Back From Cali

If I am addicted to anything, it is perhaps the thrill of travel and new places. There is something about removing yourself from your everyday existence, from the normalcy that is your immediate environment that, at least to me, seems a necessary part of life from time to time. I travel outside my realm in Lexington probably 3 to 4 times a year, always in search of that new experience, new friend, new environment, or perhaps just the removal of the burden of deadlines and time restraints and the demands of day to day existence.

If you haven't noticed my absence the past week, I won't take it personally. It seems like I have been gone much longer than 8 days, though. It's funny how being somewhere new or starting a new journey can make time seem like it is going so much slower. Only in a routine does time seem to fly by at lightning speed and suddenly years have gone by without our even hardly noticing. That's part of why I like to indulge in the experience several times a year. It's like a 'stop and smell the roses' moment, a moment to catch my breath and look around me to enjoy what's there before it's gone.

This last adventure took me to the great state of California. My first visit to the state outside of the LAX airport brought me to the heart of San Diego, the seaside cliffs and beaches of La Jolla, the downtown streets and Balboa Park, and, yes, even a baseball game where, unfortunately, the home team did not prevail. I think I'll get over it, though. The weather was perfect, the people friendly, the Mexican food divine. So much life crammed into a week that it's hard to comprehend all that I saw; but I can tell you that I enjoyed every minute of it.

While I haven't always done so in the past, I have tried to make a greater and greater effort to support the local gay community and businesses when I travel. If nothing else, it gives a glimpse into how the community lives in other parts of the country and provides a new set of faces (and bodies) to look at. On this trip I had several positive experiences, and if you are in the area, I would recommend checking out the scene. The first night of the trip brought me to a restaurant called "Lip's" where the waiter's (or waitresses if you prefer) were all in drag and doubled as servers as well as performers for the evening. The show they put on was definitely one of the better ones I've seen, extremely creative and quite entertaining. One of the funnier moment of the evening came when a very tall, tattooed queen stripped off her robe to reveal a fat suit complete with sequined nipple tassels while Fergi sang 'my humps, my humps, my lovely lady lumps, through the speakers. Also of note, the host for the evening sang her own songs (no lip syncing at all) and did a admirable impression of Cher to the audience's great delight. The only thing I didn't like about the evening was that there seemed to be a large number of straight women out for their bachelorette parties, but besides that, the experience was definitely one I would not have wanted to miss.

Later in the week, I had the fortune of dining at a place called 'Hawthorne's' located in the North Park district. The restaurant is in an old theatre that has been renovated and turned into a lovely restaurant and bar with a very nice atmosphere and an incredibly delicious menu. My companion for the evening informed me that the risotto was incredible, and upon tasting it myself, completely agreed. I had two house cocktails that were so good that it only took 2 to enlighten my senses for the evening and of which I have forgotten the name of other that it had something with the word 'pink' in it. The atmosphere was filled with old friends, male couples out on the town, and jovial conversation over colorful concoctions. It was somewhere I felt welcome and excited to be a part of.

There was a refreshingly large number of night spots to choose from that catered to the gay community. I wish I had had time to experience more of them; but, with the time I had available, I was limited in what I could do. Friday evening found me at a place called 'Rich's', which is mainly a dance club with traveling DJs and theme nights throughout the week. The night before I arrived, they had a CD celebration party for the recent Moby release of "Last Night." That is something I would have thoroughly enjoyed had I been in the city for it. For this particular evening, we were graced with a DJ traveling from Los Angeles spinning mellow tribal tunes and working up a fairly good crowd before the evening was over. It was an enjoyable experience all around.

I found as of late, especially in Lexington, that word of events and happening within the gay community is not spread as well as it could be. I think it is important to support as many functions and people as we can in the community. If we don't, then these things may very well stop happening. There won't be any more events to go to, nowhere where we can act as a community and be amongst those like us. That is why I am trying more and more to support the places and people of the gay community when I travel and even when I stay at home. If you know of an event, of something you think is important going on, then I encourage you to spread the word and do your part by simply attending if nothing else. For my part, I hope to continue sharing my experiences in places like San Diego in order to spread the word about what's happening and where to go, what's available that celebrates who we are as people. I encourage you to do the same.

Degrees of Gay

For whatever reason, I am reminded today of the first time I heard about the Kinsey scale of sexual orientation sitting in a psychology class in the 4th floor of the main building of my university. I remember looking at the chart with a little bit of wonderment and confusion at the possibility that, according to Kinsey, very few people are completely straight or completely gay, and that the majority of us fall somewhere in the middle in a realm known as bisexuality.

For those of you who don't know, Kinsey was a professor at the University of Indiana who gathered massive amounts of data and conducted extensive research in the realm of sex and sexuality. The movie of the same name offers a glimpse into the kind of life and the work that he did if you would happen to be so interested. In any case, the scale places people in a range of possible sexualities from 0 to 6 as follows:

0-exclusively heterosexual
1-mostly heterosexual, only incidentally homosexual
2-more than incidentally homosexual
3-equally hetero and homosexual
4.....well, you get the idea going down to
6- exclusively homosexual, with the addition of one last category:
X-asexual.

Well, I feel sorry for the X's (although, in the long run, that might actually be easier on the emotional heart), but what I find most interesting is that there are so many possibilities. It almost seems to make the terms 'straight' and 'gay' out to be extremely limiting and therefore useless in the description of people beyond those falling into the 0 and 6 categories. It almost lends to the argument of abolishing the labeling of people in this way altogether, as it would seem that the majority of us are in fact bisexual to some degree or another. It is almost an argument towards how alike we are versus how different, and, therefore, all lumped into one big clump known as humanity. We are not this or that, we are simply human.

Of course, things are never quite that easy or clear cut; but it does bridge the gap and create a rather large gray area between 'straight' and 'gay.' What it says to me, though, is that it doesn't really matter where you fit on the scale, whether you choose a man or woman to partner yourself with. It's all part of the same spectrum. Although, I must say that I cannot imagine myself with a woman, and I am sure there are many who could not imagine themselves going after a sex different than what they are currently after; but it does leave a tiny pinpoint of wonder in the brain, nonetheless. I have many 'gay' friends who dated women before they finally decided on men, two of them were even engaged to women at one point. I know many 'straight' men and women who have at least thought about experimenting with the idea of a same sex partnership. It would seem that it is only natural if you look to Kinsey. But, then, I guess it is only natural for a human to be just that: a human.

The Forgotten Cookies

I have always had this way of disappearing in a crowd, of going unnoticed, being lost in the social background of life. If my face really that forgettable, not pretty enough to warrant a second glance, not ugly enough to invite a glare or two or even a disgusted grimace? Perhaps my voice is not strong enough to compete with the crowd. Words come out of my mouth but are not heard as if they were never spoken at all. My presence is either forgotten or taken for granted so that I might as well have not even been there. It is a blessing and a curse, really. Sometimes I would rather just be there to observe, to be separate from the reality in front of me. It is easier that way, easier to see people and places for what they really are, easier to stay out of the mess of life. But at the same time it is that separation that leaves me feeling as if I am an outsider, as if I don't belong, sitting on the sidelines just hoping that someone will incite me in, to be a part of that mess of life. But then, I have to remember that sometimes you have to invite yourself.

I suppose it all began early in life for me, this flirting with the edges of social belonging. My very first birthday at school began with anxious excitement. I had the very last birthday in my class before school ended at the end of May. Every other's had been celebrated with cupcakes and candy and a class rendition of the birthday song. My mother had allowed for a rare indulgence in allowing me to take cookies from my favorite local bakery that day. I loved going into the bakery and choosing a temptation from the many eye popping choices behind the glass. They had an old fashioned cash register there, the kind in which dollar and cent amounts popped out of the top on little tabs as the total was calculated and payed. It rang like a bell when our sale was complete. I always ended up choosing chocolate donuts and spice cookies with reddish purple jelly in the center. There were my favorite. we took home loaves of cobblestone bread to my father and ate it with out evening meal and bought caked for special occasions chosen from a huge book of laminated pages with pictures of every cake imaginable splayed across each page.

For my birthday we had gotten an assortment ranging from chocolate chip to oatmeal raisin, sugar and peanut butter, two for each member of my class to choose. I had brought them in in a big, plain white box and set them on the table at the head of out kindergarten classroom and gone about the rest of my kindergarten day. I suppose it never occurred to me to tell the teacher what was int he box or why it was there. I waited all day for her to announce the grand event, to proclaim me king for the day, to sing for me. She never did, though. Recess came, nothing. Afternoon play time, still nothing. I was so confused. My eyes stayed on the white box on the table all afternoon. I wanted her to pick them up, open them, then she would understand! Why hadn't she remembered my big day? Why was she completely ignoring my cookies? As painfully shy a child as I was, I dared not raise my voice in inquisition. Instead, my heart sang deeper and deeper in disappointment. It wasn't until out last bathroom break of the day, each of us waiting in a single file line for everyone to finish, did I break down and begin to sob near the end of the line pathetically.

"They forgot my birthday," I blubbered through the huge wet tears of my 5 year old eyes. I couldn't stop. the teacher's aide came running, consoling, correcting. Quickly we were wisked back to class, cookies were handed out, the singing began just like that and all was alright. As rushed as it was trying to beat the dismissal bell, for that one moment it was ok, I felt celebrated. It was my birthday, and I belonged in the center of it, not lost on the sidelines forgotten. Of course, the next day I was back to being the quiet one, the one lost in the crown, the one easily forgotten; and that is how most of my childhood progressed.

I guess what I should have learned from all this is that sometimes you have to force yourself to be noticed, to be heard, to break out of the background and be acknowledged; but I tend to fall back into this trap every once in a while of feeling left behind and not doing anything about it. It's easier sometimes just to feel sorry for oneself and accept that you don't belong than to make an effort to join the group or speak up for oneself. Of course, there is always that fine line between forcing oneself in and being wanted once you are included. I suppose the real finesse is in knowing when to speak up and when to stay on the sidelines. Then it's just a matter of having the self-confidence enough to know that you made the choice to speak up or not and there is no reason to feel sorry for yourself.

All I Know is That I Should

Every once in a while a song seems to resonate, to speak directly to the soul and to understand what it has been through. I had one of those moments yesterday watching some music vidoes on television. I will let it speak for itself.

'Cause I don't know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should.....

See, I thought love was black and white,
that it was wrong or it was right.

-Missy Higgins from 'Where I Stood.'

The Weakness of Night

Against my better judgement, I agreed to cover an overnight shift this evening for a fellow employee who needed the time off to tend to a family emergency. I don't work these hours very often as they tend to mess with my mind a little. I once worked a three month stretch of night shifts for a gentleman who had suffered a heart attack and was off work to recover. I nearly lost all sense of sanity by the end of it, feeling disconnected from the rest of the world, sort of outside the realm of normalcy. It was as if I had lost these months into the depths of space.

There is something about the wee small hours of the morning that can play on our fears, our weaknesses, our emotions. It can be liberating driving through the abandoned streets of 3 am or walking down the street with only the crickets and the breeze to accompany you. You can do whatever you want and no one will even notice. No one will care. You can laugh out loud at the late night movie or television show, and no one will hear. If you eat a pound of ice cream, no one will be the wiser. It would seem that the world is yours and yours alone.

But then there is that moment when suddenly you feel that you are alone in that world and that sense of isolation kicks in. Perhaps a little paranoia sets in and you begin to fear for what is out there in the dark like being in the middle of a horror film. Exhaustion sets in the your emotions go a little haywire. A sense of loneliness suddenly seems unbearably more pronounced and we get lost in an emotionally altered sense of reality.

It is in these moments that we can become desperate. Our hormones build out of control. The man alone in the bar wanders at the end of the night, seeking out someone, anyone to go home with so that he doesn't have to be alone again. The buildup of a weeks worth of resentment and miscommunication explodes into a fight between lovers in the corner. A woman cries on the steps at the door after being left standing there by her boyfriend. Half the rest leaving the bar at closing, wandering to their taxis in a half-witted stupors after losing all sense of time and public decency.

We are angry, sad, elated, or sexually aroused, but in a heightened, overly-exaggerated state. Either sleep must come or the emotion must be addressed, and if we are not careful, we will do things that we would never do in the light of day. There is a weakness that comes in the night. Desperate for attention, we cling to a one night stand or start an affair. Elated, in celebration we lose ourselves in the beat of the music and dance ourselves into oblivion. Depressed, we contemplate the implications of suicide. Angry, we destroy everything around us. The mind loses its sense of check and balance. Weakness sets in.

Eventually sleep takes over and our bodies rest. The hope is that the new light of the next day doesn't shine to harshly on the events of the previous evening.

Are We Meant to Love Just Once?

As I sit here and contemplate the frequency with which it would seem that we betray our partners for new loves and new sexual encounters, it occurs to me to pose the question as to whether or not we, as human beings are mean to be confined to one person, one sexual experience, one lifetime in the same relationship. Any number of religions and beliefs hold true to the idea of the everlasting covenant of marriage, the idea that sex is reserved for the legally and spiritually bound couple, and the notion that once you've chosen the one there are no others. Til death do us part, right?

So why would it seem that these values, these beliefs have been so drastically ignored by so many what with divorce rates through the roof, extramarital affairs seeming commonplace, couples advertising on the internet as swingers looking for partners, families growing ever larger to include step children, half siblings, etc., etc. I can't even begin to tell you how many times I've seen male couples openly listed together on dating websites looking for partners for threesomes or more, or men on there who specifically state that they are partnered but are eagerly looking for no strings sexual partners to augment their physical needs. I don't know what's more disturbing, that these things are there in such abundance, or that they are included so blatantly on the relationship status buttons portion of the questionnaires. I even met a man once who had 2 husbands. All three of them slept together in a very large bed when they were home at the same time. You see, two of them were truck drivers and were often on the road. When apart, they openly allowed other sexual partners as long as there were no secrets and no deceit involved. I found the whole idea rather strange at the time, and still do. I've only ever had enough trouble keeping track of one partner, much less two. I had the boldness enough to ask him if there was every any jealousy or hard feelings between them when any of them strayed from the three. He said no, that they had all agreed at the start of their partnership to not allow such feelings to cloud the relationship, but I have a hard time believing that it is just that simple.

Even yesterday, I was watching the program Big Love on television, a show who follows the lives of a polygamist family in suburban Utah that consists of one husband and three wives. On this particular episode, they were arguing over who how much time was spent with each partner and what activities (including sexual) were participated in with each wife. It seemed that there were a few discrepancies and suddenly no one was happy. At one point the three wives ganged up on the husband, effectively freezing him out of any physical contact and sending him to the basement to sleep on a old sofa. It begs the question as to whether balancing time and attention in a relationship involving so many people is even possible.

But perhaps we are getting a little into the extremes with plural partnerships. What about all those people who divorce or leave their current partners for new loves? What about partners that die and leave us alone to fend for ourselves? More often than not, a new partnership is formed. We eventually fall in love again. There is a more than once-in-a-lifetime chance for love. Some people marry four or five times, or even more leading one to believe there is a boundless capacity for falling in love. certainly people have multiple children and have the capacity to love each one. Our families grow with new nieces and nephews, new in-laws and the like. We accept them and love them. So what exactly is limiting us to that one true love, that once in a lifetime chance for romantic happiness?

Perhaps it is more a question of loyalty, respect, and honor in holding to the vow a person takes when accepting a marriage or life partnership than on the capacity for loving another; holding fast and true to the one we have chosen to share our lives with. I really can't say that there is anything wrong with that. There is almost something noble about such an act. However, it does beg the question: if we are capable of falling in love, loving, and being loved more than once in this life, then are we really meant to love just once?

Whatever the answer is, what is most comforting is to know that if we are left behind, betrayed, or hurt by someone we have loved, there is hope of finding a new love, of starting over and being happy in love again.