The Wet Jog
Amidst the rainstorm I still managed to go for my run in the park. I can understand why so many people get into extreme sports. There is something very sexy about mingling salty sweat with fresh rainfall. The combination of fluids running down my torso and back seeping through my shorts down my hairy legs and gently tickling my ankles. The splash of rain beneath my feet with each stride and the delicate moisture carressing my forehead. Wet sneakers, drenched shorts, soaked baseball cap; removing them all and jumping in a hot shower!
Ahhhhhhhh! Now that was nice.
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
Spent some serious time at the Coffee House today.
Round One!
Earlier in the afternoon with my friend Cleve. As we went to leave I ran into the lil' "coffee house man. (see blog entry July 17) He had stategically sat not only far away from sight but in the corner on the patio. One might think that he was trying to avoid someone. Hmm? Could I be any more paranoid? I did say hello but I wanted to respect his space and kept the conversation to a simple hello and goodbye.
About an hour into running errands with Cleve, my roomie rang to inform us that she was hanging out at the Coffee House and would love some company.
Round Two!
As we entered the store I waved to the little "coffee house man". He looked amused and confused to see me there twice in one day. After sitting with my roomie and Cleve for about 20 minutes, chatting, laughing and sippin coffee both their cell phones rang and I ended up sitting there alone. I was pleasantly surprised by the approach of Derek. Perhaps my friends cell phone habits can serve me well at times. Derek and I began to chat and I invited him to sit with us. Upon my roomie and Cleve's return the four of sat and chatted for quite awhile.
Well that was it. Two Rounds at the Coffee House and I was knocked out by the warmth and cute smile of this guy.
Yes, he has a boyfriend.
Yes, they have been together for 5 years.
Yes, he did take my phone number!
Yes, I think I can transform my infatuation into friendship.
Round One!
Earlier in the afternoon with my friend Cleve. As we went to leave I ran into the lil' "coffee house man. (see blog entry July 17) He had stategically sat not only far away from sight but in the corner on the patio. One might think that he was trying to avoid someone. Hmm? Could I be any more paranoid? I did say hello but I wanted to respect his space and kept the conversation to a simple hello and goodbye.
About an hour into running errands with Cleve, my roomie rang to inform us that she was hanging out at the Coffee House and would love some company.
Round Two!
As we entered the store I waved to the little "coffee house man". He looked amused and confused to see me there twice in one day. After sitting with my roomie and Cleve for about 20 minutes, chatting, laughing and sippin coffee both their cell phones rang and I ended up sitting there alone. I was pleasantly surprised by the approach of Derek. Perhaps my friends cell phone habits can serve me well at times. Derek and I began to chat and I invited him to sit with us. Upon my roomie and Cleve's return the four of sat and chatted for quite awhile.
Well that was it. Two Rounds at the Coffee House and I was knocked out by the warmth and cute smile of this guy.
Yes, he has a boyfriend.
Yes, they have been together for 5 years.
Yes, he did take my phone number!
Yes, I think I can transform my infatuation into friendship.
The Interview
Well I finally have an interview set up for the Coffee house. Thursday at 12:30 is the big date. Ugh! Who would have thought that a job in a coffee house would entail so much leg work. Employment history, educational history, professional references, personal references, will you take a drug test?, why did you leave your last job? What do you feel you can offer to the Coffee house community? And I am just looking for part time work!
Anyway, the manager is very friendly and sweet and I do not imagine she will bite too hard. Hmm? In some circles I might enjoy that though. The one great thing I have to look forward to is the hours. Apparently their opening shift is available. That would be starting at 5:30 AM.
Can I do that?
Well I finally have an interview set up for the Coffee house. Thursday at 12:30 is the big date. Ugh! Who would have thought that a job in a coffee house would entail so much leg work. Employment history, educational history, professional references, personal references, will you take a drug test?, why did you leave your last job? What do you feel you can offer to the Coffee house community? And I am just looking for part time work!
Anyway, the manager is very friendly and sweet and I do not imagine she will bite too hard. Hmm? In some circles I might enjoy that though. The one great thing I have to look forward to is the hours. Apparently their opening shift is available. That would be starting at 5:30 AM.
Can I do that?
Monday, July 28, 2003
Not much to say today. This move has been pretty non-stop excitement and today feels like the first day I have had to really settle. I finally started getting my mail forwarded after the United States Post Service managed to spell my name incorrectly. They took it upon themselves to return all my mail to the sender instead of thinking that they might have my name mispelled in their system. All is not lost, this is not the first month my bills will not be paid on time. My hope is that this will be the last.
Sunday, July 27, 2003
The Courage to accept rejection, or at least not what I wanted to hear.
My roomie and I decided to host a small brunch yesterday. I woke up, went for a jog/fast walk/pant-fast and started my day. It felt good to be alive and by the time we set forth to Whole Foods I was wide awake. The brunch was a great success. I made a egg, mushroom, scallions and cheese casserole and it was yummy! After a cook clean up we went for coffee are our now "regular" hang out Caribou! There were six of us in all and I was enjoying myself immensely. Then on one of my many stops to the bathroom to unload my overly sugared bladder from the Vanilla Coffee Cooler I just inhaled I saw those faintly familiar black rimmed glasses. I had not seen Derek since last week when I drove by Caribou and witnessed him drinking his coffee and studying on the outside deck. He caught my eye and we began chatting.
My internal dialogue was intense.
"Okay, Kevin! Don't screw this up. You have to at least mention that you want to get together with him. You MUST not chicken out! You must SEIZE this moment! Who cares if he says no! Besides, look at how cute his little smile is when he talks. And notice how he looks you straight in the eyes when you talk to him. Isn't it obvious that he is just as attracted to you as you are to him? And think of you first kiss and how romantic it will be. What about when you bring him home to meet your family and how much fun it will be telling the story together just like all the cute couples did in "When Harry Met Sally"
When Derek asked me what I do outside of write I begin to sense my inner dialogue had taken hold of too much of my brain space and stuttered with a response. Ah yes, my infamous inability to explain what it is that I do came crashing down upon me once more. I managed to transition the conversation by telling him that I would enjoy talking more and that we should get together sometime. I told him that I would love to hang out with him. Without hesitation, as if it were rehearsed, he replied...
"I have a boyfriend, so I could not go out on a date with you, but if you wanted to hang out as friends that would be okay."
I know I am not supposed to have expectations especially in dealing with men but in that moment I felt my heart sink. I have not asked someone out in years and the first time that I do it turns out he has a boyfriend. Or does he? Afterall, stating claim to a boyfriend is one of the classic "get lost" lines in the gay culture. Perhaps, I have fallen prey to some form of fib to push me away. Once I got a grip on myself, pulled my heart up from the caverns of my gut I walked with Derek outside and I returned to my friends.
As I sat down a great sense of accomplishment overcame my Spirit. I did it! I actually put myself out there and asked him out. I can do this I thought to myself. Why was I so damn scared. I am still walking, talking and laughing. The moment had passed, Derek has some idea that I am interested in him and I have the pleasure of knowing that I actually took a step toward meeting someone new. Who knows, maybe we will become friends some day too. This was a very good day!
And to top it all off! I scored a great pair of jeans at Old Navy for only $9.99, I had Thai food for dinner and we stopped in a Sex Shop on the way home! I think I see a butt plug in my future.
My roomie and I decided to host a small brunch yesterday. I woke up, went for a jog/fast walk/pant-fast and started my day. It felt good to be alive and by the time we set forth to Whole Foods I was wide awake. The brunch was a great success. I made a egg, mushroom, scallions and cheese casserole and it was yummy! After a cook clean up we went for coffee are our now "regular" hang out Caribou! There were six of us in all and I was enjoying myself immensely. Then on one of my many stops to the bathroom to unload my overly sugared bladder from the Vanilla Coffee Cooler I just inhaled I saw those faintly familiar black rimmed glasses. I had not seen Derek since last week when I drove by Caribou and witnessed him drinking his coffee and studying on the outside deck. He caught my eye and we began chatting.
My internal dialogue was intense.
"Okay, Kevin! Don't screw this up. You have to at least mention that you want to get together with him. You MUST not chicken out! You must SEIZE this moment! Who cares if he says no! Besides, look at how cute his little smile is when he talks. And notice how he looks you straight in the eyes when you talk to him. Isn't it obvious that he is just as attracted to you as you are to him? And think of you first kiss and how romantic it will be. What about when you bring him home to meet your family and how much fun it will be telling the story together just like all the cute couples did in "When Harry Met Sally"
When Derek asked me what I do outside of write I begin to sense my inner dialogue had taken hold of too much of my brain space and stuttered with a response. Ah yes, my infamous inability to explain what it is that I do came crashing down upon me once more. I managed to transition the conversation by telling him that I would enjoy talking more and that we should get together sometime. I told him that I would love to hang out with him. Without hesitation, as if it were rehearsed, he replied...
"I have a boyfriend, so I could not go out on a date with you, but if you wanted to hang out as friends that would be okay."
I know I am not supposed to have expectations especially in dealing with men but in that moment I felt my heart sink. I have not asked someone out in years and the first time that I do it turns out he has a boyfriend. Or does he? Afterall, stating claim to a boyfriend is one of the classic "get lost" lines in the gay culture. Perhaps, I have fallen prey to some form of fib to push me away. Once I got a grip on myself, pulled my heart up from the caverns of my gut I walked with Derek outside and I returned to my friends.
As I sat down a great sense of accomplishment overcame my Spirit. I did it! I actually put myself out there and asked him out. I can do this I thought to myself. Why was I so damn scared. I am still walking, talking and laughing. The moment had passed, Derek has some idea that I am interested in him and I have the pleasure of knowing that I actually took a step toward meeting someone new. Who knows, maybe we will become friends some day too. This was a very good day!
And to top it all off! I scored a great pair of jeans at Old Navy for only $9.99, I had Thai food for dinner and we stopped in a Sex Shop on the way home! I think I see a butt plug in my future.
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
Glistening vesrsus Perspiring
So it has been a few days since my last entry but developing into a Southern Gentleman is a lot of work. There is protocal down here that I need to learn. For instance, did you know that Southern gentleman do not sweat but they perspire! And a Southern Lady does not sweat but she glistens. Being a Yankee can be daunting faced with the reality of having to change my biology not to mention the uncertainty of not knowing exactly what a gay man does in the South, especially a gay Yankee!
Do I stick to my midwestern heritage and sweat like the men in the steel mills?
Do I glisten like a lady sipping "sweet tea" in the middle of the afternoon?
Do I perspire like a gentleman caller greeting a Southern Bell for a spell on the porch swing?
Then I began to think about being gay. Have I ever really had to conform to any standards set forth by society? Being gay gives all homosexuals the opportunity to forge our own way.
We don't meet for coffee, we trick!
We don't get engaged, we move into together!
We don't get married, we develop open relationships and sleep around on another!
We don't get divorced, we move out and move in with the "other" man!
So what makes me think I should fall prey to the Southern norm and perspire? Why don't I stand proud as a gay man and perhaps chose not to sweat at all? Or maybe I just spend all my days in air conditioning and overt the opportunity altogether.
These are the things that plague my mind since my arrival in the South. It's times like these that I miss the constant threat of being mugged in New York City. I miss the loud subways, and path trains with odors that come from neither a perspiring gentelman or a glistening lady. The smells that migrate from within the bowels of the city from decades of sweaty Yankee's. Ah yes, some of my own sweat lies within those dark tunnels.
I think from now on I chose to perspire with a slight glisten. Afteral, it is my right as a homosexual to forge my own path.
So it has been a few days since my last entry but developing into a Southern Gentleman is a lot of work. There is protocal down here that I need to learn. For instance, did you know that Southern gentleman do not sweat but they perspire! And a Southern Lady does not sweat but she glistens. Being a Yankee can be daunting faced with the reality of having to change my biology not to mention the uncertainty of not knowing exactly what a gay man does in the South, especially a gay Yankee!
Do I stick to my midwestern heritage and sweat like the men in the steel mills?
Do I glisten like a lady sipping "sweet tea" in the middle of the afternoon?
Do I perspire like a gentleman caller greeting a Southern Bell for a spell on the porch swing?
Then I began to think about being gay. Have I ever really had to conform to any standards set forth by society? Being gay gives all homosexuals the opportunity to forge our own way.
We don't meet for coffee, we trick!
We don't get engaged, we move into together!
We don't get married, we develop open relationships and sleep around on another!
We don't get divorced, we move out and move in with the "other" man!
So what makes me think I should fall prey to the Southern norm and perspire? Why don't I stand proud as a gay man and perhaps chose not to sweat at all? Or maybe I just spend all my days in air conditioning and overt the opportunity altogether.
These are the things that plague my mind since my arrival in the South. It's times like these that I miss the constant threat of being mugged in New York City. I miss the loud subways, and path trains with odors that come from neither a perspiring gentelman or a glistening lady. The smells that migrate from within the bowels of the city from decades of sweaty Yankee's. Ah yes, some of my own sweat lies within those dark tunnels.
I think from now on I chose to perspire with a slight glisten. Afteral, it is my right as a homosexual to forge my own path.
Thursday, July 17, 2003
An Obsessive Compulsive Stalkers Fantasy!
With black converse sneakers, long khaki shorts covering his calves, black plastic frame glasses, an oversized t-shirt and a back-pack on his right shoulder, I couldn't help but notice him. I secretly hoped that his short glance my way was intended to catch my eye.
Twice I saw him at Caribou Coffee mid-afternoon. So today with great expectations I set forth on my conquest for my newest man to obsess over. Afteral I moved from New York and I was certainly not going to run into any New York obsessions in Atlanta.
I had my David Sedaris book with me, just in case there was any question of my sexuality, my journal, to show my sensitivity, and of course my cell phone to portray my importance and stature in society. I was all set to meet someone and I was determined to not break my carb-fast if things did not turn out my way.
My disappointment over his absence inside the store was relieved when I saw his cute profile crouched scribbling on shuffled papers on the patio. I prepared my tea and gracefully walked passed his table.
Our eye's met..
Strike 1.
"Hey, Your like a regular piece of furniture here."
The moment I said furniture I began kicking myself in the head internally. Who wants to be likened to a piece of furniture?
But there was hope. As I extended my hand to shake his he stood half way up from his chair much like a southern gentleman greets a lady.
"Hi Kevin. Yeah, I come here on my work breaks to get away." he said.
Strike 2.
"You work in the area?"
Now this question alone is not the strike out. It is my response to his response that is the strike out!
"Yes, I work in Buckhead."
...and I said.
"Oh!"
... and that was it. I froze completely as he was looking at me expecting further conversation. I sat in my chair stirred my tea and shoved my face in the book, frightened like a puppy during a thunderstorm. Luckily the humorous tales of David Sedaris softened the constant yammering in my head over my inability to carry on a conversation.
It was Chapter 3 when my eyes tired. I shut them and closed the book. Of course still focusing on Derek in my peripheral. Then suddenly a delicate voice pierced the chaos of my minds thoughts...
"I love that book."
Damn, not bad. Two strikes and he is coming back for me. We engaged in friendly conversation for a few minutes and just as I was about to suggest we get together sometime, some tired old queen prances right between our line of vision and plops his overly coiffed ass down. Right there in between us! Opens up a big old newspaper and starts smoking his nasty Marlbaro Ultra Lights.
So this was not my strike out but a strike out nonetheless. A few minutes passed as I deliberately chuckled aloud while reading my book. It is important to show a great sense of humor to a prospective boyfriend. Derek began to pack up his things and my nerves began to tweak from the anticipated departure.
What do I say? How do I ask him for his number? Should I mention that I would like to see him again? Will this damn nosey queen ever tire of watching me?
Strike 3.
"Well Kevin, it was nice meeting you. Have a nice day."
...and I said.
"Same here, enjoy the rest of work."
ENJOY THE REST OF WORK! What is wrong with me. I was so caught up with the evesdropping queen that I lost my cool and neglected to mention anything about seeing him again. Not to mention wish him a nice day. Enjoy the rest of work. Does that mean that I do not want him to enjoy the rest of his day? Am I implying that he should only enjoy his work and not his evening? Ugh!
Well in this case I might have three strikes but I am not out of the game. Now I know that he comes there on his break from work aroung 3:30 every day. I would say that information definitely constitutes a WIN! Not to forget that piece of information also lays the foundation for an obsessive compulsive stalkers fantasy!
With black converse sneakers, long khaki shorts covering his calves, black plastic frame glasses, an oversized t-shirt and a back-pack on his right shoulder, I couldn't help but notice him. I secretly hoped that his short glance my way was intended to catch my eye.
Twice I saw him at Caribou Coffee mid-afternoon. So today with great expectations I set forth on my conquest for my newest man to obsess over. Afteral I moved from New York and I was certainly not going to run into any New York obsessions in Atlanta.
I had my David Sedaris book with me, just in case there was any question of my sexuality, my journal, to show my sensitivity, and of course my cell phone to portray my importance and stature in society. I was all set to meet someone and I was determined to not break my carb-fast if things did not turn out my way.
My disappointment over his absence inside the store was relieved when I saw his cute profile crouched scribbling on shuffled papers on the patio. I prepared my tea and gracefully walked passed his table.
Our eye's met..
Strike 1.
"Hey, Your like a regular piece of furniture here."
The moment I said furniture I began kicking myself in the head internally. Who wants to be likened to a piece of furniture?
But there was hope. As I extended my hand to shake his he stood half way up from his chair much like a southern gentleman greets a lady.
"Hi Kevin. Yeah, I come here on my work breaks to get away." he said.
Strike 2.
"You work in the area?"
Now this question alone is not the strike out. It is my response to his response that is the strike out!
"Yes, I work in Buckhead."
...and I said.
"Oh!"
... and that was it. I froze completely as he was looking at me expecting further conversation. I sat in my chair stirred my tea and shoved my face in the book, frightened like a puppy during a thunderstorm. Luckily the humorous tales of David Sedaris softened the constant yammering in my head over my inability to carry on a conversation.
It was Chapter 3 when my eyes tired. I shut them and closed the book. Of course still focusing on Derek in my peripheral. Then suddenly a delicate voice pierced the chaos of my minds thoughts...
"I love that book."
Damn, not bad. Two strikes and he is coming back for me. We engaged in friendly conversation for a few minutes and just as I was about to suggest we get together sometime, some tired old queen prances right between our line of vision and plops his overly coiffed ass down. Right there in between us! Opens up a big old newspaper and starts smoking his nasty Marlbaro Ultra Lights.
So this was not my strike out but a strike out nonetheless. A few minutes passed as I deliberately chuckled aloud while reading my book. It is important to show a great sense of humor to a prospective boyfriend. Derek began to pack up his things and my nerves began to tweak from the anticipated departure.
What do I say? How do I ask him for his number? Should I mention that I would like to see him again? Will this damn nosey queen ever tire of watching me?
Strike 3.
"Well Kevin, it was nice meeting you. Have a nice day."
...and I said.
"Same here, enjoy the rest of work."
ENJOY THE REST OF WORK! What is wrong with me. I was so caught up with the evesdropping queen that I lost my cool and neglected to mention anything about seeing him again. Not to mention wish him a nice day. Enjoy the rest of work. Does that mean that I do not want him to enjoy the rest of his day? Am I implying that he should only enjoy his work and not his evening? Ugh!
Well in this case I might have three strikes but I am not out of the game. Now I know that he comes there on his break from work aroung 3:30 every day. I would say that information definitely constitutes a WIN! Not to forget that piece of information also lays the foundation for an obsessive compulsive stalkers fantasy!
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