My Dick Detox: The First 100 Days

I prefer the word detox to drought, seeing as detox makes it sound like I have some control over the matter, while drought makes it sound like something bigger than me is keeping the dick out of my mouth and ass for a reason unknown to me.

When it comes to frequency of sexual encounters, “normal” (according to SATC wisdom) is halfway between WHAT YOU WANT and WHAT YOU CAN GET. I can’t seem to get laid, and I don’t seem to want to, so I guess this drought, I mean detox, is normal. And the detox seems to be going well in terms of affording me time to tear down some of the wall I’ve built up over the years. I still have a great deal of work to do before the people of East Berlin are allowed over without being shot, but with my own Ronald Reagan’s help I will get there. I’m not sure who Mr. Gorbachev is in my case, but I desperately need him to TEAR DOWN THIS WALL!

I’m afraid the groundhog has peaked out of his burrow to be scared shitless by his lingering shadow, but that simply means the quiet growth will take a while longer to manifest itself. I must admit this winter of discontent is quite intense. Everything feels dead, and if it’s only sleeping I can’t seem to remember what alive feels like. It may take six more weeks or it may take six more months, but the new season and new life will eventually come. I have to believe that.

Since the beginning of November, I’ve been recovering from my second real romantic relationship and it’s turned into arguably the messiest thing I’ve ever tried to clean up. I’m also left asking myself a very difficult question. Why would I ever want to go through this again? Why would I ever welcome the excruciating pain that comes with hurting another human being that I deeply care for? The answer is easy, but not easy to come to terms with. Because without taking risks you go through life only experiencing what you know, which can become just as excruciatingly familiar and equally painful.

If I’m being honest with myself, these past three months have felt more like a drought than a detox. Equal parts insecurity and indifference; too much animosity and anger; not enough direction and focus.

Where the drought is concerned, is it that the universe finally “gets me” and it’s in my corner by keeping me out of commission, or is it that the universe is cruelly punishing me for years of poor choices? I do still believe there’s a reason for everything, but I hate the thought of that reason taking so long to reveal itself.

There’s a lot to be said for staying out of trouble. And in my case, even more to be said for keeping trouble out of me.

If it’s nothing else, these 100+ days are serving as a chance for me to refresh my sexual outlook and my attitude toward the same sex in general. My hope is that I will make smarter choices in the future, in my life and in my bed.

Cheers to the big D!

I Heart James Morrison!

Love, love, love. Add Nelly Furtado and I say THREESOME!

You can't play on broken strings
You can't feel anything that your heart don't want to feel
I can't tell you something that ain't real

A-MAZING.

Check it.

Obamanation ‘09

I had the incredible of opportunity to spend the greater part of last week in our nation's capital enjoying the big party that comes every 4 years.

However, the vast majority of Americans I was celebrating with hadn't partied like this since 1996, or possibly ever. So you can only imagine the brand of euphoric energy that was in abundance in the 202 area code. And it most likely will be lingering for many weeks to come.

The whole trip was definitely one of the most surreal (dare I say emotional/touching) experiences of my life thus far.

Since I'm not a huge (or even small) fan of the District during a normal week of mundane political drivel, this was the perfect chance to visit without being bored/annoyed to tears. It seems like 9 or 10 lifetimes ago since I walked the hallowed halls of the Capitol building as a Republican page for the House. Oh, how far I’ve come!

This time JK and I stayed will a lovely older gay couple, one of the two being JK’s godfather. They generously opened their basement to us and they could not have been more hospitable. Meanwhile, you could definitely feel the welcome arms of a city that has been awaiting a new resident at 1600 Pennsylvania for some time now.

Cheers to Obama and his first one hundred days. May they be as productive and successful as my attempt to make this year better than 2008.

True Love Waits…

…for no man! It’s ironic then that so many people spend so much time waiting around for love.

On New Year's Eve I accompanied MJ to the wedding ceremony and reception of one of his dearest friends from back in his Emerson glory days, and was reminded of something as I looked down the aisle of a beautiful church in Hoboken.

True love may be hard to find, but it is never hard to see. I can’t remember the last wedding I attended, understandably due to my diminishing number of straight friends. And I can’t say most straight people amuse me any more than watching paint dry. But I do know true love when I see it, and Keith and Kim are the real deal; the authentic agape. That’s why I’m not ashamed to say I teared up during the “giving consent” portion of the ceremony. This was also my first traditional catholic wedding, so that I was touched amongst the confusion and ups and downs is truly remarkable.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been quite as easy to feel the passion that was radiating from the happy couple if I hadn’t had the opportunity to hang out with them a couple times, but I would find it hard to believe that any random parishioner in that church couldn’t feel it as well. Even if it didn’t move them like it did this cold-hearted bastard.

On to the reception, while battling temperatures in the teens and both a wind chill factor and blood alcohol level of zero. The Chart House is quite a charmer. I’d say it was the perfect place to celebrate the nuptials, and even better on the most celebratory night of the year. The view across the Hudson was mesmerizing even to this jaded queen. However, the circus of dancing breeders had me briefly missing the gay ole times that were being had back in Chelsea. I must say the commotion on that dance floor briefly had me consdiering standing behind the passage of Prop 8! But then I got to thinking that a reception full of mo’s would leave nothing to be desired, and certainly nothing to the imagination. So I say take it back; the proposition that is.



But alas, I must wait for true love to find me because I’m sure as hell not going looking for it any time soon. And I won’t be exactly waiting for it when it comes, so I guess there’s always a chance it could pass me by.

But if my theory is true and true love is in fact impossible to miss, I shouldn’t have any problem lassoing the guy who makes me look at him like Keith looks at his lovely bride Kim.

Cheers to love. I may feel slightly incapable of some forms of it, but I know with all my heart that a transcendent love does exist in this fucked up world we’re living in.