One thing in the past you could pretty much always count on was gay men being... well... gay. But something's changed. I've noticed a strange phenom in the past year and a half. I've got a couple token gay men as friends, and on a few occasions over the years, I've found myself at gay bars with them. Not my top choice of places to hang out since I'm not a gay man, but ya know, I always have a good time.
As I was saying, in years past the one thing I could count on was to never be cruised in boy bar. Makes sense, right? I am a chick after all. But things have changed. I don't know if it's desperation and any warm body will do, or if it's alcohol consumption blurring the lines, or even if it's gay men being more open to the idea of being with a woman, but every single time I go to gay town I get hit on these days. Huh?
Now, I'm not talking about being playfully flirted with. I'm talking "hey baby, let's get it on." For real. Last summer, I had a man in a gay bar beg me to let him take me into the bathroom and "at least suck my tits" after I turned down his invitation to go home with him. Another instance I had a guy stalk me while proffering explicit sex acts despite having told him to piss off several times. Finally I had to completely shut him down after he followed me out to the sidewalk as I waited curb-side for my cab. I could go on, but I think you get my point.
Then last night it happened again! While meeting up with a friend at a gay establishment before heading off to our final destination, a gay man approached me and told me he was buying me a shot. Okay, fine by me. So we chatted for a few minutes. It was his birthday, and he was out celebrating. Next thing I know, he's telling me that he wants to take me home and do sex-type things with me. When I responded, "Ummmm, but you're gay," he said, "I've eaten at the Y plenty of times, and I'm very, very oral. I could make a meal out of that (as he nodded towards my crotch)." I shit you not. So I politely told him he should probably find a nice boy to take home with him instead.
I gotta tell you, folks, I am reeeally confused.
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Next post: A talk about the savage insomnia I've been battling for six full weeks now. It's been brutal, and now I've got to go and try to sleep. Yeah right.
~ the lady
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Who Would You Die For?
I was watching an episode of Firefly earlier tonight. Arguably my favorite. War Stories, it's called. And I realized the reason why I think Joss Whedon is a genius. And since I'm not a hyperbolist, I don't mean 'genius' as it is mundanely used (like Kate Hudson referring to Cameron Crowe as a genius at least twice during her Academy Award acceptance speech). I mean it in the real way.
The point is, besides being funny, original, and well-written with interesting storylines and thoughtful character development, he and his people truly understand and deftly portray the the subtle nuances of interpersonal relationships. And it's flawless the way he expertly weaves it all together while posing scenarios that test and reveal the morality and integrity of each character's fundamental humanness. Oh yeah, and it's entertaining as hell. I mean, come on, they're space pirates.
Among a bevy of moral dilemmas posed in this particular episode, one situation had me asking myself what I'd do if it were me. See, one of the characters had to choose who got to live between two of her crew members being held and tortured by a gangster - choose between her husband or her long-time military compadre (also the ship's captain).
So I asked myself if I had no other options and had to choose any one person out of the rest of the world to live or die, whose life would I save? I immediately narrowed it down to two, but then I'd have to pick between them. Which one would it be?
Well, it would depend on the situation, of course, but the one I chose tonight is the one who's not whole yet. The one who's still figuring things out but I know is immensely good. And that means I'd sacrifice the other one - also immensely good, loving, merciful, and tender. But one's got the peace that the other one doesn't - that most everyone I know doesn't. And I swear to god I actually started crying, right there in front of my tv, by myself, in my living room.
There are other people I would die for, I'm sure. And for a second I wondered if anyone would choose me. Then I remembered something that had drifted away from me to the back of my memory.
It had to have been 10 years ago, but a good friend of mine had graduated from college. It was summer time, and I was staying with my parents for a while during my break from school. My friend had a job interview in the smallish town where I was raised, so her boyfriend escorted her an hour and a half from the city to her interview where she would be tied up for several hours. So, we arranged for him and me to hang out that evening while she did her thing.
I had spent time with him before when she and I were roommates with three other girls at 110 S. Blanche. We all lived together in a dilapidated but charming house in the town's ghetto. The house was tucked away on two acres in a holler bordered by miles of woods. There was a spring house and a bamboo forest on the land, and the house itself was old and slipshod, and just very... odd. We always had guests at the house, so naturally he was among them. He was sigificantly older - a real man in his forties to be exact - and he lived in the city. He would come up sometimes on the weekends. He was very interesting and earthy and artistic, and he had big hands and liked to dance. Anyway, yeah, so I'd spent some time with him but never one-on-one, so I never really got to know him well.
After he dropped her off at her interview, he picked me up at my parents' house, and we attended a local show choir performance. Afterwards, we drove to Chattanooga's pedestrian bridge and walked over the Tennessee River in downtown. And we talked. Then we stopped by the house of some artist friends of his. They took us to some dive jazz club where we had drinks and listened to these old guys play some mean jazz.
On our drive back home, we got into a discussion. I'm not even sure how it came up, but he told me somthing. He told me that his girlfriend - my good friend - said to him once that she would die for me. He told me he found her comment to speak strongly about my character, and it made him curious about me. I don't even remember how I responded upon hearing that, but I remember feeling deeply moved. I remember how powerful to me that sentiment was - and still is today.
My friend and I are still very close. I never told her about that talk with him, but I've never forgotten it, either. Even if it's not the case today, it was the case for at least that one moment in time. And knowing that - knowing for a split second that she could care about me so much to make such a claim - inspires me to be the kind of person worthy of it.
I'm far from perfect. Yeah, I know, hard to believe, right? (I'm smirking as I write.) I make mistakes and have my struggles. Sometimes I do or say the wrong thing. Yet, despite my shortcomings, I believe in being the kind of person who would die for someone. And being the kind of person that someone would die for.
~ the lady
The point is, besides being funny, original, and well-written with interesting storylines and thoughtful character development, he and his people truly understand and deftly portray the the subtle nuances of interpersonal relationships. And it's flawless the way he expertly weaves it all together while posing scenarios that test and reveal the morality and integrity of each character's fundamental humanness. Oh yeah, and it's entertaining as hell. I mean, come on, they're space pirates.
Among a bevy of moral dilemmas posed in this particular episode, one situation had me asking myself what I'd do if it were me. See, one of the characters had to choose who got to live between two of her crew members being held and tortured by a gangster - choose between her husband or her long-time military compadre (also the ship's captain).
So I asked myself if I had no other options and had to choose any one person out of the rest of the world to live or die, whose life would I save? I immediately narrowed it down to two, but then I'd have to pick between them. Which one would it be?
Well, it would depend on the situation, of course, but the one I chose tonight is the one who's not whole yet. The one who's still figuring things out but I know is immensely good. And that means I'd sacrifice the other one - also immensely good, loving, merciful, and tender. But one's got the peace that the other one doesn't - that most everyone I know doesn't. And I swear to god I actually started crying, right there in front of my tv, by myself, in my living room.
There are other people I would die for, I'm sure. And for a second I wondered if anyone would choose me. Then I remembered something that had drifted away from me to the back of my memory.
It had to have been 10 years ago, but a good friend of mine had graduated from college. It was summer time, and I was staying with my parents for a while during my break from school. My friend had a job interview in the smallish town where I was raised, so her boyfriend escorted her an hour and a half from the city to her interview where she would be tied up for several hours. So, we arranged for him and me to hang out that evening while she did her thing.
I had spent time with him before when she and I were roommates with three other girls at 110 S. Blanche. We all lived together in a dilapidated but charming house in the town's ghetto. The house was tucked away on two acres in a holler bordered by miles of woods. There was a spring house and a bamboo forest on the land, and the house itself was old and slipshod, and just very... odd. We always had guests at the house, so naturally he was among them. He was sigificantly older - a real man in his forties to be exact - and he lived in the city. He would come up sometimes on the weekends. He was very interesting and earthy and artistic, and he had big hands and liked to dance. Anyway, yeah, so I'd spent some time with him but never one-on-one, so I never really got to know him well.
After he dropped her off at her interview, he picked me up at my parents' house, and we attended a local show choir performance. Afterwards, we drove to Chattanooga's pedestrian bridge and walked over the Tennessee River in downtown. And we talked. Then we stopped by the house of some artist friends of his. They took us to some dive jazz club where we had drinks and listened to these old guys play some mean jazz.
On our drive back home, we got into a discussion. I'm not even sure how it came up, but he told me somthing. He told me that his girlfriend - my good friend - said to him once that she would die for me. He told me he found her comment to speak strongly about my character, and it made him curious about me. I don't even remember how I responded upon hearing that, but I remember feeling deeply moved. I remember how powerful to me that sentiment was - and still is today.
My friend and I are still very close. I never told her about that talk with him, but I've never forgotten it, either. Even if it's not the case today, it was the case for at least that one moment in time. And knowing that - knowing for a split second that she could care about me so much to make such a claim - inspires me to be the kind of person worthy of it.
I'm far from perfect. Yeah, I know, hard to believe, right? (I'm smirking as I write.) I make mistakes and have my struggles. Sometimes I do or say the wrong thing. Yet, despite my shortcomings, I believe in being the kind of person who would die for someone. And being the kind of person that someone would die for.
~ the lady
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