The Science of Relationships: Countdown to the Disappointment

Read not what the stars say
There's an evil lurking round every door
It's not enough to make you leave me
And I never wanted you to go

Talk, talk to Suzie!
“I went through a million choices”
Talk ... Suzie!
“I listened to a million voices”

And they said...
"Don't let me down" they said
"Don't let me down" they said
"Don't let me down again"
No no...

Countdown, countdown, countdown to the disappointment
"I'm yours, tonight!"

Those are some of the resounding lyrics included in Boy Kill Boy’s song Suzie (video below care of YouTube) from their EP entitled Civilian released earlier this year.



And isn’t that always the case. We have been conditioned to understand that disappointment is part of life. A person can fully meet your expectations at one moment, but that nirvana will always be accompanied or followed by a stint of dissatisfaction with the same individual. Some would call that a negative take on the human condition, but I call it reality!

So, how does this mentality affect my approach to relationships? I would say I’m very vigilant in a carefree and haphazard kind of way. I don’t take anything too seriously, especially the prospect of lingering chemistry with the same guy. Not only because I understand the fickleness of gay men, but also because I’m aware of the unsolicited fickleness which plagues me from time to time.

And where as I tend to go with the flow where relationships are concerned, there is a valid argument for devising a strategy and sticking closely to it. This brings up the question: How much strategy should be involved in developing a relationship?

Implementing a carefully-devised strategy seems like a great deal of work at my age, and it seems like a waste since I believe in the power of the universe to fuck up any strategy whenever it sees fit. So at this point in the game, I tend to leave a large percentage of what goes on in my relationships to a simple combination of the following: chemistry, chance & how much the person fits into my television programming schedule.

Everyone seems to have a different approach to relationships, with very few of us having perfected our own. And even the people who seem to have a successful approach are probably a lot more miserable than they would ever admit, but I digress.

Many people use analogies and metaphors to analyze their developing (or ripening, if you will) relationships. The one I’ve learned about most recently is the “fruit metaphor”. I obviously don’t quite understand it due to my abstinence from said food group, but it has something to do with one’s need to violently defile a piece of fruit in order to enjoy it. Or something like that!

Some people examine their budding relationships using nautical analogies, and this might bring us back to the title of this post. In the words of Blue Merle, a recently disbanded group that was centered in Nashville, “years pass & people change, bluer skies could turn to grey; though its gonna hurt for now, every ship must sail away.”

I guess this whole mentality and blog post is motivated by my lack of experience with things that last. And while part of me is continuously counting down to the disappointment that is always possible, part of me is a hopeful romantic that believes in the power of simpatico. I currently just have trouble coming to terms with the possibility that an initial case of simpatico might actually withstand the test of time.

Chemistry is not an exact science, it’s a feeling. And I believe that if I approach every relationship with equal parts feeling & intellect, the resulting outcome will always be one I can deal with.


Now, go to iTunes & purchase Toby Lightman's new album Bird on a Wire. Round & Round is becoming a new favorite song, but the whole album is brilliant.

You’re Cramping My Style/Get the Fuck Out!

So, I’m past the boiling point; two weekends down the drain, my apartment is a mess, and my blood alcohol level is dangerously low.

Thank god I get my life back tomorrow. This is just further evidence that I am not meant to cohabitate. I like my space, I need my space, & I go CRAZY without it! Even little things catalyze my insanity: like guests not pulling the shower curtain closed after they get out of the shower. Have they never heard of MILDEW?! Not to mention that my electric bill will be outrageous this month due to my guests’ high-maintenance cooling issues. Quite simply, I’m over it…and I had to purge these feelings out of my system STAT before I implode. I definitely feel better now, but am still in desperate need of a pitcher of mimosa!

Thanks for reading…Now get the fuck out! ;)

Answers After the Jump

You won’t know unless you try.
Often you don’t know until it’s too late.
The truth can hurt.
Regret is always a bitch.

All these statements are 100 percent accurate and equally frustrating. I’ve been waiting for some inspiration to use this entry title, and the stimulating conversation went down last night on my celly.

The concept of “after the jump” entered my realm of experience only weeks ago while reading a blog that I frequent. The idea is that, after reading bits of information on one page, you have to click on a link to another webpage before you receive the payoff (so to speak)!

(It's origin has something to do with newspaper lingo, but click on the title above to expand your knowledge further after the jump!) ;)

This concept can be compared to many life choices that we make blindly in hopes of the next “page” being worth the click/effort. We make insignificant choices everyday (i.e. what to wear to work, what to eat for lunch, etc.), but every so often we make life-choices that change us considerably. Unfortunately, many of these choices require a great deal of faith in ourselves, as well as faith in all the other parties involved (if it is a group venture). Faith is often times like shifting sand, and where there is fickle faith there will be doubt.

Doubt is a frequent companion of everyone going through (what some experts refer to as) the Quarterlife Crisis. But when doubt turns into an overwhelming and uncontrollable mindset, the results can be quite painful and sometimes catastrophic.

Many times the most intense life-choices that people make are motivated at some level by a four-letter word called Love and prompted by our fickle-friend named Heart. In the words of author J.T. LeRoy, the heart is deceitful above all things; and in the words of singer/songwriter Musiq Soulchild, so many people use the name of Love in vain. Both entities get us in trouble with ourselves more often than most of us would care to admit.

One of the concerns I have about serious love relationships (that I have witnessed lately) is that many people seem to lose a huge part of themselves during (or after) the commitment process. Me becomes us, and mine becomes ours. It reeks of compromise and I’m trying to come to terms with all of the implications, but I digress.

Back to the subject at hand, should you ever risk all you have in hopes of getting to mow the greener grass on the other side? My answer would be, “Only if you know that you’ll be able to afford to have someone mow it for you and want to look at the lawn for many years to come!”

Life is hard, and in a world of uncertainty and constant evolution security often seems appetizing. But when gaining that security requires you to give up too much of who you are, I would heavily question whether or not the sacrifice is worth it.

Worth is subjective, and it’s hard to convince someone of something’s true/lesser value when their appraisal of that something (or someone) is jaded by Love & when they tend to follow their heart without continually consulting their mind.

Many people jump without first looking closely enough at the ground below or the building across the way. Cheers to living with enough calculated risks to keep your time on Earth interesting and to dying with as few regrets as possible. Both of those things will lessen the need to come back in another life and do it all over again!

Does Juggling Always Have to Be a One-Man Act?!

Juggling is an act that I’ve never been fond of…frankly, because I suck at it! I don’t mean juggling in the “keeping three balls simultaneously suspended in the air in front of my face” sense of the word (because I’m pretty damn good at that). I’m talking about the juggling of intangible things (i.e. relationships/boys).

I’ve found that much attention is paid in New York to the art of double booking. I’m not sure if it is necessary because we are such a fickle people, or if we do it because it makes us feel doubly important. One thing is for sure: many of us are always on the lookout for the next best thing, something we consider better than something we already have secured, something that could possibly ruin a good thing in hopes of coming out of the deal with a great thing.

In order to be more time efficient, and in order to counteract the impatience that many humans find intrinsic, many of us try to juggle multiple romantic relationships in hopes of ending up with the best one of the litter lasting the longest. It never works out that way! At least not for me.

I always end up fucking up all the leads I discover. And because I hate the starting-over process, I usually end up detoxing from the entire exhausting process for several weeks.

Why must it be all or nothing? Extremely busy or painstakingly bored, pathetically alone or awkwardly over-extended in the social arena; what does this damn universe have against happy mediums?!

I feel like my life is often overwhelmed by a whole lot of prospect, mixed with a morsel of romantic substance. But when that morsel turns into a lump of something great, the wait always seems well worth it.

We shall see where this morsel takes me and this blog…

Pic from the weekend:

(Another one of my rocks, my girl Bethesda)

I Survived My Mum/Sis Weekend!

I woke up this morning, and that’s good enough for me. The weekend was good, but playing tourist is always exhausting for me. Even more exhausting is reacting sensitively to the ignorance/lack of awareness of said family members. Maybe the following means I’m a snob/ass, but here it goes:

Example One: Tourist Mentality

When arriving at the Met(roplolitan) Museum of Art on Saturday, I enlightened them regarding the issue of “suggested” admission prices. For those of you who don’t know, if the policy states “suggested”, it’s just that! In the case of the Met, I usually pay $5 and get a button (aka ticket) for each person in my group (not the “suggested $15/person, which is ridiculous). I found it frustrating that they (mainly my sis) would feel bad about not paying the “full” admission price. This is the kind of mentality that fucks tourists over, no thanks to the museums & other establishments that trick people into thinking they are required to pay.

Example Two: Dining Awkwardness

Dining al fresco has always been on my happy list, so when the opportunity arises I like to take it. Last night I took my girls up to Nonna, an Italian restaurant partially owned by the caterer I work closely with at KBP. This was my first time seeing the place, so when I walked up to see the fabulous outdoor dining option I knew that was the only option. My sis vetoed that real quick, sighting outside as being “too noisy”. Please note that we were at 85th & Columbus on the UWS, pretty much as quiet and peaceful as it gets here. But I got over the blow, and was then only left to deal with their ignorance of foreign cuisine (i.e. anything other than O’Charley’s or Ruby Tuesday’s), the condemnation directed toward my choice to order wine with my meal, as well as the interrogation regarding my next trip to Mobile.

Example Three: Artistic Appreciation

After our free meal (suggested retail price of approx. $100), we headed back down to Hell (aka Times Square) to attend what can only be described as a spiritual experience of the negro variety (btw, that's a very positive review). The Color Purple was that and so much more. A shout-out goes to Felicia P. Fields’ Sofia, which stole/owned the show in my opinion. The only awkward moment for me came during the number where Celie & Shug Avery (both women, for the literary inept) profess their undying love for each other. The number was beautiful, but it got no applause from my mother. Her disapproval has never been subtle, I’ll give her that!

Taking into account that the only alcohol I consumed this weekend was that glass of Sauvignon Blanc (I found it completely essential to my existence after sitting through my mother saying grace), I did pretty well. The only time I slipped into one of my moods was on Saturday when the girls started to complain heavily about having to walk too much. That annoyance, coupled with their indecisive natures, are things that will require more booze in the coming days.

I’ll get through it with the help of my best friend, the Martini. She’s seen me through some pretty great and pretty tragic times in my life thus far, so there’s no question that she’ll stick with me through this coming week (& weekend). At least I have one rock left…

Is Resolution Overrated?!

This morning, my horoscope had this to say: “This week, sensitive issues that may have no solutions will resurface.”

But it’s hard to accept the possibility that some issues may never have complete resolution. This subject of unresolved issues did, however, strike a chord with me due to the arrival of my mother & sister tomorrow evening.

My family is, and might forever be, a hard one for me. To this day, I have failed to “get” them and they have failed miserably to understand me. But we always get through our time together, as long as the topics of sexuality, religion or politics don’t ever find their way to the dinner/coffee table. We know better, and stick to shallower subjects of conversation regarding my old friends from high school (most of which are either knocked up are married to the wrong man/woman), my parents’ business ventures (god forbid they die and Al & I are left to deal with all that complicated shit), and the weather (which currently blows).

Do I love my family? Sure. Can I relate to their Small Town USA mentality? Sure. Do I have to compromise my lifestyle and morals (yes I have some) to make them more comfortable? Not at all, but I did hide my hardcore porn and the “I Heart My Penis” signage last night when cleaning my apartment from top to bottom. Yes, I’m trying to be sensitive!

My (w)horoscope also had this advice: “P.S. Read Scorpio – after all, you did the research.” I have no clue WTF that means, but all you Scorpios out there holler back & tell me what you're feeling.

I Need to Recharge My Southern Decadence!

Gentlemen & gentlemen, it is official. 4 days & 3 nights in the Big Easy for Labor Day weekend are booked, and I am so ecstatic. JK & I will try again (& succeed by any means necessary) to make it to Southern Decadence without Mother Nature fucking it up. Last year, Katrina turned what promised to be the best birthday celebration ever into an anticlimactic trip to Beantown where the only present I got was some booty from a Frenchman!

However, before summer is over I must withstand a visit from the Mum & Sis. They both arrive this Friday, with the Mum leaving the following Wednesday (and the Sis staying until the 31st). Yes, pray (or do whatever you do) for me!

This weekend was quite enjoyable. I got in my heavy drinking and dancing on Friday night, and I got in 24-hours of TC time on Saturday night/Sunday. It seems I got in everything I can't seem to get enough of lately.

Shout-outs going to X-Rated Vodka, Albert, & the creator of baby oil. :)

A Night Out With Andraé

I live in a city where anything is possible, yet I’m still amazed sometimes by the connections one can make without even knowing it. One week ago (literally last Tuesday evening), I made the acquaintance of a stunningly handsome gentleman from Austin, TX. We’ll call him TC and refer to him, this first and last time, as Naked Twister Guy.

And of course, who does TC know except for Andraé Gonzalo of Project Runway (Season 2).



After learning that said reality TV personality would be in town crashing with TC, I quickly accepted an invitation to have drinks with AG & TC at a TBD destination. Last night after work, KBH & I met up with AG & TC at none other than Phoenix on 13th street. The conversation was great and the bevvies kept flowing, of course until we decided to migrate to Eastern Bloc down the street. After deciphering whether or not the tank-top clad bartender played for the majority’s team or not (majority always wins), the three of us (excluding TC) partook in some old-fashioned pole dancing/twirling (much to the amazement of the other 2 patrons of this so-called "up-and-coming" East Village bar)!

All in all, the night was a success. Fun was had, laughs were abundant, and this morning there was a lingering odor of vodka and good times.

On a final note, be sure to tune into the new season of Project Runway tomorrow (Wednesday) night on Bravo. Know about it!

How Does a Song Become the Song of the Summer?!

I have a belief that a song is not born the song of the summer. Rather it can be elevated to that status by an individual, if that person deems it worthy. I’m officially deeming Natasha Bedingfield’s “The One That Got Away” the Song of the Summer, for reasons that are very clear to me and probably a little sketchy to you. In due time, I’ll reveal the story behind the song.

For now, enjoy the lyrics:



Would you spare a minute?
Give me a single chance
To look in your eyes
Let me hold your hands
I want to get close enough,
To read you
Understand you
Open up your heart
Open up your mind
Nobody needs another stalker in your life
I'm only here to help you learn to love me,
To know me

CHORUS
I need a hook so you won't be the one that got away
I need a look that stuns ya, makes you wanna stay.
Don't wanna speak in case it comes out wrong
Don't wanna blink cause in a second you could be gone
I need a twist to help me turn, turn this story round.
I need a bridge to cross this dangerous ground
Meet me in the middle like I want you too.
I gotta find your heart to shoot my arrow through.

Did ya see me staring
You caught my eye
Don't turn around
Don't walk away
The night is young, can we get together?
Got so many questions
Feelings I can't explain
We're worlds apart
I don’t even know your name
I'm longing to give you my heart

I need a hook so you won't be the one that got away
I need a look that stuns ya, makes you wanna stay.
Don't wanna speak in case it comes out wrong
Don't wanna blink cause in a second you could be gone
I need a twist to help me turn, turn this story round.
I need a bridge to cross this dangerous ground
Meet me in the middle like I want ya to.
I gotta find your heart to shoot my arrow through.

Turn around, don't evaporate
Like you never came
Turn around, don't be a ghost
Forever never there to haunt me.
Sliding doors.
They aren't just on trains
We're alone on a platform in the rain
There’s a chance
And it won't come again
Turn around your whole life has changed

I need a hook so you won't be the one that got away
I need a look that stuns ya, makes you wanna stay.
Don't wanna speak in case it comes out wrong
Don't wanna blink cause in a second you could be gone
I need a twist to help me turn, turn this story round.
I need a bridge to cross this dangerous ground
Meet me in the middle like I want ya to.
I gotta find your heart to shoot my arrow through.



And a shout-out goes to Italy, who pulled off the victory over France in the World Cup Final yesterday. Thank you boys for a great game, and for taking time leading up to the tournament to pose for your undying fans!

Would I Consider Myself Sexually Blasé?

In a way, yes I do. But first, let’s take a look at the definition(s) of blasé (according to the American Heritage):

1. Uninterested because of frequent exposure or indulgence.
2. Unconcerned; nonchalant.
3. Very sophisticated.

Number one makes me sound like a slut, number two would make me a dick, and number three is the closest to how I would peg my blasé.

I’m mature about sex, without being too serious. I’m experienced, but not over-sexed. I choose to accept sexual encounters as part of basic human need, rather than to elevate each sex act to something more than it should me. And if ever I’m uninterested, it’s in the person and not in the act.

At the end of the day, people just wanna fuck. And that statement is not me discounting the emotional intimacy that can, and often does, accompany sex. I just choose to be quite nonchalant regarding the act until feelings for a person evolve into something that warrants sexual seriousness and overwhelming intimacy.

Sex for me is very developmental, and I’m always looking for ways to improve the next experience that I have. If that makes me “blasé”, then so be it! I’m comfortable with my body, and with the idea of it being naked with another person’s. I believe that to be a good thing :)

Sex isn’t usually considered an indulgence for couples (unless they are a lame couple), so why should I feel indulgent (it garners such a negative connotation, doesn’t it?!) priding myself on being frequently exposed to a naked roll in the hay?!

Now leave me the fuck alone after you pour me a Sex on the Beach.

Cheers.

Are You a Loner? What the Hell is That, Anyway?!

So, today I took an online test/quiz called "The Loner Test" (click on the title of this post to participate).

I received a score of 60. What the hell does that mean, you might ask? Here’s the truth the online results offered me:

“You're a happy medium on the loner scale. You enjoy socializing, but you also have your moods when you'd rather be alone. Social interaction is important for forming human bonds, getting support and affirming your own personal identity. (As Charles Augustin Sainte-Beauve said, "Tell me who admires and loves you, and I will tell you who you are.") But it's equally important to do things for yourself, have time to reflect and explore the world in your own way. In fact, doing things on your own makes you a stronger, more interesting person. Whether or not you consciously aspired to this state of harmony between independence and human bonding, you seem to have achieved it!”

On to other knowledge I have gleamed from various online resources:

Wikipedia defines “Loner” as “a label for a person who shuns human interaction for a variety of reasons. These reasons can range from a lack of certain social skills or for a desire to be with oneself. A common psychological term for this is someone who is introverted. It is usually used with a negative connotation in the belief that humans are social creatures and those that do not participate are different, though in some cases there is a certain romanticism in the idea of the Loner (see The Lone Ranger).”

Can someone be a loner and still be considered extroverted? According to another Wikipedia article, introversion/extroversion is widely regarded by experts as a continuum and most people have a mixture of both orientations in their personalities. A person who acts introverted in one scenario may act extroverted in another, and people can be taught to act “against type” in certain situations.

I believe myself to be bipolar in all the right ways, and would self-describe myself as whatever those experts are labeling people who fall between an introvert and extrovert.

I guess you can say I have a fluid personality, but I prefer you use terms like dynamic, adaptable & responsive to the needs of the moment!

A more interesting source of info would be the Urban Dictionary, which has collected these definitions from random aspiring philosophers around the globe:

“Someone that likes being alone, and is happy with what they are. Often called freaks because the general population is too think-headed to understand the phrase ‘leave me the fuck alone’”

“Someone who doesn't need other people around them to validate there own existence.”

“Basically, a person who likes being alone. Unlike the social attitude that says people who are alone are really unhappy inside, many loners are actually the happiest when they're alone. Rather than finding solace in friends and family, they find solace in things such as video games, Internet, books, etc. But the main way political beliefs are inputted into people is through being social and associating one's self with others. So unfortunately, many loners tend to have radical beliefs and hold morals that greatly differ from their peers and even their own family. To put it simply, you can find a communist in a family of patriotic Americans or a conservative in a family of liberals.”

“’Socially a misfit, prefers to hang out alone. Usually has some mental "issues" and regarded insane. Doesn't fit in with the prep, punk, jock, stoner, geek and goth crowds, may take attributes from each group. May have (so-called) friends, but only close to a few people.”

I feel like the last one describes me best. I’ve always referred to myself as a friend-whore, due to my habit of having numerous friends that have never met each other but know tons about each other. I guess I find mixing drinks easier than mixing friends. This may have something to do with the travesty which was the “family” breakup after high school graduation, but that’s definitely a whole other blog entry/therapy session!

For now, I’ll be perfecting the art of being an extroverted loner! Cheers to the weekend :)

We’re Here, We’re Queer, & We Can’t Seem To Leave!

My holiday weekend was a blast to say the least. I’ve officially been to one of the gayest places on earth, and I loved every single minute of it. Even though E, T & I didn’t have a place to call our own for the second half of the adventure, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

On Friday my Boston bois and I headed for the tip of Cape Cod, a tiny town by the name of P-Town. Provincetown is known for being laid back, festive, and supremely gay-friendly. The 4th beacons an annual flock of uber-gays to this quaint little piece of homo-heaven on the Atlantic Ocean.

One of the first signs that it was going to be a great weekend came on Friday night. While grooving provocatively on the dance floor of the A-House (the most popular dance club), I lost my shirt to the floor and never recovered it. Later that night, I found myself getting kicked out of a hot-tub located on the porch of a guest house where a couple of my peeps were staying. The weekend only got crazier/better!

(Skip to) Sunday was definitely the most fun I’ve had in a while (well, since Pride Sunday)! Sunbathing at the Boatslip (imagine being on a cruise ship deck overlooking the water, except the deck’s on land overlooking the bay) with tons of hotties was followed by the world renowned T-Dance.

T-Dance was by far my favorite recurring event of the weekend. Picture hundreds of good-looking gay guys gathering daily from 4-7pm to get drunk and dance their asses off shirtless to the latest remixes (i.e. Natasha Bedingfield’s The One That Got Away…aka the song of the summer) ;)

(Mid-post shout-outs going to D, J, C, D, & J...oh, and of course Pete)

We decided that we were having way too much fun to return to Boston Sunday evening, so we opted for a shower at a rental house of friends and another night of hardcore debauchery.

We had officially had enough……..except we hadn’t. Another day at the beach proved to be the scene of pee-pee sighting in the hundreds and way more than my fair share of foreskin! After getting just short of third-degree sunburn, we shared the experience of beach showers and were ready to wrap up my first P-Town experience with a final stroll down Commercial Street (think Bourbon Street, but tamer)!

I left the Cape with just enough visual souvenirs and plenty of stories to take home. After waking up in Boston on the 4th, I said my goodbyes and sat my happy ass on a Greyhound heading south.

I was welcomed home to NYC by a friendly game of naked Twister, and I was pleasantly reminded how time flies when you and the company you keep are sans clothing! Yes that was a random end to my weekend story, but I wouldn’t have ended it any other way.

Now I’m off to bed to catch up on that sleep I missed due to a lengthy discussion of cult practices.

Enjoy the pics!


I Heart Dunes (& Cock Cou-Tours)!


Squeezin' That Bulgarian Ass


I Prefer It on the Rocks


J & D & Me at T-Dance on Saturday


D & C & Me @ the Photoshoot


Like I Said, the Gayest Place on Earth!


Anorexia Petrova Outside the A-House