Bar None

So, it’s a “late spring in January” kind of a day here in my hometown.  I’m wearing a tank-top and it feels amazing.  I started out with lunch.  As a sat on the patio relaxing and enjoying something called a chicken cheeseburger, I couldn’t help but notice all the people gathering at the bar across the street...a bar that I’ve been to more times than I care to admit.  

It’s interesting how the bars play such a huge role in my people’s culture.  By “my people”, I’m referring to the gays.  I’ve struggled over the years to understand why bars seem to be the only place we like to congregate.  I don’t really care for the bars.  So, of course I packed up my laptop and decided to plop down right in the middle of one!  I’ve made a habit of forcing myself into awkward scenarios in an effort to keep my mind outside the box.  Trust me when I say that typing away in the middle of a meat market is highly awkward!  So, I pulled out my laptop and began observing and writing.  I think I’ve been able to categorize the things I’ve seen today...

The Social Queens - 

These are the guys who show up just to be seen.  This is as much a production as anything you would ever see on broadway.  Hair is sprayed into submission.  Clothes are two sizes too small.  On a side note, that baby Gap look only works on 1 out of every 20 gay men.  The social queens are laughing at things that aren’t funny, throwing back drinks faster than the bartender can pour, and generally doing everything short of setting off fireworks in an effort to be noticed.  

The Sex Queens - 

I think we all know what these folks are doing.  Ummm yeah...looking for sex.  They are the least complicated individuals in all of gaydom.  

The Drag Queens - 

Albeit they are not typically “made up”, you can always spot them by their high-arched eyebrows and affinity for comfy sweatpants.  You can also spot that “I took off all my makeup at about 4am this morning” look.  Hey, I’m not making this up.  

The Sporty Queens - 

These are the ones who want to accentuate every muscle in their overly worked out, usually out-of-proportion bodies.  Think top-heavy...90 inch chest and legs you could clean small pipes with.  It’s amazing that they have time to even make it to a bar considering they are always propped up on a bench-press machine.  

The Old Queens - 

I have an agreement with my best friend to have him stab me in the face if I ever find myself in this group.  These are the men of considerable age who have never quite found a life outside a bar.  My cut off age is currently 45.  45 is the LAST age.  If I should feel the need to adjust the age, it would be younger...not older.  

The “In Love” Queens - 

These are the ones who are with the “man of the moment”; proudly displaying each other like Grammy awards on a shelf.  They will be broken up after about two months of hot sex and one-too-many date nights at the bar.  

The Bottom Line:

Queens come and go, but the bars...they are forever.  While I don’t pretend to completely understand the correlation between gay life and the clubs and bars; I know that in some fashion it’s our haven...our little slice of the world where we can completely be ourselves without fear of judgement (this excludes fashion judgement).  I suppose at some point I will just stop trying to figure out the bar crowd and resolve that much like Republican nominees for President, it’s a necessary evil.  ;-)  

The Dark Side of the Moon

It's a cool Saturday in a city just outside Atlanta.  I'm sitting in a hotel room trying to figure out how I'm going to write the words that will follow this sentence.  I'm all about giving my readers the moment and the truth; but this promises to be one of the more difficult things that I've written.

A few days prior to my 30th birthday, life was good.  I had a huge birthday bash planned.  My boyfriend at the time was handling all the arrangements.  I even had a decent and balanced perspective on turning 30.  I had managed to avoid wanting to hang myself from the ceiling fan or the shower rod because I was "getting old".  Other than being a little under the weather, I was doing well.  I decided to go see my family doctor for a check-up.  In general, I felt great so I didn't think much of it.  I'd always go in on a weekday, mid-morning, and always get my check-up results back the very next afternoon.  They were very efficient that way.

The following day, I called in for my results.  The blood work was still in a pending status.  The next day was the same.  On the third day, I spoke to my very favorite nurse over the phone.  She wasn't her usual outrageous and playful self.  Her voice was quiet and troubled.  She said, "Honey, when can you come in to see the doctor?".  Not being one to drag my feet, I made an appointment.  While she didn't tell me anything over the phone, I somehow knew what was unfolding before me.  About five days passed before I was able to make it in for my appointment.   I went alone.  My nurse and doctor came into the room and told me something that would change my life forever.  "David, we ran all your standard blood work.  You tested positive for HIV."  The words just hung there like a London fog.  My favorite nurse held my hand as tears rolled down my face.  The doctor began explaining the next steps but most of his words were just washed away with my tears.  

I've only ever cried so much one other time in my life.  I honestly don't remember the days in between the news and telling my boyfriend.  I was a mess on the inside.  Some who already know my story, have said that I am a remarkably strong person.  I don't really feel strong, but then again, this kind of strength is not the kind that advertises itself with fanfare.

I guess I decided to share this very personal part of my life for a few reasons.  As with any major life trial, one can feel desperate and alone.  I wouldn't wish the feelings I experienced during that time on anyone.  I've refrained from telling many people because of the stigma that goes along with having HIV.  I wish people were more educated but as with many things in life, until it affects you, you pay it no attention.  So, after making my way out of the "I'm gay" closet, I felt forced into yet another.

Here is what I'd like you all to take away from this moment that I've shared with you...

For those of you who have been diagnosed... You are not alone!  Find someone to talk to; perhaps a professional or a friend you can trust.  Don't go through this alone.  This hurts in a way that does not compare to many things.  Know that when the dust settles on your diagnosis, you will feel like living again.  You will thrive.  You will feel loved again.  Walk toward the light and know that while it may take some time to feel...normal...that time will come.

For those who don't know much about HIV or AIDS...  Google it.  Talk about it.  Understand it.  Life is entirely too short to think it couldn't happen to you or someone that you love.  You should also know that it's no longer a death sentence!  Provided I can reduce my road-rage, I will outlive most of those reading this...trust and believe!  You must understand how it's contracted, how to prevent it, and how to support those in your life who have it.  Stop being afraid of what you don't understand and  dispense with falling back on ignorance as an excuse for poor attitudes.

The Bottom Line:
At one time, having HIV felt like being on the dark side of the moon.  I was lonely and isolated.  I felt the cold of mortality creeping in.  Honestly, I felt like trash.  It felt like the end of dating.  It felt like the end of love and happiness.  It felt like the end of my life.  Once the fog lifted and I made the choice to educate myself and to keep on living; I was able to see that nothing could be further from the truth.  Have things changed?  Of course!  It has taken me a great deal of time, but I am finally finding the purpose in all this.  I hope that my story will inspire you to approach yourself and others with love and compassion.  HIV positive or not, we are all going through something and could benefit from the light of love.


Click here to learn about HIV.

The Bench

In the highly competitive world of dating and relationships, have you ever found yourself feeling like you are constantly coming off the bench?  Do you get the sneaky feeling that you are a back-up, a last resort, or a role player?  The "role" being that of a booty call or perhaps something that just feels comfortable...you know...like an extra large raggedy sweat shirt.  What happens when you look up one day and find yourself at what seems like the very end of the bench?  Don't worry yourself with how the hell you got there.  Just ask yourself... How the fuck do I get back in the game?


There are a few ways that I can see...

The Trade

Put the time into bettering yourself.  Work on your "shot".  Wait until you're ready for free-agency and then get the hell off the team!  You have something to offer.  You have skills that have yet to be discovered.  Take your talents to South Beach like LeBron James if necessary, but GET OUT!  Why be on the bench with one team when you can be the star on a team that appreciates all that you bring to the table?

Sign an Extension

Look, this all depends on where exactly you are in your "contract".  The beginning?  Perhaps this is the option for you.  Give it some time.  See if things settle down.  The middle?  It could really go either way.  Where do you see this "team" going?  Is there any real potential to win?  The end?  I've never been one for sticking around just because something is comfortable and familiar.  Who wants to waste their time on something that has never and probably will never work?   If you're at the ass end, it's probably time to venture into free agency.    

Retirement

While this seems like the best option when you're feeling down and out, you should probably save this option for last.  After all...40 is the new 20...60 the new 40...so on and so forth.  No need to step away from the game while you are still in your prime!


After years of being an option and a bench player (both in and out of a relationship), I've come to realize that I have way more to offer on the court than I do on the sidelines.  I've allowed others to place me on the bench as a "just in case".  Well, I'm putting the world on notice.  I won't be a second, third, or twelfth option!   I won't be the asshole who comes in only for a trick play or when all other options have dried up.  I will be THE option.  I don't need to lead the league in scoring.  I just need to be the number one option on my particular team.  Hopefully I didn't lose you with all my sports metaphors or bore you to death.  I just couldn't help but notice all the similarities between sports and relationships.

The Bottom Line: Too many options is a nightmare when you are a child.  Let a child have too many choices and they will either pick everything or nothing at all.  Sometimes it doesn't change when we grow up.  At times, we can be a bunch of semi-responsible extra large children.  It's unfortunate.  There are too many teams to play for in the world for you to just accept being the last of many options.

Shine like the star you are!  


   

It's Midnight. Now What?

I've written about facilitating your own fairy tale in my piece entitled:  Get Your Ass In The Pumpkin!!!!  So, what happens when you get in the pumpkin, show up for the big event with your brave face on, and the clock still has the nerve to strike midnight?

I can deal with the vanishing fancy clothes.  I can manage making my way around town in my own ride.  Hell, I've got enough flip-flops to keep me from really missing a stray shoe.  At the same time, what I can't seem to deal with is all the questions that inevitably follow.  Does anyone care enough to return my "shoe"?  How long will it take for "Prince Charming" to realize that's it's not normal to find one random shoe just lying around?  Is Prince Charming only interested in bangin me in the back of the pumpkin?  And here we go...Question after question, with not a real answer in sight.

Does the answer lie within?  Maybe I should be happy to have had one night with a Prince.  Perhaps I should just be grateful to be a part of a magical evening that not many people have the chance to experience.  I believe there is a balance to be found between complacency and contentment. I'm just not sure I understand how to achieve it.

While all my above ramblings seem metaphorical, the reality is that people all over the world struggle with with this issue every single time they open themselves up to someone they care about.  Everyone wants a happy ending.  Most people want to believe that love is possible, even in the most unlikely places. While I still wholeheartedly believe that a fairy tale takes effort, there are some things which are simply out of our control.


The Bottom Line:  While getting your ass in the pumpkin is important, one has to prepare for what happens next. We can't just plan for that one fairy tale moment in life.  We have to give consideration to what happens once the clock strikes midnight.  After all, who wants to be seen running all over town wearing rags?  

Groundhog Day

Human behavior is a very curious and ridiculous thing.  As children, we learn tough lessons about touching hot surfaces. We touch a hot pan or place our hand in the oven and instantly learn that we shouldn't touch things that are too hot. When I was growing up, I learned that if I talked back to my mother, I'd get my ass whipped.  The pain of the spanking was enough to keep me on the straight and narrow most days.  

When it comes to love and life in general, things tend to be remarkably different. We can make the same mistakes over and over and over again and we keep going right back for more.  We can even be privy to the past experiences of others and we couldn't care less.  Cautionary tales and sorted horror stories aren't even enough to prevent us from heading face-first into life's "brick walls".   

I've been told my entire life... "Everyone has to make their own mistakes."  As I get older, I can't help but ask... Why?  Why do we have to make our own mistakes?  Why don't we learn from the proof that is right before our eyes?  Is it arrogance?  Maybe we think that we are above making the same miscalculations that our predecessors did.  Perhaps it's a sense of inevitability that we give in to...I'm going to screw up anyway so why not?

As stupid as the notion that everyone HAS to make mistakes sounds, it seems to be some sort of "law" of nature.  I'm learning though, that there is a fine line between making your own mistakes and being fully engaged in your very own Groundhog Day.  

The Bottom Line:  As Samantha Jones from Sex and the City says: Have fun, just don't have amnesia.  Being doomed to repeat history is not the only option.  Perhaps we should walk the path of the shepherd rather than that of the sheep.