Reputation?

Since I will be going to grad school soon, I decided to join the email list of the LGBT group for that field at my old school so I could hear about events in my neck of the woods.

My thoughts are--I can be abreast of cool speakers, get used to the fact of being out, and perhaps meet interesting people, etc.

They knew I wasn't a current student--but they were cool with adding me to their list.

They're hosting a catered event and asked for an RSVP. I intended to go to this workshop but knew I wouldn't be eating. So I e-mail she who sent the inital message--the secretary.

Within the hour, I get a reply back from the organization's prez telling me that it's great that I am coming, and am more than welcomed to attend, and that he looks forward to finally meeting me.

What the fuck?!?

Who the hell is this guy?

After a brief but thorough internet background check I conclude I've never met this guy or seen this guy. He's attractive so I think I would've noticed.

"Finally"--this implies foreknowledge. The control freak is officially freaked. I can't know how this person knows me. Who knows what he expects. So much for trying to blend in and being the potflower on the shelf wall. Whooooopeeee...

Love, the Idea

None of my friends seem to conceive of love as a principle--or an idea. For most its only about a relationship.

So I have been unable to really talk to them about it recently. They get bored of me.

Is a relationship necessary to qualify love?

One friend says no but that a relationship is necessary for fulfillment if that is indeed the ultimate desire.

Fuck.

Commitment

I love these lyrics... I've totaly felt them in the past.  Trying to convince someone and often times oneself that you indeed mean business.  I wish I could pick to what I desire to commit myself.  What I should commit myself too, I don't, and vice versa.

Rick Astley

Never Gonna Give You Up

We're no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do I
A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
You wouldn't get this from any other guy

I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand

CHORUS:
Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

We've known each other for so long
Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it
Inside we both know what's been going on
We know the game and we're gonna play it

And if you ask me how I'm feeling
Don't tell me you're too blind to see

CHORUS
CHORUS

(Ooh give you up)
(Ooh give you up)
(Ooh) never gonna give, never gonna give (give you up)
(Ooh) never gonna give, never gonna give (give you up)

We've known each other for so long
Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it
Inside we both know what's been going on
We know the game and we're gonna play it

I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand

CHORUS

rtist:	Whitney Houston
Song:	How Will I Know
Album:

There's a boy I know
He's the one I dream of
Looks into my eyes
Takes me to the clouds above
Ooh, I lose control
Can't seem to get enough
When I wake from dreaming
Tell me, is it really love?

Ooh, how will I know?
(Don't trust your feelings)
How will I know?
How will I know?
(Love can be deceiving)
How will I know?

(Chorus:)
How will I know if he really loves me?
I say a prayer with ev'ry heartbeat
I fall in love whenever we meet
I'm asking you 'cause you know about these things
How will I know if he's thinking of me?
I've tried the phone, but I'm too shy (can't speak)
Falling in love is so bittersweet
This love is strong; why do I feel weak?

Oh, wake me; I'm sinking
Wish I had you near me now
Say there's no mistaking
What I feel is really love

Ooh, tell me, how will I know?
(Don't trust your feelings)
How will I know?
How will I know?
(Love can be deceiving)
How will I know?

(Repeat chorus)

If he loves me
If he loves me not
Mmm, if he loves me
Ooh, if he loves me not
Hey, if he loves me
If he loves me not

Oh, how will I know?
How will I know?
How will I know?
Hey, how will I know?

(Repeat chorus)

How will I know?
How will I know?...

Insecurities

We all have them, but often are so reluctant to discuss them. They are like sensitive scabs that never seem to fully heal. They're just temporarily shut wounds. Long term solutions for these issues are hard to obtain. I refer not to those little insecurities but to those deep seated ones. Those pushed to the back of the mind such that they rarely consciously come up to disturb daily equinimity.

I've rarely met anyone who can hold these insecurities in their consciousness for long periods of time without being a little "off". If they can, they tend to be akin to Jolie's character in Girl Interrupted--already dead and able to walk with their wounds fully unhealed--haha--like mummies. Walking dead folk who have no problems interrupting the lives of the living. You can't hurt them because they feel nothing.

This whole fucken week has been about insecurities. Asian man acted like an asshole all over a fucken acne breakout--how freakin high school. How freakin wierd--who the hell is over 25 and still has acne issues other than cameron diaz?

I've been pretty sheltered in terms of looks--very few are overweight and few let details like skin be a problem. People around me are usually just bummed out about not being hot. Still, I offered Asian man a facial, was very authentically understanding about the ordeal, and let him know that indeed--everyone has been there, if not many, at least once before. I put it nicely, and I worked hard to allay his fears.

He's a cute guy--not because his skin is incredible but because he just has the bone structure for it. Didn't work. He avoided me this weekened pulling some awful excuse proving that he can't lie well. I still saw him briefly--I didn't think his acne was THAT bad.

A friend of mine had wild sex with her super-rich boyfriend this past weekend. He finally got her to do some more substance with her. With a few more pharmaceuticals added to their cocktails, they were able to fuck well until dawn. He went down on her seven times. All is good for her for a while.

She curiously mentioned that in the 2+ years they've been together and fucking--he's never taken his shirt off in front of her with the turned-on lights. Finally, she said to him--I've noticed that... blah blah blah... you don't have to worry about this around me--it's not a big deal for me. He's not in shape, but it takes no feat of the imagination to know what he must look like. So he's out of shape, big whoop. He's not dating a guy--so it can't matter that much.

He finally did, and she finally got through to him that she really didn't care. Much props to her for succeeding. He admitted that his fear was based on his acne scars on his back. Holy shit--how retarded. Beyond just saying--exfoliate or try this awesome spa treatment--it couldn't have been really bad. Perhaps I speak out of ignorance, but the real meat of the lesson came when she realized that early on in their relationship she had offered him a back rub which he declined for unknown yet compelling reasons. She realized--this must have been the reason--and not what she thought at the time. Had she been self-centered about interpreting the situation, she might have been offended at the time.

The hot bartender whom I ended up dating for a little while had this very odd insecurity about his legs. The dude was flawlessly shaped. Incredible ass, hips, abs--the whole v-shape cuts--the incredibly tight lower ab section with the awesome belly-button in addition to the perfect shoulders, neck, to chest & rib-cage ratio. The lenght of his arms were even perfect. He had what I've since learned is called a "low-slung" ass. His ass was perfect. But because his torso was long, his legs were not as usually long as they might be on non-mesopmorphs--at least in proportion. He took this to mean that his legs were underdeveloped. They were not. They were not huge but they were muscled, and toned enough to tell apart the muscle groups.

So he kept taking up random sports to develop his legs. I didn't see the point. For some reason he really liked my ass and legs.

One day, he told me how playing tennis for like 10 minutes had left him sore. I laughed derisively--I had not intended it to be so bad. It's just that the situation didn't make sense to me, and his facial expression was hilarious to me. How could he be so seriously distraught over his legs and over soreness from 10 mins on the court? He really did look distraught, and that made me laugh. At the time, I did not understand that his feeling(s) were not about the 10mins, or about his legs really, but likely something else.

I looked up at him, and I saw actual real pain on his face in reaction to my sharp snicker. I was freaked. I didn't expect to see such a serious emotion on his rostrum. He looked down, and I could tell this had been a major and real insecurity for him. The pained look only faded as he worked to bury it beyond the realm of physical expression.

I rubbed his shoulder (making me hard) and tried to tell him that it wasn't that big a deal. But no attempt would likely equal the sharp tinge of derision that must have come through in my laugh. I don't know what it was about my laugh, but it got to him, and I knew I couldn't do enough damage control in the moment.

I told a friend about a recent conversation with Asian Boy, and she noted reflexively that often he doesn't know what to say. He sucks at making conversation. I also went over many of the odd comments that seemed to make shit awkward which I kept interpretting to mean that he didn't like me. But after mulling them over in the background while cleaning my room, I noticed patterns, and I began to uncover the inseucrities that are consistent in his behavior. Without conscious effort, the pattern of his awkwardness regarding a specific theme came to me like an epiphany. It all made sense. The motivation, the situation, the effort, the expression--it just clicked and seemed like child's play. I just couldn't see it at the time because I was obsessed with him liking me.

Now, my "re"-intrepretation could easily be understood to be an eloquent way of making excuses for him not liking me, but several key moments when his experssions were sharp and defensive that I did not forget, lead me to believe that the insecurities I have picked out are not imagined and are quite intense.

Today, I decided to drop my attitude of trying to be aloof around him. He freaked out at first, got cocky at first, but then seemed grateful. His first comment to me was, "how long have you been here?"

To me the comment seems retarded, but my friend actually had predicted that he would make such a comment precisely because he's clueless about making casual conversation into meaningful conversation. The list of comments and the analysis would be retarded for this blog.

I leared the same lesson about insecurities tonight when I tried having a conversation about a topic that only the very wealthy would know. This friend comes from a not-so well-off background. I didn't think about it at the time. I was just fascinated by the discovery I had made via another experience. She abruptly got off the phone. It didn't hit me until several hours later.

I'm not sensitive enough to people's insecurities. I have to learn. I can forgive AB when I realize these things. Still, no assurances, no hopes for anything are enough to drive me through any of this. The motivation must be separate.

PS:
I had a two-part childhood. One in which I was isolated and told I was the shit, and one in which I was hated on consistently. I recall as a young kid noting what my parents lied to themselves about and how that affected their behavior towards me and the comments they made to me. I of course noted the lies they told me, especially those about myself. The duplicitous and dichotomous nature of this experience forced me to look in a very hard way at some of my deepest insecurities.

Some insecurities could be resolved and others could not. I either grew scars as thick as cables or employed some pretty intense compensatory measures to survive. In a sesnse, I became disconnected with the reality of these particular insecurities. I could look at them as if looking through transparent titanium--very clearly but with no emotion and protected from the temperature of the emotions they emmitted.

In this sense, I have been like my parents.

Time Capsules

do you ever wish you could write letters to the person you were crushing on at the moment? just because i know the chances of me being able to say what i wanted to him now would not be realistic, but nonetheless, what i have to say is still so worthwhile.

i remember the night i went out with the one dude with whom i fell in love. we were out in paris and he took me to his favorite restaurant. it was dark and candle lit. it was relatively quiet, and the tables were oddly enough spaced far apart.

his face is angelic. his cheeks are the most amazingly shaped and chiseled i have ever seen. his eyes are huge and orb like. he looked at me with his large angel eyes and told me, about everything he believed in and what his future goals were--not about careers or other non-sense but about how he expected to be happy. beyond specifics and more about the soul and what regardless of how things turned out, what the underlying blueprint for it all was.

i was shocked. not because we were having the conversation, but because i had literally thought all of this the first time we looked into each other's eyes for a prolonged period of time. i had seen all of that--in there, in his eyes. i somehow knew ALL of it. no articulation was necesary. none at all.

after that dinner. i said to him, you won't believe this. what? he asked. i replied, but i saw all of this in you 2 1/2 years ago. he got sort of perturbed looked away, and then sort of refused to want to understand what i had just said--or thought it was crazy and stupid.

today, i think a lot about Asian Boy... and i think about his incredible insecurities. today at the gym, he snarled at me. he's come close to it once or twice before, and it's usually about something i later come to figure he's very insecure.

i wish i could speak to all the insecurities in him--and quell them somehow. i'll try that in a subsequent post.

Confessions of an Asshole

I've been making this realization gradually over a long period of time. Ironically my father was the first to point it out to me, after a dinner with his colleagues. I thought my dad was going to be an asshole about calling me an asshole--but he wasn't.

He said I was just more insecure than I could admit to myself and that my reaction or way of responding to this problem was by convincing myself and needing to convince others that I am better than everyone else. Part of this problem is that succeeding does not solve anything.

For the most part, this reaction is subtle. It's in the way I look at people. Other issues are wrapped up in that look. But the arrogance is there. It makes people incredibly defensive before I even open my mouth.

I want to justify my habit on end. But really I can't. I would like to thoroughly examine it--however, I'd want to justify to myself right away. Hmm... what to do when critical self reflection is necessary.... I wonder if a 3rd party is strictly necessary.

Dismissal

Its been a dismal time with Asian Boy ever since the airport incident. I keep wanting to dismiss him--viz. not feel anything for him. The whole thing is illogical and not worth while.

I couldn't put this whole stupid thing out of my mind and I kept pestering myself as to why I was keeping him in my mind. Then the most obvious answer struck me--I know he's sweet or perhaps a different way of saying it is human. Sounds like the fucken excuse of every stupid woman in the book.

When his gaurd goes down, like on the night I picked him up for dinner and at other random moments in the gym--I see the kid in him--the innocence--timbre emotion--transparent humanity.

I remember this friend I've written about before here--she's the one who compared my mode of looking for a significant other to looking for shit in a tiffany's box. She asked--would you rather have tiffany's jewelry wrapped in a paper bag, or shit in a tiffany's box?

I replied--I want my jewel in its tiffany's box. She responded, well, then you're limiting yourself to a very small portion of the population. She then posed a serious question--do you think you have something to offer other than your appearance?

The question stumped me, for a fucken long ass while. I don't consider intelligence, exposure, or other gifts to be "profound". They are still just form and not content.

She looked at me with a smile that I could only say was tentative. She wasn't smiling because she thought she had the answer already. She was smiling because she realized she had really stumped me.

Finally, I said--Yes. I think I do.

Likely, the firmness of my answer was what startled her. She perhaps expected dissembling excuses. Her consternation was broken by her staring into me and saying lightly, yea, you do. She looked away after that moment.

She said that I acted like an asshole and a jerk almost non-stop, but that all of it was just a front. I wasn't like that really--but what perplexed her was the logic behind this behavior. The story for that was too involved--but she eventually got it out of me.

I think the same of AB. Pretty fucken ridiculous.

I saw him at the gym tonight. I got in early, and left a little later than I expected. He got in later than his usual time, so I saw him for about a minute. He knew I was there, and avoided looking at me. I did the same but had to do something near him.

When our eyes met, and he swelled with cockiness as he looked at me. His cockiness is so insane. I waved at him as I headed to the exit. My body said--cursory. My eyes said--fuck I miss and want to be with you. I walked right out.

I remember the workout before our second dinner--despite his later expression of interest for future outings--he didn't say hi at all when I came into the gym. I remember being him--confused and pushing away what I knew would force me to be more real. I remember being overwhelmed by those who reciprocated crushes and doing the dumbest shit in response---over and over again.

Perhaps its too much to read all of these situations into this one dude--but who knows. All I have to lose is my comfort.

the Force with Us

You ever have one of those random days when the force is apparently with you?

Holy shit, today the gym was nuts. I get lots of stares often. However, today was just ridiculous. Folk were just unabashedly flat out oogling.

First up was this big tall total jock. Square head, jaws, shoulders, and square-everything else. Hot. Tanned, dark-blonde, and brightly blue eyed wearing a total varsity at-the-gym type outfit. Cotton shorts and a jersey. Not exactly my type but still got my attention. I caught him looking a few times at first, but I was like whatever.

Then, he just flat out followed me with his eyes and a look of I don't even know how to describe it as I paced to catch my breath after a set. Too ridiculuous. Too funny. Ever since I started going to gyms when I was a wee teen, I recall getting crazy stares from guys. It took me a while to get used to the fact that straight guys check guys out too. I remember one guy just freaking out one time when I walked into the gym. I only figured him out once he struck up conversation and basically was very curious about every detail of my diet and workout. Total straight arrow though. I pegged Tall Jock to be the same.

The second was this chick working out two stations from me. She and her pal were working their asses, when one of them apparently caught sight of me. She alerted her female buddy who then very forwardly proceeded to stare me in the face with a straight-forward and what was supposed to be an inviting smile. The straight-forwardness took me aback though. I stared back at first thinking she was being a bitch. It wasn't until she held her smile and twinkled her eyes that I thought otherwise.

Next was another tall jock. Lanky and thin but he sported super hot eyes with incredibly and naturally arched brows. Fuck--this dudes eyes stole the show. I thought something was up in my vicinity, cuz he kept stealing looks at me. Finally, he just stared right out at me through a mirror, smiled, and looked away. He had an unreal cocky attitude about him. Totally the super-dominant type.

Last, and totally not least was on the way to my car. A very sexy Asian girl walked past by me. It was really cold today so I had my beanie over my hair. I was dissheveled, and in a slight hurry. I glanced at her, and looked back down to the ground until I noticed her quick reflex to look back at me.

I looked back up. She looked into me intently in a split second with a discerning and pericing gaze. She didn't care that I was looking at her. She didn't care that she was staring. She didn't care that the look on my face was of a deer caught in head lights.

Then, almost like a switch, she smiled big and cocked her head down as she lookoed up at me. Too hot. I realized what had happened.

These moments to me seem to be so trifling and intense. Nevertheless, they are petty and so fucken funny.

at the Gym

tiring day... funny happenings though at the gymnasium per usual.

Had a late late long long work meeting so I ended up at the gym two hours later than usual. No chance of seeing AB as he likes to do the early workout type of schedule. I'm sort of looking forward to the whole ordeal when he's the very first person I see upon entering.

I said hi right away spoofing him and catching him being nice off gaurd. I swung back around a few minutes later when he was between sets. He smiled, and asked me how I was. He then asked me if I worked out yesterday. Weird--we said hi to each other yesterday. He was totally serious too. This kid lives on a different planet.

Zeus showed up too and was unlike ever before outrightly working hard to ignore me. The whole act was hilarious. I caught him staring at me though at one point and when I looked back he grinned and looked away.

A very cute cheer leader type chick began to chat it up with him and she followed him around as he did his whole workout. He was enjoying the attention and her super hot smile.

I must be fun to play with---games that is ;)

Out

Going out last night was totally not my intention. I had to train new staff yesterday morning which was insane. But the whole thing went smoothly. I got back home and got ready to go to the gym.

I went at the time I knew Asian Boy would be there. However, I didn't necessarily go wanting to see him. At least I tell my self so. The previous day I had ignored him hardcore at the gym. I only said hi when I ran into him at the bathroom. Clearly I was glad to see him and didn't try to hide the feeling. I just realize he doesn't like me--at least not how or as much as I like him. He doesn't enjoy being approached by me all the goddam time. So I'm cutting it out.

I don't keep track of his whereabouts in the room anymore and actually run into him or make eye contact spontaneously.

He wasn't there when I arrived at the gym. But two very good friends of his were. I realize--he doesn't even like to workout with his buddies? What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

Zeus showed up. He went somewhere really warm for the holidays because his tan still glows.

He started doing bench presses and took one of the benches I use in that corner of the gym.

I found a substituted but then notice something odd about how he benched. I held my glare as he walked by me, and he removed his headphones said hi and paused allowing me to talk to him.

I asked him why he did benches that way. He smiled. His eyes are big. With his deep smooth voice, he quickly dove into a long bio-kinesthetic jargon-filled explanation. The expression on my face said it all. Holy fuck--he knows a lot. I didn't think you could know that much more than me--I've been really wrong. I told him exactly what I thought and he chuckled with lightning speed and self-bravado. It was hot. I think he liked impressing me. Perhaps not for my sake, but I'd like to think so.

He's intense and so is glare. His orb-like eyes and handle-bar brows increase this effect. I asked him a couple follow up questions and thanked him for the information. He said sure, slightly turned his torso, smiled and smoothly added -- would you like to give it a try? He paused to hear my response. I was shocked. I stammered, "I worked chest yesterday, I'm all sore, I wouldn't be able to really get the full benefit of the exercise". He smiled again cocked his head and continued towards the other side of the room.

Fuck that guy is hot. About a week ago, just after the holidays. Both he and I were at the gym without many other people there. He wore what I would call a poor excuse for a tank top. It was essentially completely sheer through. We had sunken into a lull of ignoring each other at the gym. So we didn't speak that time.

I was stretching on a mat after my workout and he had just finished a grueling set of shoulder presses. He walked my way. I was poised in a very effeminate stretching position and pretending to not notice him.

He went right by me, and about a second later, a wave of a scent I've rarely every smelled pungently hit, engulfed, and went over me.

It was the most masculine smell I've ever experienced. It was in no way salty or tinged with stink. It was just a very warm gust that smelled like fresh sweat before it goes awry and bordered on sweet.

I think my eyes turned back into my head involuntarily and I got hard. I eventually picked up my head and I saw that he was directly in my line of vision--lying on his back on a bench. He grabbed the top of the bench with his hands as he began arching his back with his eyes closed. OMG--I've never seen such deeply chiseled intercostals and abdominals. The separations were so deep that I could poke my fingers into them.

Despite the stretch, his super-thick chest still created a noticeable shelf. His shoulders and arms were enormous and covered with sheen. His tan was deep and completely even from his lower abs to his shoulders and even his hairless armpits.

I lost it. I totally lost it. My dick pressed hard against the mat, as I tensed the muscles I was stretching and turned away before he opened his eyes. I was nothing but a big knot without any relief. I got up and left.

I hate that he has a girlfriend. I hate that I feel for her. If the situation were different. I'd be his bitch--no questions asked. I'd be riding his dick and letting him do whatever he wanted to me in a split second. I'd be staring into those luminous orbs of eyes while I tried to get the biggest rise out of them. I wish that I could feel his mass of hard muscle totally eclipse my body. I wish I could feel his hands clasping the small of my back. I wish that we could do all of this without saying a word.

Back to yesterday, as I got ready to stretch, I randomly made eye contact with Asian Boy. I broke into a smile and he lowered his face as it broke into confused contortions. I held my smile and glare as I nodded acknowledging his prescense. He nodded back at me.

I kneeled and started stretching. He approached and got down right next to me and started doing situps. I lowere the volume as I noticed his pause. He asked me how I was doing. Fine I said. He asked what I was working. Legs I said. He said, me too.

I didn't say anything--as he has done to my conversation attempts so often, and just upped the volume and continued. I got up, began to exit, only to pause to say a final thanks to Zeus.

He was talking to this other major hottie who just recently started coming to our gym. Although a bit too ectomorphic for my taste, this tall blonde has super-thick and defined muscles.

I looked at him, bright eyes, and waited until there was a pause in the conversation. He glanced at me without looking at me. He got nervous. He still kept talking. I kept looking, and he then jerked his head in the opposite direction as he continued talking breaking eye contact with the other guy.

I took his gesture as a sign that he didn't want to talk me for whatever reason, and so I departed.

Later that night, I went like an idiot looking for Asian boy by the library. I saw him trolling the campus dorms with his geeky buddies still in gym clothes despite the many hours since. He sticks out amongst his clique. He's tall and exquisitely shaped.

I thought about calling him. But thought--his world is so different from mine.

I took my book and headed to the gay part of town. It was still early but I went and bought a drink at one of the most popular gay clubs for youngin's. I think people now know about me whether directly or indirectly. What's the point of avoiding being seen now?

I strolled around drawing stares, as I contemplated staying any later. The place looked dead. Then I noticed a cute Asian in the distance. He was with friends and laughing. I slowly approached to assess him better. He was hott.

As I got even closer, I realized--holy shit--its Asian Man.

I waited a minute longer to confirm, then I called out his name. He looked up, said my name, came over, and then said as he looked away from me, how's your Asia boi?

Geezus, he still remembers that?

I said, fine I think.

Does he know you're here, he asked with a hue of hostility.

He was different here. He had been so shy around me. Now he wasn't. My presence made him noticeably uncomfortable. I didn't know whether to stay or leave.

Versatile

Couldn't resist... one of my favorites. Striking, articulated, almost violent features and versatile--this face is one to watch. A similar string of images was on another blog but I couldn't for some reason access it today so I am not posting the link.

the Fiasco -- Ending

His not knowing about a 2 hr early arrival for an international flight didn't make any sense. I don't know why I went along with it. Looking back, I somehow thought that maybe he was going to pull something because he felt uncomfortable with the favor. Though airport rides are common college favors, I am older and it does mean that someone is a reasonably good friend--otherwise why the bother--esp an early morning deal.

I had the feeling I pushed the limit of closeness too far for the situation. I got scared. I got scared that all the momentum I had worked my ass off to build up would be for nothing. He would forget me. He would comeback and pretend not to know me. Also, the relationship would be kept in the gym realm. Perhaps it only belonged there.

So I offered in my e-mail to pick him up from the airport when he came back as a means of making up for the 'foul-up'. He accepted in his reply however he didn't include his flight info and only wrote that he would let me know.

I replied with a message about his flight and about some stuff he was doing for our school back in Asia. I never got a reply. I guess no e-mail conversation was going to take place during this time.

I got the dates mixed up and thought he was coming back a few days before his actual arrival. So I emailed him again asking for his flight info. He responded with I'll see you when I get back, a thanks, and no flight info. So I asked again, he responded with half of his flight info and one other sentence saying that I really didn't have to give him a ride.

This last message should've been my cue. But I wrote back that a pick up was not a problem. He e-mailed me his full flight info.

the Fiasco -- Asian Boy the Pick Up

After confirming to AB that I would indeed pick him up, the morning came and I was up waaay earlier than usual to get all my erands in and still take him to the airport before work started.

I was wierded out by the fact that he wanted me to pick him up only an hour prior to his flight. International flights are supposed to be 2-3 hours pre-flight arrival. I actually planned on leaving early. I was going to send him an e-mail prior to let him know that I could pick him up earlier. But I opted away from this action because I figured--maybe he's uncomfortable with me doing him this 'favor'. Afterall, actions like this one make folk feel indebted to you. I sort of just wanted to do something nice--but its not as if I was unaware of the psychological influence behind reciprocation. So I thought, I'll give him a way out. I didn't even know why I thought that would be a way "out". But I thought--no need to pressure the kid or be smotheringly nice. Although, I had done that already.
The morning came and I was done with all my shit well ahead of schedule. My meals were cooked, prepped, and ready to go, and all my gym clothes packed. As I head out the door, I get a text message---it read along the lines of:
"I had to leave earlier. I figure you're asleep. Thanks so much for the offer. Happy holidays."

I was shocked. My intuition was right. I overstepped--this was stupid. I'm a fool trying to make something where nothing is.
I got to work mega early. Mid morning I felt myself go numb--emotionally. I quite literally felt it. Its insane. Then I started to disconnect. All those pretty "crush" moments in my head were slowly being sucked of any possible meaning, and this "person" was being extracted from me in every way possible bit by bit. I was sort of shocked at how quickly I was proceeding. Usually the whole thing takes a while longer.

The first and most god awful major symptom came early afternoon. I felt this claustrophobic loneliness. Suddenly, I had no one about whom to care. No one else about whom to think, "I wonder what they are upto? I wonder if they are feeling good? I wonder what we'll do later on?" This sounds as needy as any bitch could possibly get. But I guess that's where I was, have been, and perhaps am at.

I've felt this sensation of extreme separation, or "disconnection" before but rarely before so incredibly swiftly. I was like pulling a plug before the machine had even been turned off.

In the middle of a tense work meeting, I get a phone call from a different co-work to whom I owed an important deliverable. Fuck, I thought. I have to get through this meeting and call her right back.

Immediately following the meeting I opened my phone only to find that it read "4 missed" calls. I thought, WTF? I only remember missing one from my co-worker. I open and check the call log. Lo and behold--AB had called me four times that morning. I had been doing errands but still been checking my phone. How the hell could these missed calls just not show up???

I e-mailed him right away. A day later he responds saying that it was his error for not realizing he needed to be at the airport earlier. How could he not have known?

I didn't know what to make of it.

Landing Part 2

After dropping my mother off at the airport I came back to her place. She had just finished moving everything from our main house to her place. Pictures, old books, and high school stuff was lying around the living room.

I couldn’t help but pick a lot of it up and just look at it. Flipping through old high school texts, going back to find answers to these questions in the back of my head in books that have been only here at home. I didn’t want to watch television. I ended up reading and skimming through an old favorite book.

I went to bed exhausted.

Tonight, I went through all my old pictures. They were stored in a single large cardboard box. I’d always been way too neglectful with pictures. The previous night I had seen these old pictures of my mother. They are the most intimidating pictures of her because she looks so absolutely flawless. Everyone who sees them makes a big deal about them. She looks totally beautiful, effortlessly, and flawlessly. I found these recent pictures of her nearby. Despite her age, she hasn’t changed radically. Sure the sagging skin and change in texture, but the shape of her face and her dominant pronounced features are still there.

The pictures of my mother have also been on my mind because towards my latter years in college, I started to resemble her to a surprising degree. It was weird because growing up my whole life people commented on how much I looked like my father. Recently, I was with my godfather, father, and a client. She was looking at me intently and said that I had nice eyes. My godfather added—he looks like his father—in that real gruffly masculine way intended to detract from the comment. The client sort of surprised us all because she assertively stated—no he doesn’t. I don’t know why it was a big deal to me. Maybe because I’ve always wanted to be like my father or obtain his approval.

Going through the pictures, I realized that I was a rather awkward looking kid for a very long time. A very long time. I had not been so aware of this awkwardness. Moreover, a lot of my current flaws I thought a result of age have actually been persistent flaws of mine. My eyes have always had these slight bags under them. One side of my face has always had this crease in it that though subtle I thought was only a sign of age. My hairline has not actually changed very much. I just have a bigger forehead than I have previously thought. My jaw line and chin have changed considerably as have the definition of my cheeks. Perhaps the things I think change don't, and those I think to be the same really do change alot.

Beyond the physical, I’ve also noted my lack of awareness and social adeptness over the years. The journey for me has been a remarkably long one. I have been for most of my life and still feel that I am oriented or inclined towards cluelessness—or lack of awareness. I recognize it in my mother and sort of awfully have previously identified with it. My father also has facial expressions that speak of this attitude—but only in family pictures. In all other pictures, he’s very confident.

Landing

I didn’t expect the plane landing at home to be so rough. I didn’t fly into my regular airport and opted instead for an adjacent one. The conditions were windy and the plane rocked back and forth pretty hard right up until our one point touch down. I picked up the spiffy car I reserved, and then to drive into the city. My arrival hour was precisely at the peak of traffic. So I camped out in an unknown suburb. I was pleasantly surprised by all it had to offer. I got a light dinner and convinced a friend to go to law school while on the phone.

I called my parents to let them know I was here. None of the siblings could have cared less that I was here so I didn’t let them know. My father was happy to hear from me. My mother seemed stressed. Her status was understandable since I was driving her to the airport within the next few hours.

She was leaving as I was coming. The rest of my siblings were pretty much doing the same. My father was really the only person staying. He was sad when I mentioned I really wouldn’t be here for New Years. No one would be.

I thought some of my siblings would stay during the holidays. But I soon found out that everyone—young and old had their own plans and were flying out in close succession. My father would be working hard even during these times. His work has just recently taken an unprecedented upturn.

Coming into the home city was nothing like I expected. I thought the landscape would be somewhat unfamiliar to me. I’ve been away for an unusually long time. However, it was like I had never left. Nothing—nothing seemed to me foreign in the least.

I arrived at my mother’s place. She was thrilled to see me but she didn’t show her emotions any where as much as in her eyes. Her joy was muted but still transparently intense. She hugged me right away. I didn’t want to think or even be empathetic to any feeling at this point. I hugged her back but remained stoic although politely and genuinely exuded happiness in seeing her. She was packed and ready to leave. I didn’t have to take her to the airport, but the arrangement seemed convenient and doing so would allow me to see her before I went back.

Getting her checked-in was smooth as butter. Odd since the whole country is on Orange Alert. I was just going to drop her off, but she said—you’re not going to stay for just a second? Of course, I will, I replied. Turns out we had time to kill so we left the airport for a nearby eatery.

We went to a place she used to like, but unfortunately someone was having a birthday party so it was unavailable. I took her to a sports bar. The place was empty. Her reaction was kind of funny—she had never really been in one. She was surprised they had salads. We split one.

I took the opportunity to ask a lot about my origins. She told me about her side of the family: how things were—the same but different. Many of my cousins now had kids. I was shocked. Makes sense but still—damn, kids.

On the plane ride home, I sat next to a kid. He was with his brother and mother. His brother had refused sitting next to me. I don’t know why but I sort of laughed inwardly. His brother had no qualms. After take-off the little boy, curiously looked at me, and very assertively asked me—So do you have any kids? I was a little stunned, both by his tone of voice and the question. No one thinks I am old enough to have kids. But I guess if the kid next to you is tiny and you’re big, he can’t but just ask.

His mother snapped at him, and said, “Let the man listen to his music! Do not bother the man.” I smiled, and said that his talking to me was fine. I answered his question and asked about his portable playing device. He was cute kid and full of self-assured answers that were somehow not obnoxious.

He made me think hard, and my mother’s revelations about my cousins did so too. I have a few friends whose families are so liberal that the topic of child bearing is of no concern. However, my family is not one of them. My grandfather has apparently been probing about my relational life. My mother has supplied him with unconvincing and evasive answers. Oh well. I’m out to my entire nuclear family. I think I should let my grandfather die happy. Being out to him would be like pronouncing my death.

However, out of everyone in my extended family—I feel an incredible connection, almost beyond the typical, to my mother’s father. He embodies much of my ideals and who I am today. I am in many ways his heir—not in the conventional sense, but in attitude, vision, and values. He is who I one day strive to be.

I wonder, if I were to end up with a boy for the rest of my life, would we have children? And if so, how? Whose would they be? Do I want to one day raise a family? One of my uncles just had a newborn. He has however three much older kids by his ex-wife. She left him, and he is now bitter. He loves all his children, but is now not so happy to pay for all their shit, because he wants “to live his own life.”

I immediately thought when my mother said these words—what is his “life” other than his children? I uttered the words not simply out of a cultural context, but to some degree as a result of my true sentiments. What the fuck? I wanted to cry.

Isn’t that what most of adult life is supposed to be? Isn’t that the most incredible contribution we can give to the species? Isn’t that a way of coming to terms with our mortality and very limited life-span, connecting to humanity, and submitting to the laws of nature that rule us all—the corny but true—circle of life? Is this not the way of the universe? Receive, give, live, die, but with each cyclical iteration the old is improved? Do I care about passing down my genes? Probably not in the traditional sense—but I have been previously obsessed about determining a way to pass down my ideals and gleanings from this life. Certainly carrying those to my grave would be shortchanging my species. Sure, one can write a book, but a living embodiment of those ideals is a chance at their continual evolution.

Our salad arrived, and my mother was pleasantly surprised that I ordered it with no dressing. I was like—odd, didn’t you hear me order it? She looked up at me, as she was about to start at it, paused to stare at me intently for very brief moment, smiled, and said that I looked good.

I can count the number of times my mother has ever said that to me. It’s less than 3. Not even in jest or as way of being polite does she utter such sentiments. I can’t imagine through what she put my sisters.

I said, thanks, half surprised but to shocked to show it. She smiled, and proceeded to dig at the salad.

I inquired about the origins of the family. She was more open than usual. Now that our nuclear family is officially a joke and our little dinner was living proof of it, pretenses could be placed aside and truth be sought more easily.

How did my grandfather first buy land? Where did he get the money? How many siblings did he really have? Who was my grandfather’s mother? How did she die? How did my grandfather educate himself? How did he end up moving away from the country-side? Who exactly was my great-grand-father?

Without knowing it, I am truly a result of all those events. I feel it, not just in my heart—but in the bottom of my heart. My mother is like that too—I don’t know where and when, but she passed all of that on to me—the pain, strength, courage to defy—to stand for that in which you believe.

At times, my siblings and I muse together about how my mother was very militant in so many ways without saying a word. She was a staunch feminist, but she never ever used that term. She was a civil rights activist, but again, never used that phrase. Although she would buy and have us watch all the typical kid stuff—she heavily mixed in these grave themes—even when were too young to know what they meant. For Christmas, one of my siblings actually gave me this old movie my mother used to make us watch—the Long Walk Home. We grew up on these values, although we did not belong to the population to which they directly pertained.

We finished up and I told her that I enjoyed the meal. As we walked out, she noted that not since the dinner at which our family broke-up had she gone out to eat with someone. I didn’t know what to say. So I said nothing.

I dropped her off, hugged her, and told her I would see her soon. She didn’t know what to say because we both knew that my words could be not true at all. I have a tendency to stay away for unexpectedly long periods of time.

I called my father, and said I was ready to meet him. He asked if I was tired. Of course, I was but that we should meet. He was at work at an ungodly hour. He said, go sleep. You’re tired. I’m meeting one of your sisters for breakfast. We can do lunch. Sounds good, I said and drove in the opposite direction from his workplace.

Skinny Fat Skinny Fat

One time in bed, this dude said to me--you have a weird face. He immediately wanted to swallow his words as soon as he breathed them. But I was totally cold and didn't really care for some reason. He saw the coldness on my face and got comfortable as I asked him--hmm, why's that? He got this remarkably fascinated look on his face, then said--it's like skinny sometimes, but it can be fat too.

I don't think he thought he was complimenting me--but I thought it was the nicest thing anyone could ever say. I was like on cloud 9. So here's my little tribute to skinny-fat faces... he he ha!

skinny

skinnyfat

skinny

fat

My favorite dude of all is this guy....

Here's to multidemensionality...

Being Boy

I saw the Jessica Parker Gap commercial where she sings, "I love being a girl." As she prances through a pink old fashioned downtown, she extols the references to her teeth as pearls, hair as lambswool, and the other "whatnots" of being female. Her song is basically a different version of "Girls are made of sugar & spice, and everything nice--boys are made of snips & snails, and puppy dog tails."
Ha ha ha ha--well fuck that.

If I enjoy one challenge of being a boy, I relish in solving the problem of looking good within the paramters of not using make-up.



Bust out the abrasives, bedtime eye creams, toners, conditioners, and muds. Answer the riddle of shaving without bumps or ingrowns. Smoothen and chisel wherever necessary. Don't dress to impress--let flesh and blood take center stage. Make them wonder if you're wearing bronzer or eyeliner.

I love it.

Nature does it best--just show that shit off.

Archaic

I'm a masochist. I work, lift, and run like a masochist. I'm also old-fashioned. However, I was unaware as to how these two might relate.

Today, I was listening to all these different versions of "Ain't No Mtn Hi Enuf". As I did, my desire to suffer, battle, and fight for a beloved became so clear. I was surprised. I didn't know I had this thing in me. I still don't know exactly what it's about. Its crazy.

Like many of my contemporaries I have suscribed to the post-1950's playboi identity. An easy-street savvy, smart, privileged, and self-centered man. For me, this image has proven unsatisfactory--unfulfilling. I found no soul there. In my early and mid-college years I did that--I don't think I can say I "lived" it.

In the process, I discovered the enormous generational gap between me and my parents, a couple who marched to the beat of the medieval spirit. My father was used to, enjoyed, and even sought out the underdog position. I, on the other hand, having grown up with the benefits of his spoils, grew to master the overdog position. I knew how to exercise it and exploit it. While on occasion, I still get a kick out of it and I appreciate the knowledge of that experience. I know it cannot be the central part of any experience.

I tend to pursue impossible people romantically. I dig them out somehow. I get turned off when someone is easily taken by me. Both with men and women. One of the first girls I nabbed who I thought was out of my league I met in a college club.

I saw her first at a party. She looked incredible. Dancing in a skin-tight plain black dress--her body, eyes, skin, and moves caught and kept me for a while. I didn't talk to her yet. Later, we ended up competing for the same spot for this club. I got it, and she still got in but in a corollary role. I didn't know it until our first meeting, when she loudly announced from across the room that she had initially wanted my job.

I was stunned, confused, and idiotic in my reaction. I just smiled, confidently, and said that I'm sure I would end up asking her lots of quesitons about the position. She didn't seem satisfied. Eventually, she caught on to my nervousness around her. She jumped on the opportunity and started overtly flirting with me at meetings and just in general around campus. It annoyed those around us. Suddenly, her status for me went through the ground. While I enjoyed her attention, I lost the desire to pursue her. She was confused too about my reaction. Oh well.

I'm scared that I will misinterpret what it means to fight for someone. What is the battle? How need it be fought? What's appropriate? What is the role of the Other? Even many women today hate being put in the "damsel" in distress position. I can't expect any thing less from an intelligent male. I have to be able to integrate this desire into a functional relationship.

I'm starting to realize that I now like situations in which the Other plays hard to get. It's happened often for me, and I suppose its grown on me. Part of my fear with Asian Boy is that his playing hard to get has been so intense, that I have made myself to look rather desperate. Perhaps this position is all part of the scenario. Is that what the Other enjoys--to see this strong and daring figure brought to its knees by the sheer presence and being of another rather than its strength?

Zeus was at the gym yesterday. Haven't seen him in a while. If anyone can put me in the position of the Other, he could. He's gargantuan.

I ignored him because he was with someone else and also just because he hasn't been around much. I realized I was rude and when the moment came, I passed by and didn't avert my glance. He immediately turned to look right next to me--he would only look at me with his peripheral vision. His reaction was so precise and so intense, that it was obvious why it transpired. Plus, although he aimed his pupils adjacent to me, he aimed a bit too close. Without anything else remotely of interest around me, and since whatever he was looking at followed my same trajectory, his intention was overt.

He continued his conversation and I sensed his awareness of me in the room henceforth. I thought about striking up small talk. I actually had a training question for him. But I refrained thinking, how can this enormous hulk be so reactive to me, and yet not make at least a half-ass move? Does he expect me to come to him? Is he so spoiled by the admiration that he gets from others that he never expects to take a single step out on the limb? Clearly he is in the dominant position between the two of us.

I heard a little about his past. He is most definitely a people person. Apparently, when outside the gym he is very gregarious and astute. I can't think of a reason for his timidness around me. I can only think--stop staring and talk.

Eventually, he took off his jacket to expose a string tank. I looked, and he immediately looked right back at me with a big sneaky grin. His defined muscle bellies were amazing. As usual, he was cut to the bone. I definitely wondered as to how all that hard flesh would feel under me if were to straddle him, or how I might feel pinned under all that muscle. But his sudden change in confidence when he took off his jacket, sort of blew the fantasy for me.

Jeeez, I thought, even if he were to come onto me, I think I wouldn't even look all that interested because of his wierdness. Would that then sort of resemble Asian Boy's reactions to me? Did I look this retarded in front of him? I need better armor. I need to look invincible even in my begging. Though a knight kneels before the damsel, he never loses his composure.

Sunrise

A few mornings ago and today I had the luck of going running right as the sun was coming into view. The fog was melting, and the trees were cutting up the golden beams.

I love it. I love it.

I like going running sometimes before dawn. The darkness lends itself to reflection. Unlike the night, the pre-dawn is a darkness that you know will soon end.

Running with the sun in your face is different. Its the actual beginning. Yesterday for some reason I just decided to buy a bunch of Diana Ross music--oh, because I heard it while Christmas shopping.

Now I'm a fan. Basically all of her songs are about love and heart break. Corny, cliche and whatever, but she spoke my mind yesterday.

Learning to love is not easy. I think its clearly the main mission of human beings. The manifestations of this universal lesson are likely infiinite. Anything from a pro-bono professional, to a mother Teresa, to a naturalist who takes people on expeditions, etc, etc. Nevertheless, to love is the charge.

I didn't know how I felt this morning. I was upbeat and ready to go, but something in me was not the same. I wasn't conscious of what it was yet.

As I started up my first hill I turned on "Ease on Down the Road". It was crazy how it captured my feelings. I never really listened to this song before yesterday evening. I had not known the lyrics other than the main chorus.

But when I heard the rest of the song, I started to cry. I stopped myself because I was running and didn't want to be paralyzed there. I rarely cry. I guess what I was feeling was that learning to love is a tough road. Either way one heads on the road, no matter which road someone takes, its hard. Love is real. Perhaps it is the basis for all reality. The only way to opt out of it is to deny it and all of its side-effects. There is a place for delusion and denial, but I think it must be the epitome of loneliness. To not be alone is to necessarily accomodate another consciousness, which involves all of the trials that love ultimately brings with it.

Learning

I have to learn how to take pleasure and happiness out of being selfless.

Yesterday I had a very long conversation with a friend about this issue. I realized how even when I thought I was being selfless, I'd still be selfish. I've barely scratched the surface.