And then I would have Christmas and then New Year's. And if I wait any longer, I will be writing to you about all of my adventures at the senior living center.
Perhaps I still could summon up those memories and those feelings, just to help us fill in the blanks. i have a draft of "the lost episode" that I could possibly return to and post (I was at least half done with it, honest!) But it's more important that I get back to what I used to do, which was update every few weeks with our cast of characters as I attempted to chronicle life in an interesting way.
It got dark for a while. Some of this might be written about further if I recap the summer and fall and early winter and post that one, but for now we will just do some Cliffs Notes:
- Steve stayed with Jaxon and they had Pride and vacations and I never apologized and I still let it consume 80% of my natural thoughts. After 14 months of cohabitation, he told me via text message at 7:14 AM that they had "decided to date". After 14 months of trying to get used to it, I still reacted like a mix of Betty Broderick and Stacy from Wayne's World. And I hate that this is the lead story, but it's also the elephant in the room and the Band-Aid to rip off.
- You know how they say that gay men can't donate blood? Well, they can, if they haven't had intercourse in a year. I got to month eleven and week four before having two horrible hook-ups (one of which led to the end of a yearslong friendship, which I sadly regret) but then a week after that I hooked up with a nice man who insisted on hanging up the suit I was wearing before any funny business ensued and when I asked to use his shower the next morning, he earnestly told me that he had AXE Body Wash. I am planning a June wedding.
- After over a year of terrorizing my parents, hating myself, and maxing out my credit card by staying at The Westin on Pride and my birthday and at the AC Marriott when I was just mad at Loretta, I finally moved out in August! Reid and I got an apartment in Whittier. He found it and therefore his room is twice the size of mine, For the first month, my TV didn't even work because the outlet in my room wasn't connected to anything. They told us we had parking and they LIED, but we got our rent discounted and I told myself that would make up for the nights of circling the neighborhood. It is a three-story brownstone that reminds me of New York, and I am going to get a butt like a hockey player by walking up and down the steps for a year.
- Speaking of hockey players, Broski visited me at the mall a lot over Christmas and I yelled at him for leaving the price tag on the gift for his mother and then he started swearing too loud while we were at the wrapping station. I still think he's handsome but I don't have 2013 sad feelings for him anymore. He still cracks me up and was my default New Year's kiss, but not in a gay way. I think.
- I went to Las Vegas by myself to see Mariah Carey because Darren couldn't go at the last minute. For a horrifying 25 minutes, I lost my wallet. The Christmas concert was everything. I cried. I also went to the Mob Museum.
- I missed my flight on the way back from Vegas by ten minutes. I was house sitting for Sean because he lives a mile away from my work. House sitting isn't the right term, because I don't do anything remotely helpful other than taking the garbage out. Anygay, the next day I woke up late for work, didn't feel like going to work or acknowledging anything or anyone, and I turned off my phone and slept facedown in his bed all day until the sun went down. This was enough to warrant a welfare check from the Bloomington Police Department, who, in all seriousness, were very courteous and respectful.
- Reid has done a lot more comedy shows and I hope to be more productive in that arena of my life this year. I went to the New Years Comedy Brunch for ten minutes and didn't eat or drink anything and I only said hi to Tiffany Norton and Mischa Estrin.
- OH, I WAS STILL HORRIBLE TO STEVE AND COULDN'T GET OVER IT. Literally every gay man you know has had a relationship end and likely seen their previous lover make a new life with someone nicer and younger, and who hasn't had it happen when the previous partner's new partner enters the shower contest on the same night you headline LUSH on Pride weekend and it reminds you that your talent doesn't matter compared to how well you take a picture of yourself naked on a kitchen table with a Stoli bottle covering your genitalia? It is a story as old as time. I even tried taking such a photo of myself in the same vein, but it didn't work as well with a bottle of Absolut and our apartment isn't big enough for a kitchen table. At least I was able to legally drink mine.
- I could not be on time for work to save my life. I did not care about anything. My sleeping habits were atrocious.
As you may infer from this truncated account of 2019, things were not going great. I began DBT (dialectical behavioral therapy) in October. You will be shocked to learn that I was very late when I got to the intake, and a well-dressed woman my mother's age was not impressed. I then felt that weird sensation that I was answering everything wrong. "That seems pretty moderate," she said when I said how I would book hotel rooms every time I felt upset, or that I often punched myself in my head when I felt overwhelmed with my emotions. None of this ever happened when I was a teenager or in my twenties. I did not get it.
I go for three hours every Wednesday morning. It is in a group setting, and that's about the only details I can provide due to confidentiality reasons. There was always a feeling that these people have it way worse than me with their life situations -- imagine speaking after someone shares details of family abuse or a hellish custody battle and then you have to say "I'm sad about a dude", but the ultimate goal was to correct my behavior and thought patterns. I don't know. We'll see. I don't think anything changed, and I am sad to tell you such news.
During your third week of group, you will get a sheet of paper that tells you all of your diagnoses. It is for insurance reasons, and therefore no one sits you down and asks you what you think about it. Some of it (Alcohol Use Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder) was a no-brainer. Borderline Personality Disorder wasn't a surprise but still bummed me out. Bipolar II Disorder, just like ADHD did, explained how damn erratic I was all through high school and my three failed years of college. None of this, mind you, is a Get Out of Jail Free card for my horrendous life decisions, conduct, or inability to let go of things.
But, yes, that was my year. I'm sorry I didn't write. I had good times in there, don't get me wrong, and I can't wait to get back to normal like how we were from 2012-2017 (did I mention Loring Park: Vol. 1, available with typos and names I forgot to change, is available on Amazon? And that I should go fix that stuff before you order and if I ever attempt to do a Volume II?). On Tuesday, Reid, Randall and I went to an open mike and Chuck and Raymond met us at the 19 and a boy at the open mike who looks like an Abercrombie & Fitch bag and whose real name sounds like it's out of an '80s teen romance novel joined us because he thought there was another comedy show there and I made him play darts with us instead. It reminded me that life can still surprise us, and you can't make this stuff up if you tried. Also, Chuck would have won the first game of Gotcha but Reid accidentally pushed the screen to demonstrate how to get a double so we had to start all over, and the second time I won, and that's when you really can't make this stuff up.
I bit my lip so much it looks like I have scurvy.
I wish you all a prosperous and happy 2020.
