of frustration that I don't need when I come home after a long and stressful day of work.

For example:

- He parked his car over the middle line, so I had to squeeze my car into the spot. I asked him to move it, and it was still there the next day.

- He leaves lights on during the daytime when he's not here, and while sleeping. So far, this has happened every day.

- He used my bath towel, and left it on a pile on the floor in my bedroom, so I had to get out of the shower dripping wet, go into the closet, and get another one for myself. He used my new clean one again the next day, and left it on the floor again, in the same pile with the other one. I gave him a third clean one, and he left it outside on the patio. He asked for another clean one this morning.

- He leaves dirty dishes in the sink (he claims he didn't realize I have a dishwasher...it's right next to the sink)

- He took my hair stuff two days ago, and I haven't seen it since, even after asking for it back. It's not in his bathroom. I have no idea where it went.

- He took my phone charger, even though he has his own, so I had to wander around late at night when I wanted to go to bed, looking for it.

- One day I came home and there were 4 water bottles, with only a few sips out of each one, scattered around my bedroom.

- He decided to sleep outside on the patio one night, so he took the decorative blankets from my couch, and some of the decorative pillows, outside. They were still there 3 days later, collecting dust and dew.

- I got a bed sheet for him and asked him to put it down on the couch if he chooses to sleep on that instead of the aero-bed, so that he doesn't sweat and drool and wet dream on it for a month. He hasn't done that.

- He left the outdoor heater on full blast one night when he wasn't here, so now I have to schlep the tank to Home Depot to refill the propane.

- He has left the air conditioner on full blast when he's not here TWICE since I asked him not to do that.

I could go on, but you get the point. I didn't say anything at all for a week. I figured I could cut him some slack. It's not easy to live out of a suitcase in somebody else's home. We all need some time to adjust to a new situation. And I understand that we all need room to spread out. I don't always immediately clean up my dishes after using them. I don't always remember to turn the lights out. It's fine.

Our schedules are very different, so I hadn't really seen much of him, and so hadn't had a chance to sit down and talk with him. So I wrote him a very friendly email, listing the things that were bothering me, and explaining that I understand how hard it is to move into a new place, and that I understand. Basically, I said two things: Don't make extra work for me (i.e., clean up your own shit). And don't abuse my things (i.e., if you use my shit, put it back where you found it). Those are pretty simple rules of thumb, no? Pretty simple to follow. And just to make it idiot-proof, I listed the examples of the things I'd appreciate him doing while he's here.

He replied very apologetically, and said this is good for him, he needs to learn to break old habits. When I got home tonight, about 30 hours after sending the email (mind you, he's not employed), the lights were on, the air conditioner was on at full blast, the water bottles were still in my room etc etc etc. I got frustrated, and texted him, and told him this is a problem.

This time he replied with a bunch of excuses, said he's not a robot but he's trying, and finally, that he's sorry.

I vented to another friend of mine who knows my guest well (and who has vented the same things to me when the guest stayed with him). He thinks my guest is in the wrong for the obvious reasons, but he also thinks I'm being unreasonable. He thinks I should understand that my guest is 20 years old (and therefore isn't a grown adult, although I'm not sure what universe that is), and was raised with different manners than me. I asked him what he thought I should do differently. Should I clean up his messes for him? Should I let him waste my utilities? And he said YES! And he accused me of not loving my guest, or else I would do this for him.

I don't think I'm being unreasonable. I'm letting him live here for free. I gave him slack for a week. Even if he were raised differently, I don't think that's an excuse. These are the kind of things they teach in kindergarten! And even if he didn't learn from his mom what it means to be a good house guest, I WROTE HIM A LIST! He knows EXACTLY what bothers me, and he still did it all again the very next day.

But I appreciate my friend's perspective, so I'm trying to figure out if there's something I did wrong. I admit, I'm being a bit OCD about things. The couch will probably withstand a month of sweat and drool. It won't kill me to throw away the water bottles or wash the dishes or launder the towels and the blankets. I can afford the higher electricity bill this month.

I guess where I have a problem is: Even if it wouldn't kill me, why should I have to do all that? I'm already doing him a favor (to the tune of at least $1000, as a conservative guess). Why should I ALSO have to be his maid? Is that what friends do? Do I owe him that? I'm honestly puzzled how my friend could think that's correct.

productivity!

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Sun, 09 Oct 2011 17:11:00 +0000

Yesterday was the most productive day I've ever had, so I want to record it for posterity. I wanted to sleep in, but couldn't, so I finally hauled myself out of bed at 8am. By the time 2pm rolled around, I had completed the following:

1) Dropped off my dry-cleaning
2) Had my place professionally cleaned
3) Got a mani/pedi
4) Had a sit-down lunch
5) Had my car professionally detailed
6) Went to the health food store to get something I'd had on my list for ages
7) Went to a pharmacy to pick up something I'd been looking for for ages
8) Went to another pharmacy to get a refund
9) Did my shopping at the supermarket
10) Caught up with a friend on the phone
11) Got some work done
12) Bought a cute new hoodie
13) Got my hair cut
14) Went to the beauty supply store to get some hair stuff
15) Showered and got ready for the day
16) Did 2 loads of laundry
17) Filled the car with gas and topped up the tire pressure
18) Went to the bank to deposit some checks and get some cash

And since my car was with the detailers for over 3 hours, I accomplished most of that on foot! Take that, New York, we can get stuff done efficiently on foot too! It was such a perfect fall day that I loved being out in the sun.

I spent so much money in such a short period of time that I think my credit card started to melt. But it felt SO good to just get it all done and cross it off my list!

The second part of the day was slightly more leisurely. I did a few more errands (new undershirts and bath towels, finally!) But I spent most of the day playing with my munchkins, and then went with my mom and sister to an adorable little street fair, and then out for Chinese food.

Topped it off with a drink while watching TV and folding laundry. Perfect day!

help me settle a debate

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Sun, 25 Sep 2011 16:48:00 +0000

I know it's illegal for A to pay B to have sex with A. That's prostitution.

But what about if A pays B to have sex with C, because A gets off on watching two hot guys do it? That's porn, except live, so I assume it's legal, but maybe I'm wrong.

In both cases, A is paying B to have sex with somebody he wouldn't otherwise have had sex with, so that A can get off. In both cases, B is taking money to have sex with somebody he wouldn't otherwise have had sex with.

I see two main differences: In the second scenario, (1) nobody is touching A, the money man, and (2) you add C to the mix (who is no different than B, in that he is also being paid money to have sex with somebody he wouldn't otherwise have had sex with.)

If the first is illegal, and the second is legal, why? Arguably, the second scenario is morally worse because you're now "exploiting" a second poor, innocent, struggling actor. Maybe it's less objectionable because B and C are both hot, and wouldn't mind having sex with each other? That seems silly.

So the functional difference must be the fact that B isn't doing it with the guy who paid him. But why would that make a difference? A is paying money to get off, and B is being paid to have sex.

Granted, I think prostitution laws are silly in the first place. But I really don't understand this distinction (if there is one...maybe both are illegal). What say you?

learn, eat, move

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Sat, 17 Sep 2011 18:33:00 +0000

wonderful cliche

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Sun, 28 Aug 2011 17:32:00 +0000

The date last night was fantastic. I picked him up at his place and we went around the corner to a little hole-in-the-wall Korean place. It wasn't until too late that I realized I was eating whole garlic cloves in the guise of kimchee. At least he was eating them too.

We then went to the Viceroy in Santa Monica for some drinks and people watching. We had great conversation, again, and he kept sliding closer and closer on the couch until I ended up with my arm around him.

We finished our drinks and decided we didn't need another, so we left the car in valet and walked down to the beach, took our shoes off, and tramped out to the water. There was a party going on at the Casa Del Mar, so we could hear some faint music as we walked out, until the sound of the crashing waves drowned it out. Other than a lifeguard who drive by, we were alone on that giant expanse of beach.

We walked out far enough that the waves would come up to about mid-calf, and just stood and talked, mostly about night swimming in the Mediterranean. He had asked me earlier how tall I am, and as we were standing there, he said he didn't think I was correct because he seemed just as tall as me. The waves had been slowly burying me in the sand, so I pulled myself up and onto the top of the sand and took a step closer for comparison and said, "See?" And then, all of a sudden, he kissed me. We laughed at how cliche it was for a first kiss, but also wonderful. After a while he stopped, took my shoes out of my hand and walked up and dropped his and mine where it's dry, and came back. I'm glad he did, because I'd been dying to run my fingers through his hair, and hold his hands. We just kissed and smiled and chatted as the waves gently swept around our legs.

crush

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Sat, 27 Aug 2011 04:17:00 +0000

I went on a really great first date last night. It was supposed to be just a casual "how do you do", but we ended up having dinner and drinks and talking for more than 5 hours. He's much cuter than his pictures. Gorgeous eyes. Adorable smile. Expressive face. Kissable lips. Nice hands (I like hands). He's highly educated, and passionate about his work (which interests me as well). He grew up abroad and speaks a number of languages, and as a result has an excruciatingly sexy accent (excruciating because it was hard not to just pounce across the table). He's confident and honest. He's the perfect age for me (which has been hard to find). He seems adventurous. His spirituality fascinates me. Even his name is sexy.

I think I have a crush.

It was hard not to kiss him, but I want to play it cool. Date number two is tomorrow, so I may not have long to wait!

Any suggestions on where to take him in LA? We did the "sit & chat", and while I certainly wouldn't mind doing that again if it means I get to sit and look at him, I'd love to do something more adventurous.

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Sat, 06 Aug 2011 18:04:00 +0000

The first week of August hangs at the very top of the summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. Often at night there is lightning, but it quivers all alone. There is no thunder, no relieving rain. These are strange and breathless days, the dog days, when people are led to do things they are sure to be sorry for after.

- Tuck Everlasting -

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Sat, 06 Aug 2011 03:16:00 +0000

Thanks for all your well-wishes. I had a rather productive week in regard to the boy, meaning that it got a bit easier. Maybe writing that post was cathartic and allowed a bit of a breakthrough. Often, when I expose them to the light, I'm able to see that the antics of my mind are a bit ridiculous.

I haven't initiated contact with him at all in the last 3 days (except a couple emailed links of things I found funny or interesting), and he hasn't really tried to talk to me either. Being able to not contact him is not unusual, nor is it any great feat. He's usually the one who initiates contact anyway. The breakthrough is that I didn't really miss the interactions for the first two days, and I didn't really concern myself with the question of whether he was thinking about me and missing me. Normally I get antsy/jealous/sad if he doesn't call for 24 hours. Today has been harder; I'm a bit depressed. After all, I'm still in love. But two days is progress!

I think I just need to find something else to focus on. NOT other boys. I need to pursue a hobby, or workout, or something.

I did go on a date this week, which was great. Amazing conversation. I'm just not physically attracted. Story of my life.

Thank god it's Friday!

i'm still here

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Sun, 31 Jul 2011 16:16:00 +0000

I thought there may come a time when I would officially retire the blog; write a valedictory post and call it a day. But I never thought I would accidentally neglect to blog for a whole year at a time. I couldn't even remember my password when I sat down today! The longer it went on, the more I thought I'd need some epic story to tell when I got back, so I kept putting it off until something major happened. But the wonderful and the terrible came and went, and I realized I just didn't want to write. "Next time," I told myself. That was mostly because I had grown tired of the trolls. I had stories I wanted to tell, but it just wasn't worth the negative energy required to deal with anonymous assholes.

This blog was always about self-discovery. Initially I used it as a journal and a source for advice while coming out. Later, it was about settling into life as a gay man in LA. Once I was fully out, had a solid set of friends, and felt comfortable, there was less need to blog. I could go to my friends or my family for advice and emotional support.

The primary reason I stopped, though, was that about 2.5 years ago, everything in my life began to center around the weird, on-again-off-again relationship I was in. I just didn't want to talk about that here, so there was nothing else to say. Those of you who were longtime fans can attest to the fact that my writing got sparse and lame, and that's because the topic that was fueling my passions was off limits. I was terrified that he'd somehow find out what I was writing and it would ruin everything. I've had the highest highs and the lowest lows with him...fantastic fodder for a blog. I regret not keeping some kind of a journal during that time, because I learned so many lessons I never want to forget.

Primary among them is that I have a remarkable capacity to fool myself. Veterans of this blog will know that I truly believed I wasn't gay, notwithstanding the activity of my mind in that regard. I may have pulled the curtain back on that particular fantasy, but I was (am!) still capable of self-deception. I had myself fooled that this relationship was good for me. That we would spend our lives together. That he wouldn't hurt me the way I watched him hurt everybody else around him. That he would change for me. That he loved me in the same way that I loved him.

Needless to say, that's over now. Sorta. It's the worst kind of ending, because we don't hate each other. We still call each other best friends. We still say "I love you" before we hang up the phone. Following a few weeks of not speaking, we're back to the usual 5 times a day. It would be much easier if it had ended in dramatics, if he had hurt me in a way I simply couldn't abide. If he had made me fall out of love with him.

Quite to the contrary, it ended because he finally gave me what I wanted most: he told me that he had finally realized that he wanted to be with me forever, that he was wasting time with all these other guys he tried to date, and that he had been foolish. I told him, in no uncertain terms, that he shouldn't say that to me unless he meant it. I gave him ample opportunity to stop and think before he continued, and he continued anyway. So I took him at his word. I finally allowed myself to become completely vulnerable to him. I was willing to admit that's what I had wanted all along, and how happy I was. I allowed myself to dream openly of our future together.

And then, just as suddenly, he took it back. He said he'd spoken too soon. That he felt it in the moment, but realized later that it wasn't true. He just wanted it to go back to how it was before. But you can't un-ring a bell, can you? He and I had been on this ride before, where things get intense, where it looks like we're finally going to commit to each other, where we tiptoe-talk about the inevitability of living together, of marriage, of growing old together. And then he pulls back and hurts me. And then I forgive him, and it starts again. The difference this time is that he took away my ability to safely retreat behind the railing, to pretend I never actually meant to jump, to pretend that I'm actually happy with the status quo. He told me it was safe to jump, so I jumped. This time, it's impossible to just go back to how it was.

We both made mistakes. I should have jumped far sooner. I should have demanded that he give me what I wanted and needed, and not been willing to take what he was willing to give me. I should have walked away. But I figured what we had was better than nothing, and I was willing to wait for it to get better, because I was in love.

I was told by a doctor that love is physiologically similar to drug addiction. You have the same chemicals squirting around up there. So ending a relationship is like trying to detox. And it's not easy to do it like this, because I still get my fix 5 times a day. Every time I hear his voice, it's like an alcoholic saying "Oh, just a little drink won't hurt me. I'm in control of this. I won't let it get to me. Red wine is actually good for you, right? Anything is ok in moderation." Bullshit. The alcoholic knows it, and I know it. Bullshit.

So I yo-yo every day. I get butterflies in my stomach when I see his name on caller ID (as I have every time he's ever called me). And then I loathe myself for feeling that way. I allow myself a little bit of hope that it will all work out in the end, because that feels good in the moment. I think to myself, "Even though he took back what he said, he did say it, and he DID mean it at the time. Maybe he'll come to mean it again. He does say he loves me. So if I just wait a little longer." If I just wait. If I just wait. If I just wait. Thus, I get my fix. And I stay addicted.

And like booze for an alcoholic, my addiction to him prevents me from moving on with a healthy life. I can't date anybody else for more than a dinner or two, because I'm still in love with him. My friends and family try to smack sense into me, so I just hide my addiction. I pretend I'm talking to somebody else. I keep it a secret.

Obviously, I know what I have to do. Everybody knows it. But I can't imagine life without him. Whatever else he might have been, he IS my best friend. He has been a constant presence in my life. Nobody knows me better. Notwithstanding the fact that he doesn't love me the way I want him to, he DOES love me more than anyone else does. Turning away from him doesn't just mean I have to start over in love. It means I have to find a new best friend too.

I have to admit, part of me fantasizes that if I do cut the cord, he'll finally realize what he lost, and come after me. As it is now, he has the best of both worlds. He knows that I'm available, ready to take him back the moment he realizes he wants me. He's a lucky son-of-a-bitch. How amazing would that be, to know that the person you love the most is willing to wait around and be your backup? He gets to sow his wild oats, trying to find something better, all the while knowing that his best friend is patiently waiting to grow old with him when he's ready to admit he couldn't find anything better. I'm letting him have his cake and eat it too. If I stop, he'll come around.

But, to bring it full circle, that's just an example of my amazing capacity to fool myself. I know that won't really happen. He's young and selfish, and he won't realize what he lost until it's too late. And by "too late", I mean that if I do turn away from him, I won't do it half-assed. I will push him out of my life and my mind and my heart so completely that I will eventually stop wanting him, even if he comes back and realizes he wants me. Send in the clowns.

If I had a magic wand, I'd prefer to keep him as my best friend, but somehow turn off the love. There is nothing inherently wrong with our friendship, as such. There's nothing wrong with wanting him in my life. I just have to stop NEEDING him. I have to break the addiction. Every now and then, I feel like I've made a breakthrough. But I use the following two tests as a gut-check, and realize I'm no closer:

1) If I got a wedding announcement in the mail from him, would I be happy for him like a best friend would, or would I be devastated?

2) If he showed up at my door begging for forgiveness and professing his love (and that he actually means it this time!) would I fall for it again? Or would I tell him that ship has sailed, and close the door?

They say that it takes about half of the period of time you were in a relationship to get over it. If that's true, that's unacceptable, and I need to fast-track this. It's obviously pathetic, demeaning, and embarrassing that I'm waiting for him like this. In moments of clarity, I realize I deserve better than that. I am better than that. I'm a catch, and he never deserved me. He certainly doesn't deserve me on these terms. I can do a whole lot better, with a lot less grief.

Since our temporary falling out, I have been willing to indulge in negative thoughts about him like never before, and I realize I probably don't even really want him. He plays at being ambitious, but he's not willing to put in the sacrifice and the hustle to succeed. He tells me I work too hard, and then bemoans the fact that he's not as successful, not realizing that I'm successful because I am willing to work 16 hours a day. He seems to be incapable of taking responsibility for his own fuck-ups, always finding a way to justify blaming it on somebody else. He isn't able to defer gratification; he complains about not being able to afford his rent, and then goes out and buys fancy jeans and underwear. He shuts down when confronted with a difficult subject, instead of trying to learn from it. And eclipsing all his other faults, his selfishness is OFF THE CHARTS. In moments of clarity, I see a painful future for us. He takes advantage, and I forgive. I can imagine waking up in 30 years and realizing I wasted my chance to find somebody who treats me the way I deserve. A true partner.

But then my poor self-esteem gets the better of me. What if he is the best I'll ever do? I've never before gotten along with somebody so well. We can just sit together and BE, and enjoy it. I've never before been able to picture myself raising kids with someone. I've never before wanted to spoil somebody so completely (financially). I've never before been so consistently smitten (like I said, I still get butterflies every time he calls, just like the first time). I've never before found it so effortless to forgive someone. I've never before had an insatiable sexual appetite for one person. I have been with guys who are objectively hotter than him, but I still get bored. With him, just the smell of him gets me ready to go. Sometimes even the sound of his voice. A glimpse of his eyes, or his lips. We've done it more times than I can count, but I still dream about it. I can't imagine that ever changing, even when he loses the 6 pack and the perfect hair and the perky ass and the taught skin.

So, despite all the problems, I still hesitate. What if I had just waited a few more months? Would he have come around? I've already dedicated almost 3 years to him, so maybe I should wait just a little bit longer. I throw good money after bad.

In the end, I have to take the same advice I give everybody else. I can't force myself out of love, any more than I can force myself into love. The only thing I could do is to literally block him out, until I forget. Delete his phone number and block his Facebook account. Tell my friends and family not to ask about him. Ship all his stuff to him. Delete all the hundreds of pictures of him. Throw away the keepsakes of our relationship. I get close to pulling the trigger a couple times a week, and then chicken out. A friend told me that I will eventually get tired of the pain, and it'll be easier to do. I will hit a tipping point. We shall see.

After more than 5 years and 6 million visits, I may be back where I started, with a blog-as-journal, nobody else reading. That would be fine. If there is anybody out there, I would be curious to hear from you, so I have left the comments open. But I have far less patience than I used to. If you feel the slightest inclination to say something negative, let me just say a preemptive "go fuck yourself." I will delete it and close the comments. So please, save me the trouble. Let's make this a positive experience.

Prop 8

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Sat, 07 Aug 2010 18:17:00 +0000

I was discussing the Prop 8 decision with my childhood pastor last night. He was telling me about an old men's prayer group that has met weekly since the dawn of time. One of them asked the pastor what he'd do if a gay couple and their kid wanted to join the church. The pastor, knowing that this could be a hot-button issue, said "Well, I'd welcome them just like anybody else, and show them how to enroll their kid in Sunday School."

He waited for a long while as the old guys considered that, and then one said "Good. That's how it should be," and they all agreed.

Regarding his denomination's stance against gay marriage, the pastor said to me (and I quote): "That's BULLSHIT!"

hahaha! Love him.

this is a test

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 15:36:00 +0000

I'm testing to see whether I can email to my blog as a way to post. I think I might post more often if I could do that. We'll see!

its wonderful, but....

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 15:31:00 +0000

I've been dating a guy for a couple months now, and he's great. Cute, fun, smart, hard working, easy-going. For once he's a bit older than me, which is a welcome change. I love spending time with him. I love looking at him. I love kissing him. In short, I'm liking this a lot.

But for unknown reasons, I don't want to do more than kiss. I have no interest in seeing him naked. I have no interest in touching his junk. And so I consciously avoid situations where I might be expected to do that. I'd much rather come home after the date and take care of my own business.

Part of the problem is that I get bored of sexual partners quickly. Part of it is that I know I can sleep with much hotter guys if I want to. Part of it may be that he seems more into me than I am in him, so my low self esteem causes me to assume there's something wrong with him. It's not a fear of commitment (unless it's subconscious) since I do want a boyfriend, and I think he'd make a good one. It's not even a fear of monogamy, because he's very open to flexible arrangements.

WHAT DO I DO!?! I don't want to ruin a very promising relationship by not putting out. And it's not like he's unattractive. We did hook up once, back in the beginning, and it was just fine. He actually has a good body (very nice ass).

Do I just force myself to do it occasionally, and then both of us fool around on the side to get our other desires fulfilled? But I don't want to end up like the wife who lets her increasingly slovenly beer-swilling husband mount her once a month while she dreams about Brad Pitt, in order to keep him minimally satisfied! I want to want to rip his clothes off every chance I get. At least while we're still young and good looking. There is plenty of time for lackluster sex when we become undesirable.

Do I discuss it honestly with him? That doesn't seem like it would turn out well. Although honesty and open communication are key to a good relationship.

Do I just suggest threesomes for now, hoping that I become more interested in one-on-one as time progresses?

I need to think about this quickly, because I sense that he's going to insist on a DTR (defining the relationship talk) pretty soon, and I want to have my decisions made before that happens.

if you don't have a dream, how you gonna have a dream come true?

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Sun, 11 Jul 2010 17:36:00 +0000

Do the theater queens among you recognize that? I'll let you figure it out. No googling.

It's so true, isn't it? I've become a big proponent lately of positive thinking and good vibrations and stuff. Not in a new-agey guru weird kinda way, but in a "well, it can't hurt, so why not be positive?" kinda way.

I think it's impossible to achieve your dreams if you're constantly visualizing failure and filled with dread. Why not visualize success, and fill yourself with hope? You'll automatically align your mind, and from there your actions, with the path that will take you where you want to go.

Of course, this philosophy is hard to reconcile with realism. And it's even harder to reconcile with risk-aversion. And I am extremely risk averse.

A few months ago, I was having dinner with a friend, and (because I was irritated with him for another reason) I attacked him for this very quality. Specifically, when he becomes interested in a boy, he goes WAY overboard. He thinks the guy really "gets" him, and that he has never felt a connection like this before. This could really be the one!

And then, after a while, reality sets in, and sometimes he gets hurt. As his friend, I see the pattern and provide the shoulder in the aftermath. But when I attacked him for it, he (quite justifiably) snapped back, "Well at least I try. At least I allow myself to feel something."

It stung, but within five minutes I realized he's right. I'm so risk averse, particularly in matters of the heart, that I never get as far as FEELING. I analyze the pros and cons, and since the cons have always outweighed the pros, I cut it off before there's any risk of getting hurt. Relationships can be painful, but if you don't take a risk, you'll never get what you want.

I do have a particular dream. More than anything, I want it to come true. I don't know how to get there, but the first step is admitting that it is my dream. I need to stop dwelling on the cons, and put the possibility of pain out of my mind. I need to just go for it. Otherwise, there's no possibility of my dream coming true.

What's your dream?

google is stupid

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Sat, 19 Jun 2010 07:42:00 +0000

Google deleted my blog mistakenly today, but it's back.

PDA

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Fri, 18 Jun 2010 05:52:00 +0000

I'm surprised to learn that PDA makes me uncomfortable. I didn't know that about myself, but I guess it's because I've never dated a guy who was so into it. But this guy I've been with the last couple weeks is ALL over me, ALL the time.

We went out to dinner the other night, and he held my hand on top of the table almost the whole time. He rubbed it so much it actually started to feel raw and painful. Just now we took a walk through the gayborhood, and his hand was on my ass or sneaking up under my t-shirt the whole time. He stopped and pulled me in for a kiss at least 10 times over the course of 30 minutes, and when we didn't stop for a kiss, he'd nibble on my ear as we were walking.

It's flattering, for sure. And I definitely like kissing him. I just feel like it's too much. Or, maybe I'm just worried that I'm not as sexual as he's going to want to be. I dunno. Anyway, we'll see.

anticipation

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Sat, 12 Jun 2010 00:40:00 +0000

Hello boys and girls! It has been a long time since I was here! So long, in fact, that Blogger made me prove my identity and re-set my password. Good grief.

A lot has happened, but I'm not going to do a re-cap, because who really cares? I'm just going to jump back into what's on my mind.

I've decided I really like anticipation. It's fun to fool around with a guy, but it's more fun to flirt and play and want it. I've had three really good experiences with that lately.

My friend Brad and I planned a camping trip. His boyfriend (and my friend) Thomas couldn't come, so it was just the two of us. We suspected (and had even discussed in the past) that someday we'd probably end up in a threesome, just because we all find each other attractive, and why not? But we'd never gotten around to it.

After a long, hot, dusty day of camping, we had a few beers by the fire and decided we needed to shower before bed. We packed up our stuff and headed to the bathroom. There were two showers, but only one worked, so we had to take turns. The showers were in stalls, with a door that closed, but we didn't bother. We'd seen each other naked, but only in groups, and only in the dark (skinny dipping). Brad went first, and I sat on the bench that fronted the shower stalls, but off to the side. He knew I was sitting there, and he knew I could see him through the gap between the wall and the door. So he faced me most of the time, and got hard. As you may remember, I have a thing for hot guys in showers, so it was a great show. When it was my turn, he didn't even make the pretense of sitting off to the side. He just sat right in front of the stall and watched me. I tried to ignore him because I didn't want to get hard. It was chubby and long, though, which is maybe even better. ;) That evening in the tent was....tense. But we were good little boys. I would never hook up with Brad if I didn't have Thomas' blessing. Won't make that mistake again!

My friend David had a hard week of workouts, and came over to my house for dinner. Before we left (for Sur, if you're interested) his lower back was killing him, so he took his shirt off, laid down in my TV room, and attached some electrode machine he has to his lower back. I was wandering around trying not to look, but then decided "oh, fuck it." I sat cross legged behind his head, and started lightly massaging his scalp and running my fingers through his hair. He asked "why are you being so gentle?" So I gave him a good head/ear/upper neck massage. For some reason, there's something so erotic and intimate about giving a guy a head massage. Even straight guys touch each other's bodies (play-fighting, bro-hugs, sports), but it's pretty rare to run your hands through another guy's hair, or touch his ears/eyebrows/forehead. Hot.

It was silent, and the afternoon light was playing on his smooth muscular chest and abs, which were rising and falling as he breathed. At one point I was holding his head in my hands, using gravity to work my fingers into the tense area where the back of the head meets the neck. Because of my position, my face was inches above his. As I stared at his closed eyes, red lips and five o'clock shadow, I desperately wanted to kiss him. Instead, he hopped up and we went to dinner. We spent a lot more time together that night in his room with a friend of ours from China, so nothing more happened. And the next night too (another great meal, this time at Katsu-ya, and more time in his room with the same friend, watching a bootleg musical and drinking two fantastic bottles of wine). Alas, still nothing.

I offered to take my friend Joey to the airport for an early flight, so he suggested I sleep over to make it easier. I brought some pizza and we watched a movie with his roommate. Earlier in the day he'd bought me some frozen yogurt and put it in the freezer (and knew my favorites, which I though was sweet). We went to bed early, and I woke up first and took a shower. As I was getting dressed, I called to him to wake up. When I was done dressing, he was still there, so I went and rubbed his back. He groaned, turned away from me, stuck his foot out of the covers, and fell back asleep.

A few minutes later I kicked off my shoes, climbed onto the bed next to him, pulled the covers down a bit, and began rubbing his shoulders and back. He told me his pinky and ring finger on each hand were asleep, so I worked on his hands and forearms. He kicked the blanket off and made no move toward getting up, so I rubbed his lower back and legs. Eventually I made my way to his butt (through his white Joe Boxer boxer-briefs, unfortunately). Just as I was sure it was going to go further, he hopped up and started walking toward the bathroom. He clearly had a big old boner, and made no effort to hide it. After he pee'd, he came back out with a change of underwear. He faced away from me, pulled down the Joe Boxers, and looked back and grinned at me. He knew exactly what he was doing.

longing

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Mon, 26 Apr 2010 04:04:00 +0000

balls

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 01:57:00 +0000

I'm really proud of myself.

Last weekend I visited an old friend in New York. He, his sister and I went out for some pre-dinner drinks, and sat at the bar.

When we arrived, a shift change was going on, and I spotted a GORGEOUS guy enter the kitchen. He was dressed like one of the waiters, with the white shirt and tie, but he never came out to the front of the house. He was about 6 feet tall, fit, with silky brown hair over his forehead, big green eyes, and a beautiful smile framed by perfect red lips. I'd sneak glances back there, and he'd sneak some at me. We locked eyes a couple times, so there was no question what was going on. One time I looked up, and he was having a similar eye-lock with my friend. I elbowed my friend and said "I saw that", and we laughed. Now the game was on.

My friend and his sister are well-known in town, so everybody from the greeter to the manager were fawning over us, pouring free drinks and asking us to opine on their new appetizers. The reason I mention that is because it made it impossible for the waiter to approach us, or vice versa.

When it came time to leave, I purposely left my camera on the bar so that I could run back in, figuring that if my friend wasn't with me, none of the staff would pay me any attention. No such luck. Just as I turned around to head back in, the manager came running out with my camera. Blast!

I thought it was game over, but I figured "You know what, who cares whether I look stupid!? This isn't my town. I'm going back in there!" So I told my friend and his sister that I'm a big dummy and forgot something else, and ran back in. There were literally about a dozen staff members still standing there where we'd been sitting, and they all watched me from the moment I walked in the door. The manager, still in fawning mode, said "Can I help you with something?" and I said "No thanks!", walked right past him and the others, and into the kitchen.

I found the waiter, who looked startled to see me, passed him my card, said "Call us", smiled, and walked out. I ran back to my friends, and we headed off. About 15 minutes later, my friend said "DAMMIT!! I wish we'd had the guts to talk to that hot waiter!" I gave him a sly smile, and said, simply, "We did!" He looked puzzled, so I said "Why do you think I left my camera in there! I'm no dummy!" We all laughed, and that was it.

Until, about 5 minutes later, the waiter friended me on Facebook. He is a college student and a dancer, and was wondering what the two of us were doing that night....

Wheeee!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Tue, 13 Apr 2010 03:52:00 +0000

I have such an aversion to work pooping. Perhaps it's just a manifestation of my general reluctance to develop intimacy with anyone at work. Which I can't really explain. All through school, I thought it was important, and desirable, to become friends with my classmates outside of class. But as a working adult, I don't want to have anything to do with them from the moment I clock out.

So it irritates me when I'm work pooping, and somebody comes into the stall next to me. I do NOT want to hear you groaning. I don't want to smell the digested food waste coming out of your butt. I don't want to hear the sound of the elastic on your panties. I don't want to know that you tap your feet while pooping, or that you play with your phone. Most of all, I don't want to hear the sound of toilet paper scraping against your asshole hair. I just don't want to know that much about you. Poop somewhere else!

And just in case you're wondering, this also applies to the hot guys I work with. And it does not apply to public pooping in general. I'm not poop shy. This is just for work pooping.

Anyway, I'm drunk.

To follow up on some of the questions I received on my last post: yes, of course I was hard too. Yes, it was probably just one of those youthful sleep boners; he's only 18. No, I didn't take it further; I'm a lady! Yes, I think he knew what was going on; as soon as I touched his dick, his heart started beating really fast and he stopped breathing. Yes, we hung out again since then. We spent Saturday night together and baked cookies (among other things), but he didn't sleep over this time. Anyway, end of that story.

I'm gonna go make another drink.

Also, I'm over chatroulette. It's lame. It's 5 parts fat-guy-dick, 3 parts stupid-frat-guys-looking-for-boobs, 1 part groups-of-giggling-girls and 1 part people-who-click-next. My new addiction is manroulette. Much to my surprise, I have actually had some really fun conversations on there. It's still 5 parts dick, but at least most of the guys have hot bodies. And when you remove the frat guys and the giggling girls, that leaves a lot of guys who are actually there to chat. Just last night I talked to a closeted Mormon college student in Utah, and an adorable smiley Irishman. Wunderbar!

I just watched a movie called "Maurice". Hugh Grant was hot-as-fuck (until he grew that stupid mustache. I'm anti-facial hair, except tasteful masculine stubble). Also, it was a beautiful story, and makes me incredibly thankful to live in 21st century America, and not early 20th-century England (or 21st century Iran, for that matter). Also, why can't we have more tasteful male nudity in mainstream film? Scudder? Yes, please!

Speaking of film, did you know you can get Netflix through your Wii? Genius!

Anyway, as a new friend just said "you're a busy lady." And so I am. I'm off.

chat roulette

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 03:57:00 +0000

is genius.

Also, when you share a bed with a super hot "straight" friend for the first time and wake up to find your bodies intertwined face-to-face (as in, faces touching), and his dick is hard as a rock, is it safe to assume said friend is at least bi? Or was he just having a good dream?

Also, I have amazing willpower.

in which I say fuck a lot

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 17:39:00 +0000

NPR got me all kinds of riled up on the way to work today. I suppose this is what happens when you get older and more opinionated, but so many players in the news irritate the fuck out of me. Three in particular today:

The Catholic Church: Ok, look, Bandito Benito. Humans are sexual. If you don't give men healthy outlets, they're gonna find unhealthy ones. If you won't let them bone their wives, they're gonna want to bone somebody else. If you tell them that's wrong, they're gonna do it in secret. If they have to do it in secret, they're gonna choose somebody who won't spill the beans: somebody trusting, malleable and afraid. They're gonna choose kids.

Also, if you vilify homosexuals, they're gonna find a place to hide from you. A place where they have a plausible (even laudable) excuse for not boning women. A place where they're surrounded by other men. A place where they are trusted and respected in a way they wouldn't be if they were open about who they are. They're gonna become priests! And then, just like any other man, they're gonna fall into the cycle in the previous paragraph, but it's gonna be boys instead of girls.

Is anybody surprised the Catholic Church has a child-abuse scandal!? I'm not. Don't get me wrong...the celibacy policy is NOT an excuse. These people are sick motherfuckers who deserve to be castrated and imprisoned. No joke. I don't care how hard your life has been, and how unfair the church may be. You don't touch kids, no matter what. But the church is exacerbating the problem. If they'd wake up and actually be in the world, they wouldn't attract these people, and the sick ones might come forward and get help before it's too late.

Republicans/Tea Bags (aka Douche Bags): Regardless of whether you think universal health care is a good idea, GROW THE FUCK UP! Obama is not a socialist any more than Bush was a fascist. Death panels are not going to bury your grandma alive. Insuring everyone may be expensive, but it's a lot cheaper than treating 30 million poor people in emergency rooms, and it's a whole lot cheaper than invading Iraq for no reason. Democrats may be running roughshod over the Constitution by using parliamentary trickery to pass the bill, but you can't complain about it now after you happily did the same thing when you were in power. Debate the actual merits of the bill, or shut the fuck up. The American political system is all sorts of F.U.B.A.R.

Israel: Y'all know I had a Jew fetish. And my brother-in-law and niece are Jewish. So don't even start. But seriously, why should American soldiers be dying in the desert fighting an enemy who thinks we're enabling Israel to be unreasonable WHILE ISRAEL IS BUSY BEING UNREASONABLE!?!? If a pre-condition to peace is that you stop building settlements, STOP BUILDING FUCKING SETTLEMENTS!! How hard is it to NOT send bulldozers and construction workers into somebody else's home? If you need more apartments, build another fucking high-rise in Tel-Aviv!

I understand that both sides are wrong. VERY wrong. It goes without saying that it is never acceptable to lob missiles into neighborhoods or blow up buses and pizza parlors. This is a terribly complicated problem, and I'm over-simplifying it. But if you want a good faith gesture to get talks started, GIVE ONE! I expect Israel to take the high road in this situation. Yes, some Palestinians are being totally unreasonable and criminal, but you're the ones with your own country, and money, and a military, and a US ally. Grow up and be the bigger man. Stop purposely antagonizing them! You can't expect them to stop trying to kill you if you keep doing the one thing you know pisses them off the most. It's like coming back day after day to hit the beehive with a bat. You're gonna get stung, dumbshit! You're never going to be able to reason with angry people, so stop making them angry!

And just so you're not surprised, I'm telling you now that I'm going to delete any comment that calls me anti-semitic. Debate the merits if you want, but don't go there. That's why we can't have a rational conversation about this topic in America, and I just won't tolerate it.

And now that I've offended just about everybody, it's time to get to work :)

always a bridesmaid, never a bride

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 23:24:00 +0000

Something's gotta give. I had it brought home to me again last night (in quite a rude way, which was unfortunate), that I am never more than second best.

I have AMAZING friends, who I love, and who love me very much. I am so thankful for them every day. There are five to ten guys and girls with whom I am in weekly (if not daily) contact. We have adventures and we laugh and we create. We plan for the future and confide in each other and sometimes sleep together. We are a bunch of musketeers, and life is fantastic. Sometimes it makes me positively giddy to think about how lucky I am to be surrounded by so much love. There are moments when I feel so close to them that I believe they will be there for me, forever. I couldn't ask for better friends.

But at the end of the day, they each go home to their boyfriends (or whoever else they're infatuated with at the moment). And if push came to shove, they'd each drop me if they had to. No matter how much they love me, no matter how wonderful I am to them, no matter how much they appreciate me, I am always second choice. And in each of their lives, I always will be. Even if they consider me their best friend (and a couple of them do), I'm still just a friend. I am not anybody's favorite person.

So what do I do?

If you've read this blog since the beginning, you'll know I have an amazing capacity to fool myself. For years, this big old cock-hound convinced himself he wasn't even gay, and that mere friendship with the hot guys in my life was perfectly satisfying. At the moment, I'm doing the same thing all over again: I'm fooling myself into believing that mere friendship with all these wonderful people is enough for me. It's fulfilling, to be sure. But not enough.

The irony is, I can't even talk about this with anyone, because all the people I'd talk about it with are part of the problem.

Do I continue investing all of this energy in them, the energy that they all put into their boyfriends and not into me? Do I cut them loose, because this is ultimately a waste of time if my goal is to find lasting love? I'm sure the answer is something in between. But how do I find the correct path?

the meat missile mud bath

noreply@blogger.com (Matt) — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 23:37:00 +0000

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I did it. A gentleman has finally gone up the down staircase, if you know what I mean. And you know what? Much to my surprise and amazement, I liked it. A lot. In fact, I can't think of much else, except what I'd like to do next time. I may be a lady in the street, but...

I was always so afraid, and now I can't really figure out what the big deal was. Sure, it takes a little getting used to. But it's so damn hot, and therefore so damn worth it!

And now, in honor of the occasion, I'd like to know your favorite euphemisms for this, Dr. Dobson's most terrifying mental image. Here are a few to get your creative juices flowing:

Lookin’ for Love in All the Wrong Places

When One-Eye Met Brown-Eye

Drilling for Oil on the Moon

Taking His Temp with the Meat Thermometer

Bogeying Hole Number Two

What are your favorites?