Tell me how this is possible...how does a person encourage someone else to power through their pain and the bone-deep throb of rejection when they themselves have spent all of their life avoiding the exact same thing? How does a person tell a homosexual man that "it gets better" when he himself is a homosexual man who is too terrified to find out the truth of that statement for himself?
I said this July might be the month that I came out of the closet but I'm sure I lied. I've told people close to me, and even told one guy who now will not be my friend because of some petty disagreement we had -- so I've taken some risks with some questionable characters. I just don't seem to be willing to do it with ALL OF THEM.
But I feel such conviction for my clients. I believe such good things for them. I believe they have strength I haven't seen yet. I believe that no matter how hard it will grow for them, they will persevere because that's what we do. I believe that they have me and will have others step into their lives to help them carry their load when it grows heavy enough to crush them. I believe all that is true, except ... In my own case.
I'm wrong of course. If what I believe is true then it's true for ALL of us. If what I think is possible, it's possible because we MAKE it so. We do it for each other because WE want to. Where I must fail is because I don't believe that there will be people enough for me.
Will there be people enough for me?
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Today's Therapy Session Created Tomorrow's Post
Wibbily wobbily, timey-wimey.
#timetravelinghindsightforeknowledge
#timetravelinghindsightforeknowledge
Monday, July 18, 2011
Heat Wave
Finally arrived. "NYC Bakes, The World Takes."
Downsides; Forced to go out in that heat to meet a client who never showed.
Upsides; Bought some noise-cancelling earphones and so will therefore be fantastically sheltered from now on from the noisy antics on the subways.
Downsides; Forced to go out in that heat to meet a client who never showed.
Upsides; Bought some noise-cancelling earphones and so will therefore be fantastically sheltered from now on from the noisy antics on the subways.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Days Off RULE
The sun was a litttttle bit too warm today so I waited until 6-ish to go get my workout on and then do this; http://www.mapmyrun.com/routes/view/42035716/
I guess it's true that sometimes a midlife crisis can result is some pretty good changes. Good thing I don't have a wife or any kids to walk out on.
I guess it's true that sometimes a midlife crisis can result is some pretty good changes. Good thing I don't have a wife or any kids to walk out on.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
A Nap Does Wonders
Started out the day with a home visit turned into a scenic outing, which was nice, but it saw me walking too much under the warm-to-hot sunshine. 3 hours later, I found myself drained like kelp. I curled up on the subway back home and slept.
People, don't set a goal to sleep on the subway. The subway is not your friend. And no, I'm not talking about the possibility of a friendly neighborhood rat nuzzling your chin (the subject of a YouTube film that I refuse to watch, let alone post here). Nor am I refering to the chance that someone will roll you and take your shit while you sleep. Too many pissed-off New Yorkers on any given train to allow that to happen, I'm sure. I honestly trust my fellow NY'ers. We've jumped on subway tracks to help people, dammit. We're good people.
BUT!! I can count on only one hand the amount of times I've rode a train WITHOUT someone coming through the car blaring at the top of their lungs that they're "Sorry to bother you ladies and gentlemen and I do apologize for the inconvenience but..." to which they go on to tell of their misfortune. Or they proceed to play music I wouldn't buy myself for a $0.99 download, then charge us all for the performance. Or they'll dance and flip and clap and bang the car ceiling, turning the subway into the circus. Or they'll want to sell me stolen Welch's Fruit Snacks (where the hell else did they get them from?). Every time I try to catch a wink on the train, I leave angrier than I was when I got on. It's a problem.
However, yesterday the trip home was one of those exceptions. Saturday afternoon around 1 seems to be a buffered zone. Perhaps the homeless, hungry, street-dancing people of New York are on their lunchbreaks. But the nap was such that I was able to get home, cook me some lunchtime food, lie down for another respite then feel revived enough to GO BACK OUT ON THE TOWN BEFORE THE SUN WENT DOWN!
It was no big deal, really. I went to the high-profile candy store at 60th and 3rd Avenue for a sweet fix and ate substandard ice cream. I should've had ColdStone.
But leaving there, I took the Lexington Avenue line downtown in a protracted "I want to be out on the town" mood, and was overtly flirted with by a dude with a nice tan and golden body hair. I couldn't help stare at the hue of his legs. He looked like a benign tiger with no stripes. He was a little fidgety to begin with, which is how I noticed him (I can catch sight of a fly moving across a subway platform, trust me. I'm kind of hypervigilant that way. It's not always fun). Then our eyes met. He fussed with his arms, (the same light-bronze color as his legs, covered in soft golden down) and then took some either real or imagined long hair off his skin that a woman must have left. Being as I had someone next to me applying her makeup, this made me laugh. We exchanged a "I know right? These WOMEN" look. Then he kept trying to lock my eyes again.
At that point, I was out of the race. He really wanted something from me and I knew I wouldn't be delivering, so I kept turning my eyes away. That was quite the experience. Been a long time since I was the object of someone's lust like that. (Unles Faux Leonardo yesterday at the gym was giving it a try). But I knew that until I come out of the closet and reconcile the complete me with the world, I'm not going to be confident enough, or man enough, to treat an interested dude right.
So I let him go.
This time.
People, don't set a goal to sleep on the subway. The subway is not your friend. And no, I'm not talking about the possibility of a friendly neighborhood rat nuzzling your chin (the subject of a YouTube film that I refuse to watch, let alone post here). Nor am I refering to the chance that someone will roll you and take your shit while you sleep. Too many pissed-off New Yorkers on any given train to allow that to happen, I'm sure. I honestly trust my fellow NY'ers. We've jumped on subway tracks to help people, dammit. We're good people.
BUT!! I can count on only one hand the amount of times I've rode a train WITHOUT someone coming through the car blaring at the top of their lungs that they're "Sorry to bother you ladies and gentlemen and I do apologize for the inconvenience but..." to which they go on to tell of their misfortune. Or they proceed to play music I wouldn't buy myself for a $0.99 download, then charge us all for the performance. Or they'll dance and flip and clap and bang the car ceiling, turning the subway into the circus. Or they'll want to sell me stolen Welch's Fruit Snacks (where the hell else did they get them from?). Every time I try to catch a wink on the train, I leave angrier than I was when I got on. It's a problem.
However, yesterday the trip home was one of those exceptions. Saturday afternoon around 1 seems to be a buffered zone. Perhaps the homeless, hungry, street-dancing people of New York are on their lunchbreaks. But the nap was such that I was able to get home, cook me some lunchtime food, lie down for another respite then feel revived enough to GO BACK OUT ON THE TOWN BEFORE THE SUN WENT DOWN!
It was no big deal, really. I went to the high-profile candy store at 60th and 3rd Avenue for a sweet fix and ate substandard ice cream. I should've had ColdStone.
But leaving there, I took the Lexington Avenue line downtown in a protracted "I want to be out on the town" mood, and was overtly flirted with by a dude with a nice tan and golden body hair. I couldn't help stare at the hue of his legs. He looked like a benign tiger with no stripes. He was a little fidgety to begin with, which is how I noticed him (I can catch sight of a fly moving across a subway platform, trust me. I'm kind of hypervigilant that way. It's not always fun). Then our eyes met. He fussed with his arms, (the same light-bronze color as his legs, covered in soft golden down) and then took some either real or imagined long hair off his skin that a woman must have left. Being as I had someone next to me applying her makeup, this made me laugh. We exchanged a "I know right? These WOMEN" look. Then he kept trying to lock my eyes again.
At that point, I was out of the race. He really wanted something from me and I knew I wouldn't be delivering, so I kept turning my eyes away. That was quite the experience. Been a long time since I was the object of someone's lust like that. (Unles Faux Leonardo yesterday at the gym was giving it a try). But I knew that until I come out of the closet and reconcile the complete me with the world, I'm not going to be confident enough, or man enough, to treat an interested dude right.
So I let him go.
This time.
Friday, July 15, 2011
5 Miles
Friday was a phenomenal day. The house visit took place in a part of NYC that I think had it's design heyday in the 60's. You go into the lobbies of the buildings and you're walking into the set of "MADMen," "Catch Me If You Can," or this season's new "PanAm." I like it.
After I was dohe with that, I had the rest of the whole day free. So, naturally, I went to the gym and got my pump on. I'm now able and happy to run 5 miles instead of 3. (3 miles of straight running was quite the accomplishment when I did it, let me tell you.) It just takes me 40-50 minutes and sometimes I don't want to be on the treadmill for that long. I'd rather run out on the west Riverbank of Manhattan or in Central Park if I'm going for distance.
But the gym. How I do love that place. I've heard it called "Gay Church" from a gay man. Which, hey, I ain't mad at it. But I do wish the congregation where a bunch less shy than they are.
It's pretty clear that a lot of the straight men in gyms atre terrified of being though of as gay and are pretty insecure about their masculinity. Isn't that why we're all trying to max out our masculine appearance? But being that the case, it sure makes it hard to figure out which straight-appearing guys ARE gay! (As if I'd do anything if I knew!)
Regardless, I went back to a gym location that I hadn't seen in months, back when I was about 20 lbs heavier. I recognized some of that gym's regulars, including this one dude who seemed to favor hairgel a little too much. But he also appeared to make gains in his workout routine and I must say he had a DYNAMITE chest this time around. He's kind of Leonardo DiCaprio-ish without the big round head and female mouth. I liked his swagger. Again, it's no big thing because I won't/don't do anything with guys I'm attracted to at gyms. I just look.
Thing is, I noticed Faux Leonardo was looking too. Mind you, not just at me, but looking around--the way I do. When I notice that, I always imagine that Looker is just like me. Attracted to men but unable to make a connection. The presence of hairgel seemed to support that theory.
But what a sexy, tight, stout, hairy chest he had. Makes me want to go back again and again.
Until, of course, I see the next amazing guy at the next gym location.
Trust me, every gym has one.
After I was dohe with that, I had the rest of the whole day free. So, naturally, I went to the gym and got my pump on. I'm now able and happy to run 5 miles instead of 3. (3 miles of straight running was quite the accomplishment when I did it, let me tell you.) It just takes me 40-50 minutes and sometimes I don't want to be on the treadmill for that long. I'd rather run out on the west Riverbank of Manhattan or in Central Park if I'm going for distance.
But the gym. How I do love that place. I've heard it called "Gay Church" from a gay man. Which, hey, I ain't mad at it. But I do wish the congregation where a bunch less shy than they are.
It's pretty clear that a lot of the straight men in gyms atre terrified of being though of as gay and are pretty insecure about their masculinity. Isn't that why we're all trying to max out our masculine appearance? But being that the case, it sure makes it hard to figure out which straight-appearing guys ARE gay! (As if I'd do anything if I knew!)
Regardless, I went back to a gym location that I hadn't seen in months, back when I was about 20 lbs heavier. I recognized some of that gym's regulars, including this one dude who seemed to favor hairgel a little too much. But he also appeared to make gains in his workout routine and I must say he had a DYNAMITE chest this time around. He's kind of Leonardo DiCaprio-ish without the big round head and female mouth. I liked his swagger. Again, it's no big thing because I won't/don't do anything with guys I'm attracted to at gyms. I just look.
Thing is, I noticed Faux Leonardo was looking too. Mind you, not just at me, but looking around--the way I do. When I notice that, I always imagine that Looker is just like me. Attracted to men but unable to make a connection. The presence of hairgel seemed to support that theory.
But what a sexy, tight, stout, hairy chest he had. Makes me want to go back again and again.
Until, of course, I see the next amazing guy at the next gym location.
Trust me, every gym has one.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
While The Cat's Away
Did I mention that my roommate's out of town? Or I should say my "landlord." Because he's both. He's also a world-traveling band conductor and a mathematic savant who started a curriculum in quantum physics until he followed his passion for music performance. He practices day and night when he's home and we live in a small 3 room /1 bath/1 kitchen (no dining room, no livingroom) apartment, but what you're not going to believe is that I love it.
When he's playing, it's like the soundtrack of my life playing in the background. It's like I'm the principle player in an arthouse film.
But don't get me wrong, I don't miss him. He's not in any physical shape that I lust after. We aren't friends because we don't have that much in common. And even with the things we DO have in common, he's a bit socially awkward and doesn't really know how to share conversation space. Most times that we talked, he just kind of owned the convo and announced everything without listening. (I've witnessed that when he's on the phone at times.) But hey, I have to give him money every month to stay here, so there's no need to complicate that relationship as far as I'm concerned. The power differential prevents friendship. Much like the therapist/client relationship.
But being here alone this week has reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally made me remember how much I need to be my own man again. Living not in a room, but in my own place. My own space.
Do it.
Dooooooooo it.
When he's playing, it's like the soundtrack of my life playing in the background. It's like I'm the principle player in an arthouse film.
But don't get me wrong, I don't miss him. He's not in any physical shape that I lust after. We aren't friends because we don't have that much in common. And even with the things we DO have in common, he's a bit socially awkward and doesn't really know how to share conversation space. Most times that we talked, he just kind of owned the convo and announced everything without listening. (I've witnessed that when he's on the phone at times.) But hey, I have to give him money every month to stay here, so there's no need to complicate that relationship as far as I'm concerned. The power differential prevents friendship. Much like the therapist/client relationship.
But being here alone this week has reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally made me remember how much I need to be my own man again. Living not in a room, but in my own place. My own space.
Do it.
Dooooooooo it.
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