December 25

Best wishes for a Happy Christmas!

With love from Winston and Behrmark!

BEHR HUGS

Behrmark Returns

I'm back. Finally. Many thanks for the well wishes on my last post and a special thank you to Cubby for reaching out when he realized I wasn't back when I said I would. I appreciate the love and concern.

The experience wasn't as horrible as I anticipated although there were parts that were more difficult with which to deal than I thought. For now I'm healing well and although I have a few physical restrictions/limitations I believe those will be lifted early this coming week.

I missed you all. I missed reading through my favorite blogs and drooling over the hot men in other blogs. I'm hoping to get caught up soon.

I'm keeping this short today; perhaps I'll find time between grocery shopping and house cleaning to post a few experiences.

BEHR HUGS

Behr Blue: Date Update

My "date" cancelled on me.

I'm not terribly surprised and not terribly upset, to be honest. There were some red flags over the past week and by this morning I was fairly certain it was going to be a bust. Thankfully I have a backup plan (it's called Netflix).

He left me a message on the bear social networking site saying he was sorry but has to cancel our plans. I replied that I am sorry too and then I asked why. I don't expect an answer and I certainly doubt I'll hear from him. No harm no foul, eh?

OK maybe I am a little upset. I could start questioning what's wrong with me but this time I'm not doing that. I don't think I was dishonest or flaky or even remotely ax-murderer-in-waiting-ish. Maybe it was my sense of humor he didn't get. Or maybe someone better came along - and by that I mean better for him, certainly not better than me. And if that sounds arrogant, I apologize, but I may not be perfect but I'm a good catch. I'm kind, thoughtful, employed, have a working vehicle, own my home, have a sense of humor, and a variety of interests. I guess in today's world that's not something guys want. This experience is exactly why I don't date often; guys either cancel on me or turn out to be the freak du jour.

I'd appreciate some advice on finding decent, honorable, trustworthy men. Especially from all of you partnered men out there: how the hell did you find one worth keeping? It is perhaps a good thing that I learned long ago that being alone does not have to mean being lonely.

So that's the 4-1-1 on my date situation. The Behr bombs again! (I say that with a smile.) I hope your weekend fared better than mine. BEHR HUGS!!

Love, Not Love - Part II

• 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.

We board the plane for home. I want a cocktail. He pays. G&Ts. At our home airport I’m desperate to get the luggage and get going. I need to get away from S. Other plans have been made. Mexican dinner. Three margaritas. Still not drunk.

Finally arrive at S’s. Ask politely to use bathroom. I walk out. “What’s this?” He holds the mailer containing the handmade card I mailed before our trip. Damn. It arrived early; it is meant for February 14. “A card. Read it. Don’t read it. It doesn’t matter now.” I leave.

The card said: I absolutely adore you.

To this day I have no idea whether or not if he read it.

Touch base with a mutual friend who tells me he’s sorry. Says I’m best thing to happen to S, he’s a idiot.

Week later, online, S asks what I’m doing. I tell him I’m going to Disneyland. He asks if I want company. Rock and hard place. We have a nice day, relaxed, no confrontation, no tears. He looks like he wants to say something; he doesn’t.

We see each other over the next couple of months: dinner, theme parks. Excruciating pain. Still want to touch him, kiss him. I still feel empty. I meet other men, mostly for sex. Time passes. We have less and less contact. I make a change at work: new position, new department, different responsibilities, new adventures. Moving on. Best thing.

S tells me he plans to quit teaching, move to San Diego, go to massage school. WTF?

I delve back into theater. Pirates of Penzance. Great fun. He wants to come see the show. I offer to make reservation. He says “For two.” He brings date. Awkward. Pretend it doesn’t bother me.

He sells me washer/dryer. I pick them up, he barely helps load them in my truck. Missing part; return for it and we go to dinner. I drive away and don’t think about it. Realize I am over him. No longing. No well of sadness. I can be near him without wanting to hold him, kiss him.

He calls. Asks me to go to Walt Disney World with him. I agree. Visit him at his new place in San Diego. We discuss trip. Dinner, show. Against better judgment, stay the night. He spoons me, asks if it is ok. Yes.

We are friends. Nothing more. I do not feel the longing as before. Time heals. Trip to Orlando. Together but separate, good time. Lots of laughs. Old days return. Third night, I want to spoon. “Don’t.” Slept on couch. Despite that, overall great trip.

We don’t see much of each other but try to stay in touch. This is new, remaining friends with ex.

Invitation to naked pool party. Snow Monkeys. Late March, heated pool. Feeling good, happy. First to arrive. Others soon come, S included. He seems “off.” I say hello, he doesn’t say much. I’m first in heated. Drinking beer, eating, having good time. Attempt conversation with S; he barely responds but talks to others. I leave him be. Someone asks S why he is like Eyeore, so doom and gloom. Does he have a bad boyfriend?

S responds: “That’s all I’ve had.”

All eyes turn to me. Knife back in chest. Anger. Hurt. Embarrassment. I get out of pool, dry off, start getting dressed. Friend asks what’s wrong. I break down, sob. Can’t breathe, can’t think, numb. Friend comforts me. I escape.

Week later, mini-Gay Day at Disneyland. I want to go but dread presence of S. Maybe he won’t be there. He is.

I ignore him. I do not speak to him. I avoid him. Smart boy catches on quick. He approaches, says hello, asks how I am. “I’m well.” Someone calls to me, I walk away. Not easy and yet what I do. Must do.

Later, waiting for fireworks. Our group numbers 25+. I decide to go have cocktails. Hug and kiss everyone goodbye….except S.

It does not go unnoticed.

Love, Not Love - Part I

I'm often asked why I'm single. Perhaps this will 'splain Lucy a bit about Romantic Behrmark. I’ve written this in an abbreviated, clipped style; it’s how it comes out. For brevity (!) and anonymity, the initial S is used for the other party. This was not easy for me to write. Memories can be evil and hateful reminders. This is merely Part 1. Be warned: it’s not pretty.

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.

A Rose By Any Other Name....

In "About Behrmark" I mentioned that I have several nicknames and there's a story behind each one. A couple readers expressed interest so today I'm sharing the stories. In no particular order:

*MARKUS: This nickname probably isn't too difficult to decipher. Back when I was in college, I worked for a clothing retailer, Miller's Outpost. Basically we sold jeans and casual clothes. There were five Mikes working at the same time and the manager was always calling me Mike. So I finally told her to call me "Markus" in order to distinguish myself from the "Mikes" (which happens to be my brother's name). I opted for the Germanic spelling so I could retain the "k" in my name. So all of my work pals called me Markus. In 1986 after graduating college, I was talked into auditioning for my very first community theater show. Since the friend who convinced me to just audition knew me as "Markus" that's what I put on the audition sheet. I got cast (ironically, the show was "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum") and most of my theater friends call me Markus. And occasionally they spell it correctly!

*BEHR: This is an occasional nickname that is used mostly by online friends who don't know my "real" name. That's okay, because I kind of like it. Several years ago when I ventured into the online bear world, I wanted to come up with a user name that would fit into that world, one that would identify me to others. On the defunct bear.net site, I read descriptions of "bear," "cub," "behr," etc and identified with "behr." Supposedly it's someone who isn't physically characteristic of a bear but has the "attitude." Remember, this was back before the emergence of the musclebears. Because I was on the chunky side, with little body hair I felt this fit. So I teamed up "behr" with "Mark" to create Behrmark! Simple, eh?

*SANTA: Only a few friends use this nickname for me, one in particular. I had gone out with my friends Christopher and Michael to a play and we stopped at a West Hollywood bar afterwards. My friend snapped a picture of me:



As you can see, my beard was a bit bushy and upon seeing the pic I said "I look like fucking Santa!" And so the nickname stuck. (That's Michael in the picture with me.)

*BELLE: Shortly after meeting my ex for the first time, he introduced me to a group of guys, the Disneybears. It was a group of bearish men who met at the Disneyland Resort on a weekly basis during the summer to enjoy the rides, food, and fireworks. I made quite a few friends some of which I remain good friends with today. Anyway, onto the nickname. My ex, Steve, and some others got it into their pea-brains to assign Gone With The Wind characters to various members of our Disneybear group. Surprisingly enough, most of the assignments really worked based on the character personality and the guy's. When I asked who I was I was told "Belle Watling." Now I'm sure I don't have to tell you all that Belle is the whore. The slut. The succubus. One friend explained that I'm Belle because I "make friends easily" and have a heart of gold. Okay well since he put it that way! Once when there was a group of us at Disneyland, my friend was calling Mark! Mark! and I wasn't responding. He yelled "BELLE!" and I immediately turned around. So I guess I really am Belle Watling....even if my bosom isn't quite as ample as it should be. Oh incidentally, my ex was originally India Wilkes (the bitter old maid) but he didn't like that so he was rechristened Mammy. To this day I refer to him by this nickname. Just as a reminder, here's Ona Munson as Belle Watling:




So there you have it...the nicknames that I have. Quite a collection if you ask me. Just so's you know...I'll basically answer to anything. BEHR HUGS!!

About Behrmark

As part of my attempt to blog more rather than just post pictures of delectable men, here’s a list of things to know about me.

*My real name is Mark.
*Both of my parents are still living.
*I have an older sister and an older brother.
*I was born in Arizona but the family moved (back) to California when I was one. I’ve been here ever since.
*I’m an ENFJ.
*I was a voracious reader as a child. I would read as many as 20 books throughout my summers.
*I was in Boy Scouts. In fact, I’m an Eagle Scout. I don’t support the organization any more because of their anti-gay stance.
*Although I was never very athletic, I played basketball in junior high and backpacked with my Scout troop. I’ve seen some beautiful country here in California, predominantly in the High Sierras.
*When I was little I wanted to be an FBI agent.
*I dislike guns.
*I feel sexier now as a 40-something overweight man than I did in my YTP days.
*YTP = Younger Thinner Prettier
*I’ve already taken my dream vacation.
*I’m an animal lover. I would rather donate money to the Humane Society or a no-kill animal sanctuary than to an organization that helps people. The exception is my annual support of AIDS Project LA.
*Like so many, I fought my gayness because of religious values.
*I once thought I would die by the time I was 40. Didn’t happen.
*I wear my heart on my sleeve.
*I’m an above-average speller and grammarian.
*My biggest regret in life was semi-closeting myself again after I came out to my parents.
*My range of attraction is broad.
*I have several nicknames: Markus, Santa, Behr, Belle. Most have an interesting story behind them.
*I'm a hug whore. If I could, I'd hug every person I meet.

Well there you have it, a short list about Behrmark. I’ll be expanding on these bits in future posts. Let me know what intrigues you most and I’ll start there. BEHR HUGS!!