The Tin Man » 2002

Saturday, February 2, 2002

Weekend Musings

So, I’ve decided I may as well have dinner with the guy.

My biggest concern was that I’d be too angry to do it. But the anger seems to have subsided. Some of you commenters were right — I’ve only met the guy once, and I don’t really have standing to be mad at him. He didn’t know that I was totally bedazzled by him — for all he knew, I was just a nice guy he’d met and hadn’t gotten around to calling. Yeah, it’s still kinda stinky of him, but I’ve really got nothing to lose by having dinner with him. So I will.

It’s interesting to see how almost evenly divided the comments were, though!

Last night was pretty low-key. I’d slept for only four hours on Thursday night, so I was pretty dead to the world yesterday. I came home from work last night and wound up napping for two and a half hours. Then I had some dinner, and I didn’t really feel like going out. But I did anyway. It’s hard — a weekend has only two nights, so if you don’t go out on Friday, you’ve only got Saturday left. You have to take ‘em when you can.

So instead of taking the PATH into Manhattan, I just went to the local gay-ish bar, Uncle Joe’s, which is about a 10-minute walk from my place. It was actually gay bar until recently, but it’s under new management now, and the owners seem to want to take it out of the gay bar business. That’s really aggravating, because downtown Jersey City has a burgeoning gay population, and we now have no exclusively gay bar to go to. This place really needs one — it’s an untapped market. Sure, Manhattan’s just across the water, but sometimes people don’t want to schlep across the water, ya know?

Anyway, I went last night. I’d only been there once before — a few weeks ago with Wes — so I figured I may as well go back. Last night it was crowded, but only about half the people were gay.

I ran into a friend of mine. Well, okay — he was someone I hooked up with once. He was with another guy, and I recognized him, as well: I’d seen him online a few times before. He lives several blocks away from me, but whenever I’ve tried to chat with him, he’s been cold, blowing me off and disappearing without responding to my casual attempts at conversation. I recognized him last night from his photos.

I think he remembered me last night. He was nice enough in person. But that’s got to be kind of awkward, running into someone in person whom you’ve treated rudely online. Just goes to show: you should treat people online with the same amount of respect and politeness with which you’d treat them in person.

Lots of people seem to have a problem with that concept.

Eventually, they both left, and I stood around for another 40 minutes, holding my empty beer bottle and looking around. Unexciting. Came home, saw both of them online. This time, I didn’t bother trying to chat with the rude-ish one. But he didn’t try chatting with me, either. Hmmph. I did chat with the other guy, though. But I wasn’t really up for meeting someone last night.

* * * * *

I had a really nice phone conversation with my mom today, though.

“Can I ask you a very personal question?” she asked.

Uh-oh. “Sure.”

“How’s your love life?”

Oh. “I don’t have one.”

This was a turning point, because she’s never asked me about my love life before. In August 1999, when I came out to my parents for the second and final time, my mom said that my love life was something she didn’t want to know anything about.

But today:

“I remember what I said to you two years ago, about not wanting to know anything about your love life, and about not wanting you ever to bring anybody home.

“And I just want you to know that I don’t feel that way anymore. And Dad doesn’t, either.”

She went on to tell me that she worries about me being lonely.

It was such a release to be able to tell my mom that I want someone, and to tell her that I’m picky. These are things I’ve never shared with her before.

Sometimes I’ve felt like the odd man out (so to speak) in my family. My brother’s almost constantly had a girlfriend for the past several years, so whenever we’ve had a family get-together, it’s been my parents, my brother and his girlfriend, and me. I’ve been the odd alone person. I haven’t felt equal to everybody else.

But now I know that when I do find someone, he’ll be welcome in my parents’ house.

I already loved my parents, but now I love them even more.

4:52 PM | 3 drops of oil

Sunday, February 3, 2002

A Party

Last night I went to a party at a friend’s place in the East Village. I’ve known her since I was four years old; our moms first met when they were pregnant with our respective younger brothers. I gave her chicken pox when we were kids — we were playing house, hiding under a blanket.

She recently moved to the East Village, and last night she threw a housewarming party. I decided I would stop by for a little bit, and then I’d head out to Barracuda to meet up with a friend or two. I’d got a haircut that evening, long overdue, so — freshly shorn — my self-confidence level was high.

I wound up staying at the party longer than I’d expected. I didn’t know anyone there except my friend, but after a while I got into a conversation with three other guys. I was getting slight gay-ish vibes from them, but I wasn’t totally sure. One of them was wearing black leather pants, and another one was sort of effeminate with artsy horn-rimmed glasses. They were talking about vegans, and they were making little jokes about it, like, “How long have you been a vegan?” or “Have you ever tried to not be a vegan?” or “Were you born a vegan? Is it nature or nurture?” So I tossed in my own: “Did other people know you were a vegan before you did?” They seemed to like that, and we hit it off.

One of them disappeared, leaving three of us to sit on the couch and chat. They started talking about San Francisco, and “taking advantage” of their visits there, and that made my inklings even stronger. So I managed to allude to my being gay in an offhand way. That did it — the credentials were established.

Eventually, another of the guys went off to call his boyfriend, leaving the remaining two of us to sit and chat. Like me, he was a gay Jewish lawyer. He was a nice guy, with a cute face, although he was a little femmy, with this overly refined, lilting, almost European sort of voice, which I don’t much go for. Still, we did some minor flirting, and I invited him to come out with me afterwards to meet up with my friends. He said he’d be glad to.

So we walked over to another friend’s place — also in the East Village. We decided to forgo Barracuda, since it was at the other end of town, and stuck to the East Village instead. We started off at Dick’s Bar — this little neighborhoody hole-in-the-wall with a pool table, like most places in the East Village. The guy and I were still being very friendly. At one point he went to get another drink, and my friend said to me, knowingly, with a smile on his face, “So, you’re going to go home with this guy, aren’t you.” I said I didn’t know, but probably not, because I didn’t want to lead the guy on.

After Dick’s Bar, we wound up at Wonderbar. At Wonderbar, despite my earlier statement, the flirtation continued. And then, all of a sudden, the guy and I were kissing. My poor friend was standing right there. We continued kissing, and I lost awareness of my friend. In other words, I turned into the type of guy I can’t stand.

Fortunately he didn’t seem to care. He apparently struck up a conversation with a group of women and wound up exchanging phone numbers with them. Go, him! As for the guy and I, I sat on his knee on a couch and we continued making out.

My friend went home, they announced last call, it was after 4 a.m., and the guy and I were still there. I was going to go back to the PATH train and come home, but he invited me to stay at his place in Brooklyn Heights. I decided, hey, why not.

So at 4:30 in the morning we made out in the back of a cab as it whooshed across the nearly empty Brooklyn Bridge, the lights of Manhattan receding behind us. It was so nice and romantic. Soon we were at his place.

He asked me if I was into smoking pot. I wasn’t. He asked if I minded if he smoked. I said no (although I really did mind, because I don’t like the smell too much). So he lit up a small one for himself.

Wonderfully comfortable bed, thick and cozy down comforter, warm naked body next to me. Mmmmmm.

Didn’t get much sleep, although we didn’t go very far sexually (that was his decision, and it was probably a good one). Mostly a bunch of kissing and rolling around.

I lost track of the decision process by which I wound up at his place. Somehow I went from not planning to go home with him to actually going home with him.

Today at around noon we went out to brunch and then walked down to the promenade that overlooks the East River and lower Manhattan.

You know what? The last time I’d been in Brooklyn Heights was on the afternoon of September 10. I was off from work that week, so I’d headed out there with a tour book and had walked the streets of Brooklyn Heights. I’d even walked along the promenade and had gazed out at the cluster of skyscrapers in lower Manhattan. And I hadn’t even noticed the Twin Towers on the final afternoon of their existence.

Walking around there again today, it didn’t feel like five months had passed.

Anyway — back to the guy. This is the part of the blog entry where I think too much.

At the bar, in the cab, and in his bed, he was throwing in all the little things that make me nervous, such as telling me all the specific things that are cute about me, and telling me he was glad that I’m single, and about wanting to save some things for “next time.” And he asked if I’d like to have dinner with him on Friday night. So I am. But… I mean, he does have a very cute face, with really nice eyes and teeth, but he’s not really whom I’d envision dating. And he wasn’t that great a kisser, and I wasn’t all that into his body, and… but he’s sweet, and smart, and… but still. I have an idea of what I want, and I’m going to keep looking until I find it.

But I’m learning to recognize that I think too much about these things, and that something can be enjoyable for what it is, rather than one step along a journey to marriage. After all, he’s a fellow gay Jewish lawyer, and a nice and smart guy, so he could turn out to be a friend. These types of people are worth meeting.

It’s just that when people get like this with me, I get scared.

On the other hand, the same thing happened with Wes, and that turned out not to be worth worrying about.

I was talking on the phone with a friend tonight about this situation, and he basically made the same points. Don’t worry about it, try not read too much into it, people get romantic and complimentary all the time in the heat of passion; relax, enjoy, and see where it takes you. People are certainly worth getting to know even if it’s not in a romantic capacity.

So this week is already filling out: I have dinner plans on Wednesday and dinner plans on Friday. Since the end of December, my social life has really been coming together. When given the choice on the weekend between staying in or going out, I’ve tried to choose the road less solitary. It provides more opportunities — or at least it provides more opportunities for opportunities.

And what have you got to lose?

11:14 PM | 4 drops of oil

Monday, February 4, 2002

The guy who brought us this…

…has now brought us this!

I didn’t realize how much I missed your unique voice, Steve. I’m glad you’re back.
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8:53 PM | Comments Off

Wednesday, February 6, 2002

Antarctica

My oldest friend in the world just arrived in Antarctica last week for his eight-month stint at McMurdo Station. (I mentioned this here.) I’ve been e-mailing with him — it’s really strange to get a same day response from someone in Antarctica. (His location is on New Zealand time, so they’re 18 hours ahead of the U.S. East Coast, or 13 hours ahead of Greenwich Mean Time.) He’s also sent me a few digital camera photos. Right now they have 24 hours of sunlight where he is. Quote:

so, the sun refuses to go away- you see, its daylight here 24 hrs, thats ALL THE FUCKING TIME. im really learning to hate it, dont even remember what the moon looks like. it wont start to set until about feb 20th, then we’ll have weeks of sunset and im not quite sure when it actually goes out, but im pretty sure it’s early may or late april.

This got me all inspired to play blog-boy, and dig up some Antarctica-related links:

* a map of Antarctica; his home for the next eight months, McMurdo Station, is located downward of the South Pole on this map.

* a very good introductory page to Antarctica.

* a pretty sunrise/sunset chart for McMurdo station, taken from this page, which lets you generate a pretty sunchart for anywhere in the world (the one for the South Pole looks pretty cool).

* a video of the sun revolving around the South Pole — instead of rising and setting during a 24-hour period, as it does in most other places on Earth, the sun appears to revolve around the sky during a 24-hour period (during the six-month period of sunlight, anyway).

* finally, the Earth and Moon Viewer.

I’ve long been fascinated by astronomy, by the way, so I find all this earth-moon-sun stuff really exciting. It gives you a different perspective on who we are. Night and day mean everything to us but they’re relative concepts, functions of our location on this insignificant chunk of debris as it wobbles around an ordinary star. We’re nothing!

10:42 AM | 3 drops of oil

Dinner with Mr. Stunning

So, Mr. Stunning and I had dinner at this casual sandwich-type place tonight. Then we went to a nearby bar and chatted over a couple of drinks each. We hung out for two hours in all. Then he had to head off to work on his dissertation. As we parted ways, he told me that we should do this again. In fact, he said it would be really cool if we made this a weekly/bi-weekly thing.

Sigh… he’s still hot. I still have a crush on him.

When we were chatting over dinner, though, I thought, what did I see in this guy? he’s hot and that’s it. It wasn’t until we got to the bar, a more casual setting, and had a drink or two, that I started to want him again.

The subject of his new boyfriend did come up. Tomorrow it’s going to be a month. At one point at the bar, towards the end of our time together, I can’t remember exactly what he said, but whatever it was it made me want to cry. I felt a tiny lump in my throat and wished I could tell him what I was feeling, but that wouldn’t have been a good thing to do.

I came home and played out this narrative in my head. We make it a weekly thing, we get dinner and go to a bar. Finally, one evening, I can’t take it any more, and in this emotional monologue, I pour it all out to him and tell him that I’ve had this crush on him ever since I met him.

Aren’t TV movies great?

When I came home I had this yearning. It wasn’t a sexual yearning. No — I wanted to cuddle up on the couch with someone, rest against someone special.

I so want a boyfriend lately.

Meanwhile, I went to 20something last night. I wasn’t going to go, but I decided, what the hell; when you have an opportunity to go to a place where you might meet people, you should do it. So I went.

And I met someone… I got into a long conversation with this cute guy who also seems intelligent and sweet.

We’re going to a museum together on Sunday… I like him.

Oh — and I postponed Friday night’s dinner plans with the Gay Jewish Lawyer, because I realized that I had plans to watch the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics that night. Next week is very busy for him, though, so possibly we’re having dinner next weekend instead.

As the blog turns.

11:56 PM | 3 drops of oil

Thursday, February 14, 2002

Farewell

I’d been thinking about this for a while, and I finally decided it’s time. Actually, decided isn’t really the appropriate word. My gut is telling me this. It just feels right.

I’m leaving the world of blogging. This is my final entry.

I started this thing on a whim about 13 months ago. I got into it, and I just kept doing it and doing it and doing it.

It’s been a great tool for me. It’s taught me a lot. But it’s served its purpose. I’ve taken it about as far as it can go, gotten everything out of it that I can. It’s no longer where I’m at. It’s time to move on.

The other morning I woke up from a dream that I was having group sex with the gang from “Buffy.” We were all huddled together in this tight group, all writhing in mutual pleasure. I was on my knees, sucking Giles’s cock. I could see his thighs and his pelvis, and his penis was bouncing right there in front of my face, and I put my mouth around it. And next to me was Jenny Calendar, on her knees, trying to get in on the action too. Her face was way up close to mine, seductively close, and she looked hot, with her dark eyes and her chipmunk cheeks and full lips. And — although I wasn’t looking up at them — Xander and Willow and Oz and Buffy were in on the action too. We were all organically connected.

I started off my blog with that common blogging dream: I’ll start doing this, and maybe people will start reading it, and maybe my audience will grow and grow and I’ll catch on and maybe someday I’ll be as big and as popular as Kottke.

Well — my readership grew, and it grew more, and it grew even more, but a long time ago I realized that I was never going to be Kottke, and that that was totally okay because that’s not really a very exciting goal anyway. I don’t even know if Kottke finds it all that exciting.

Anyway, they’ve heard of me by now. They don’t read me, but they know the name. That one linked to my September 11th account on his big list of September 11th accounts. And that one posted a link to one of my entries on the Blogger front page once.

I’m never going to be them. But that’s not necessary. Who moved my cheese? I found my niche in the blogging world, my identity in it, and lots of people came to appreciate my blog for what it was.

And now I’m making it out to seem like this was all about achieving popularity, but it wasn’t. It was more about feeling less alone. Living in a commune, sharing my day with you, implicitly asking you if I was doing it right.

This can trap you into a certain way of thinking. Hell, it can trap you into thinking, period. I have to update! What’s the best way to describe this? What exactly am I feeling right now and why am I feeling this way and what does it make me think of and what does this mean and how will this play out and how can I put this into declarative prose?

That part of my brain is sore now. It needs a rest. It needs to do other things.

You start to live like there’s this Greek chorus around you. Slave to the blog, slave to the readers. They’re going to be pissed because I haven’t updated in a while. They’re going to make fun of me for thinking this, get pissed at me for doing that, get on my case about that other thing. But I have to tell them, I have to update, because if I don’t, they’ll leave, and I need them.

I needed it. I wanted to prove that I exist. But I know I exist. And I don’t need this anymore — or want this anymore. I’m just a person living my life, and I want it to be mine again. I want to stop swimming around in a fishbowl.

I’ve felt so liberated since last week. I’ve remembered that I don’t have to tell anyone else what I’m doing. I don’t have to worry about whether I should write about such-and-such. It feels so refreshingly normal.

A blog gives you instant gratification. It’s like anonymous sex — it’s quick and it’s cheap and it depletes you and it’s never quite satisfying enough but you keep doing it anyway, trying to get there, you don’t know where but there, and meanwhile you could be making things that are deeper, more intricate, but instead you keep draining the well every day, and you never have anything left over.

I want to put my creative energies into something that doesn’t give me instant gratification. I want to work on something more long-term, something deeper. I’m not necessarily talking about a book. I’m not necessarily not talking about one, but I’m not necessarily talking about one.

I won’t say that I’m never coming back. Maybe I’ll return in a different form. I’m keeping the URL (including the e-mail address), and perhaps I’ll do something else with this site. But my angsty what-should-I-do-now please-help-me online diary days are over.

I’ve met so many great people since I began this little experiment. There are some of you I’d still like to meet. But I don’t need a blog in order to do that.

(And if you’ve been afraid to write me, I’d love to hear from you. Now you know I won’t be sharing your words with a mass audience.)

Anyway: it’s been real. It’s been swell. And it’s been very educational. And if you’ve gotten something out of it, too, well, then, all the better.

Thanks for reading.
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4:58 PM | Comments Off