Sweet Sweet Sweet Sweet Fire in the Street
11:02 am. I bolted upright, and as I tried to escape my impending death, I got tangled in the sheets, and fell hopelessly to the ground. The screeching alarm was deafening. I quickly grabbed a pair of underwear off my floor, followed by a t-shirt and some disgusting sweats. I scooped up my keys, laptop, and cigarettes, quickly brushed my teeth, and started hiking the six floors down, to the lobby.
It seems that someone on the third floor thinks that grilling in their living room at 11 am in the morning, is a good idea. As I walk into Panera bread, which is located in the first floor of my building, I notice that no one is even phased by the flashing lights, and deafening fire alarms going off. Everyone is eating their salads, as if nothing is happening, completely ignoring the fact that there could be someone burning alive just feet above them.
As I order my usual coffee, and take my place in the leather chair that I always sit in, I try to go about my business as usual. Open my computer, start it up… but I can’t help but be slightly thrown off by the fact that everyone is to distracted by their own lives, to realize that something real is happening. People on their cell phones, drinking their coffee, yelling about contracts… it’s exactly the type of person that I don’t want to be.
How do you know when you’ve become so involved with yourself, that you don’t even notice the world or people around you? Over the past few months I have to admit, I’ve been incredibly busy with school, working until my fingers bleed, and attempting to have a social life, so yes I became one of those people. Until recently.
I met Mr.Revenge at Denver Pride, this year. He grew up with my hairstylist, and is in school right now to become one as well. Kara introduced him to me, while I was dancing my heart out to DJ Heckler, and was looking less than appealing. He seemed real cool, but I was a bit intoxicated and distracted by the music, so I danced on my merry way.
Back at the apartment, Kara gave me a call. Apparently she was at the bar across the street, and wanted to come up. I was delighted to hear from her, so I went down and got her and Mr.Revenge. Since sobering up, he started to look a bit more appealing. He was even kind of funny, which I was surprised by. Who would’ve thought that there are men out there that are attractive AND funny?
We hit it off pretty quick. Kara wasn’t feeling well, so I cooked her some food. She decided to go home, and I was definitely disappointed, because I wanted to spend more time with Mr.Revenge, but she was his ride back to Loveland. After a quick phone call to Ashley, I offered him a ride home later the next day, if he wanted to stay. He happily accepted.
We talked all night. I laid in his arms, and we shared everything about each other. He told me his life. No one has ever been so upfront with me about things before. He had a very intimidating first impression, however feeling his body on mine, getting him to laugh, sharing cigarettes with him; it was the perfect first meeting.
And then there was the morning after. I dread morning after’s. I look like a train hit me. Doesn’t matter if I’ve been drinking, smoking, partying, or just had a quiet night. When I wake up in the morning, I AM NOT CUTE. I looked into his eyes. He brushed my tangled hair out of my face, and kissed me. He was as beautiful as ever. Messy hair, grin on his face. We got dressed, because I had to get him home at a decent hour.
The entire drive home, he had his hand either in mine, or on my leg. We stopped for coffee and gas, and flew down i25 to get him home. I thought about him for the rest of the day. And I saw him the next.
I don’t know what it is about him, but it’s a bit unsettling. All I know is that unlike the people around me, not only am I going to see this fire, but I’m going to let it burn.
Matty B.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Out And Proud
The dictionary defines the word Pride, as the state or feeling of being proud. I can safely say that everyone at this years Pride Festival 2007 was exuding that, and then some.
The music was amazing. Although the weather was unbearable and water was no where to be found, the fabulous fagulations of Denver were dancing their little hearts out. The hot weather, hot music, and hot men were almost overwhelming. However, I found that there was one thing that could cool me down from all the heat: my little purple paper bracelet.
The funny thing about alcohol, is that you seem to loose all your inhibitions... if you drink enough, that is. After my fourth Cranberry Stoli and what they were calling "PRIDE"'s, I seemed to escape the heat.. as well as half of my clothing.
Every year I absolutely look forward to PRIDE Fest. Lets be real here: This is my Christmas. I just delve myself in glitter and alcohol, whip out my flags, and dance my heart out.
DJ Heckler was amazing as usual. Although i didn't get to follow up with him at Vynil , i soaked up every last second that the DJ's spun.
To say the least, it was what was to be suspected.
Matty B.
The dictionary defines the word Pride, as the state or feeling of being proud. I can safely say that everyone at this years Pride Festival 2007 was exuding that, and then some.
The music was amazing. Although the weather was unbearable and water was no where to be found, the fabulous fagulations of Denver were dancing their little hearts out. The hot weather, hot music, and hot men were almost overwhelming. However, I found that there was one thing that could cool me down from all the heat: my little purple paper bracelet.
The funny thing about alcohol, is that you seem to loose all your inhibitions... if you drink enough, that is. After my fourth Cranberry Stoli and what they were calling "PRIDE"'s, I seemed to escape the heat.. as well as half of my clothing.
Every year I absolutely look forward to PRIDE Fest. Lets be real here: This is my Christmas. I just delve myself in glitter and alcohol, whip out my flags, and dance my heart out.
DJ Heckler was amazing as usual. Although i didn't get to follow up with him at Vynil , i soaked up every last second that the DJ's spun.
To say the least, it was what was to be suspected.
Matty B.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
If These Walls Could Talk
I love to go into other people’s houses. I find that one of the best parts of meeting someone new, is being able to go into their house, and see how it’s decorated. Let’s be honest here: I’ve seen my fair share of bedrooms, however every time I walk into one, it’s completely different.
I went over to AJ’s house, a couple of months ago. He’s a 29 year-old black man that lives in the Denver Dry Lofts (only doors down from an old friend of mine, Steven). What’s so great about this building, is that it’s completely renovated, styled and painted very modern with tan carpets and beige walls, accented with stainless steel, and overlooks the breath taking Downtown Denver. However, they couldn’t be more differently decorated.
From what I remember (and it’s been months since I’ve visited Steven’s house), his apartment was VERY minimalist. He had two perfectly rectangular modern black futon-style couches facing each other, a glass coffee table in the middle, with a book of photography placed in the center, a smaller glass end table with three candle votives, a glass dining room table, and a chair next to the window, complete with ashtray, for guests. His bedroom was a bed pushed to the center of the far wall, beige down comforter, a light army-green accent throw and a cherry beside table with matching bookcase and bureau. He had three framed pictures of Lindsay Lohan cut from a magazine, and a photograph of all of us on his shelf.
What does his apartment say to me? Professional homosexual who (sometimes) strives for cleanliness and order. Everything has it’s place in his apartment, not unlike the people in his life. Not very sporadic and very un-lived in… almost secret. It exudes a magazine-apartment feel. An interesting perspective, but I adore his apartment, to say the least.
AJ’s apartment was the complete opposite. Clutter everywhere. The apartment was very African tribal art meets business bohemian. Dark leather couches, tapestry’s over everything. Covered in tribal art, floor to ceiling. Smelled of weed and sensual massage oil. The only thing better than his very passionate sex, was what I learned about him through his apartment. It was like I window into his soul: He loved to live in his passions. Very urban and very interesting.
It’s boggling how two apartments that are exactly the same, lived in by two gay men, could be so completely different. I am a personal believer that my home says a lot about me. Whether it be clean or dirty, minimal or cluttered; it speaks lengths about who I am.
Chad and I just moved to a new apartment together in the Downtown/ Capitol Hill area. Gorgeous downtown views, remodeled apartment, minimal lobby and elevators. He was the first person to start unpacking. I go to school and work full time, so I took a few days to pull myself together before opening the first box.
When I came home from work today, his room was finished, and the living room was cleared. There’s an oversized sofa, my television, and my CD player. Other than that, it’s completely BAREN. I talked it over with him, I’m we’re both very excited to hang pictures and art all over the walls. I’m very excited to make this art to put on the walls.
Where we differ, is our bedrooms. His is very similar to Steven’s. Since I am such an expressive person, I have a hard time understanding how someone could find comfort in such an empty room. I am such a loud and outgoing person, that my room screams red tan and maroon. There’s art already on the walls, accompanied by my favorite movie and signed band posters. You walk into my bedroom, and you immediately know what my favorite color is, what my favorite bands are, and what my favorite movie is. Hell, you even know my clothing style, what my friend’s look like, and what I like to do (I have an entire desk FULL of art supplies).
You walk into Chad’s room, and you see his bed, his night stand and a computer desk. I live with the man, and see his everyday, and I still have 101 questions to ask.
What does that say about Chad and I? We’re complete opposites. I am a very in-your-face, hey-how-are-ya, I’m Matty B, welcome to my life, sort of guy. Chad on the other hand is very introverted, quiet and reserved. Although we’ve hit a few bumps in the road, I know that I’m going to learn a ton from this guy. Maybe how to be a bit more mysterious. Maybe he’ll learn to relax and lighten up a bit; have some fun, meet new people.
As far as personality goes, is it better to be upfront and honest with people? Perhaps a little “too” friendly? Or is it better to be reserved? Wait for people to talk to you, hold back and let the others live life aggressively?
Either way I think that you have to find a balance. Hopefully Chad will be that for me.
Matty B.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Bug-A-Boo
It’s interesting what people’s true intentions are. My most recent fling, Mark III (this is the third Mark that I’ve fooled around with in the past few months.) said to me last night,” Everyone’s always contradicting themselves. No one can keep an opinion.” And you know what? I have to agree with him. However, he was just saying that to get me to come over and have sex with him. Seemingly, it worked.
I was sitting at school working on a project, when his little “Connexion IM Window” popped up onto my screen. He started off by complimenting me, commenting my “decked out” profile, being mildly witty and humorous, while slipping in his little sexual innuendos. I immediately saw his game. Just like my Connexion profile says,” The only reason why you’re looking at my page, is either because you want to fuck me, or because you hate me.” Clearly it was the former.
I immediately told him that I was not looking for a hook-up. (It’s this new fad that I’m trying: not being a slut.) It was suggested that maybe I should consider possibly having a relationship. Apparently, my friends think that I should do more talking and learning about the man I‘m interested in, and less fucking. It seems that that’s the route to a healthy relationship; IE: not putting out on the first date.
You see, I don’t have a problem with relationships. In fact, I love being in them. I enjoy the idea of being able to rely on someone for something, even if it’s only accompaniment. The problem isn’t that I don’t want a relationship per say, I just have yet to meet anyone worth spending an extensive amount of time with. I’m having a hard enough time adjusting to the limited amount of time I’m spending with my roommate, Chad., much less nursing a new relationship.
After about an hour of talking, him attempting to seduce me (I found it incredibly amusing), and him beating around the bush, he just came out with it. He was cute and intelligent, and worked teaching theater to under-privileged kids, so this guy had to have a head on his shoulders. I told him to meet me in front of the Art Institute at 11:30pm.
He pulled up in a little red Tercel ( the same car my dear friend Ashley drives/ shares with me) and got out of the car. He was bigger than I was ( a little overweight, pretty hairy, defiantly bear-esque; but I was into it.), beautiful eyes, gorgeous smile, and this rugged masculine voice that gave me a stir in my little red briefs. We first talked about how he DID NOT want a relationship, and was just looking for someone regular to have come over. I wasn’t so sure about him, but we continued. We then talked about art and why I moved out so young (everyone asks), and after about half an hour I was getting tired, and asked to go home with him. He was thrilled.
So far, so good?
I get to his apartment, and the walls are painted all these different colors. I flash back to my grandma living in a downtown Boulder Co-Op. It feels like I should be getting ready to do yoga (considering every position I was in that night, I might as well have). He makes his bed, and we lie down to go to sleep. However, he had other plans.
The first thing that made me think twice was how he didn’t want me to take off my underwear. Not the weirdest fetish, but interesting nonetheless.
The second thing, was his back hair. I ignored it.
The third thing was how he (and I quote) “Am a totally natural guy. I use olive oil as a lubricant.” Wait- what?
I did NOT get fucked that night. Thank you, but oil will break down a condom and render it useless, as well as, I’m not a Brochette. I don’t need to be covered in oil and served to this Italian man.
Finally, I didn’t find it at all satisfying. His penis didn’t live up to the Italian name, and he was very awkward in bed. (although I am thin and look light, I am 6’4”, and NOT. You can’t just flip me any which way… I have long limbs) It was overall 2 ½ stars, and I don’t think that I would be into seeing him again.
The next morning we grabbed a coffee in the Panera Bread, that it’s underneath my apartment building. He immediately told me that he wanted to see me again. I stopped mid-sip. I turned to him and told him that even though he was a nice guy, had beautiful eyes, and was… interesting, he wasn’t my type. (I can’t see myself spending a lot of time with him, and in fact the time I did spend with him was borderline taupe. The overall experience was “all right”.)
The tables had turned. He suddenly wanted to date, and I suddenly did not. I found the entire situation kind of ironic and a little funny, until I checked my Connexion Inbox. Three emails in two hours telling me about how he wanted to see me again and had a great time. Compliments get you far with me, but you can’t persuade someone to be date you. ( I learned that the hard way)
It seems that when all I want is a hook up, all I get is a phone full of text messages and an inbox full of emails; while whenever I want to pursue dating someone, all I get is either no response, or a polite brush off (and then there are the emotionally unstable one’s that we won’t even get into).
So the question is:
Do I lower my standards and start dating someone that I don’t see/ want to have feelings for and just date, for the sake of dating? Or do I hold out for some interesting, beautiful person that may or may not exist?
Matty B.
It’s interesting what people’s true intentions are. My most recent fling, Mark III (this is the third Mark that I’ve fooled around with in the past few months.) said to me last night,” Everyone’s always contradicting themselves. No one can keep an opinion.” And you know what? I have to agree with him. However, he was just saying that to get me to come over and have sex with him. Seemingly, it worked.
I was sitting at school working on a project, when his little “Connexion IM Window” popped up onto my screen. He started off by complimenting me, commenting my “decked out” profile, being mildly witty and humorous, while slipping in his little sexual innuendos. I immediately saw his game. Just like my Connexion profile says,” The only reason why you’re looking at my page, is either because you want to fuck me, or because you hate me.” Clearly it was the former.
I immediately told him that I was not looking for a hook-up. (It’s this new fad that I’m trying: not being a slut.) It was suggested that maybe I should consider possibly having a relationship. Apparently, my friends think that I should do more talking and learning about the man I‘m interested in, and less fucking. It seems that that’s the route to a healthy relationship; IE: not putting out on the first date.
You see, I don’t have a problem with relationships. In fact, I love being in them. I enjoy the idea of being able to rely on someone for something, even if it’s only accompaniment. The problem isn’t that I don’t want a relationship per say, I just have yet to meet anyone worth spending an extensive amount of time with. I’m having a hard enough time adjusting to the limited amount of time I’m spending with my roommate, Chad., much less nursing a new relationship.
After about an hour of talking, him attempting to seduce me (I found it incredibly amusing), and him beating around the bush, he just came out with it. He was cute and intelligent, and worked teaching theater to under-privileged kids, so this guy had to have a head on his shoulders. I told him to meet me in front of the Art Institute at 11:30pm.
He pulled up in a little red Tercel ( the same car my dear friend Ashley drives/ shares with me) and got out of the car. He was bigger than I was ( a little overweight, pretty hairy, defiantly bear-esque; but I was into it.), beautiful eyes, gorgeous smile, and this rugged masculine voice that gave me a stir in my little red briefs. We first talked about how he DID NOT want a relationship, and was just looking for someone regular to have come over. I wasn’t so sure about him, but we continued. We then talked about art and why I moved out so young (everyone asks), and after about half an hour I was getting tired, and asked to go home with him. He was thrilled.
So far, so good?
I get to his apartment, and the walls are painted all these different colors. I flash back to my grandma living in a downtown Boulder Co-Op. It feels like I should be getting ready to do yoga (considering every position I was in that night, I might as well have). He makes his bed, and we lie down to go to sleep. However, he had other plans.
The first thing that made me think twice was how he didn’t want me to take off my underwear. Not the weirdest fetish, but interesting nonetheless.
The second thing, was his back hair. I ignored it.
The third thing was how he (and I quote) “Am a totally natural guy. I use olive oil as a lubricant.” Wait- what?
I did NOT get fucked that night. Thank you, but oil will break down a condom and render it useless, as well as, I’m not a Brochette. I don’t need to be covered in oil and served to this Italian man.
Finally, I didn’t find it at all satisfying. His penis didn’t live up to the Italian name, and he was very awkward in bed. (although I am thin and look light, I am 6’4”, and NOT. You can’t just flip me any which way… I have long limbs) It was overall 2 ½ stars, and I don’t think that I would be into seeing him again.
The next morning we grabbed a coffee in the Panera Bread, that it’s underneath my apartment building. He immediately told me that he wanted to see me again. I stopped mid-sip. I turned to him and told him that even though he was a nice guy, had beautiful eyes, and was… interesting, he wasn’t my type. (I can’t see myself spending a lot of time with him, and in fact the time I did spend with him was borderline taupe. The overall experience was “all right”.)
The tables had turned. He suddenly wanted to date, and I suddenly did not. I found the entire situation kind of ironic and a little funny, until I checked my Connexion Inbox. Three emails in two hours telling me about how he wanted to see me again and had a great time. Compliments get you far with me, but you can’t persuade someone to be date you. ( I learned that the hard way)
It seems that when all I want is a hook up, all I get is a phone full of text messages and an inbox full of emails; while whenever I want to pursue dating someone, all I get is either no response, or a polite brush off (and then there are the emotionally unstable one’s that we won’t even get into).
So the question is:
Do I lower my standards and start dating someone that I don’t see/ want to have feelings for and just date, for the sake of dating? Or do I hold out for some interesting, beautiful person that may or may not exist?
Matty B.
Monday, June 04, 2007
You Are Who You Sleep With
The scene was perfect. As I walked into the very popular “Hamburger Mary’s” (An Uptown predominately gay restaurant) I immediately saw a dozen or so people that I knew. Greetings were exchanged; Hugs and kisses galore. The music switched, and Paris Hilton started singing about how she could what your girlfriend does, so much better.
Then I run into David. He’s sitting with his small boyfriend, Clayton. Apparently they were having drinks at Mary’s after going to Sushi. Eric called David’s new boy a tart. [Good use of the word, Eric!] There were comments about his hair and scruffy face.
What really got to me, though, was how impossibly rude his little man was. I was looking very good (He was not). I had a big beautiful white smile on my face (he was not). I was polite, and even made a joke (again, he was not). Being in this little, sad person’s presence was just horrifying. Ashley turned to me and made a gesture for the door.
I immediately made an excuse to leave, and I did (but not before making my rounds saying goodbye, and exiting with grace).
As I walked down the street towards my car, I couldn’t help but having this horrible bitter taste in my mouth. I immediately shrugged it off, and started laughing at the so-called “gorgeous guy”. Hey, If he was allowed to be mean, then so was I.
It’s funny when you run into old fucks, and past flings. Especially when you are so well put together. You see them now, and you have an immeasurable wave of disappointment come over you. Suddenly you’re thinking: “What on earth made me think that someone like THAT would be a good idea?” I was talking to Ashley, and she kept asking me what even attracted me to him. Like usual, she said that I was too pretty for the guy that I was seeing.
It’s really hard to find someone that is completely equal to you. I know that whenever I go “Husband Hunting” on the Gaytabase, I’m looking for someone who is as attractive, mature, and pulled together as I am (No luck so far). Because it is VERY true, you are who you date.
I know that when I was dating Jeremy (who was a total and complete asshole) I was a total and complete asshole. When I barely dated David (who was a total and complete mess) I was a total and complete mess. When I dated JJ ( who was a self righteous stingy fucker) I was a righteous stingy fucker.
It’s interesting how different relationships bring out different things in you. I know that when I was dating Brady, I brought out a happiness and a fun side to him, and he did; me. Basically, when you start a new relationship, you’re two blank canvasses. What color you decide to pain each other, is up to you.
Matty B.
The scene was perfect. As I walked into the very popular “Hamburger Mary’s” (An Uptown predominately gay restaurant) I immediately saw a dozen or so people that I knew. Greetings were exchanged; Hugs and kisses galore. The music switched, and Paris Hilton started singing about how she could what your girlfriend does, so much better.
Then I run into David. He’s sitting with his small boyfriend, Clayton. Apparently they were having drinks at Mary’s after going to Sushi. Eric called David’s new boy a tart. [Good use of the word, Eric!] There were comments about his hair and scruffy face.
What really got to me, though, was how impossibly rude his little man was. I was looking very good (He was not). I had a big beautiful white smile on my face (he was not). I was polite, and even made a joke (again, he was not). Being in this little, sad person’s presence was just horrifying. Ashley turned to me and made a gesture for the door.
I immediately made an excuse to leave, and I did (but not before making my rounds saying goodbye, and exiting with grace).
As I walked down the street towards my car, I couldn’t help but having this horrible bitter taste in my mouth. I immediately shrugged it off, and started laughing at the so-called “gorgeous guy”. Hey, If he was allowed to be mean, then so was I.
It’s funny when you run into old fucks, and past flings. Especially when you are so well put together. You see them now, and you have an immeasurable wave of disappointment come over you. Suddenly you’re thinking: “What on earth made me think that someone like THAT would be a good idea?” I was talking to Ashley, and she kept asking me what even attracted me to him. Like usual, she said that I was too pretty for the guy that I was seeing.
It’s really hard to find someone that is completely equal to you. I know that whenever I go “Husband Hunting” on the Gaytabase, I’m looking for someone who is as attractive, mature, and pulled together as I am (No luck so far). Because it is VERY true, you are who you date.
I know that when I was dating Jeremy (who was a total and complete asshole) I was a total and complete asshole. When I barely dated David (who was a total and complete mess) I was a total and complete mess. When I dated JJ ( who was a self righteous stingy fucker) I was a righteous stingy fucker.
It’s interesting how different relationships bring out different things in you. I know that when I was dating Brady, I brought out a happiness and a fun side to him, and he did; me. Basically, when you start a new relationship, you’re two blank canvasses. What color you decide to pain each other, is up to you.
Matty B.