Normal

I just came back from a date... I've been on very few that are actual dates--u know set up and shit.

He's older--late twenties, Asian, cute, good body, and established. What was most overt was that he was grown-up. So that's why the date was so normal.

He asked real questions--from my origins all the way to my coming out experience.

We had a lot to talk about and we laughed. We talked past dinner time and then we walked around and did a little shopping before parting ways--it was a weeknight afterall.

It ended better than it began because when we first met--he was really really shy. We met at a coffee shop and then walked over to the restaurant. I tried making eye contact but he wouldn't. He didn't make eye contact nor did he seem to even directly look at me until we were sitting in the restaurant booth. That was weird to me because where I'm from--I'm used to the 3sec size up consisting of a top-to-bottom inspection. So I was a little nervous about how things would go since the date didn't start as per my previous experiences. As soon as we both laughed I felt better.

I can see why people do relationships--the stability, the security that the other person will likely not wrong you in certain ways, and the predictability. I know some people like it both ways--the novel and the broken-in. For a while, I've thought that I only ever needed the former. Now, I know that I need both. I just have to find the right balance.

Earlier today, the gym was wierd like before. Asian Boy and Zeus were both there. Asian boy ignored me, until he started using my machine. I asked if I could work in with him. He tried to talk to me without busting out into a grin. It was cute, but because he had just ignored me, I was just regular and really polite. I put off talking to him until after I was done with my workout.

Zeus was being his usual wierd self, stealing stares at me and then pretending to not know me whenever I came close to him. Unlike most weekdays, he was alone today and working out at an odd-hour--earlier in the day. I got off of work early today b/c tomorrow I have a late night work-related commitment.

I didn't want to permanently end our barely existent rapport. So I looked for one of those moments when two people know that no one is looking at them even though they are in a crowded place. I found a time like that--and so I stared at him confidently. He felt the stare and immediately looked right at me. His look--shrowded by public privacy was different than the usual oddities I've gotten from him. It was devoid of his pretentious pride that I have only recently gotten from him. Neither, did he have that annoying and knowing smirk on his face when he seems to be avoiding eye contact with me.

Instead, he was somewhat suprised--probably because I was being forward in my stare and it was loaded. I was letting him know I knew what was up and that in private--I wasn't scared of him--I just didn't want to deal with pretending, which is what would be necessary because of his gym-noteriety and his hottie-deaf girlfriend.

He stared at me back with comparable intensity and what seemed like focused curiosity. Like a male deer with large antlers that hears something in the distance and quickly looks at its point of origin--chest sticking out, on-gaurd, but with open and resolute curiosity.

I smiled and broke the stare. The gym was getting more full by the fucken minute.

Later, after my workout I saw Asian boy start on a machine that required sitting. I went over to talk to him and ask if he wanted to workout.

It was bad--real bad. I felt flat on my face. I started the conversation but I think I tried to hard and he often just left me hanging. He's so fucken cute. Its distracting. His body and his muscles are so fucken beautiful and full. They are distracting.

He wanted to move on with his workout, but I couldn't come up with a smooth exit--so I just rambled. It was painful.

There was no way to ask him to workout at that point. Finally, some guy asked if either of us was going to use the machine on which he sat. So I apologized and said that I was keeping him--and quickly left. I think he was a little wierded out by my quick exit. I didn't know what to do. I like this guy a lot. But chances are--he's not gay, or he won't go with fagdom.

Part of the problem with the conversation was that I had premised a significant part of it on my expectations of him being Asian. He wasn't meeting those expectations so my comments were met by his confused expressions.

Later I called up another Asian friend of mine and told him Asian Boy's response. My friend said Asian Boy and his family are whitewashed and overly Americanized.

That sort of made me think differently about his sexuality. Clearly, his family did not fit the mold. Still, I had fucked shit up--at least momentarily.

I very happily went on this date later--because I needed to have another Asian who was out, normal, and would be straightforward about any interest in me.

It sort of worked. I still like Asian Boy, but Asian Man is a really nice guy. I do not have to make a choice as of now--which is very good.

Trouble in Paradise

Every so often the gym is just a fucken broiler of odd situations.

A while ago, Zeus and his girlfriend were working out—at the same time, though not together.

I didn’t want to get into shit so I didn’t acknowledge Zeus and my caution seemed to be well regarded as he didn’t look at me at all. I was working shoulders that day.

However, towards the end of my workout, through the reflection of the mirrors I saw his girlfriend crouching on the ground as if she was resting. She was behind one of the building’s large support pillars. They are big enough to obfuscate anyone who stands beside them from anyone on the opposing side of the room. I did not pay attention to where Zeus was at the moment.

I thought it odd that she was just crouching there. Perhaps she was resting, but that’s not exactly the most relaxing position. I continued my dumbbell shoulder presses.

I was going for reps and well into my long set, I felt a stare on me. I looked away from my reflection and eventually saw where it was coming from—the girlfriend was looking at me through the mirror—intensely, and she looked depressed.

I figured it was just me or an effect of the mirror—I was in her way. I looked again however, and her pupils confirmed that she was looking at me. After returning her stare, I expected her to break it off. She didn’t, and I went back to my reflection and still felt her stare. After a few more reps, I looked back—she was still just staring at me—with the same intensity and that same troubled look.

I didn’t know what to do. I kept looking at her, and she just continued staring. She won. I broke it off. I did finish my set however. I resigned myself to tuning her out because I realized that crouched in that position—no one was really going to see her so she had no incentive to break if off. The gym is fairly large. She had picked a good spot. Weird.

Other times I have seen her around, I’ve tried to smile at her or something—but she like Zeus is always barreling towards a destination. The few times she has looked at me after I look at her, she smirks. I don’t get it. I think I’ll call her Hera.

Yesterday, they both came in towards the end of my workout. I noticed because I saw a large figure coming my way. When I looked up and saw him looking at me, he pivoted brusquely and walked in the opposite direction. He was not nearby, he didn’t have to turn away to avoid me.

A few minutes later he started to set up along the same wall as me but as far away as possible. I was doing lateral raises. I felt a stare on me again. I knew where he was so I abruptly looked right at him—he was again staring right at me. He looked away hard, and seemed to continue with adjusting his weight belt. I couldn’t help it—I just laughed and smiled to myself.

He’s really good about hiding his stares. Recently however, I have caught him staring at me rather overtly—the best was while I was doing pushups and he apparently was glaring at my ass ;) But on this day in particular he was slipping big time—and his girlfriend was in the fucken room. Still, the times when we might have conversed, he seems to get immediately overly-interested in something else and practically ignores me.

He’s usually with her or surrounded by groupies nowadays too. I will have to find a time when that is not the case—and just fucken find out what the hell is up. Sunday late afternoons apparently seem to be good times.

As I was leaving the gym, Asian Boy was just arriving. I looked at him, surprised—and yet disappointed that I was leaving. My expression said it all—it was the pathetic giveaway of a crush. He was prepared—b/c he didn’t flinch. All he said was—You worked out already?

I didn’t know what to say—I also just wanted to eat him with my eyes. Finally, I just said—I have to work later today. Then he nodded and started walking again. I love his pink curvy plumped lips.

I didn’t expect his response. It was cute. He likes being at the gym at the same time as me. I have to ask him to workout with me. Doing so will doom my workouts—oh well.

The Anatomy of a Mancrush: a Repost

This subject has been nagging my mind for a while....

The Anatomy of a Man-Crush
by Josh Bacott 3/24/2005

Have you ever wondered what it’s like for Dick Vitale to sit courtside at a Duke basketball game?

Sure, the atmosphere is normally electric, with thousands of students jumping around and screaming like maniacs, and he gets to sit within spitting distance of some of the best college basketball players in the nation, but for Vitale is seems like there’s more to it than that. When inside Cameron Indoor Stadium, Dickie V. gets to sit a mere ten feet away from the one man he can’t get close enough to, Coach K.

For most announcers this would be nothing more than a formality, a side effect of the profession they have chosen. But for Vitale it seems like, when it comes to Krzyzewski, there’s just a touch of something more. It’s like prom night for Dickie V.

Why?

Could it be that the announcer just really appreciates the legendary program that Coach K has built in Durham? Perhaps, but I think it’s a little more complex than that.

In my opinion, Vitale has simply fallen victim to a rare and mysterious condition that afflicts a small minority of men around the country. It is a virulent strain of a common issue most have dealt with on some level.

Dick Vitale has a man-crush.

It’s not sexual in any way, it’s just that his appreciation of Coach K is a hair above acceptable levels when it comes to a sports figure. When you take a platonic appreciation of another man, add an unhealthy desire to be around and talk about that person and you throw in a touch of obsession - you have a standard issue man-crush.

Surprisingly, the sports world is a breeding ground for man-crushes. Players compete at the highest level and the men who follow them fall into subconscious fixations with their subjects.

Vitale is only one example. His overwhelming fascination with the Duke coach is borderline obsessive. The Dukies and their leader never stray far from his mind or his rants. Whenever the Blue Devils play an important home game in the ACC, Dickie V. is certain to be courtside. He wouldn’t miss his man for anything. I have to believe that the only thing keeping him from showing up at the press row dressed in his throwback Alaa Abdelnaby jersey is ESPN dress code.

He isn’t the only one.

Another announcer who has reached the pinnacle of his profession has let puppy love get the best of him. He’s showed that even the gruff world of professional football can be subject to the man-crush.

John Madden is the top color man in all of football. He has become an icon of the game, the namesake of the most influential sports video game in history, as well as the man the nation turns to for advice on the treatment of foot fungus. But he isn’t above a harmless crush.

When it comes to Brett Favre, the Green Bay Packers Hall of Fame quarterback, Madden is like a 300-lb school girl. Brett makes his heart flutter. Watching him throw that football down field and then flash that smile - Madden is smitten.

Madden’s Favre obsession is evident every time Brett plays on Monday Night Football, when the announcer openly gushes about him and makes it clear that the QB is above criticism. He does no wrong in the fluttering eyes of John Madden.

Despite the obvious flaws in Brett Favre’s game, the pension for choking in Domes, the abundance of interceptions at critical moments – Madden sees only positives. He’s blinded by adoration.

There are man-crushes everywhere you look in sports.

Pedro Gomez, the tireless reporter for ESPN, is developing a serious affection for Barry Bonds. Assigned to cover the bulking slugger, Gomez has taken the gig to another level, reporting on everything Barry does on a day-to-day basis. Gomez is a few slow days away from filing a report live from the tree in Bond’s backyard, armed with binoculars in the place of a microphone.

With Bonds flirting with the idea of taking the season off due to injuries, one has to wonder how Gomez will take the news. If ESPN threatens to take him off the Bonds beat, there’s no telling what he might do. The fine line between man-crush and "stalker" is getting closer for Pedro.

St. Louis radio personality Kevin Slaten, famous for spewing venom in all directions, has inexplicably fallen head over heals for former Rams QB Kurt Warner. This hard line critic is reduced to a mountain of mush when the topic is the grocery clerk-turned-NFL MVP. The Slaten-Warner man-crush has taken on a legendary status here in the Gateway City. Everyone knows that Slaten has a crush on Warner. Even Warner.

Other announcers spread their man-love around to multiple players. Take John Miller for example. ESPN’s lead baseball announcer isn’t smitten with one particular player, rather a type of player. He’s a polygamist man-crusher.

If you are a Latin baseball star, Miller has an eye on you. Not only is he overly appreciative of your talents, he is eyeing up the back of your jersey and practicing the proper Spanish pronunciation of your name.

When that person comes to the plate or takes the mound during a game, Miller unleashes the drawn out ethnic accent to perfection.

“On the mound tonight for the Dodgers is Odalis Pe-Rrrrrr-ez.” Never have I heard a man derive so much pleasure out of rolling his R’s. He enjoys so much it makes me a little uncomfortable to listen to.
Miller’s colleague at ESPN, Chris Berman, has developed the extremely rare self man-crush. He simply has an unnatural obsession with himself. It’s the only explanation for the jokes that continue to appear each week on NFL Primetime. It’s confirmed that no one else thinks they’re funny. One can only imagine the joy that he gets when Chris Berman meets up with Chris Berman each morning in the bathroom mirror. It’s like it was meant to be.

As Berman’s situation demonstrates, the man-crush is a versatile phenomenon. It doesn’t just afflict announcers, though we’ve seen that they are a high-risk population. On the rare occasion, it can afflict players and coaches too.

In the 90’s we had high profile relationships between Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine and John Smoltz. A three way man-crush , if you will.

Right here in St. Louis we have a head scratching union between Manager Tony LaRussa and Dave Duncan, who have been attached at the hip for nearly 20 years. Who has the man-crush on who you might ask? The adoration may well be mutual.

The Houston Astros last year offer another prime example. In the offseason, they signed Andy Pettite to a long-term contract and just a few weeks later, somehow they were able to talk Roger Clemens out of retirement, using his unnatural bond with Pettite as bait.

Though they only spent a few seasons together in New York, Pettite and Clemens became fast friends and now presumably carpool to the park together and are inseparable roomies on the road. Some have made unsubstantiated claims that the two picnic together in the outfield of Minute Maid Park on off days.

Whatever the case, their relationship is not that of the average teammate. One wonders how far Clemens would have traveled to be with Pettite. If Andy would have signed with the Seibu Lions, Clemens might well be fluent in Japanese at this point.

Don’t blame Roger, though. No one is immune to the bug.

While it’s still being investigated, there is a strong chance that I, myself, developed a man-crush on my baseball hero, Kirby Puckett, as a youth. My obsession with Kirby became a little questionable at times, I’ll admit. If Kirby’s bum eye wouldn’t have forced his retirement, I might be typing this in a game worn XXXL #34 Twins jersey.

I mean, who could fault me for liking Puckett. Did you ever see him hit? He was so graceful at the plate and so dynamic in the field. And that smile……

Relapses are common as well.


The Original is here.

Asians Part 2

So I got inspired by Single Guy's cool pic and decided to be a bit more forward with Asian guy... I had been sort of not been very talkative with him lately. To some extent, I have done so as to overwhelm him not with gay vibes.

I told myself---1. he's an undergrad (they're lost and confused... don't know what the hell they want) 2. he's asian and comes from a tight family (neither they nor he will be cool with breaking convention) 3. he has a fan club of girls (and guys) who think he's gorgeous, so he must have a girl friend.

So I did as any good stalker does and I checked his myspace account. Unlike every insecure male undergrad at my school--he did not include his orientation. Wierd. He's single--sort of wierd for a super hot, apparently traditionally and family oriented male. These findings didn't help one fucken bit. They only make my confusion worst.

Yesterday at the gym he came in briefly to do some shoulder work. So freagin hot... I ended up heading for one of the machines near the door right as he was going to leave out the door. As he turned towards the door, I saw that he was smirking to himself--but he didn't say hi. He's done this sort of thing before and it reminded me of something a couple of other guys whom I came to befriend at school did too. Mancrushing, confused, teasing, insecure, yet cocky and flirty boys--I hated them for it. Fuck no... not again. So I wrote him off.

Then I saw the above pic... and thought--what if he's different from the others? Or what if I've mis-reasoned something? Fuck not wanting to overwhelm with gay vibes. I'll be myself--and just not overwhelm him, but definitely let him know that if he were to be cool with it--I'd be all over him.

So today we're both at the gym again. And again he basically ignores me. I was about to write him off when I remembered that some of the guys I have been most into, I couldn't say a fucken word to and even went so far as to ignore b/c I was so damned scared. I was even rude to some of them. I still remembered the day I first spoke to Asian boy and his expression. So I made myself continue.

He was doing situps--fuck he looked good in sleeveless top. I started stretching next to him. He ignored me and seemed to be really concentrating on those sit ups. So I called out to him. He didn't respond. I did so again. And again. Finally, he stopped and turned around to look at me. I smiled and told him to keep going, so he did, and then I just asked him where he was from. He told me the list of cities in which he had lived. He had lived in my home state for a time. Then, I asked what country his family was from. Turns out one of my best friends is from the same asian country as his parents.

I said hello in their language. He responded back--but sort of serious. Then he smiled, and said that I spoke it well. I smiled, and said that my friend had worked hard at teaching me some of the language. Then I said thank you in his language. And he said, that's pretty good. I said--I at least wanted to know enough to order ... and then I named of the dishes of his country. He smiled.

He then said that he thought he had told me where he was from. He said he thought he had told me that he had lived in this city--which was close by to my home town. He looked sort of freaked. I couldn't tell exactly why... yet. Then he sort of got surprised/excited but was still scared and said... I think I told you this already. We talked about this and u told me where u from, he said. I looked at him quizically--we have??? Because we REALLY had not. I knew where he was from b/c I had checked myspace... but we hadn't had this conversation. Odd.

Then he asked me exactly from which part of the town I was from... I didn't like saying exactly the part of town I was from... so I just alluded to it. He understood me, and nodded, and said, its nice around there. I like it a lot. We got into a big conversation.

I said I missed it alot. He said he had been there this past summer. I said cool--where? and to do what?

He said he had friends at a nearby university, the one to which one of my bros was at. More commonalities... more nervous smiles.... more attempting to elongate the conversation.

He stood up mid-way through it all, but I was still stretching on the ground. His shoulders were SOOO wide, his delts so defined and round. When he spoke and moved his shoulder, his upper body would break into the separate muscle groups. He noticed that something was distracting me... but he didn't catch on to what exactly.

The conversation died down... we were both looking for more commonalities. We weren't good at just letting the conversation flow... and we were sort of in the middle of sets... we both tend to stretch or do ab work or something in between them.

I think he doesn't know what to do with me. He's attracted to me... but perhaps its a mancrush and nothing sexual at all. I hate those--they are the most fucken confusing ordeals of all time. I could fucken write a compendium of on situations.

It seems that some straight guys think I'm really cool--and for some stupid reason need me to say it to their faces that I DO MEN TOO. They have no gaydar to speak of and can't figure it out based on other clues that others find obviously indicative. I'm not a flamer--but I'm not totally undetectable either.

Still, I hope to continue getting to know this dude. I wanted to stop altogether with it b/c I didn't want to go end up in a friendship where I like him and he was straight.

I have to break the ice with him. Find a way to get him to be comfortable around me. Otherwise, shit will go like this for way too long. I'm excited though--thanks Single Guy for the cool pic.

Jonathan and Martha Kent

Everyone should have a Kent couple in life--those older-than-you perpetual pillars of morality and unconditional love.

I met mine during my first year in college. I randomly decided to go to a church and met them--he was the pastor and she was the pastor's wife. I'll call them Mr. and Mrs. Kent.

At first I didn't like them at all. They seemed too perfect and clearly thus hypocritical. But I got to know them a bit at a time, and I liked them better than the students of my school.

When I first heard that Mr. Kent had gone to school at a peer institution, I knew I had to get to know him. Schools like his and mine were known for breeding careerist, pre-professional assholes. You really aren't supposed to go such a school unless you are one. Moreover, if you are not one upon entering, you will likely become one by the time you leave.

However, Mr. Kent headed a small and by most standards an insigfnicant little church. He didn't seem to participate in the the status-whoring that went on amongst most alumni. The name of his school alone could carry him nearly anywhere he would have wanted to go in life. His perspective on life was definitely not conventional.

During my first conversation with him I realized he was brilliant. He grew up modest if not down-right poor and had truly earned his way into his alma mater. His work-ethic was unbelievable and he was in every sense of the word a recovering workaholic.

Like the Jonathan and Martha Kent of the comic-book series--this couple could also not bear children. Ironically, they instead headed a church adjacent to a college campus with many students away from home for the first time. The situation was a kind of ironic twist of fate. They were collegiate surrogate parents.

While the Kents are very conservative in many of their views, they are also very progressive in others. They don't necessarily fit a mold. As a result, the non-student congregation members eventually did not agree with them and they were dismissed.

They moved to a different and similar area by another college campus. But I kept in touch with them, and called them for a long while very often.

Eventually, I changed a great deal and I felt that my views were growing apart from theirs. Although I stopped calling them, they were scarcely out of my mind.

Rarely had I ever met people with such beautiful resignation. They accepted life as it came--they were not restless for something they did not have. They were so content and enjoyed life as it was. If a winter was rough and they didn't have too much money--they just somehow enjoyed what there was to enjoy about a winter. They undertook every season in that way. If they suffered a major disappointment in life, they just mourned it and then they would let it go--it didn't trouble them afterwards.

Mr. Kent pursued many intellectual endeavors regardless of whether they would bring him recognition or not. One of his projects may very well fundamentally change his field--however, he had been pursuing it before that became clear. His project picked up a great deal of attention the years following his dismissal from the church where I met him--however, his approach to his work remained the same.

I can't but admire that. I don't understand that. It is something beyond my present maturity. It is only something that I can hope for one day--to truly express selflessness. Not to emulate it or to attempt to artificially create it, but to truly be it.

I feel safer in loving them than I do most people, because they will not take love and misuse or abuse it. In that sense, they offer a sort of epitome of a home--a place where the ids and the egos of the world cannot enter to eat away at the good things of the heart.

I haven't called them in a very long time. But recently, I had a host of questions gnawing away at my mind and heart. So I began sending Mr. Kent these long e-mails. He responded to each of them in detail and at the necessary length. Few people have the patience or the dedication to follow my philosophy. Mr. Kent has a remarkably dexterous and uberly keen mind that can mince through my questions at a near instantaneous pace.

I couldn't have gotten more lucky.

Yesterday, amongst the many calls I placed was one at their home. They were however organizing a funeral (more irony) for someone who I thought was rather young to have passed away.

This morning Mr. Kent sent me an e-mail saying that he hoped we would speak soon. He added that Mrs. Kent somehow knew that I was going to call.

Selfish

I made a huge discovery today. I've been lonely for a long time. Much of my isolation has been intentional--and I thought that it was therefore okay.

Recently, I've even isolated myself from even my closest friends--including the few people whom I love the most.

Part of that has also been because my people have been going through rough shit. But today, in speaking again with the same sister from my last post, I made a huge realization.

She told me about a friend of hers. I sort of picked up the signals and said to her--he might commit suicide soon. My sister freaked out. I kinda freaked out too. But I couldn't help but say the truth. I spelled it out--the signs were compelling. She got really upset--really upset. We had a big discussion. Apparently she had been reluctant to call him recently. He brought up old issues in her with which she didn't want to deal. She still didn't want to deal and so still didn't want to call him.

She wrestled with herself. My mind couldn't get off the fact that this kid's life was at high risk. Many of those in my circle or in the circle of friends of this sister have died recently--some were suicides. Too many funeral have been recently attended. The memories are still fresh.

I said--okay, you're not at a point in life where you can call this kid up. I asked about their other mutual friends. She listed off reasons why many haven't called him recently. One reason stood out too me--all were selfish reasons, every single fucken one.

So I asked for some phone numbers and said I would try and figure something out. I said I knew that what I could do was clearly limited but that something needed to be done. She told me I couldn't just call people up and say this shit. I said I wouldn't but that my conscience compelled me to take some action or else I would feel wierd if something bad were to happen. We got off the phone.

I made the phone call. All turned out well, and I ended up talking to a friend I haven't spoken to in forever. To break the ice, I just asked--how are you? The experience was incredibly refreshing. I am ashamed to write this.

Suddenly, the realization dawned on me--why don't I just call up my many acquaintances and friends to say--how are you? I gnawed on that thought for a bit--straight through my workout. I realized that I just made excuses about not calling all of them but all of these excuses were basically regurgitated selfish reasons. Like--they offended me the last time I spoke to them. Or, they didn't express interest any more in this particular endeavor we once shared.

During my workout--the gorgeous Asian boy I wrote about here before showed up. I was in lust heaven and wanted to talk to him so badly. I did and also realized that he likes me too--while the sexual component has yet to be ascertained--he likes talking and running into me.

As I worked out, I started to plan out how I might befriend this guy, and eventually either date him or at least have a roll in the hay with him. Since talking to him last, I had gotten to know a great deal about him--a luxury when you go to a school with a relatively manageable population--background checks are almost automatic. He went to a high school and came from a family similar to mine. We shared some other important commonalities. The discrepancy in my previous thoughts to the gym experience was intense.

As I planned--I realized something about how I do relationships--self-interest. While self-interest is perhaps the rule for work and school related matters--I apparently had transported the rule to my personal life as well--utter evilness, incarnate.

I couldn't believe it. I did all the mental checks in my head--I was right on the money--I was a fucken selfish bastard. I only expressed interest in people who could meet some need of mine.

I went through my phone book on the spot and started randomly calling acquintances and friends. Many were shocked to hear from me--but didn't say so. I just said--how are you? And out rolled the stories of their lives. I didn't talk to much about myself--I made it a point.

Suddenly shit changed. It didn't matter if people were far away from me or if we didn't have some dumb professional reason to be around each other--caring for others was just a fucken good break from my utterly self-absorbed life. Still a selfish matter but in a selfless way.

I called all these random people up. It was great. And now I know how to be a better human being--avoid sheer self-interest. I'll call people just because and expect nothing in return.

To know All...

... is to Forgive All--said one great thinker.

I had a conversation with one of my sister's today. She's been out of sync with herself for a while. I sort of suspected it, but didn't realize how major her deal was.

I love my sister so much--she's like fucken extreme. Workaholic but when it comes to being--uberly chill.

She mentioned that she didn't have time to really live this past month and her workload just took a serious step up. She told me about how well her work is going and how she has some excellent new ideas that will blow away the competition. I told her to go for it.

But then, almost out of no where, she confessed that she is having random thoughts about the past on which she doesn't let herself dwell--b/c she just has too much to do. I just kept listening, and eventually the truth surfaced.

She feels guilty. Guilty about her actions with our parents.

I thought that yesterday's post was ironic. She said she didn't know when she would return to our family. As of now, she didn't think it would ever happen. But she couldn't get over it still.

I told her she would when she had forgiven--not just them, but herself. She wouldn't be able to forgive until she understood that they are in her and she is in them. She had to understand that we were one--b/c we are Human. She would forgive when she understood what our parents went through and why they did what they did. She would do so only when she understood herself enough to have mercy on herself and forgive herself. To face oneself honestly so as to know oneself honestly will eventually allow self-understanding and self-mercy. A disaster understood becomes a tragedy, which by definition breeds mercy.

She told me that a friend of hers was teasing her the other day because she didn't have a man. I said I lauded her for it. She asked why. I said because she didn't give into the pressure of having to have someone. She said it was just because no one could put up with her. I said it was because she refused to be fake. She said being fake is miserable. I said being real is miserable too. The only difference in the latter is that it gets you somewhere. Reality may hurt but it advances your existence. Falsity may make it temporarily palatable, but it'll never actually help you evolve.

She was silent. She said she couldn't talk about these things much longer and still do work tonight. I got annoyed, because I also wanted to talk about this. But, I have a lot to do too. Aren't distractions the best? He he... just kidding.

Unlikely Chatting Buddies

I've been talking more and more to my parents lately. I did not expect me doing so. I went through a serious phase of hating my parents, during which times I scarcely ever spoke to them. Somewhere along the way, I don't know why, I realized not only that they were human, but also how different their circumstances were from mine when they were my age. A huge gulf stood between them and me in terms of experience.

They're struggle was so hard, that I began to realize it kept them from ever being truly able to see past it. All their flaws I realized were just scars. They weren't problems, they were just overhealed peices of themselves. I admire them now greatly. In a single generation, both of my parents climbed from the bottom to the upper parts of society. However, nothing comes without its price.

Both of them have such extraordinarily strong personalities. They are both such extremes. They are both such opposites. I don't understand how they ever came together. Though opposites attract, a strong common ground is necessary to make the attraction feasible. It wasn't so for my parents.

Three things were certain--my father was brilliant, my mother was beautiful, and neither knew how to accept themselves. The battles my father fought in his career were later shown to be near impossible victories. Though the odds looked bleak at the time, with the evidence that surfaced later, his accomplishments seemed even more unlikely. But, my dad is an asshole. There is no doubt about it. He grew up being street-smart and had the hardest time growing out of it. He never knew when to let his gaurd down--prolly b/c after he was like 3 he figured he could not afford to do so.

I remember the first time my father opened up to me. It was at a random coffee shop in one of my favorite parts of the city. I was a vagabound running from my family and spending their money. My father, however, desperate to show his love and yet unable to speak its language, agreed to meet me there despite his tiredness and the long drive to get there.

We sat there and I don't know what came over him, but he started to tell me how he first dealt with the difficulties of being him. Men are taught never to complain and my father learned this lesson well. However, he wasn't still really complaining. He was just telling me how tough it was for him to make decisions that regardless of his choice would make large amounts of people's lives much more difficult. He told me how after those lose-lose situations he would lock himself in a room and find something to physically beat and destroy.

I never realized how tough real lose-lose situations were. But when he finished telling me, I realized I'd probably want to lock myself in a room too and do the same. It showed me that my father had a heart--he just often needed to burry it in order to get the job done. There was something different about my father that night too. He was humble. I could tell that the cocky attitude of being the shit was wearing off... he was getting older and starting to accept himself by default if not as a virtue of his personality.

It was at a different time--while having dinner at his favorite restaurant--when I realized that my father always felt the need to impress me. He was insecure--he didn't know just how crazy talented I thought he was and how intimidated I was by his past successes. I think because I learned from a young age never to let anyone believe that they have impressed you.

My mother was likewise cluelss about dealing with her self. She gave up her career shortly after we were born to raise the family. I think often--my mother's looks defined large parts of her life, but she didn't realize it. She was the only girl in her large family, and had always been a tom boy. She always got along better with guys. She hated women, and women often seemed to hate her. She had the personality that most guy's found appealing in a girl--however, not the personality of a girl that a guy would marry--and she was also beautiful.

Some of my earliest memories were of my mom being approached despite the fact that she was with her kid. It seemed that some people would freak-out over her. I remember this one guy just felt so compelled to say something to her. He was very large and just unbelievably taken by her. I remember the oddity of this large dude tied up in knots in telling her what he was thinking. I got scared. It was somehow disturbing... I guess there's a psychological explanation to it... It was just weird to be around when my mother was being sexualized by another man. I am surprised that her being with me did not deter him or others.

One of the most confusing memories was when my mom foresaw two guys trying to pick her up. We were at my favorite store but she abruptly wanted to leave. Then one of the guys offered to buy the toy with which I was playing. My mother got so upset, but tried to do so without giving away her suspicion--she was too timid. Two guys???

I remember the expression on the faces of these two guys. The knowing smiles they gave to her, and how disturbed she was by the whole scenario. I remember the duality that characertized their interactions with her. To this day, I don't understand how something like that could've happened. I think my mother exuded--helplessness. We left and I was upset. My mother was just not assertive in any way. I threw a temper tantrum while leaving. I don't think it was because I was forced to leave my favorite store. Instead, I was upset because I didn't know what was going on and I wanted someone to explain. I probably did know and was just deeply perturbed. We went home via a different route. Such things seemed to happen to my mom a good bit.

When I got older, these incidents stopped. Although on random occasions--people would comment. For some reason, people also didn't feel too comfortable saying it because they could tell my mother was awkward about it. I think I definitely inherited that part of her.

Today, with all the kids out of the house, she still gets approached despite the fact that she's not young anymore. Even at work, her coworkers--younger ones--fall for her in serious ways and she has to control the damage. Ridiculous considering her age.

I'm fascinated by what is good and evil, beautiful and ugly, and the process by which good/beauty are transformed into evil/ugliness and vice versa. I would call such a process--redemptive tragedy. My parents to me are quite an example of how their strengths or weaknesses could bring them good or evil. In the end, it has been their will to continue with life and to have faith in it that allows them to get past the tragedies and to reach redemption. I hope I can do the same.

Hotness

aesthete

aesthete  /ˈɛsθit or, especially Brit., ˈis-/ Pronunciation Key - [es-theet or, especially Brit., ees-]

noun

1. a person who has or professes to have refined sensitivity toward the beauties of art or nature.

2. a person who affects great love of art, music, poetry, etc., and indifference to practical matters.

es·thete (stht) - [Origin: 1880–85; <>aisthēts one who perceives, equiv. to aisthē- (var. s. of aisthánesthai to perceive) + -tēs n. suffix denoting agent]

noun

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.0.1)
Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.

aes·thete or es·thete (stht)

n.

1. One who cultivates an unusually high sensitivity to beauty, as in art or nature.

2. One whose pursuit and admiration of beauty is regarded as excessive or affected.

[Back-formation from aesthetic.]

Beauty

Beauty is a value associated with an innate and emotional perception of life's affirmative and meaningful aspects within objects in the perceived world – e.g. vitality, fertility, health, happiness, goodness, and love. Cognition of "beauty" involves the interpretation of objects as being in balance and harmony with nature, which in turn elicits a sense and experience of attraction, affection, and pleasure.

In its most profound sense, beauty is said to engender a salient experience of positive reflection with regard to the meaning of one's own being within natural life. An "object of beauty" may be anything that reveals or resonates with a personal meaning. Hence religious and moral teachings have often focused on the divinity and virtue of beauty, to assert natural beauty as an aspect of a spiritual beauty (e.g. truth) and to define all self-centered or materialistic pretensions as based in ignorance. The ancient story of Narcissus for example, deals with the distinction between recognizing beauty and falling into vanity. The presence of the self in any human context means that beauty is naturally tied to its human meaning, wherein human beauty is often the dominant aspect of a greater natural beauty. Otherwise, objects can be defined as belonging to any of various types, such as "artificial," or "intellectual" beauty.

In the modern context, the usage of beauty as means to promote an ideology or dogma has been a focus of societal debates which center around issues of prejudice, ethics, and human rights. The usage of beauty for purposes of commercialism is a controversial aspect of the "culture wars," wherein feminism typically claims such usage promotes a dogmatic (e.g. "The Beauty Myth") rather than a virtuous understanding of beauty. The literal opposite of beauty is ugliness – i.e. the perceived lack of beauty, which stimulates displeasure and engenders a deeper negative perception of the object.

Reaction: I sort of wonder why I haven't yet tired of superficiality. I remember dating a guy once just because he was incredibly beautiful. Three of my closest friends got fed up with me because I was so into him. He and I could scarcely hold a conversation. My friends said--you'll get bored of him soon enough.

We slept together for a while, and after a week of doing so, I remember waking to him in the morning brushing his teeth. His back and his ass were so incredibly beautiful and flawless. I simply thought-I don't think I would ever tire of this. I think I can do this for at least ten years. The relationship ended. However, not becaause I got bored of getting hard everytime I saw him.

When I was in preschool, the assignments would often consist of coloring-in some picture. I remember the first time I brought mine back. I was called by a few of the staff members to speak with them. I thought I was in trouble. They were upset because I had not done my own assignment. They said that I shouldn't have brought back a coloring done by my parents. I said I had done it. I told them my parents did not have time to color. After a little discussion, they realized I was not lying, and then they sort of just looked at each other and at my coloring quizically.

While aestheticism is apparently not easily tired, I know vanity is. I hope the latter wears out quick. Like in the above Wikipedia excerpt, they do seem to be in some way inimical.

My Roommate--the Casanova

I don't know how he does it. Its not like its a girl per week. He has several per week--and many on a consistent basis. Two days ago, he ended a three day streak with one. Last night, a different one showed up.

When I first moved in here, the first chick I saw was visiting him from out of state I had figured was his girlfriend. I saw them holding hands. After she left, he got somewhat upset and made clear to me that she wasn't his girlfriend. He had told me prior however that he did have A girlfriend.

He's a decent looking guy--but he's not like the BEST looking guy. Likewise, the girls are not knock-outs, but they aren't bad looking either. He also doesn't seem to be the most charming guy ever . Perhaps he is with them. I'm guessing he has a dick the size of my forearm or something.

Today he left on a trip with one of them. I have the place all to myself.

Asians

Man can they be so FUCKEN FINE! A new dude showed up at the gym this fall. He caught my attention b/c right away I noticed that he was rather tall--about 6ft, and had an insanely banging body.

Its not overly buffed out or anything like that. Its all about the proportions and just the way this guy is put together. He's a true mesomorph--except taller. All his muscle bellies are full yet elongated. He's got fucken doorwide shoulders and a big chest thats not overly done. Its big and large on his torso--but it reaches it best point on the upper half. Its fucken hot.

His arms look perfectly smooth and sculpted until he fucken lifts--they break out into striations. His skin is not generically pale--but a true ivory color--like cream of wheat. His waist, I still haven't been able to aproximate cuz it never shows up. His ass is there though and so is his shapely back, rear delts, and plump calves. His face is nothing special--its just masculine and cute. No overly pretty this or striking features there. Just a nice squarish jaw and bright eyes.

He has an innocent and troubled look as he paces the gym. He wears clothes that let you know he's a stud, but leaves plenty to the imagination--he's not a ho. But he's there everyday--EVERYday. I only know b/c I am too ;)

The first time I talked to him, I noticed the unexpected excitement in his smile. But, I didn't know if this guy plays on my team or what, so I just kept my cool and pretended to not notice and went with the flow. I just asked how many more sets he had. I figured out a way for both of us to do our excercise without having to change shit--he smiled big again. He's also always alone at the gym.

We've had small talk several times now. He's shy and doesn't know when its okay to talk to me. So I've taken the lead. He's 3yrs my jr and I don't know anyone who knows him.

I saw him again today but didn't think he had seen me. I thought I would sneak up on him behind and say hi. But just as I got within range, he whipped around and said hi--like he knew I was there.

I hate playing these stupid guessing games. He has that "otherness" to his smile whenever he sees me. Its a bit too intense for polite or friendly small talk--regardless of how agreeable the other person is. I don't know what it is... I just know its not typical. Maybe he just wants to be friends, or maybe he wants to know what's behind my chatiness. I think its obvious. I VERY rarely talk to people at the gym, and I noticeably make exceptions for him.

I seem to always nab the confused ones with girlfriends. Prolly cuz I blare confused myself. Maybe it'll be possible for me this time to help someone out of the confusion and help myself too. My biggest fear is that something will go sour with someone I will likely have to see very often.

Zeus Part 2

I've been rather shy around him, and unfortunately so has he. I think socially awkward epitomizes people at my university. I still workout there since my job is not too far away. I may have to go elsewhere though.

I had not seen him for a while oddly enough and I was starting to warm up to the idea of just approaching him when I heard through a friend that he is actually dating the deaf girl. I just about fell over on my chair when I heard that most unexpected news.

We're both sort of overly focused when we get into the gym. Rarely do we walk around as if we're not barreling towards some destination, and our headphones are an extension of our ears. Still, that's never kept anyone from approaching each other.

Unlike me, he's very social. He downright popular. He talks to pretty much everyone. I don't know how exactly b/c like I said he's always doing something. However, I have noticed that he likes to randomly coach people through exercises.

A couple days ago, I was doing calf raises. He stood right next to me. I couldn't tell if he just staring at me, but his face was pointed right at me. No one else was around us. He stood there for a very long time. But I had to do both feet and it was for reps. I was sort of nervous. The girlfriend information really tripped me up. I guess its retarded--I have no clue what he wants. I only know that he seems to be curious about me.

I walked away, and then so did he. He went and asked someone to spot him--for squats.

The Jolie

So I’ve had an obsession with Ms. Jolie, for quite a while, ever since I heard her speak about her experience in Cambodia on the Tonite Show. I remember my first reaction to the third-world—it took me four years to digest and recover from the shock. She was the first person I had ever really heard put the whole thing in such quotidian terms. I knew exactly where she came from and I could sense the troubled-ness in her voice—the perturbed words that betrays the conscience of a first-worlder who has palpably encountered the reality of the other 95%. Despite this nuance in her speech, her intensity in speaking of modes of helping also gave me hope—that there was a way to reconcile these divergent truths. That standing and transcending two worlds was possible without going nuts… at least totally ;)

Plus, she comes from a fucked up family that many, at first glance, might have erroneously envied. She’s beautiful—but somewhat unconventional. Her look can be—pretty, innocent, intense, and erotic, often simultaneously. When I see her, I can’t just be enraptured by the elegance of her features. She’s just got too much going on there.

And of course, she’s nastee-ay. Whether she’s wearing her little Princess of Peace headdresses, or sporting barely anything in a print spread, she’s out there—being her dialectical self. She survived the ride, and now enjoys the thrills of reconciling herself to herself.

Here are some of my favorite sayings attributed to her.

“You call this a life? Taking daddy's money. Buying your dollies & your nick nacks. And eating his fucking chicken. Fattening up like a prize fucking heifer. You changed the scenery, but not the fucking situation. And the warden makes house calls. AND everybody knows -- *EVERYBODY* knows --that he fucks you. What they DON'T know is that you like it.”

à This scenario could have been the situation of my career.

“There is just too many buttons in the world just begging to be pressed, just begging to be pressed, and it makes me wonder, you know; it makes me fucking wonder, why doesn't any one press mine, why am I so neglected, why doesn't any one reach in and rip out the truth and tell me, that I am a fucking whore or that my parents wished that I were dead!!!”

à I call it a desire for reality / truth. Those who don’t have this—I just don’t get.

“Razors pain you, rivers are damp, acid stains you, drugs cause cramps, guns

aren’t lawful, nooses give, gas smells awful, you might as well live!”

à been there

“And barefoot or first thing in the morning, I feel beautiful. Because I feel like me. I didn't always feel that way, but I feel that way now. When somebody just loves you, and when you make somebody happy, when your presence seems to make them happy, you suddenly feel like the most beautiful person in the world.”

à I think I've come close to this. But then I shit a brick. I get scared to believe it.

“I felt beautiful when I was in Cambodia [for Tomb Raider]. I was sweaty, and my hair was matted and all over the place. And I was happy and hot and accomplishing a lot and running around, and I could feel my heart beating, and I felt beautiful.”

à this is me in the morning, doing laps up a steep hill in the dark.

“I'm extremely honest, and I pride myself on it. I don't try to be shocking. I'm playful, and I know when something I'm saying is maybe shocking, but it's just the truth, I never wanted to be scary to people or upsetting to people. I simply want to live the way I need to live.”

à I’ve tried before and gotten it wrong… I not only shocked but traumatized some folks this way. I'm trying out a new style…

“Honestly, I like everything, boyish girls, girlish boys, the heavy and the skinny. Which is a problem when I'm walking down the street.”

à aah the mystery of bi-ness

“I always play women I would date.”

à I try to adopt the image of men & women I would date.

“I am odd-looking. I sometimes think I look like a funny Muppet.”

à not exactly a muppet, but often I don’t get what others see.

“I like someone who is a little crazy but coming from a good place. I think scars are sexy because it means you made a mistake that led to a mess.”

à I'm not here yet, b/c I still hide my scars. Unfortunately, they may comprise a significant part of me. I think Jesus would agree with this one too, because he kept his scars.

“I like to hide behind the characters I play. Despite the public perception, I am a very private person who has a hard time with the fame thing.”

à I hide behind the image I put forth.

“I need more sex, OK? Before I die I wanna taste everyone in the world.”

à J

“I never like being touched, ever. People used to say I held my breath when they were hugging me. I still do.”

à one of the few dudes I ever dated got so freaked out the first time we were in bed because of this reaction.

“I seem to be getting a lot of things pushed my way that are strong women. It's like people see Hackers and they send me offers to play tough women with guns, the kind who wear no bra and a little tank top. I'd like to play strong women who are also very feminine.”

à People don’t get my gender.

“If I didn't have my films as an outlet for all the different sides of me, I would probably be locked up.”

à I like to think of it as being Multidimensional… lol.

“If I make a fool of myself, who cares? I'm not frightened by anyone's perception of me.”

à I’m just afraid of my own shadow.

“If I think more about death than some other people, it is probably because I love life more than they do.”

à My old fag hag and I used to joke about sunning at a cemetery—in black of course.

“If you have enough people sitting around telling you you're wonderful, then you start believing you're fabulous, then someone tells you you stink and you believe that too!”

“Oh, God, I struggle with low self-esteem all the time! I think everyone does. I have so much wrong with me, it's unbelievable!”

“There's something about death that is comforting. The thought that you could die tomorrow frees you to appreciate your life now.”

“Without pain, there would be no suffering, without suffering we would never learn from our mistakes. To make it right, pain and suffering is the key to all windows, without it, there is no way of life.”

à M. Teresa said, “Suffering is a gift from God.” I’m totally on board with that one. The dude I first loved also was on board with this one. He told me about this quote.

“We come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly... Only after we have lost everything, are we free to do anything... Throw things out there and not be perfect and not have answers to anything and see if people understand”

“You're young, you're drunk, you're in bed, you have knives; shit happens!”

“What nourishes me also destroys me.”

à don't get this one yet, but it makes sense somewhere inside of me... something has to keep the cycle moving.

“I make it a point not to buy certain magazines, not because I am against tabloids or things like that, but I want to fill my mind with valid issues in the world. I'd like there to be less refugees. I'd like all girls to go to school. That's what we need to be thinking about, and working on making our own families good and strong and our own kids happy. Not to cloud our minds with things that don’t matter.”

Today show interview, June 8, 2005

à now a days, I realize I can create my own reality. If I choose what to hear, see, and do, it works out… for the most part.

"In countries where people have to flee their homes because of persecution and violence, political solutions must be found, peace and tolerance restored, so that refugees can return home. In my experience, going home is the deepest wish of most refugees."

BBC News interview, Apr. 8, 2004

à About a third of my family is comprised of refugees… I feel the weight of that history around them. Every other is every other. American individualism is often a fallacy. De Tocqueville—wrote a lot about this issue.

Work

Its so different from school. Duh, but I just had to write about it at some point. I got the job I wanted. I got lucky coming out of school. In retrospect, school was a joke—getting your bills paid to learn??? That IS funny.

I interviewed for two different positions at the same firm. Apparently they liked me so much that they had a little debate over me for a while. They settled on what sounded like the impossible—splitting me up. Unfortunately, I’ve had to go through double the training for both positions as if I were holding each of them down alone.

Its funny that in one part of my job—its mostly females—and for the other—its mostly males. I guess I’m bi in more ways than one. I essentially bridge two parts of market research. The touchy feely side that deals with more of the qualitative shit and the quant shit stuff.

The fuzzy stuff was cool. The techy stuff has been amazing. During my first week I had to give a presentation to an audience of three PhD’s. Hearing them speak makes science fiction jargon sound retarded. They use calc-based statistics and when they talk, I truly get an understanding of the term “think-tank”.

I was a little overwhelmed as I sort of got hired for a position that usually requires added education or experience. Thus far, I’ve learned that:

1—any and nearly all information is out there in the world. You just have to look for it. There is research on every topic. It is just usually never seen or published for everyone’s eyes. If you extend this principle beyond the private sphere, the whole situation gets rather daunting.

2—selling is beyond a science or an art. The information out there can be used for anything and everything. With the right analysis, you can pinpoint where a group of people are and where they will be in the future. You can profile them extraordinarily well and tailor stuff accordingly. Its mind boggling.

On the upside, this information can largely be used for upstanding purposes. In fact, with proper institutional incentives—it can make public stuff work a thousand times better. It is sort of a conundrum then why at times such a transfer of information does not occur.

Kitty Kat Faces and Puffy Lips

I have a penchant for disproportionately large lips. I think they make the world go round. Fun piece of information--lips are not fat; they are a muscles. Hehe.

Glasses! Part 2

Holy shit—the glasses worked!

I just finished my first meeting with the hens (older domineering women)—and it went great!

The glasses totally did the trick. I didn’t get a single problematic look. Yea—so one of them still gave me the funny grin and smile as she just stared at my face—but there was no fear in it. It was fantastic.

I went out of my way too to look for a pair that were large and that made me look not just intellectual but also innocent. I wasn’t going for the whole sexy angular look. I was looking for something that blared—socially awkward.

Even one of my female coworkers acted different—less aggressive and more sensitive. Shit—glasses make people be nice.

In addition, they changed how I acted. My smile went from confident to self-effacing and demure. I didn’t put my elbows up on the table. I moved my shoulders forward to avoid my chest sticking out. And it even seemed like people cared less that I was taller than they.

They were so fucken cheap too—about 20 bones.

I’d thought about glasses before but I just can’t believe it took a serious job situation to make me go out and buy them—I may even fucken wear them to the gym!

Love This

Star Fucker

"Temptation is a mother
Our lust for one another
We barely know each other

His moves were so erotic
His gaze was so hypnotic
I begged this guy to stop it

You've got, you've got, you got,
what it takes to make me leave my man

It's hard to control myself
It's hard to control myself

You've got, you've got, you got
What it takes to make this boy be bad

You've got, you've got, you got,
What it takes to make me leave my man

Zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz zz"

"Control Myself" LJ Cool & Jennifer Lopez

Glasses!

I’m so fucken excited—tomorrow morning I’m getting my first ever set of glasses! I don’t need them for the sake of my vision, but for other equally compelling reasons.

Tomorrow I start work on a job assignment that will take up about 25% of my time. Though it will only last for two-three months, I will have to work closely with a bunch of women—usually equal or greater than me in rank.

Most of them will be unattractive, a bit disgruntled, and pride themselves on their intellectuality. This situation of course spells trouble as it has in the past. Athletic, attractive, and god-forbid intelligent men are known for being assholes—especially to this subset of the demographic.

Now, I wouldn’t have a problem if these women could figure out somehow that I was gay and not a threat. However, I have to act professional—aka, straight—and often many women cannot seem to tell that I veer left anyways.

None of this course would be a problem if more women were in powerful positions in society. Women would be more accustomed to dealing with such men in inferior positions. However, society generally deals the contrary hand. As such, when women are in charge of men like me, if I were to so much as sneeze and perceive that I look down on them in any way—I’m in for it. Likely, because I’m new, they will quickly also know where I went to school—which will cast me as the annoying typical spoiled brat who’s always gotten their way.

Its happened in the past and its not been a pretty sight. So tomorrow I’m going Dork, Geek, REJECT! I get my glasses tomorrow morning. I’m disheveling my hair and wearing the least clingy over-sized business shirt I could dig up, unflattering trousers, and Ronald McDonald-like shoes. To top it all off, I’m adding the large, clunky, obfuscating, bottle-bottom glasses.

When I open my mouth and at some point involuntarily give away my verbal acuity, it will no longer come from some annoying ass—but instead from some geeky dork who has probably undergone rejection in his life as well.

See, it’s sort of hard to cover things up without glasses because few things speak of the opposite of the stereotype like glasses do. Business attire makes it hard to cover up an athletic body. Shirts have to be tucked in and unless I want to look like a guy who cannot properly fit his clothes—generally, business clothes means that when the suit comes off—they know what you like.

Likewise, hair can also only dissimulate so much. Yes—there are two ways to shaggify. If one has soft features, general dishevelment will do. In the case of pronounced features, you may not be able to fully mask the underlying facial symmetry, but you can effectively limit its immediate effect, i.e. comb the hair asymmetrically along one of the important lines on the face-head such as the cheekbone to temple line or the eye-to cheek-bone line, and with longer hair along the sides, even the jaw to temple line. The key is LOPSIDEDNESS. This is harder to pull off in professional settings—hence the glasses.

Of course, the alternative way to shaggify is the tossled look that makes you look fly, does not refrain the intrusive effect of striking features, and if you’re not in the right social context, just blares—“I know what I’m doing.”

I’m excited. A friend said to me that I don’t need glasses if I can just learn to make people feel respected. I said that generally for some people that’s an uphill battle. While some people struggle to gain respect, others struggle to not be overly intimidating or threatening. It’s reality. I just have to work with it.

Zeus

I would call him Hercules except that he is buff among the buff. In writing about humility, I used him as an example—the guy who adjusted the cable machine for me. So I’ll refer to him as Zeus—the king of the gods.

He is that really really ridiculously big guy that every gym seems to have. He is that one who stands out because he is just by far the largest guy—by like a lot. He is impossible to miss because he is not just hugely broad, but also very tall. Until recently, I just dismissed the dude completely. I thought he was stuck up because he moved about the gym with particular decisiveness, rarely acknowledging anyone else. Ironically, that also describes me.

However, my attitude eventually changed after a few interesting encounters. The first was when he wore a very skimpy tank top, which at certain points during his work out would easily ride up exposing his stomach. Most guys his size are defined at best. Many are on the verge of being powerlifter types—with all their muscle submerged in blubber. However, when this guy wore this top, I realized that he did nto fit this stereotype in the least.

HOLY SHIT—this dude was quite literally ripped to the bone. He didn’t have a 6 pac, but an 8pac and very likely a 10pac complete with deeply chiseled obloquies. I was floored by what I saw. The dude is at least fifty pounds heavier than me, and also more ripped than me. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it right. He had my respect in that department.

The second encounter is sort of odd. As might be typical, this guy often talks and works in with the other largest guys in the gym. However, he does hang out with one interesting girl. This girl caught my attention first because she’s really really hot. She’s on the track team, has a very curvy body, and she’s deaf. She can read lips so she does not need people to sign for her, however, her speech of course sounds differently.

Watching the two is for some reason endearing because the big guy loses his grimace that he wears when he’s heaving the weights and might at times almost smile. He does smile of course and laughs with his buddies. But when he’s with her, he appears more sensitive. I have always thought these two were an item. However, I started to notice that they did not affectionately touch each other, bringing into question my assumption.

The third encounter was interesting because this guy often walks around in a scowl. He did so to such a degree that 1—seldom could his facial features be actually assessed and 2—seldom would I even have the thought to actually look at his face directly for fear that I would be discovered in the act of “checking him out” and pulverized into the ground. The guy’s voice is also a low bellow. In short, he is completely unapproachable and for a gay dude like me—a major danger.

This one time however, we were passing each other and although I never wanted to be caught randomly looking at the guy, I also did not want to demonstrate fear at looking at him when the occasion might call for it. I didn’t look away. We looked at each other and nodded. Again, I was surprised by what I saw. The guy had a hot face. His eyes were pretty. Deeply set behind naturally arched eyebrows, his almond-shaped orbs were a light mocha color.

I was like whoa—the dude is very genetically blessed.

Still of course I just dismissed him. I thought about one day just telling him that he was quite an athlete, but I figured he would see right through that, and take it as a come on, and then pulverize me. So I just continued the usual ordeal.

Another event that changed my perspective was one time when I lost my cell phone. He was at the gym and as is rare for him, actually sitting down and still for a second. I was rather worried about my phone and cast aside any shyness and simply asked him if he had seen it. He was at first gruff but then he sort of got this scared look on his face and said that if he did see it, he would make sure to tell me and that he hoped that I found it soon. I found the sudden turn in his expression curious.

I was however genuinely touched by his secondary response and so I just let the smile within me surface and I said thanks. I did not expect that reaction from him. I realize—I might have just been falling for the dude and reading waaaay too much into it. That very likely might be the case.

The next event that changed my perspective was the whole cable incident. He not only seemed humble in doing so—but dare I say he seemed almost eager to do a nice favor. The humility part struck me as awesomely cool—but the near-eagerness—that didn’t fit with humility so much. I got the feeling that something might be beneath that.

The next event that changed my outlook was me getting the feeling one day at the gym that he was watching me from afar. I—and most others—at the gym look into the distance as a way to move about casually without inadvertently looking we’re hitting on the people immediately around us. I can let my eyes wander safely as long as the points of vision are far enough into the distance to allay any sexual fears. He was doing the same. However, I still got the feeling that he was watching me.

I have figured out how to tell when someone is staring discretely at me from a far. Usually, they scan the room in various ways with one consistency—I am always at the mid-point of their scan. So, I changed my pattern of “staring off into the distance” to sort of watch him too. I seemed to find him looking in my direction often. Still, this too could also be a coincidence.

I have been known to be rude at the gym because when people say hi to me, I will either ignore them or acknowledge them only that one time and then never again. However, I figured that since he was nice enough to acknowledge me more than once, I should introduce myself.

So, today he was there and I got the same feeling about being watched by him. Usually, if I pace I will do it in a predictable and uniform way after each set—so that again, no one gets the wrong idea. Interestingly enough—he was within a few minutes in my path. So as I started to my pacing, I looked like I was approaching him.

At first, I was like—oh shit. But then I saw that he reach for his earphones and removed them. I realized he was giving me the go-ahead. So instead of just pacing—I broke with my pattern and began to walk right up to him. His attention went from being directed in my general vicinity to suddenly locking right into my eyes. I didn’t break from looking at him. For a moment, I could tell he also thought—oh shit—but it was only for an instant. Finally, I smiled and immediately he did too. Our smiles were far too broad for a first casual encounter. The knowledge of the added dimension to our greeting was palpably obvious.

I cordially extended my hand and he reached out, shook it, but squeezed way too hard. My grip collapsed instantly and the pain was immediately on my face. But before my whole body would begin to bend, he loosened his grip and looked at my hand with confusion but then quickly looked up at me with an innocent grin. He was giddy, nervous, and flirty—all at the same time. It was not hard to read what was on his mind.

I said, “Hi…” and then my name. He reciprocated in the same way. We smiled knowingly at each other and then I moved on. I didn’t have anything to talk about. But he didn’t seem to disturbed by my brusque ending. I gather he wasn’t feeling all that eloquent either.

I’m deathly scared that I will fuck this up. The dude seems to be quite a package—hot and with a personality that seems to match his body—in all likelihood better than me on both counts. I don’t want to fucken scare him away like I did cute boy. I’m scared that I am going to fuck this up because I AM INSECURE. I need to really put my previous lessons into practice.