Friday, July 30, 2010

The horizon is futher away

Some time ago I dated this wacko of a dude who is gun-totin' police officer. He asked me what I would do if I knew there were only 24 hours left until the end of the world. I told him I would be with my kids. He said, "but what if there wasn't enough time to get to them?" I answered, "well, I'd die on my way." He said I was bullshit - and we went back and forth for a bit before I realized it didn't matter that he didn't believe me. But then he told me what he would do. He would shoot people and rape dude and just do whatever the fuck he wanted. I cut the conversation short - he noticed it bothered me and claimed I just wasn't understanding him. Gotta go - bye.

Some many months later he was in my neck of the woods and called me. Turns out, the dude he was on my side of town to see had stood him up and he wanted to know if I wanted to do something. I had nothing better to do and since this was most certainly not a date, I figured - why not. So, he picked me up and we went out for a drink.

He asked me a poignant question, this black man who doesn't date black men. "Are you still only focused on dating black guys?"


"How's that going for you?"

I gave him a stank look, stared him up and down and quipped, "not very good, apparently." He laughed. I laughed it off and whatever. I was annoyed by this man who wouldn't date black men when he himself was black. This was one of the reasons I have dated latinos, even though I have a preference for black men. How could I refused to date latinos and then chastise a black man who won't date black men?!? I *had* to date latinos ... because, I live to chastise people.

Seriously, though - it would be hypocritical, right? But recently, since I've given up casual sex (on account of it being cold, emotionless and flat out just not good sex at ALL) I've given that question of his a lot of thought. How *IS* it going for me? And for a hot minute I considered just refusing to date black men altogether because I've had zero luck finding an attractive, intelligent, single, gay Black man who is Black first, Gay second and is actually attracted to me. Instead, I've found some dumb-ass, lazy-eyed mother fuckers who salivate at me but refuse to actually BE gay because it's taboo. Or, I find decent guys who are willing to date on the DL ... because they already have a partner, or a wife! Or I find perfectly suitable men who just aren't that into me. I almost decided that that crazy gay police officer was right ... this really wasn't going well for me.

But I couldn't do that - instead I realized I had to broaden my horizons to be more inclusive, not more EXclusive. So, I've been paying attention to white guys more. And, you know what ... it's plausible. Possible! IN fact, one of those dudes at the kids day camp mighta coulda gotten it in the bushes. But I digress - in the spirit of expanding my list of potential mates, I'm adding white dudes to the mix.

But Asians and Indians better not be holding their breath ... I'm seriously not at ALL attracted.


(Shut the hell up, dammit - slow progress is progress nonetheless!)

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Only me?

Remember my first love? The one who told me I would always be his first love and that he will always love me and wanted my blessing to ask his boyfriend's hand in marriage?

Yuh, him.

So, we're still cool and I see him FB-ing about his engagement ceremony and keeping the list small, etc. And so, whatever, right?

He IM's me asking, "If I invite you to the engagement party, would you come?"

"Yes, I would. But aren't you paring down the list?"

"Stop it! You're my first love - what's more significant than that?"

So, I'm seriously baffled ... because that wouldn't be *MY* line of thinking as I embark on a forever journey with my man. But, ok - whatever.

He tells me to bring a date, though. I kid and say I would bring my female BFF from college (who almost broke us up) and he laughs, but insists that I bring me a dude.

"If I'm seeing someone then, ok - but if not, I'm rollin' dolo! (I just aged myself there, didn't I?)

And to make this short ... he mentions that I should have someone on my arm because last time he saw me it wasn't easy to keep his hands off of me.

I mention that I noticed it when we were saying goodbye ... that he struggled with not KISSING me goodbye.

He admits that that's true ... but that his "DICK said SLEEP WITH HIM!"

So goes this life of mine - the ones I want don't want me and the ones that I want nothing to do with (on account of being ICK or being taken) are the ones that tell me this shit. Why the fuck can't an intelligent, single man without hang-ups ever come on to me?

(You're free to comment about how ready my ex is to get into this marriage)

Monday, July 26, 2010

My new motto

Reciprocity ... or Return to Sender

At work, I get back so much mail from people who don't know their damn addresses it's unreal. Seriously, I had one application from someone who wrote down their address, complete with the wrong zip code. IN INK!

How the fuck you don't know where you live?

(Actually, how the fuck and I already digressing?)

So, as I was saying - for various reasons I get lots of mail returned with that yellow sticker from USPS ... RETURN TO SENDER [insert reason here]

: No mail receptacle (wait - your dumb ass don't have no mailbox?!?)
: No such address (are you fucking kidding me?)
: Recipient No Longer At This Address - Forwarding Time Expired (Fuck. Me. How long have you been using this bullshit address?!?)

... seriously, the list goes on and on and AWN! ugh.

Remember this dude I had been on a date with? Who was nice and I was going to look past all the things JACK would focus on? The one who I picked up (he has no car). I picked up the tab because *I* was the one who asked him out. Yeah - him.

He's made zero attempts to see me again, rarely initiates texts or IM conversations and doesn't really call. I've even been to the store he works at ... I ask for permission and he said he was looking forward it ... I went, saw him for about 30 seconds and the text I got later was "I'm glad you came by - it was good seeing you again"

But no attempts to take the reigns and actually ask me out ANYWHERE.

So, I got to thinking about how mail is the only thing that seems to come back to me. At least it comes back with reasons. And from that place grew my motto - like a seedling taking root in bad situation to teach me something new:

Reciprocity ... or Return to Sender.

From where ever he came, he can return. I haven't heard from him since except a 3am message this weekend, "I just passed your crib," alluding to his drive back to his house from downtown or boystown or wherever. I didn't respond - I'm just sending him back to his momma.

No really, he lives with his parents.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

My momma's a bitch

Did the title get your attention?

Allow me to preface this post by saying that I love my mother. Mainly, however, it's because my culture demands that I do. Sons in the Latino culture are supposed to look after their mommas - we're just supposed to. And my family is good about laying on the guilt trip to make sure the sons do their mothers' bidding. In the absence of that culture, I might actually abhor my mom, though.

Her actions made it very clear to me growing up that she did not want me. But I sought her love and affection anyway. And it never came - ever. Yet still, if something or somebody makes my mother cry ... I can't explain it. If I hear her cry, a little part of me feels like its dying.

Today, my cousin called me to tell me that our second cousin was shot and killed in Florida. I didn't know this kid, but clearly he was family. See, my mother is the youngest of 5 siblings and I am HER youngest. In our family, I am the youngest of the cousins and my cousin who lost her son today? She the eldest of my mother's eldest sibling.

Get it? We're completely different generations and didn't spend much time together. But the call came in that my aunt is in mourning and is a mess at having lost her grandson. She wants her sisters. Like, my mother.

But no one can find my mother - so I get a call with all this information.

I go crazy calling her numbers and no answer. I know my mother MUST be in some casino somewhere and sure enough I eventually get a call back. It went something like this:

Mom: I didn't know that kid, Alex.

Me: Ma - I didn't either - but your sister is a mess and is ASKING for you.

Mom: Well, I'm at a slot machine and it's GIVIN' it to me and I'm happy.

Me: Ok. Have fun.

Are you fucking kidding me with this shit? Your sister, who recently buried her son who succombbed to AIDS-related illnesses, just lost her grandson ... and is ASKING for you. And you won't walk away from a slot machine?

People, I'm stunned. I'm just stunned. That's some cold shit right there - selfish, coldhearted shit. And I can't even be bothered with her right now.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

How do I make it stop?

I'm picky. I'm so fucking picky, it's unreal. I have this perfect man for me designed in my head and I always juxtapose reality against that fictitious being that only my mind's eye can see. And this perfect man for me? I considered going into detail, describing him for you ... but, really - it's pointless. He's made up and I'm not an author creating a novel for the world to enjoy ... it's a character that doesn't need to be drawn up with the letters of the alphabet ... he just needs to fall back into the non-existent space he resided in before I conjured him up.

Because, people, he's a problem for me. In the time since my divorce, I have managed to be genuinely interested in 3 men. Interestingly enough, they are so very different from each other ... each making up his own distinct 85% of the perfect, fictitious perfect man in my head.

The first? I opined for him for far too long. It was a long distance thing. We met online and time after time he would avoid meeting in person. He was the real-life version of my fictional man because he too would refuse to materialize in the flesh. That hurt me - and it took me a long time to finally let go.

The second? He couldn't commit - and although we met in person, the relationship never materialized ... and in fact, he got spooked and completely cut me off. That hurt me - and it took me a long time to finally let go.

The third? He's just flat out not interested.

I'm realizing that I need to stop using this made up perfect person as the yardstick with which to measure the value of potential mate. I've managed to turn away more than twice as many suitors, genuinely interested in me, but possessing little to none of the qualities of the dude in my head. Let's name him. Let's call him Peter.

I'm going to need to crucify Peter ...even if he requests to nailed upside down. He just has to go. But nails have proven ineffective at piercing fake hands and fake feet. I have no idea how to get rid of him. No idea.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Darwinism, circa 2010

I read the following:

Typhoon Conson turned billboards lethal on China's southern resort island of Hainan. The state-run Xinhua News Agency said a falling billboard killed a motorcycle rider Friday night

And immediately wondered ... what the FUCK are you doing out on your motorcycle during a hurricane?

*throws hands in the air*

I'm through.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

One last thing ...

So, I quit smoking and I stopped having casual sex and I started training for a half marathon ... but I have only halfheartedly taken up the whole eating right and losing weight thing ... I had lost all of my quit smoking weight and pretty much put it all back on in the last month. The yo-yo between 165 and 175 is a mess for me and it's annoying the fuck out me too.

I found out today that my uncle had a heart attack ... again. Yes, again. This, the same uncle who had a quintuple bypass the last time ... yuh, him. He's gotten to eating badly again, not taking his meds the way he's supposed to and stressing out like crazy at work. Really?

My father had a quadruple bypass a couple of years ago.

Soon after, my aunt had a stint put in.

Clearly - I had some fucked up genes ... why am I still eating like this?

So, I'm going to add another marked focus - but I'm not trying to get crazy with it. I'm not trying to get back to 145 pounds (can you see it?) ... My plan righ tnow is 165 pounds and hold steady instead of getting there and then eating at every fast food joint I can name ... Simple plan ... get there (like i know I can) and stay there ... for the rest of the year.

Nothing major - nothing ridiculous ... just something else.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

I hadn't realized it ...

Last week's date was a decent date by most standards. He was interesting, conversation was good, the food was good - and he didn't try to lick my tonsils when we kissed. He's intelligent, doesn't sag his pants - and he actually owns slacks! Not bad for starters ...

... if you kept up with my previous JACK blog, you know I've had some ridiculous experiences when I was out there just fucking for fucking's sake. And this was a date - like, an actual DATE. And I know it was an ACTUAL date because ... well, I might as well tell you ... I was the one who asked him to dinner.

So, of course it comes up that I've made some significant changes in my life over the past 7 months or so. I quit casual sex sometimes before Christmas - I quit smoking in early January - I started training for the Chicago Marathon in May.

And he asked me a very good question: Why? Why all of these things all at once?

So, I answered honestly. I really did. I have been wanting a relationship for about a year now - and by last fall I was so frustrated that I wasn't in one that I took inventory, and I realized that I knew exactly what I wanted ... but I wasn't any of those things. And I needed to fix that.

So, I've been focusing on improving me so that I can be worthy of the things I am looking for - of the man I want.

Look, readers - that's 100% true. I am quite self-aware and I know exactly from where in the depths of me the last 7 months of my life have come from. But I didn't really realize the actual value of the statement, or of my knowing so, of my having actually gone through with this self-improvement for the sake of being able to be a positive influence in the life of a man who positively impacts mine. I know I don't want no junk, so I won't BE no junk ... but when I told this man all of this, answering his question I found him to be unresponsive for a few seconds.

For a few seconds he just stared at me and I wondered if maybe he just thought I was crazy. Or maybe *HE* was crazy - all glassy-eyed and frozen ... not moving a muscle. And all at once it hit me ... the power of my statements, of the reality of the past 7 months of my life. I've never actually considered what it would be like to TELL a potential suitor all of these things ... but here it is ... and I promise you I was watching the man have a mini brain orgasm.

When he came to, he said, "wow. that's a great answer."

"Well, it's the truth."

"You just became so much more intriguing to me just now."

"Did I?"


I smiled and took another bite of my lamb - which, btw was off the mother FUCKIN' chain ... but I digress.

I'm pretty sure I'm in a good place. As I've mulled things over since that date, I've realized that I want to get to know him better - for the time being, at least as much as I would need to know him in whatever capacity in my life. No cart before a horse here ... I just want to be able to call him friend right now and if things happen down the road or no, then so be it.

I do need to tell him that though - and I'll make sure it comes up next time we speak. That's where I stand and he can't just be "waiting patiently" for me.

Interesting turn of events, eh?

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Did I really just do that?

Went out on a date last night. Didn't get home until 2am. Fogged up the windows in the car ... but, *officially* it's still been six months.


Right - no intercourse ... just fun.

Interesting thing is that this guy really does make me smile ... and he's really into me. It's all just very nice.

But there are some issues - and I've got to make sure I don't let this get too ahead of us. I asked him over dinner what were his short term and long range plans ... and he had nothing.

"I'll have to get back to you on that."


We won't be rounding third base, boo - but we can chill there.