Anyone who knows me (or has read this thing) knows that that has been my modus operandi for the past two years. The first part is easy. It always has been. However, the remaining two is...well, let me say that it's a shame that I need someone else in order to complete the picture. Look, I'm trying to move on here and in order for me to do that I have to relieve myself of all negative restraints and that includes letting go of some of the past. So if you bear with me and let me get the following out, then we can move on and step into the future.
Throughout my life, I have been told that I can have anyone that I want...romantically and sexually, that is. My mother raised her children to be more or less color blind to the ways of the world. While I was researching a novel, I asked my mother to describe to me her experiences during the early days of the Civil Rights Movement. She told me that she did not particularly participate. "White people have always been good to me," she said. And I understood her raising us to be without prejudice. Once I got out in the world and discovered the ugliness of racism - especially in the gay community - I thought that since I was an open person that it would not be hard to find sex and romance.
Talk about being naive...one wonders if Webster's put a picture of me next to the word in the dictionary?
So, all in all, I backed up and took a look around and gave up. And that's how I lost Eddie.
I opened myself up once more and started to find something of a life with sex and romance, but I had to become someone else's idea of a fantasy and forget that I do have needs. In other words, there were men of non-color that wanted men of color, only we had to mold ourselves into their ideas of thugs, mandingos and...well, you get the idea. And men of color told me that I was too white for them.
I closed back up.
I moved to Seattle with the intention of starting over. I moved with an assertiveness I've never had before and a positive backbone that I was rather proud of. Then came Alan (who wanted me, then didn't want me, then wanted me when he couldn't have me, then didn't want me), then came Shy Guy (who would look, then not look, then try to get my attention, then wouldn't want my attention, then ran like a cat from pepe le pew when he saw me approaching a stop light he was standing at), then came Daryl (who would look, forgot that we met inside of the pub and finally moved away), after that was Dave (who didn't want to rush sex but fucked everyone on capitol hill but me), and how can I forget Blake (wait a minute, he was straight but kept looking at my crotch). Moving on, let me add B (whom i could feel an attraction with - and i only wanted to fuck him - but it seemed to be blocked by snobbishness), D (you know the story with that but, again, a sex thing) and Robert from my gym who flirted, introduced himself, always greeted me and then one day acted like I had leprosy. So, I shut down again. And it was as if vault doors were slammed. I think this is where I became a much more severe slob so that anyone who proclaimed to be interested in me I would use the messiness of my personal space as an excuse to escape the obvious cold shoulder I'd come to expect.
Now, along came Eric (another story you should know), JD (uh...) and finally Ryan (who told me that he was attracted to me and then threw up a wall so transparently thick that i mistook him for iceman from x-men) and I was pretty much done. I've had friends and co-workers and acquaintances tell me over and over that so many men viewed me as a hot guy and I should put myself out there more. And once I began to tell my tale, I'd usually be cut off in the middle of a sentence or told that my experiences were all my fault - including when guys actually told me that they don't date or fuck black men. I knew I was cursed or unlucky in the realm of sex and relationships and have gone back and forth on the belief for quite some time. I sometimes wonder about the aura surrounding someone like Mark's friend Steve who seems to be in a relationship every other year and can't commit nor appreciate them or with Joey and Patrick who when they walk into a bar guys automatically drop to their knees or position themselves on their backs with their legs up in the air.
Anyway, I'm trying to find a way to move on. I don't want to give up again - I loose every time. I gave up when I faced racism (eddie); I gave up when I gave up on L.A. (justin); I gave up a chance to encounter a cool guy the first time I gave up on Seattle guys (brian). And can you believe it: once a guy flirted with me and flirted with me and when I gave him the attention he continuously asked for told my friends to tell me to leave him alone.
Maybe I'm too intense and too involved...
Nope. I don't think so. I can be a focused person, but I don't slobber, hover, beg, throw myself or cling. I remember once having sex with a guy and he told me that he wanted it to happen again. When I was horny, he didn't want to have anything to do with me. But when he was horny, he actually tried to trap me in his house.
I don't know what to do now that I'm living in the Bay Area/San Francisco. I want to be open and out, but I also know that my luck with men falls somewhere on the shortest end of the stick. Yes, guys here seem more open to possibilities than in Seattle but I've had this dark cloud over me since first walking into the gay community. My friend Ed once told me that my problems could stem from the fact that I'm too good to be true (yeah, i like that!!), or it could be the observation from my friend Jeff who once told me that being a handsome man does intimidate. I don't know. I guess San Francisco will be a new challenge for me. I'm a bit scared, but know that I can't be.
Anyway, I got it out of my system so that you can never hear about how cursed or unlucky I think I am. From this moment on I will write about my experiences and not complain about what I think my problem is.
So onward! To live. To love. To fuck!!!
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