Rude awakening

For two summers in college, I worked at a camp in North Carolina called Camp Arrowhead in the small town of Tuxedo, outside of Hendersonville. It was your basic boys' camp, complete with dining hall shenanigans, canoeing, camping, horseback riding, all tucked away in the hills on the border of North and South Carolina. I loved every minute of it.

While there, I made many good friends that were also counselors. One in particular was my friend, Arno. Arno was from Zimbabwe originally, but was attending the University of South Carolina. And he made me laugh. A lot.

We used to stay up late into the night, sharing stories and drinking and laughing. We really became very close. I listened to his pain at leaving his family in Zimbabwe and how much he missed them. I laughed at his jokes and we quickly formed a deep friendship. Once he came to my parents' house and we all went to Six Flags and once I visited him in Columbia.

While I didn't call it "love" then, and to be honest, I'm not sure it was, I know my feelings ran very deep for this guy and I would've done anything for him. He was funny, pained and liked being my friend.

Years and years later, I was at my apartment having moved to Arizona and decided to Google him. Strangely, I found him and sent him a quick e-mail at his work address, really just to say hi. When he wrote back, he told me that his work was sending him to Tempe the following week and we should get together! I was thrilled... and scared...

Surely he knows I'm gay, I thought. But I figured I better let him know before he gets here, so I sent him an e-mail. He wrote back saying that it was cool and he couldn't wait to see me. Whew...

He shows up, looking pretty much the same, but a little pudgier and grayer... (Aren't we all?) We go to a local restaurant and start shooting the breeze as he fills me in on his life... Married, working in Columbia, etc. I do the same and I'm truly enjoying myself.

Now, I'm a very physical person with those I love. I touch, nudge, grab someone's arm to make a point, you know.

And, at one point, I grab his forearm as it rested on the table and say, "I'm really glad to see you." He pulls away and says, "Stop touching me so much."

And I felt like he'd slapped me in my face. I was completely shocked and left the table to go into the bathroom. Close to tears, I paced back and forth trying to absorb what had just happened. I was getting angry. Really pissed and had decided that he should just take me home and we'd call it a day. Maybe this was a really bad idea. Maybe he secretly really had a problem with homos. Maybe he was struggling with his homo side and I scared him.

I came out, pissed as hell, and asked him to take me home. He started apologizing up and down and he begged me to stay and let's have fun. He said he didn't mean it the way it sounded and that he just wasn't used to people touching him so much. And that he was really glad to see me too.

The night wore on. We had fun catching up, drinking. He wanted to go to this jazz club and he totally reminded me why I had loved him so much in college. He had this charming smile that lit up his face. He kept saying how happy he was to see me. And then, all of a sudden, he jerked his head to me and said, "By the way, when you e-mail me, don't use so many exclamation points. That's so gay." I thought he meant it as a joke, but he was dead serious. "You don't know who could be reading that at my work." His whole demeanor changed for a second as he said it and it freaked me out.

As I often do when I'm really upset, I just turned away and stared straight ahead, afraid of what I might say or do. How do I respond to this??? I guess I could storm out and never see him again. Is he fucking serious???

Somehow, I got past it and we went on to, believe it or not, a gay bar to have a drink. He wanted to, so I said ok.

As we sat at the bar at Roscoe's, he went off. How bad I looked, how I didn't seem to care about myself and how I was deifying my boyfriend at the time and wouldn't stop talking about him. How I was better than what I was being. He really went on and on, pointing out my shoes (Arno has always been really fashion-conscious... I'm just saying), pointing out the shorts I had on. He kept telling me I was better than this. And, to this day, I can't remember my reaction.
I really and truly can't.

And I was devastated. At the time, I thought all of this was about me being gay... and I can't be sure now. I was at a time when I didn't care much about myself and I'm sure I looked pretty bad. I've NEVER been a fashion plate, by any means... Somehow I missed that gay gene.

I can't be sure what he meant, but all I know is it hurt... and it hurt bad... I actually think that the gesture of his pulling his arm away hurt worse than anything. And I wanted to yell at him, call him a fat fuck and tell him what I thought of him marrying a girl from South Carolina named Ginger and that HE was better than THAT.

But, I didn't. He left AZ and we never communicated again. I didn't want to. I didn't care to ever see him again really.

But few episodes in my past have bothered me this much. Truly.

I don't let bad feelings pervade between me and my friends. I'm always the one to call and resolve, get together, talk things over, express how I feel, listen to how he/she feels and get it all out in the open so we can be friends again. They mean a lot to me and I HAVE to make sure there's some kind of resolution, even if it's not great.

But I let Arno go. I try and remember the guy who had the winning smile, the guy who laid with me on a pontoon boat on our backs and professed our undying friendship for each other, the guy who, after watching "The Trip to Bountiful" went to his room and cried because he missed home and I comforted him.

He's the guy that's still somewhere inside. And I'd rather remember him that way.

Funny how things happen

About three years ago, I was attending a work conference in New York, one which I truly tried to get out of. It was October and I really just wanted to stay home.

On the first night, we all gathered at the Bryant Park Grill in what has become my favorite place in Manhattan, the beautiful Bryant Park.

I didn't realize that sport coats were the theme that evening, so I enter the restaurant feeling completely underdressed. Almost immediately, a friend of mine who had recently started a new job in Denver assailed me.

"HEEEEYYY..." she screeched. "I want you to meet my board president! Two of my favorite people in one place!"

And there he stood... Hot Board Member... We chatted for a minute as my gaydar tried to adjust. I couldn't tell if this surly guy was playing on my team or not.

Dinner ensued as I sat at a large table with my screechy friend and her Hot Board Member and some other friends of mine. I noticed that we were all drinking wine, except for Hot Board Member.

Then, in typical theatrical fashion, a friend of mine and British artistic director of a theatre in Chicago announces, "I'm feeling like we should go to a homosexual bar tonight." So, I casually say to Hot Board Member, "Are you going?" And he said, rather disdainfully, "Is it a gay bar?" I look confused and mutter, "Ummm... Yeah, I guess."

Off we trot to Therapy where I spent the night trying to talk to Hot Board Member while some not so hot board member grabbed me and tried to shove his tongue down my throat. I cab it back to the hotel to sleep for the next day.

In the conference room that I was to spend the next 48 hours, I say to my friend, "Have you seen the hot board member from Denver?" I literally couldn't take my eyes off him. Dark, muscly, Italian, Jersey born and bred I could tell... He was so damn cute... and I knew I didn't have a chance. Not that I wanted one. I was trying to fix my failing relationship back home in Phoenix.

At the end of the day, we decide that about five of us would go to dinner. After a myriad of phone calls to solidify details, we meet at my friend's apartment for a drink. HBM is there when I arrive and I try to initiate small talk, but he doesn't seem too interested.

We go to dinner at The Eatery. Five of us cram into a booth in the bar to wait for a table. Then, suddenly, as if we were the only two people there, Hot Board Member yells across the table at me, "Hey... What kind of guys are you normally attracted to?" So, at least that answers that.

"Ummm... I don't know. I guess I usually like guys somewhat older." He holds up his index finger, signifying "that's one."

"I do like muscles on a guy." Two fingers go up.

"And I kinda like hairy guys." Three fingers go up, like a Boy Scout salute.

What the hell? Was he saying, "Bingo, baby, that's me. You just hit the jackpot," or was he saying, "I like that too, so smooth, younger, skinny guy, you don't stand a chance." I literally couldn't tell, but he was turning me the hell on.

One second later, again in front of all my friends, "Hey... Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Yeah."

"Can you guys do other guys?"

In my head, I say, "Well, he obviously thinks he can," but I just look at him and say, "Yeah," half smiling and feeling ridiculously self-conscious. Is he asking because he wants to "do" me? And what's with that term, "do other guys?" Who says that? Doesn't he know the code phrase, "Are you guys open?"

We get called to the table and I do some fancy maneuvering to get to sit next to him. We share brief life stories. He tells me he's from New Jersey originally, but has lived in Denver for the last 30 years or so. He tells me his boyfriend is a prominent pediatrician in Denver and that he has two kids and was married to a woman for 20 years. This hot board member is getting hotter by the minute. And I'm feeling more and more scared that he is kind of flirting with me, something I don't deal with very well.

Suddenly, he interrupts... "You're so (pause, pause, as he searches for the word)... charming."

I stare at him, directly in the eyes, point my finger at him and say simply, without thinking, "Don't start with me." He laughs.

I'm thinking, "OK, Hot Board Member... Italian Jersey guy with the blackest hair I've ever seen and a striking resemblance to John Stamos... DON'T START THIS... I kinda like you... and I NEVER like guys... You're toying with me on a business trip, away from the hubby... and you're ridiculously cute and I feel like I might obsess over you when I get home and I need to fix my floundering relationship with the man I haven't had sex with for two years... Do not start something that neither of us can finish. DO NOT START WITH ME!"

Well, he didn't take the hint. Six months later, he's moving to Phoenix after his relationship ended and mine did too... He's to be my roommate... ONLY... while he fills in for an employee of a friend of mine who is on maternity leave. He'll be here four months, at the most, while he looks for employment somewhere else in the country... He has interviews in Dallas, Charleston, Omaha, Tulsa.

Two and a half years later, he has a great job in Phoenix, we've bought a house we love, built a pool and gotten a dog.

And he's become the love of my life and my family. I'll never be without him.

Life is funny.

BFFs at 40?

I'm on this kick lately of wanting some new friends... Smart friends, funny friends, friends who have more to talk about than who slept with who(m?) and the hot guy at the gym... I'm 40 years old, for God's sake... Doesn't ANYBODY in Arizona know what "Spring Awakening" is?

My boyfriend, Jersey Boy, let's call him, is on the same kick. In his previous life in Denver, he was an A-gay. Not that he enjoyed it because he hated it. But, he was always going to some sort of social fete somewhere to raise money for some worthwhile cause. He refers to his previous boyfriend as the Mayor of Denver due to his serving on so many boards and knowing everyone in town.

But I know that, he too, longs for some conversation that doesn't necessarily revolve around reality TV.

I do know that I'm sounding like an incredible snob here and before I move on, dear reader, I have to tell you that I enjoy talking about hot guys, who's slept with whom (I'm pretty sure it's whom) and some reality TV. I just would like to talk a little more about... well, more. Even things I have no clue about, just to learn something new.

So, we want some new friends.

But, it's hard at our age and, in my opinion, in a city that prides itself on the concrete walls surrounding everyone's house. I want diversity. I want some women, some straight people, some young people and some old people.

And I do have to be careful. We, like many couples I know, have this fantasy of finding another gay couple to do everything with. Travel, cook, eat out, watch our dogs play together. But, it can be much like dating where you don't really want to rush things. How many times have you couples left dinner with another couple and said, "They're nice. We should hang out with them more," meaning "They're funny. Or they're smart. You talked to him a lot and I talked to the other one a lot, so maybe all four us will get along." It's just kind of a weird idea that we have that we'll ALL FOUR just love each other beyond belief. So, I've kind of given up on that idea.

But, I have to be careful because I'll sometimes find someone who I just think is great. And my immediate instinct is to come on too heavy. "Hey, do you want to be my best friend? I'll be your best friend. We'll do everything together and if he ever dumps you, you can just come on over and sleep in our guest room for a while. Let's all go to Europe together! How does that sound?"

You get the picture. And, just like dating, that puts people off. Friendships, like relationships, need to take their natural course and see where they go. After all, how many friendships have been RUINED after travelling together??

I often wonder if it's Phoenix. Is a place uniquely hard to make friendships? I often imagine us living us back in Atlanta or in a place like Austin and having dinner parties and movie nights and poker games... something other than Charlie's. Would it be easier somewhere else?

Or am I just too damn hot?

Broken trust...

Do you remember the moment when you fully realized that someone who claimed to love you could betray you? It hits like a gut-punch right in the solarplexus. It smashes you beneath its reality and doesn't let you up again for a long time... or, if you let it, forever. It makes you question everything you believe. And it changes you. You're never the same again.

He and I had been together for five years. His was the dream of the commitment ceremony, the white picket fence, the joint checking account and the inevitable babies bouncing on knees. His was the dream of monogamy, of two people being made for one another, of growing old and taking care of each other. He had, after all, been the victim of enormous violations of trust in his last long-term relationship, according to him. This one was to be pure and right.

The only problem was his double life. Strike that... The only problem was I believed him.

His secret trysts with strangers in steam rooms or drunken interludes with good friends of ours when I was out of town. His hidden e-mails to men, asking them to join him in another city when he travelled for business. His addiction to online sex encounters, sometimes made real. The scattered phone numbers on cocktail napkins, the late night phone calls. The sneaking off for long periods of time when we'd go to bars together. The many violations of trust I discovered and the imagining of many, many more. I'm still not sure which have basis in fact, but I'm not terribly interested in finding out the reality.

And still, none of this did me in. It certainly eroded my trust, but nothing broke it, surprisingly. With each episode, I believed that they were mistakes, falters and that he had, once again, gotten back on the horse and would stay on this time. That he truly cared about me and my feelings and wouldn't do anything to hurt me intentionally.

Until...

We had just bought a house together and it was moving day. We had spent weeks packing up our apartment, excited at the prospect of home ownership and a new life together. His friend had come from LA to help us on the last few days of packing.

On the day of the move, I turned in the remote for the apartment gate and went to work while the movers arrived. I knew I would come home to our new house with boxes packed to the ceiling, but I was elated.

About mid-day, I decided I could leave work for the day and go help. I decided to stop by the hopefully by now cleaned out apartment to see if I could do anything there. I drive up to the gate that was miraculously open, so I didn't have to call him to open it for me. I got out of my Jeep and headed to the front door of the apartment, walking by the dining room windows on my way in. I couldn't see inside, but could tell that all the furniture was gone.

I found the door cracked a bit and went to push it open ...

It slammed in my face and locked.

And that was the moment. My trust had been completely broken and I felt like a broken egg with the yolk flowing out of my insides. My mouth tasted like copper and I almost passed out from hyperventilating.

I knew. Like a flash, it hit me that my partner had been having an affair with the "friend" that came to help us move. That while they worked together over the summer at a gig out of town, they had had an affair. The entire summer and all my repressed suspicions surfaced and I suddenly saw every clue I'd ignored for three months.

I can't forget the milliseconds later when the door opened and there he was, stammering, red-faced, pretending that the door handle was faulty. All I could say was, "How could you do this??"
That moment, with all of my belongings packed in boxes at my new, jointly owned house, was when my innocence was lost, when I realized that people you trusted could seriously wound, that others whom I loved, trusted and respected could do things that I couldn't fathom of doing to someone. That people were capable of lying to my tear-streaked face as I begged for the truth.

We stayed together six more years, but they were painful and riddled with distrust, so much so that I even started lying. During that time, I became obsessed with rifling through his wallet, trying to crack his e-mail password, going through trash bins for scraps of paper with clues to his lies. I became something akin to a drug addict who couldn't help myself from checking his cell phone for past or placed calls. I got a strange joy out of finding bad things and rubbing them in his face. When I look back to that time, I almost see myself as physically ugly, kind of like those public service announcements to stay away from meth that show people's mug shots progressing from a normal looking person to a person that is barely recognizable. The lack of trust... no, more the active distrust, made me into a person that felt ravaged with illness.

It's taken me several years to be able to believe in happy endings again. To actually attend a wedding and believe in the future of two people together. To watch a romantic movie without scoffing. To see a couple who openly espouses monogamy without thinking to myself, "Which one's cheating?"

And, most importantly, to be able to trust another human being again with my heart. And, I do.

My new love doesn't promise the white picket fence or absolute monogamy, but he swears he will always tell me the truth... and I finally believe him.

I do have what I call flashbacks... I'll not be able to reach him one night and my mind will run wild with the scenarios. I'll see him talking to someone else and touching them and I go right back to the scared lover I once was with my ex, peering through the crowd, trying not to be seen so I can catch him in the act. I always tell him how I'm feeling... and, most times, he's patient... He understands that I'm a veteran and will, from time to time, believe I'm back in the war .

But, I do trust him...

I just hope he's not lying to me.

Ummm... Is someone going to RESCUE ME???

In today's Arizona Republic:

Fourth of July holiday to push record temps
John Faherty

The Arizona Republic

Jul. 2, 2007 12:00 AM

Just because this happens every year does not make it any less hot. And we are in a very toasty stretch right now. Since June 20, the high temperature in the Valley has been at least 109 degrees. And by the Fourth of July, we might wish it were only 109.


The National Weather Service is forecasting temperatures to hit a high of 116 degrees on the holiday. That's about 8 degrees above normal. Conditions today are expected to be intense as well. A heat advisory will be in effect from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m., with highs in the Valley reaching up to 113. Meteorologists also are anticipating an increase in moisture by the end of the week. "This high-pressure system is likely to bring in moisture from New Mexico and Sonora," said Valerie Meyers with the National Weather Service. "That could bring the monsoon."

The monsoon usually results in periodic heavy thunderstorms in the Valley.

Separate bedrooms

My boyfriend and I, who live together and share our lives together, have separate bedrooms.

No, we haven't been together for 20 years. Only 2 1/2 years.

Yes, we still have sex. Frequently, in fact.

No, neither of us snore. (Well, ok, not much)

And, yes, we are very much in love, probably more in love than anyone I know...


Here's the deal.

We didn't mean to be boyfriends. We meant to be roommates... with benefits. We had both just ended very long-term relationships (mine of 9 years and his of 4 years) and absolutely, positively, no questions asked were NOT ready for another relationship. He moved to Phoenix TEMPORARILY while he was looking for a job somewhere else. He was my roommate... and we had ridiculously great sex and did everything together.

So, what happens? Long story short, but he gets a job in Phoenix, we finally call it what it is (love, not roommates) and we buy a house together.

But, we decided to keep separate bedrooms. We both like sleeping alone. I haven't had the bed to myself in almost 15 years (I was married to a woman for 5 years prior to my last relationship) and he hadn't had the bed to himself in almost 25 years (he was married to a woman for 20 years prior to his last relationship... yes... you read that right).

I like to read before I go to sleep and he doesn't. I like having a space to call my own and he does too...and neither of us are big cuddlers before sleeping or upon waking up. We cuddle, but it's usually on the couch watching TV.

So, we have separate bedrooms.

And you wouldn't believe the reaction we get from people. This sleeping together thing is WAY more symbolic than I knew! People are almost shocked when they hear this or come to our house. Like, in disbelief. Even my most "progressive" of friends.

Come to think of it though (and it never occurred to me until writing this), it's mainly my SINGLE friends that think it's so weird. My married or otherwise coupled friends don't really comment much on it. But, I've heard more than one single friend say, "That's what I like the most about being in a relationship is going to bed and waking up with that person."

I go to sleep and wake up with him... He's just down the hall...

The other comment I get most often is "Well, what happens when you have sex?"

I say, "I leave him a twenty on his dresser and then I'm back to my room." That always shuts them up.

I think many of us remember when their dad starting sleeping in the guest room (I know I do) and what that meant, even if the parents explained it away by saying he snored too much. Or their grandparents sleeping in separate beds or rooms. And what that symbolized.

I just really didn't know it was so sensitive for people. It's not that we're really averse to sleeping together either. We always get a king-sized bed when we're on vacation. We don't close our doors to each other. Very often, we sneak in each others' rooms to get some nookie.

Maybe one day we'll share a bedroom. But, for now, to quote Barbara Mandrell, "I'm sleeping single in a double bed." And liking it.

This time it's for me

Here we are... My third blog... This time it's for me... The last few have started out for me, but then ended up conforming, just a bit, to the "friends" I made and the comments they left... I wanted to sound positive, happy, masculine, self-realized, intelligent... So, I skirted my insecurities or my sadness... Not that I'm sad (See?? I'm doing it again!)... but, really, I'm not sad... Just slightly malcontent... Feeling the need for change, for more friends, for a better body, for a more satisfying job, for more money, for some landscaping, for some intelligent conversation or at least enthusiastic conversation... Remember in college when you'd stay up almost all night talking with someone, neither of you able to stop talking, sitting with your knees up in the dorm hallway, whispering so as not to wake anyone? I loved those times... Although it was usually with a straight male friend that I was trying to bring closer to me because I had a crush on him... Although I didn't call it that...

So, this time it's for me... I can't promise lots of links and great pictures, etc. but I can promise that it'll ALL be me...