31 January 2010
30 January 2010
29 January 2010
This morning we had an iHop meeting. Did you know that the current promotion is "all you can eat pancakes?" It is! I forget what the name of the meal is but it consisted of two eggs, two sausage or bacon (I had sausage), hash browns, and pancakes. It comes with two; the all you can eat is three. So I had five pancakes. I know most men could eat more than this but I had already had oatmeal and a venti coffee earlier. If I don't eat within an hour of rising I get a headache and very cranky. So I'm feeling stuffed.
Maybe I'll walk it all off tonight. URP!
28 January 2010
27 January 2010
26 January 2010
I have not spoken to S since that day at Disneyland. Later that month he sent me a birthday present and I sent a polite yet brief e-mail thanking him. I once waved to him at Disneyland and immediately regretted it. My decision to cut him completely from my life may have been harsh and melodramatic. It was what I had to do. And not surprisingly, S has never tried to find out – from me, at least – what happened. If he had written a note apologizing or inquiring about our shaky friendship or attempted a reconciliation, perhaps things would be different. He didn’t and they aren’t.
A few months ago I briefly wrote about a friend who has developed full-blown AIDS (see Downfall of a Friend). What I didn’t include is that S asked a friend if he thought it would be okay if S called me about our sick friend. Our friend said yes, definitely. But S did not.
I do still think about him; I mainly remember the good times. The truth is, I could never be friends with him now because I know that he neither values a friendship nor respects the feelings of others. For the record: I do not hate him. He will always have a place in my heart. It is my life in which he is no longer welcome.
I realize I have painted him as the monster. I had – have – my own faults and baggage and personality flaws. However, while I believe we were equally to blame for the failure of our relationship, I also believe that I did everything possible to show him how much he meant to me. It just wasn’t enough.
I’ve dated many men, before and after S, but never have I been so utterly rejected. I no longer wear my heart on my sleeve. My experience with S caused me to place an iron cage around my heart. I doubt I will ever truly love again. I am more focused on building true friendships these days. If love is to happen again, it’s possible I may take the chance. It may take some coaxing.
I am in awe of those of you in long-term committed relationships. You have something precious, something special. It’s taken hard work, it’s taken sacrifice and compromise. But when love is truly there, it happens. So do me a favor. Tonight when you see your beloved, hold him tight, kiss him passionately, and tell him that you love him. Make him your sun, your moon, your everything. That will make me happy and restore my faith in love.
25 January 2010
- Thanks to everyone who left a comment on Part I, I appreciate the feedback. I want to clarify something: I did not include many incidents that occurred; I only chose the highlights. The story began in 2004; it ends in 2006. Here is the second part of the story, which picks up where Part I left off, same day. I kept this as abbreviated as possible, in keeping with the style of the previous part. I will post the Epilogue soon.
Younger TV viewers may remember Roberts from the lead role in "Trapper John, M.D.," a medical drama that aired on CBS for seven years, ending in 1986.
I remember being fascinated by Adam on "Bonanza" as a kid. He was so handsome! Later when "Trapper John, M.D.," aired, I was completely smitten by this totally hot daddy bear.
RIP, Pernell Roberts. You were a talented and hot man.
24 January 2010
22 January 2010
We meet on gay.com of all places. I think S mistakenly clicked on my screen name. S assures me he hasn’t. Wow. Gorgeous man wants to chat. He can carry a conversation. He’s smart, has sense of humor. He has a beard, killer smile. Swoon.
He wants to meet. I’m not nervous. At least I keep telling myself I’m not. We meet at Downtown Disney. I’m early. He’s late. I stick my hand out – isn’t that what polite people do? He looks taken aback but we shake hands. I fall in love instantly. Not loin-stirring, lust-driven, heart-racing love but quiet soul- consuming love. We have dinner, hit a few rides at California Adventure. He tells me I’m cute. I think “What a great guy. I’ll never see him again.”
He calls two days later. For another date. Dinner and a movie? Good dinner, no movie, just lots of talking and getting to know each other. Holding hands on my couch he says I intimidate him. I move too fast, physically. Holding hands is too fast? When he leaves, I kiss him. (Six years later, I can still feel it.) All of the feelings I think I’m imagining start to crystallize. I am most definitely in love.
We spend more time together. Never cross the line, take it slow. He lets me hold his hand at the movies. We go to the gym together. See him naked in the showers. SCHWING! Suddenly feel inadequate. But he keeps coming around so he must like me. Right? Right? Start having panic attacks…rent my house move in with him? Sell both our houses and buy/rent something new? Oh god…introduce him to my family?!
E-mail him to say I like him. Am interested in more than friendship. Just sayin'.
S invites me to go to Renaissance Faire. He introduces me to his friends. Hit it off with them. Did I pass the test? Next day he emails me. I’m fun, I’m handsome, but he isn’t feeling the spark. Let’s remain friends. Heartbreak.
Friendship in all of its goodness. Jokes. Midday text messages. Dinners together with more of his friends. Gym dates. Disney Bears group. No touching, no kissing. Just two buds hanging together. And yet I keep falling deeper. I need this to stop.
Weekend trip to San Jose, hang out with SacBears, go to Great America. Two nights. One bed. We sleep naked. Last morning, there’s movement. He’s jerking off. I suck him and massage his prostate. He cums. He showers. I remain untouched.
A new introduction. Someone he’s dating. Hot guy, they look good together. I see silent intimacy pass between them. I hate this guy. Weeks later S shares his frustration that he and Other Guy don’t have much in common. Inside I scream. Outwardly I give advice. We help those we love even when it kills us to do so.
I plan a trip to Cancun with a coworker and her husband. Need to get away, clear my head. And my heart. S calls, tells me to get laid. I retort that’s not my main goal. He asks, I tell him: I need to clear my head of some stuff. My meaning is clear.
I return: mission accomplished. Somewhat. Attend pool party. S and Other Guy are there. S compliments my tan. He’s drunk, leering at Other Guy's sizeable cock. I know where it's been. Other Guy attempts friendliness. Have epiphany: it's over. I am healed. Give S his present and leave.
Gay Days. S and I go together. He broke up with Other Guy. Too bad. I spy Hot Latino who returns my smile. He and his friend join our group. Hard flirting. Sexual tension. Alone on Sun Wheel, I fellate Hot Latino. Friends cheer, joke. S is sullen, standing apart from group. Announces his departure. I ask what’s wrong. Angry reply: “Nothing. I can go if I want.” In my head I beg him: “Just ask and I will walk away from Hot Latino.”
S walks away. His loss.
Following week, S calls, wants to “talk.” Meet at his place. He finally broaches “subject.” He wants to date again. Rapture! Realizes what he is missing. I hear the words but don’t listen. Heart jumping with joy. Never stopped loving him. Entire weekend spent together. Heaven.On.Earth.
Go everywhere do everything together. Official dating couple. Joy abounds within me. I will have my Happy Ever After.
Normal dating problems: miscommunication, possible cheating situation. Resolve issues, move on. Wonderful Christmas. Most amazing sex. This will last forever. I.Am.Complete.
January. Communication breakdown. S needs space. I give it. Phone calls stop. He wants to be alone. Fucking Greta Garbo complex. Tiffs ensue. Words exchanged. Physical withdrawal. Ask if we can talk. After party. Host of party compliments how great a couple we make. Awkward silence. Later we talk. Temporary resolution.
Trip to Napa with friends. Going well. Drunken haze, all seems well. Sunday morning he rebuffs sexual advance. I’m hurt, angry. He goes off on me. I suggest we break it off, just be friends. He relaxes. Instantly. Opens up. Emotions pour from his mouth. Suddenly he’s talkative, out of sullen mood. Feels too partnered. I’m too self-deprecating. It’s me, I am the problem.
He’s free. I’m feeling lost. Adrift. Friends know something is wrong, don’t ask. At third winery, I cry. Pain. Misery. Heart ripped out. Friends uncomfortable. S looks guilty. On drive to airport, I weep silently. S strokes my shoulder.
Too late. Much too late.
I just discovered via Joe.My.God, that our resident music friend, Howard, has been nominated for a 2010 Bloggie for his insightful music blog: Soundtrack to My Day. If you're not a fan yet, please give him a look and listen. This man really knows his music!! And Howard is one of the sweetest, nicest guys you'd ever want to meet.
Vote for Howard for best music blog.Behr Hugs Howard!!
21 January 2010
In an earlier post, I shared two good reads by author Mark Abramson: Beach Reading and Cold Serial Murder. While I was without internet, I read his third novel in the series, Russian River Rat.
This novel continues the saga of Tim Snow and his circle of friends and family. Tim has moved into his dead ex’s house and is now dating Nick. The new boyfriends, although in the throes of love, begin having miscommunication problems as a result of Nick’s cousin being found naked and drowned in the Russian River and the appearance of Phil, a mysterious man from Tim’s past. A series of accidents lands Tim in the hospital and his Aunt Ruth, who has moved into Tim’s old apartment, tries to ferret out the instigator before more harm can be done.
Mr. Abramsom brings the colorful world of the Castro, SoMa, the Russian River, and San Francisco to life and rounds out secondary characters introduced in the previous novels. We meet them all: drag queens, leather queens, bears, meth addicts, trannies, and straights. The author’s use of humor is a nice contrast to the excitement of the action. I recommend Russian River Rat whole-heartedly! BEHR HUGS!!
20 January 2010
18 January 2010
08 January 2010
A big thank you to Mark in DE for keeping me in mind by sending me emails; I appreciate it buddy!
BEHR HUGS TO ALL!!
05 January 2010
04 January 2010
Happy Monday and BEHR HUGS!!
03 January 2010
I made no New Year resolutions. I tend to not keep them. If I resolve do to something (or stop doing something) later in the year I'll have greater success. Or so it's always seems.