Tuesday, September 30, 2014

A Little Reflection

Has it really been half a year since I came out?  I really can't believe it has already been that long, but I am happy that I am finally able to live freer than I ever have before in my life.  That does not mean that life has been all sugar and rainbows since taking that enormous step, but I have done things that I was not sure was possible just earlier this year.

For starters, I have actually started talking to guys, and have actually hooked up with a couple... more on that in a few minutes.  Money man, who I blog about periodically, used to want some of my, um, lovin' usually about twice a month, but truthfully that has slowed down almost to a grinding halt.  Last month he texted me and asked me if I wanted to stay with him at a hotel room that he had rented, and wouldn't you fucking believe it that that was the one evening that I was at my little brother's football game in Pecos.

I had actually been wanting a piece from him for quite some time, and sadly had to turn down an offer that I really, really wanted.  Since then, he just seems to be kind of standoffish.  After not hearing from him for a couple more weeks, I texted him just asking what was up, and he didn't respond.  So, I was like, okay.  And then earlier today, probably about a month since we last saw each other, I texted again asking what was up, and he actually responded with his typical response, which is working.  He asked what I have been up to; I told him working also; and mentioned that it had been a while since we last chatted.  He still has not responded several hours later, so yeah, maybe I need to get a clue... I don't know.

Anyway, I met another guy this past weekend who I am really interested in getting to know.  We met on a dating website, he is actually from here lol, and he just seems like a great guy, not to mention he is very attractive.  So, he messages me on Friday, we seem to hit if off right off the bat, and then he suggests that we meet.

Me, being the chicken shit that I am with little self confidence, really surprised myself when I kind of agreed to meet him.  So, he asks if he can come see me; I actually say yes; and he pulls in across from my house a few minutes later.  Once again, we really seemed to hit it right off the bat in person, which was definitely a good feeling.  We felt each other out, got to know each other a little, and eventually ended up in the back seat of his car... 'nuff said.

So, the next day he texts and jokes that he thinks he's pregnant, so I am just happy that he's texting me with that type of attitude, making me believe that he is genuinely interested in me.  Later on in the day he texts again telling me to come over to his apartment, but once again I am at my little brother's football game.  So, later that night, he asks me again to come over, and I do.  I go over, his roommate is gone so it's just he and I, and we watch TV in his living room and cuddle.

I cannot begin to tell you have great it felt to hold him in my arms, but simply put, it felt amazing.  At one point, he turns to me while we are laying on his couch and tells me that I'm sweet, and kisses me on the cheek, and then gives me a peck on the lips.  He then gives me this stare, which I have come to adore, but am still trying to figure out it's full meaning.  We watch TV a little longer, but then, knowing that he has work in the morning, I tell him I should get going so he can get some sleep.

So, he goes to walk me to my truck, but before we get to his front door, he grabs me and just kisses me, tongue instantly in my mouth.  It was fucking pure magic.  We then walk outside, with his neighbors outside apparently partying, and head downstairs.  When we get to the bottom of the stairs, be grabs me again, pushes me against the wall, and we start making out again.  So, now we are walking toward my truck when I ask him what his neighbors might think.  His response:  I don't give a fuck.  Then, and you might have guessed it by now, but right there in the open, he grabs me and we make out a little more.  I am still trying to wipe the smile of my face a few days later.

Anyway, his week started off horribly at work so he hasn't been in an especially talkative mood since then, although he still texts with small talk, as do I.  I just hope there is more to come, as I am most definitely interested in getting to know him better.  Time will tell, but I am really hoping something comes out of my meeting with this guy.

I had actually planned on blogging about quite a bit more, but I just noticed how long this post was after gushing about my new buddy, so I will go ahead and get off of here.  I hope to blog again soon, but you never know what's up with me these days.  I am still struggling with certain things, and I hope God helps me with those, and I am looking forward to feeling a lot more of the good after enduring a lifetime of bad.

Saturday, September 27, 2014

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Family Reunion

Today was a pretty interesting day for me.  I had forgotten, but my family had had a sort of family reunion planned for today at the park, and while the old, depressed, and isolated me would have stayed home, I reluctantly decided to get out and try to have a little fun.  So, we decide to have a BBQ potluck picnic type thing at the park where the kids can play at the water park, and we get there and it is so freaking hot.  Being the light skinned white boy that I am, I just knew that I was going to cook.

But, interestingly enough, seemingly out of nowhere, a thunderstorm decides to roll through our area and pour some much needed rain on us.  We stayed for a little while as it sprinkled, but it got darker and darker, and eventually the rain and wind picked up, so we all headed to our great grandma's house, who happens to live right down the street.

It was actually a nice get together, but this is also the first time that I had seen a lot of this family since coming out as gay.  I could definitely tell that certain family members seemed uncomfortable - as was I - and the topic was simply never brought up, thank God.  But, as time went on, everybody (including me) seemed to become more and more comfortable, and before too long it was just like any other get together that we have had before.  I was definitely relieved to not feel shunned by some of that part of my family, even if I could tell that some were probably uncomfortable with the fact.

Anyway, it has actually rained pretty much most of the day, which is pretty rare around here.  We're right smack dab in the middle of a desert, so we get pretty excited when we see a little moisture.  As my family pointed out, I guess we need to start planning more outdoor get togethers in order to attract the rain more often.

I also got a kind of weird and unexpected Facebook friend request today from a brother of a family friend.  I think I have mentioned on here before about my aunt's friend who has a gay brother, but I am not totally sure if I have.  Anyway, he sent me a friend request, apparently learning that I was gay.  We made some small talk, and eventually swapped numbers and texted for a large part of the day.   It was just kind of nice to chat with somebody I actually know personally who can relate to me quite a bit when it comes to my sexuality.  Don't get the wrong impression, though.  He's definitely not my type lol.

So, guys, with that I guess I'll go ahead and wrap this post up.  I put on sunblock before leaving earlier and feel gross and greasy, so I think I'm going to jump in the shower before watching a little TV.  Hope to blog again soon.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Growing Up

So, a couple of posts ago, I said I would start revealing more about my personal and familial life here on the blog, so I thought I would continue with that this evening.  I might be all over the place with this post, so just bare with me please.

Growing up, looking back, was very difficult and challenging in many ways, although it may not have seemed so bad at the time, simply because all of the bullshit my siblings and I went through was normal to us.  As they say, hindsight truly is 20/20.

But, and I have probably already mentioned this on here before, my parents had me when they were 16 (dad) and 15 (mom).  Neither had a full junior high education, let alone a high school diploma, so the fight was on for us kids from the get go.

We were dirt poor... to the point where we bounced around from living with grandparents and government housing, and we relied heavily on welfare in many other respects as well.  You name it, and we pretty much had to rely on it.  Even as a young kid, I knew something was up with all of that.  I would look at other kids in nice clothes, being driven in nice vehicles, and having nice things, and I would wonder why we did not have any of that.

As I got older, I started to learn more and more just how poor we were, and was honestly embarrassed when being dropped off at baseball practice in an old, beat up Suburban that had the roof tore up and hanging from the ceiling, and was just about to break down completely.  I just did not get why we were so different compared to most of my other peers.  It certainly didn't seem fair.

Christmas was always fun as well.  My dad's parents would always make sure that all of the grandkids had something nice when opening presents at their house Christmas morning, but my siblings and I were always confused why Santa's gifts at home were so cheap, and certainly not what we asked for.  I can look back at those times and now laugh, but stuff like that affects you more than you think.

  What was most troubling about Christmas, though, or even birthdays for that matter, was how our nicer gifts would always seem to disappear or somehow magically be broken and need to be returned.  I'm sure it isn't too difficult to figure out what happened here.  My parents would either pawn our gifts or return them to the store, confusing us kids even more than we already were.  Looking back, I just cannot understand how any parent could do that to their kids - I could never and would never put my kids through that, and having to live a life like that would be almost too much to take.

This is not meant to be a sob story about myself growing up as a kid to two kids themselves, but just to paint a bit of a picture of what it was to grow up being me.  It shows why I often have the perspective I do when looking at the world, and this is just one tiny example of so many that my brother, sister, and I endured growing up in a seemingly hopeless situation.

I plan on blogging again relatively soon, and am looking forward to opening up a bit more on here.

Friday, August 8, 2014

Money Man Returns

Okay, so today, out of the blue, my million dollar butt buddy texted me.  I really wasn't expecting him to text me anymore since it's been a while since he last did, but he texted me and wanted to hook up again.  Who am I to turn down a free piece of ass, right?

So, apparently my buddy is a bit of a freak in bed.  He picks me up, we go to his apartment and lie down in bed getting comfy and watching a little TV, when he asks me if I'll try some new things with him for money.  As I said before on here, I'm not a fucking hooker, so I told him that I wasn't seeing him for his money, and I am not the gold digger type.  He said he knew that, but I wasn't the one asking for it... he was simply offering it.

So, apparently my new buddy likes to be made fun of and have the other guy be an asshole to him while he's being fucked.  Nothing too ordinary with that... I've had my fair share of guys who like to be demeaned and made fun of when they were being screwed, but like I told him, I'm just not a mean guy, so that's kind of hard for me.  Needless to say, that didn't happen this afternoon.

Moving on, apparently my new buddy also wants to either be pissed in or on after being cummed in.  I was like, what the fuck!?!? Why would you want that?  Why does that turn you on?  Seriously, though, this guy offered my a thousand bucks to do it.  As good as that much money sounded, once again I declined.  I mean, once I get fully comfortable with him, who really knows what I would be willing to do, but as I told him, I'm a tough nut to crack and bring out of my shell.  He said he'd work on that hahaha.

So, without going into any more dirty details, let's just say that my afternoon offered me a pleasant surprise, and I came home with a big smile on my face after visiting my new buddy for a couple of hours.  If nothing else, I was just happy that he apparently liked what I had to offer and wanted more.  He told me that he hadn't had sex since we hooked up a month ago (not sure I buy that), and I told him the same applied to me (which was totally true).

Hey, in the very least I have apparently found me a fuck buddy, and I can't complain about that.  He's definitely good in bed, and I find him pretty attractive.  Not going to be one of those stalkerish creeps who thinks he has a new husband after a couple of hookups, but I will definitely be having pleasant dreams tonight.

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Pain and Misery of a Gay Teen

One of the many handicaps self-imposed on myself because of my struggle with my sexuality was literally having no social life.  As I have mentioned on here before, I really began hating myself when I was in my mid to late teen years, with the latter ones being especially hard on me.  In high school, and this is no joke, I think I had one friend the entire time, which was a girl by the name of Madeline.  Really sweet girl - sometimes I wonder what became of her, as she had to have a big heart to be associate with me during that time.  I had developed into a numb, careless, virtual zombie, just going through the motions day in and day out.  I went to school, came home and retreated into my isolated world, and repeated the next day.  It was a vicious and monotonous cycle that would continue on literally for years.  I still feel that I am suffering from those years of torture to this day, and I am not sure how to heal or reverse all of the damage done.

During my early teen years, I really fell into a reckless pattern of drinking on a continual basis while living with my mother.  Truthfully, I actually had quite a bit of fun during that time, just not the type of fun a young kid should be having with it being endorsed and even encouraged by your mom and step-dad.  I would get absolutely wasted on a regular basis; even on school nights I was up pretty much all night because of my mom and step-dad partying with their friends in our cramped little trailer; and I guess what I was doing was trying to numb my pain, or better yet, distract myself by replacing all the hurt and turmoil with alcohol fueled fun.

To make matters even worse, and this is something that I have come to realize once I have been away from that environment for some time now, but my mom was very good at playing psychological warfare.  No joke, this woman was brilliant at her craft, which was brainwashing her kids into believing virtually anything and everything she said, not to mention certain accusations that would come about, which I will get to momentarily.  One of the primary reasons for me being kicked out was because I was smart enough to finally be her equal, and then a legitimate threat, to her mental games.

You see, I was a HUGE mama's boy ever since I was a baby all the way until the day I was kicked out of her house, which absolutely tore me up beyond description.  I have watched home movies with my siblings and maternal grandmother over the past few years where I was probably two or three years old, and absolutely glued to my mom throughout the filming.  I had always been a mama's boy, which is why I probably believed most of what she said, even though I had been smart enough for quite some time to see through her bullshit, yet chose to wear the proverbial rose colored glasses.

But, as I got older and wiser, I started to call her out on her crap more and more, and most of the time nothing came about.  This all came to a head when I found cocaine in her room one time, and confronted her after she and my step-dad left me at home all day with my little brother and sister while they went out with his sister for extracurriculars.   When they finally came home with their heads seemingly in the clouds and their eyes bloodshot, I took the first shot by asking why her eyes were red.  That was all that needed to be said, as next thing I know she told me to get the fuck out of her house, and screamed for her husband when I initially refused.  By the way, the cocaine was supposedly aspirin according to her, even though I found the white powdery substance on a small, circular mirror with a razor blade and some rolled up tin foil in their room.  Like I already pointed out, I was becoming smart enough to pose a threat to their doings, but I would not leave their piece of shit trailer before promptly putting my fist through my bedroom window out of total rage and frustration.

Anyway, back to the psychological warfare aspect of living with my mom over the years, this woman was just good at making you feel bad, pinning blame on you for things you couldn't even dream of doing, and convincing you that crazy things could actually have logic behind them.  I could give a ton of stories and examples of her craziness, but one that still haunts me to this day is when she once accused me of grabbing my step-dad's junk while we were sleeping, which deserves some explanation in itself.  Remember, logic did not apply when it came to their weird world, and as kids, my brother, sister, and I simply went along with the ride, not really knowing what to do.

You see, our sleeping arrangements were, to put it mildly, very bizarre when living at this one particular trailer.  I know that my brother, sister, and I often slept in our living room because we did not have air conditioning in our room, and we had a large swamp cooler in the living room.  And, yes, the three of us shared a room as we lived in a small, cramped, falling apart trailer, which was actually quite normal for us.  Anyway, for whatever reason, my mom and step-dad began sleeping in the living room with us.  I don't remember exactly why that was, but it was probably supposedly also because of the swamp cooler being in the living room.  To make a long and crazy story relatively short, they would bring a mattress and put it next to ours in the living room.  My step-dad would always be the one who would sleep next to us, and one day after my mom and step-dad had gotten into an argument, my mom blurts out something along the lines of accusing me of being sexual with him.

You see, this is just one example, albeit a very significant one, of my mom's mind games that she played not only on me, but on my brother and sister as well.  She accused me of grabbing her husbands junk; I, in complete and utter shock, screamed out that it wasn't true, and proceeded to lock myself in the bathroom bawling my eyes out.  Actually, the door did not lock, so I sat up against it in the floor as I was crying, hearing them argue as my step-dad also continually denied the accusations.  I knew with no hesitation and without any doubt whatsoever that I did not do such a thing, and had never even thought about doing anything like that, but somehow my mom still made me feel bad about myself.  It was almost like I was trying to convince myself that she was somehow right, perhaps simply because I felt that my mom could do no wrong.

Looking back on that lifestyle, which was all I knew for some time, I do wonder if my step-dad ever tried to do anything to us while we were sleeping.  I mean, who has sleeping arrangements like that?  Being away from bizarro world for so long, it is as if my eyes have been opened to the loony bin I lived in for so long without even realizing it.  Could my step-dad have done something like that?  Honestly, I don't think so, simply because I think I would have woken up if he had, but then again, the man was a convicted sex offender, so some signs seem to point toward that possibility.

Look, I feel weird even bringing up stories like these as I feel shame even though I know I was a kid and had done nothing wrong, but I find it critical to give a glimpse into how my childhood was, particularly after my parents divorced and started their new lives.  I will, from here on out, continue to open up about my childhood, and let you all see the world through the eyes of a young, closeted gay kid who had one fucked up life for so long.  The blessing in all of this is that my mom kicking me out turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me, although it was excruciatingly painful at the time, as I was rescued from the crazy house.  Sadly, my brother and sister continued to endure through that hellhole while I was seemingly rescued, and the impact it has had on them is incredibly painful to watch.  That, however, will have to wait for another day for explanation and elaboration.

The main point of this post (which was not supposed to be this long) is that my world has been one of pain and craziness from the very beginning.  The tiny bit of stability my siblings and I had was pried away from us once my parents divorced, and let me tell you that those times were tough as well, but what is different about those two situations is that at least those tough times were ones endured through with a family intact.  Once the family was ripped apart, our worlds came crumbling down.

I look at old pictures of when we were little kids, and we were some happy, cute youngsters, let me tell you.  I look at pictures of myself smiling, not a care in the world, even though we suffered through great poverty; I look at pictures of my young, innocent little sister with her cross-eyed blue eyes and curly blonde hair, and then shake my head in confusion and frustration as I have watched her struggle through so many personal issues over the years, now struggling to raise two young kids of her own with a minimum wage paying job; and finally I look at the cutest little baby, my baby brother, with his two front teeth on full display, and the only thing on his mind being mommy, daddy, bubba, and sissy. Now, at just twenty-one years old, he has already done prison time, he is a habitual thief, and he has already struggled with drugs like synthetic marijuana and meth.  Sometimes I cry when I go to bed and night, asking myself why my brother and sister have had to go through a real life hell for no fault of their own.  I don't know the answer, and being a man of faith, I can't help but at times wondering why God has put us on this track.

I don't know, guys.  My struggle with my sexual orientation took such an incredibly negative toll on me, but when you pile on all of the other bullshit that I have been through in my young life, perhaps you can understand why I am apparently so fucked up.  I worry every day about my brother and sister, and am so afraid that some day my little brother will turn up dead.  I just don't know how to help him, and I cannot help but hold a little hate toward both my parents for how he has turned out.  That kid never stood a chance, and I feel so guilty for not being able to help him.  Sometimes I fantasize about things being better and different for all of us, but then I remember that the world is often a cold and uncaring place, and the happily ever after bullshit can only be found in fairy tales and Disney movies.

That's it for now, guys.  I plan on blogging again more and more frequently over personal stories such as the ones alluded to here.  Sorry for this one being so long, but I just got on a roll with pouring my heart out and letting so much out, and I think that is a healthy step for me to take.  I am actually kind of exhausted after writing this, which means no editing or revising, so please forgive my grammatical mistakes.  Until next time, take care everybody.

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Change

Change is supposedly inevitable, and as evident of recent events in my life, that cliche has proven to be true.  It did, however, take a long time for it to finally come through, but now that it has, I am really hoping that I am guided in the right direction in so many aspects of my life: Personally, professionally, creatively, and socially.  I feel like I have quite a bit to offer the world - now it is time to figure out how to share what I do best.

I have so much lost time to make up for, and when I say so much, I mean over a decade of stagnation that has to be left behind and learned from.  I would say that I would like to forget that time period, but truth be told, it made me so much stronger and wiser than I ever would have been otherwise.

 That being said, many people say that they have no regrets in life and would not change anything.  I fucking hate that response so much.  For example, yes, I am stronger and wiser because of my past torment.  Therefore, since I have already gone through it and there is no erasing it, I might as well use it to my benefit.
But, if I could somehow magically go back and head in an entirely different direction with much less pain over such a long period of my youth, you bet your ass that I would choose the easier path.  If I am being completely honest, I do not think I could go through that kind of pain again... it is a minor miracle that I did not end it all during some of my lower points, but my own strength and faith somehow pulled me through each and every time.

I look back at how much I missed, and I can't help but wonder what could have been.  As a youngster, I was damn good at baseball.  I could play any and every position; I could pitch; I could hit; I won MVP awards; I won a city championship; and I made all star teams.  I easily could have played baseball in high school and probably beyond, but so many factors had all of that potential and aspirations come crashing down over me by the time I was fourteen.

I could have stayed in shape, and actually cared about and for myself.  I could have had friends, and I could have had a social life.  But, once again, so many factors (with my sexuality being one of the main) prevented a lot of that from happening.  So, instead of being a kid and making mistakes, I got stuck in my own head and virtually rotted for years and years.

I could go on and on and the could haves and should haves, but ever since coming out a little over two months ago, I have been happier than I have been in a very, very long time.  I am able to be the real me for the first time in my life, and while there are still several areas that I need to improve on in order to feel fully comfortable in my own skin, I know that there is nowhere to go but up from here on out.  Just how high I am able to go is up to me, the big guy upstairs, and probably a bit of luck, but I have always believed that my big break will come one way or another.  Time will tell.

Before wrapping this post up, you probably noticed the change in the title of my blog.  I am no longer imprisoned in the closet, so the title that I was accustomed to for so long is no longer an accurate description.  I thought long and hard about a title, and the best I could come up with so far is: Freed from the Closet.  If I can think of anything more clever and catchy, it may be changed again, but for now that is the new title of this blog.