Cary and I are off on our long-awaited Atlantis Baltic Cruise...Copenhagen, Germany, Estonia, St. Petersburg, Helsinki and Stockholm.
I'll try to write as we go, but not sure how much time I'll have. If not, lots of posts when I return!
Ah, the Fourth of July. Our nation's birthday, the day we declared our independence from England. The day we celebrate all that this country stands for, most importantly the belief that all people are created equal.
How fitting that one of our nation's most virulent bigots, Jesse Helms, should die today.
This from the AP: "It's just incredible that he would die on July 4, the same day of the Declaration of Independence and the same day that Thomas Jefferson and John Adams died, and he certainly is a patriot in the mold of those great men," said former North Carolina GOP Rep. Bill Cobey, the chairman of The Jesse Helms Center in Wingate, N.C.
A patriot? A PATRIOT?
This man personified hatred. His hatred for us LGBT folks and those living with HIV/AIDS is legendary. It's fitting that he should die today. In these dark days in our nation's history, his death is a bright light, brighter than tonight's fireworks, a symbol that perhaps better days are ahead.
Good riddance!
Damn Murphy and his law. That's what I have to say today.
We have this thing at work where we have an annual option of two extra weeks vacation or two extra weeks pay. Most of us take the money, because our time off policy is pretty liberal.
So with some extra money in hand, I decided to invest in some improvements to my home. There are some major projects that I want to do, most of which extend well into the five-figure range. But one project was within reach: heating the pool.
The previous owners of this house are a mystery to me. They installed the pool after the house was built. It's maybe 15 or 16 years old. They also had a propane tank to heat it. But at some point, they removed the heating system. Why, is anyone's guess.
So as a result, I can't use the pool year-round. It's too cold in winter, which is frustrating, because I still have to heat the damn thing.
I did some research and opted to put in solar heat. It cost about the same as another propane tank, but it operates at absolutely no cost. The pool pump directs the water into tubes on the roof, which are heated by the sun. The water is then put back into the pool. Fabulous.
I signed the contract on Saturday and they installed on Monday.
When I got home Monday, I went directly to the back yard to inspect what was done and to check the water temperature. It was up to 88 degrees. Just what I wanted.
Then I went into the house. It too, felt about 88 degrees. Not fabulous.
One of the two air conditioning units crapped out. The other one was replaced a couple of years ago, so it didn't surprise me when this one died. But did it have to do it on the exact day I dropped a few bills on heating the pool? And a week before I'm leaving on vacation?
The joys of home ownership.
I've never been much of a bar person. It's probably been 20 years since I went out to a bar by myself with no agenda other than maybe, hopefully, wishfully meeting someone.
After a day of major retail therapy and a bit of a nap, I was restless. It's a beautiful, sultry Saturday evening in Fort Lauderdale and I was faced with the prospect of an evening home alone with the TV remote. Cary was out with guy du jour. I saw John last night. And the guy I really wanted to spend the evening with is off trying to figure out his life.
So, I decided to head over to Georgie's Alibi for a drink. It was early -- maybe 8 p.m. when I arrived. I didn't care about being out late with the masses and I really didn't care if I met anyone. My only motivation was simply not to be home alone and to be out among the lavendar brotherhood.
After getting my drink at the bar, I started my first pass through the bar. Along the back wall, seated at one of the banquettes were two guys, one of whom pointing at me and motioning me over. It wasn't that crowded, so I knew that I was the one he was focused on.
As I approached, he seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place him. He shook my hand and introduced me to his boyfriend, Chris. Nice to meet you Chris, but who the hell is your boyfriend, what is his name and from where do I know him?
Boyfriend said, "I left the store and am doing visual at another company."
OK, that narrowed it down. Then I realized, "Oh wait! It's Mark from Bassett."
He helped me on several occasions with furniture and lighting and was really friendly every time I went into the store.
Long story short, we ended up chatting for a couple of hours. It was such a pleasant surprise. Here I was, expecting to stand in a corner, nursing a drink and being all shy and not talking to people. But I ended up chatting with two really nice fellow New Englanders and having a lovely evening.
Mark and I exchanged phone numbers and promises to give each other a ring. I definitely will do that. I'm also planning a pool party for later in the summer, so it will be nice to have two additional, fun people to invite.
As an avid theatergoer, juke box musicals bore me. During the past couple of summers here in South Florida, we've seen shows that take a particular group and weave some narrative in between the songs, making for a mediocre couple of hours. Snoozeville.
That said, I wasn't expecting much when John asked me to attend the opening night of Dream A Little Dream: The Nearly True Story of the Mamas and Papas yesterday at Florida Stage in Lantana. But John asked me to accompany him and frankly, I love openings at Florida Stage. That company does no wrong.
I've never really cared -- or even thought about -- The Mamas and the Papas. It was sixties music and back then, I only cared about my Tonka Trucks, a pile of bricks and some dirt. I knew nothing about the group and the music was just something I would hear occasionally if I was somewhere that had a oldies station playing.
This show, co-written by Denny Doherty, who was one of the four members of the group, kept me riveted. As with everything Florida Stage does, the acting was superb, sets beautiful. And for a company that rarely presents musical fare, they did a great job putting on a musical.
Alisa Schiff as Cass Elliot was terrific. Kyle Harris, who plays Denny Doherty, has a terrific voice and a really appealing stage presence. He was perfectly cast opposite Christine Hope as Michelle Phillips. I really felt the connection between the two actors as they portrayed two members of the band who eventually fall for each other.
If you're reading this and you live in South Florida, go see this show. It's even worth the drive from Miami.
After a busy weekend of Pride events, I should be sleeping. Oh, if only.
I went to bed at 10 p.m. last night, which is a little on the early side for me. Barely 30 minutes later, I was asleep. But then just five hours later, there I lay, wide awake, my mind going and going and going, on an endless loop, playing out scenarios, situations, conversations. And this has been going on for a week.
There's a song called "Tuesday, 3 a.m." from the soundtrack to Latter Days that comes to mind. If you saw the movie, I'm kinda like the Christian character, up at all hours. 'Cept he's much hotter than moi.
It's Gay Pride Weekend here in Fort Lauderdale.
Cary and I went to breakfast on Lincoln Road yesterday morning. He had a doctor's appointment, so while I was waiting, my camera and I enjoyed the blissful quiet on a normally bustling pedestrian mall.
It all starts with a connection to another human being. A stranger on the street, a co-worker, a friend, a lover.
It can be through a quick hookup. Or it can be from a long, lingering, prolonged encounter.
Either way, the viral matter is transferred. It works its way through your body, hitting your immune system, affecting your brain until you are delirious to the point of being incapable of rational thought or reason.
It's tragic. And it always ends the same way.
I was infected yesterday. It wasn't intentional, but it happened.
Driving to Lincoln Road, I suggested to M that he park in a surface lot on Michigan Ave, close to where we were to meet a friend of mine for lunch.
"Oh, this is where I park when I go to the Apple Store," M said.
"I don't go there," was my curt reply.
He inquired as to my reason.
"Too dangerous," I added, trying to avoid contact as best I could.
I thought I escaped unscathed, but after lunch M tempted fate again.
We had discussed mobile technology and downloadable content during lunch. While driving back, I had my personal cell in my hand. We chatted about how we use our phones. We talked about text messaging and Facebook and MySpace and iPods. We talked about blogging and how Typepad is making all these improvements.
"Dude," he said, "you have to get an iPhone."
NO!!! Unprotected discourse!!!!
Caring not a bit about my health and my risk of infection, he continued on and on about the virtues of the new iPhone. You can take pictures and post them to your blog on the go. You can write in your blog on the go. You can access your personal email. You can do this and that and the other thing.
By the time he was done, I was out of breath and ready for a cigarette.
I was infected and I could feel the virus traveling through my veins. There's no cure, no stopping the disease.
I. MUST. HAVE. A. NEW. iPHONE.
Once again, I've taken a bite of the poison Apple.
I've been curious about something lately: the phenomenon of younger and older gay male couples. Why are guys in their 20s attracted to those of us in our 40s? Or, for that matter, why would someone be attracted to someone 20 years his senior? And vice versa? What do older men see in younger guys, aside from physical appeal?
My curiosity started to be piqued when I met Stalker Boy a year and half ago (you can go back to January and February 2007 in this blog for the "Boy" series of posts, but long story short, 24-year old guy starts following me around on campus, makes a point to meet me, etc.).
The question has come up again since I've become single. Placing myself back on a couple of gay "social networking sites" (and I use the phrase loosely), I've been amazed at the number of 20-somethings who have contacted me, expressing their desire for whatever. Sometimes it's sex, sometimes it's more.
Last week, while hanging out at Starbucks in Wilton Manors with a couple of new friends, I saw a man in his sixties -- someone I knew many years ago in Boston -- with his much younger boyfriend. There had to be at least a 30-year difference between them. My friend stopped to chat, but I didn't meet the boyfriend.
Now, like many people, I have often looked at these couples and thought "sugar daddy" or "kept boy." I think it's an obvious assumption. I'm sure that in some circumstances, it's an accurate assumption. But in many cases, I would be wrong.
I've done a little research. I've posed the question to a couple of these twenty-somethings who have chatted me up on Adam4Adam or Manhunt. My assistant and I had a long talk about it; he's 35 and has had a long-term relationship with someone 20 years his senior. It's his second such relationship.
Today, I even got into the conversation with N, who is a straight woman in her late 30s. She revealed that she once had a relationship with a man some 30 years her senior.
Every time I posed the question, I got pretty much the same response. The appeal, for the younger person, is safety and security. And not financial security either. Rather, it's the comfort of being with someone who has had more life experience, who can provide a guiding hand through life, the reassurance that his older partner has gone down the path before.
It's a really interesting notion, one that I kind of find appealing. But not that if it is the sole reason to be with someone. Obviously, for any relationship to be solid, there has to be a balance, both men need to get something out of it.
So that leads me to the other half of the equation. Why do older men go after younger guys?
Of course, there can be a physical appeal, but anyone who has been in a relationship for any length of time knows that in the long run, the physical is a secondary reason. I think there has to be more.
I tossed the question out to my friend Paul when he was visiting a couple of months ago. He's always been attracted to younger men, so I asked him why. His answer was interesting.
"I don't want to feel old and boring."
That, I thought, was very interesting because it's something that I fear. I have no problem with growing older. Hell, I'm more secure in who I am as a person as I get older and I'm really enjoying my life. But I agree with Paul completely. I don't want to feel old. I want to be in tune with popular culture. I want the latest electronic toys (that damned iPhone keeps calling my name). I know I will grow old, but I don't want to feel old.
So it's all very interesting. And you're probably thinking, "why is he writing about this?" There's a reason.
And let's leave it at that for the moment.
