"I'm a, I'm a, a DIVA."

The scene was spectacular. The main floor at Tracks was packed so tight, that it was an impossibility to even think to move. There was a sea of glittering heads frozen in place; mouths shut, eyes wide. Flat screen TV's created a trail of Logo's logo, leading up to the big screen with RuPaul's Drag Race Season Finale, projected onto it.

And the winner of RuPaul's Drag Race is.... Bebe Zahara.

You could feel the the reaction of the room as RuPaul uttered those fateful words. The temperature dropped to an icy level, as the excitement was sucked from the club. We all knew who was going to win. Putting aside the bias of the fact that Nina Flowers was fliving and represening Denver, she was clearly going to be the winner of the Logo/Vh1 reality show. She was the most unique, had never been in the "bottom two", and won multiple of the "mini challenges". she was by far the most original, captivating character on that show... yet this gorgeous drag DIVA was denied the Swarovski Crystal crown, that was was so rightfully hers. However, as Nina Flowers said herself, " If she was going to loose, it would be to the beautiful, statuesque Bebe Zahara Camaroon!"

I met Nina Flowers over a year ago when we were both hired to gogo at Beta Nightclub for a special Carnival event that they were throwing. Nina and I shared a dressing room (and drag queen secret tips and tricks) while we got ready for our performance together.

She was brand new to Denver, and hadn't had an opportunity to become integrated in the scene yet. She had just moved here with her husband from Puerto Rico, and her beautiful accent made that very apparent. Her look that night was a perfect balance of androgynous ferocity; i was in complete awe. to be honest, i felt my drag interpretation was completely muted by her elegant beauty. Since the moment i met her, i have been trying to push myself harder and further, when it comes to my makeup skill and application. She has inspired me to come a better drag queen, and a better artist.

during the sets where i was relaxing in my dressing room, i became acquainted with her husband, who was such a supportive and wonderful man. it was one of the first times that i have met someone who wasn't a drag queen, who appreciated and loved the art of makeup and performance. he was so supportive of Nina, that it re-ignited a small flame in me... reminding me that there are still amazing people out there. and this married couple are proof of that.

As the episode of RuPauls Drag Race ended, the projector went black, and the lights slowly rose. The silence gradually broke, as a roaring cheer grew louder and louder. i pulled my hot pink hair to one side off of my bare back, and started clapping with the rest of the club, as Nina walked out on stage. She was wearing a yellow, brown, and cheetah print dress that ruffled and flowed as she moved into the spotlight. her yellow and brown braided hair gleamed in the sparkling lights, as tears came to her eyes. The level of acceptance and love for her pumped through every person there. the temperature rose as everyone stood, showing their respect and admiration, for this amazing man; this truly beautiful Drag Queen.

Her words were simple and from the heart, thanking her family at Tracks, all of her supporters, and Absolute Vodka (for their sponsorship). Cameras flashed, as she smiled to everyone, and commanded the room to start the celebration.

Lights immediately dropped, and premixed music (by Miss Nina Flowers herself) poured out of the speakers. almost instantly all the chairs were cleared and the dance floor was full of beautiful people and drag queens, dancing and cheering. I walked over to Nina (after waiting in line for what seemed like forever), and congratulated her. Her face lit up like fireworks as she saw me, and jumped up to hug me. I was a good foot and a half taller than she was while i was wearing heels, so i had to crouch low, to embrace her fabulosity.

"Loca! Are ju coming to Drama Drag on Friday? First night ever!"

"I can't. i'm not 21, and i've already asked Erik (the manager of the club) if i could come, and he said no."

"Wha?? Dat's not right. I'll put ju on my leest, and we'll get ju in, girl! Ju 'ave to come!"

"Okay! you twisted my arm. i am SO there!"

"Matty baby! Text me later, an' we'll make it 'appen! Gurl! ju bettur wurrrrk it!"

We stood for photos together as a Tracks photographer (as well as some bystanders) flashed some pictures. I hugged her deeply, air kissed, and promised to see her Friday.

As clicked in my pink heels back to my car, i couldn't help but feel so inspired from her mere presence. I adjusted my gold dress, as i slid in my driver's seat next to my roommate. Nina is such a positive, beautiful person, it really effects you. I always look forward to the next time i get to see her because she is such an inspiration to me. It's been a long time since i've felt that way by someone. When i was younger, i was really inspired by Jeffree Star because of his unique androgyny, but after meeting him a few times, and not having very positive experiences with him, i lost my admiration. He was so mean and brutal to everyone, even his fans, that i appalled. It was sad, because i can only imagine what type of person he would be if he wasn't torn down by everyone that he's ever met. I understand completely why he hates the world, and everyone that lives on it, but it didn't ease my disappointment with his character.

However, It feels fucking good to have a role model again... and Nina Flowers is a role model in every aspect, for everyone. She should have won. *sigh*

I turned to Vyckee, as i started the car. "Strawberry milkshake and chili cheese fries?"

"Like a true DIVA LOCA CAMAROOOOOOOON!"

"A diva is a female version of a hustla'-"

Matty Beautiful

"I Hate This Part Right Here. I Can't Take It Any Longer. Thought That We Were Stronger-"

I lied there with my eyes open, staring directly at the ceiling, not quite understanding what was going through his head. Part of me just wanted to jump on top of Josh, and shake the some sense into him. I haven't had someone so actively hate on me in a very long time... not since the boys in high school physically beating me into unconsciousness, that is. Jonathan spent the past 72 hours actively hate-crimeing me, and I spent it realizing how much i really affected him. It became very clear to me that night that he cannot accept the things that he has done, and that he is embarrassed of his behavior, as anyone should be. instead of apologizing like a sane human being, he tries to tear me down, and sink me all the way to his level, incessantly trying to get a rise, a reaction, anything. Well, i react with the truth.

Nothing Jonathan could ever say or do, would ever hurt me. It doesn't hurt when i have complete strangers come up to me, asking what i did to piss Jonathan off so much for him to spread venomous lies about me. It doesn't hurt standing in a club, having him call me a 'fat tranny'. It doesn't hurt when he throws food at me, as i ignore his antagonistic advances. Someone only has as much power as you give them, and I know that. What kills me, is that one of the only people that i can semi-trust, isn't loyal to me in the one time i need him to be. At the diner Josh wanted me to throw down with Jonathan. Today Josh wants to "give him a chance." After a few moments to soak it in, i knew exactly why the change of heart.

"You do know exactly what he's doing, right? The last time he tried to go out, we told the people he was going to hang out with what really happened between us, and they blew him off and come chill with us. So what does he do? He followed us all over Denver on Thursday, from Mary's, to Tracks, and then finally to Denver diner, screaming profanities at me, calling me a 'tranny whore'. Then when i don't respond to his vapid attempts to ruin my night, he throws FOOD at the back of my head, as i leave. That is the person YOU want to give a chance to?"

"Matty, he told me that he wasn't yelling at me, and that he didn't mean for the food to hit me. He was just screaming at you, and that the food was meant to hit you, not me. See? He only hates you, and was only trying to hurt you. I'm not going to choose sides between you two."

"Joshua, you already chose a side. when he called you a slut and a whore, and you called him a drugged out rat face, you chose your side. When you said that you were here for me, you chose a side. And now you see how low he'll stoop, and you're scared of him. You think that he'll turn his attention and hate towards you, once he grows bored with me not reacting to his elementary behavior. You're actually scared of him!"

"Am not! Matty! It's just that i'm not always going to have you there with me. Sometimes, i'm going to go out alone...-"

"...and you're not going to have me to protect you. That is just beautiful, Joshua. You're scared that you're not going to have me there to protect you and fight your battles for you. What about all the shit you've talked about him? What about all the shit he talks about you? You think that's just going to stop? If you do, you are in for a RUDE fucking awakening. This is a joke. i refuse to speak about this matter anymore. You're going to do what you're going to do, and i apparently it doesn't matter to you what my feelings on the matter are."

"...are you mad at me?"

"I'm fucking furious. but even more than that, i am SO disappointed in you. i'm not saying that you have to dislike him because i do. you're letting a dog walk and shit all over you, and you're letting him know that his actions are acceptable behavior! You're acting in COMPLETE cowardice right now. You're being SO fake, it blows my mind. I am so repulsed with your decision, you can't even comprehend."

"...you love me though."

"I try really hard to, but i swear to god, it's one flaming hoop after the other, that you FORCE me to jump through. i have never worked so hard to be someone's friend. I swear to jesus christ on the fucking cross you really push me to the fucking limit."

"I don't want you mad at me!"

"..and i want you to have morals and a backbone. since neither aren't going to happen, i guess we'll both have to get used to it, and deal."

I rolled over, looked across my room, and out the window. Since when did friendships become so hard? Since when did i have to take moments to collect myself, and attempt to reaffirm the reasonings behind my friendships. Since when did having basic human relationships become so hard?

"You don't tell anyone anything, Matty. I don't know anything about you. How is it fair that you know everything about everyone, but no one knows anything about you? It's hardly a way to live life."

Josh isn't the first person to say that to me.

"Because there are people out there who have nothing better to do than try and tear down other people, to make them feel better about themselves. People out there who call me a coke head to disguise their own drug addiction. People out there who call me an attention whore, because they feel alone, and think that bad mouthing me will bring them the attention they so desperately desire. People who call me a fat tranny because they are insecure with their own weight, and the fact that they wear makeup as well. I'm honest about WHO I am, and that scares people. I have yet to meet anyone that loves Matty Beautifiul, and Matthew Monahan. And until i can look into someone's eyes and see their sincerity, i don't feel obliged to share anything about Matthew. Trust isn't a right, it's a privilege."

I would be lying if i said that when people talk shit about me, it doesn't hurt. Who wants to have people publicly try and tear them apart? I sure as hell don't. It doesn't however, sway me from rising above it, and continuing to be who i am: a strong, independant person, who will always be honest with the world. Because that is my freedom. If asked ANY direct question, i will ALWAYS answer with honesty, without shame or regret. I right the wrongs that i've done, and I'll be the first person to do so. It takes great character and humility to do that.

I was watching the Coco Chanel movie (for the millionth time), and possibly my favorite quote of hers, that also happens to be my newly adopted life mantra is: "To be irreplaceable, you must be different." She is completely right. I'm not like anyone i know, and although i'm a diamond in the rough, i'm still a diamond all the while. If i deserve punishment for that, then so be it. I've been beat down harder and longer, and have walked away from it... as did she. She was the CREATOR of androgyny, and influenced the entire world with her artistic vision. The few friends she had, as she said, "were only friends because they wanted something." I've experienced that now, more than ever, and like she did, I have accepted it.

I'm not going to say "I hope he makes the right decision", insinuating for Josh to choose me, over his friendship with Jonathan. What i honestly want for him is that he finds what he's looking for. He says that he feels like he's on a leash. Well, to some degree that's true.

Just like i did for Jonathan, i do for Josh, and all of my friends: when he is frumpy and dirty, i give him a hot shower, and clean clothes to wear. When he hates his most recent booty call, and he has no where to go, he comes and sleeps in my bed. when he is lonely and sad, i tell him that i'm always here for him. When he feels ugly, i make him beautiful: from his hair, to his face, to his clothes. when he has pissed off all of his friends, and has none, i introduce him to mine. when he wrongs someone, i do everything in my power to help him make it right.

Will jonathan do that for him? I doubt it. but if he thinks that he can drive all on his own, then i will let him. He told me last night that I "need a friend that is up on my level". Well maybe that's true. It would be wonderful to be friends with someone who is as socially ambitious as i am. If not at the very least, someone who can handle four-wheeling the rocky road, that is my life. Four wheeling through the social scene is way more fun than coasting through it, anyways! Tossled and disheveled is totally in, right now. who doesn't love a little wind blown hair, and a slightly disjointed look? I know i do, and girl, I work it out! Because that's was a diva does. she takes what she has to work with, and works it out. Would you expect anything less of me?

"I See You Over There, Giving Me the Stare. I'm Playing With My Hair, As If I Just Don't Even Care!"
Matty Beautiful

"PUNKBITCH. I've Seen It Before. PUNKBITCH. And I Don't Care Anymore."

I have had very interesting conversations over the past 48 hours. After Sean and Jonathan's actions were revealed through my blog, i received many emails that were very unexpected. I received praise for saying what no one else would, because they were too intimidated by Sean. That's right, I'm not going to walk around a pretend that he doesn't have any influence on people. Clearly he has SOME impact on me, otherwise, why would i vent and tell everyone what kind of person he is.

I thought that i would receive slews of hate mail from gays all over Denver, because of all of the threatening text messages and hateful comments Jonathan has left on my profile... when in reality not only have i been applauded, but i have been called an "inspiration to all". I was prepared for some kind of reaction from them, because they are SELF PROCLAIMED as Denver's "it" kids. It has become quite apparent that that is not true. Not only are they not the "it kids" that they claim to be, but they are in fact very disliked by many. All day i kind of felt bad for them after writing the blog that sparked all the mail from boys around Denver, proclaiming their distaste for both Sean and Jonathan. But then, i received this text message from Jonathan (misspellings, grammar flaws, and all):

"I like how your friend called me just about 50 times yesterday. Threatening me. Like really? Your little brigade of haters needs to stop. i didn't do anything to you... i didn't do anything to deserve this."

I responded: "I agree that my friend calling you is too much, and immature. Tell me who it is and i will tell them to stop. I have never acted out on you. all i did was report the truth of what you both did."

"I wrote my own blog. yes you have acted out. This is ridiculous. You're pathetic. why are you doing this?"

I responded: "I'm doing this so that you learn to NEVER treat anyone like this again."

Usually my hurt is misread as anger. I give a lot to my friends, and invest a lot into my relationships, and i think that it would hurt ANYONE to have one end so abruptly over something so vapid. the worst feeling in the world is realizing that you care more about someone, than they care about you. I cannot describe with the deepest sincerity, the feeling of sorrow i had, when Sean decided I was a worthless to him, and then again, when my proclaimed "best friend" Jonathan Lockwood, not only lied to his boyfriend to prolong his relationship, but then turned around the following day (after crying on the phone with me the previous night begging me for my continued friendship) and made up lies about me, talked shit, to my friends, and people that i know.

Jonathan continually claims that he has done nothing to me, and that I'm heartless, and claims that all he did was be my friend, while they have both written blogs calling me " pathetic, a tranny, fat and disgusting", accusing me of "wearing King Soopers make up", and said I'm the type of person that would "serve them their Pelligrino".

Lets get something straight. I created my life, and who i am, without the help of ANYONE. I moved out at the age of 15, and started my adult life. Yes, i don't own fancy sports cars, but I'm hard working, genuine, and always honest. if i wasn't, i wouldn't be where i am today. i wouldn't have the values i have today. No amount of money can buy my life experiences that have made me the gracious, appreciative, beautiful person i am today. I have yet to lash out at either of them, and if i wanted to, i could open my mouth, say and do, some very hurtful unnecessary things. however, that's not my style. I told Jonathan that i am the LAST person to fuck with. He knows that, now.

You can call me names, and spread lies about me, and try and look down on me, because i don't get a monthly stipend from my parents, but it's mindless babble. it's worthless, because it's all vapid lies.

How can you hurt someone who is always honest?
How can you spill the darkest secrets of someone who has no secrets?

I am so fortunate to know the people that i know today, because they see me as the sincere person i am.

How do people look at you, Sean and Jonathan? What do they think when you're referenced? I have an inbox full of things that they say and think, but as a true gentleman, i will keep that to myself. I don't need to plague my life with lies and embellishments. Maybe one day you'll do the same.

"I'm datin' mad models, and poppin' mad bottles tonight!"
Beautiful

We Fight, We Break Up; We Kiss, We Make Up


He said he was SO sorry. he didn't want to loose me as a friend. He called me crying, begging me to just lie to his boyfriend, and tell him that i was wrong, and that i was sorry. he wanted SO bad for me to take the blame for his obsessive compulsive behavior, so that he would be in the clear. Well, unfortunately for Jonathan, i was honest, and kind to both him and his boyfriend, and apparently that makes me a bad friend... when i was only doing what i was asked: to be honest. I'm sorry, but i won't compromise myself.

I was drinking a diet Coke with lime, at Lime, when i first tasted blood in the water. There were two Great White Sharks, and two baby sharks sitting at this dinner table. Naturally, there were harmless guppies flocked around, but they were harmless.; meaningless, and added almost nothing to the social environment.

Sean and I were the only ones who posed any real threat in that particular pool of gay boys... or so he thinks. I looked back and forth intrigued between the bickering baby sharks Josh Scott, and Jonathan Lockwood. I glanced up to see Sean wide eyed and hungry, not smiling, but showing his teeth, as he watched his boyfriend of the moment snap viciously at Josh Scott, about boys, weight, or some shallow bullshit to that degree. I almost laughed out loud when i saw how excited Sean was for this little bit of action. His skin was shiny with sweat, as he secretly begged for a brawl.

But even he knew that nothing would happen with me sitting there, because I would protect Josh Scott from any overtly inappropriate behavior. This was Josh's first outing with all of us, and his first time meeting Sean. There would be no cat fight because it would be in bad taste. Not only that, but neither Sean nor Jonathan would be a match for me. it would hardly be fair. I have extensive experience with boys with sharp teeth and a watered down wit. i was more than prepared for anything these boys might have up their sneaky little sleeves. But like polite little boys, they held back and we all sat there smiling, Sean and I bearing our teeth, pretending that we were having a wonderful time, while we prepared ourselves for the bigger sea: Thursday night at Tracks.

Jonathan was always wildly obsessed with knowing the exact whereabouts of his boyfriend Sean, and everything that could possibly relate to him: where he was, what he was doing, who he was talking to, and who he was texting. Jonathan and Sean frequently fight over how much Sean lies about... well, everything. So naturally, it's always a show to go out with the both of them. Because Jonathan is so insecure with himself and his relationship with his "womanizer boyfriend" (as described by multiple boys who have reflected to me about the end of their relationship with Sean), he is always loosing his mind the second he looses sight of his boyfriend. Frankly, it's exhausting to even think about trying to keep up with their plethora of problems.

It's always the same scene, as if it's a broken record, skipping over the same crack in the relationship, over and over again . after about an hour of Jonathan's panicked, teary, wide-eyed expression at every boy that Sean glanced at, i started to feel the boredom and pity set in. Jonathan could be a really great guy, and i honestly wish he didn't feel such intense insecurity. I think that part of his problem, is letting Sean dictate everything about his life: what he can wear, which friends he can talk to, where can go... Jonathan thinks that just because Sean controls Jonathan's life, buy buying him clothes he's "allowed" to wear, makeup he's "supposed" to wear, that Jonathan has the right to do the same to Sean. Boy is he wrong. The power is all in Sean's hands... and he publicly uses and abuses that power.

Luckily for me, I had many distractions from Sean and Jonathan's slow motion train wreck. it was Josh Scott's first time to Tracks (he used to "date" one of the bouncers, so he was admitted without an ID). You see, he has this terrible habit of talking nonsense gossip about people he thinks that he'll never meet, when in fact, many of them were at Tracks that evening... Thus resulting in yet another eventful, melodramatic night.

Hours later, i could finally breathe easy. as i pressed the gas down, i exhaled deeply, smiling to myself. i had survived another night, unscathed. as usual, i escaped before the lights came on; pouring over the sea of boys, drowning in their own drama. Little did i know, that my safety was going to be short lived.

***

Not two days later, we were back listening to the same broken record. except this time, Jonathan (who lives with his parents and had an 11 o'clock curfew) was at home, and trying to map out his boyfriend's every move VIA text messages. Between 8:30PM and 12:30AM, i received 27 text messages that consisted of either "Is he cheating on me, Matty? What should i do?" or "Have you talked to him yet? Who is he with? He's lying to me!" or something to that desperate degree. I'm not one to rat out a friend of mine to another friend, so i told him every time, "He's not with me. if you want to know who your boyfriend is with, and what your boyfriend is doing, then you text your boyfriend to find out."

about thirty minutes later, Josh and I decided to go have a glass of wine with Sean's best friend Kipp, who had been at the club with him. after we get together with Kipp, i received a text from Jonathan demanding if Sean was with us. I simply, innocently replied with the very little information i had: "No he's not. i guess the straight boy was threatening to move back to Florida (a friend of his that he had met at the bar the previous week), and Sean went over to his apartment to deal with it."

THAT IS WHEN THE FUSE LIT.

Apparently Sean lied to Jonathan where he was, who he was with, and what he was doing... as usual. I don't know exactly what the details are, and frankly i don't really care. All i do know, is that I stabbed Sean in the back, according to Sean. How i did that, I'm not quite sure. In fact, i asked his best friend Kipp how i did, and he swore to me that he was on my side, that i did nothing wrong, and he was just being drunk and acting a fool.

As the evening of wine continued with Kipp and his fag hag, Kipp started receiving multiple text messages from Sean, telling him to "keep me there." and that he was "coming over immediately". i think that he meant to seem menacing, but moments after he arrived, he was just appeared shiny and drunk... and it seemed that he didn't even realize i was there. Sean claims to love confrontation, but doesn't have the spine or attention span to actually initiate anything in person.

For instance, just two days ago, he was left alone with Josh Scott while we were smoking outside at Lime. everybody knows that Josh Scott was talking shit about Sean to Jonathan, fueling Jonathan's wild anxiety. However, while i was enjoying a cigarette and the company of our other guests outside on the deck, all Sean did was vapidly fill the silence with mindless chatter, as Josh Scott sweat out the awkward conversation, until we all returned. after Sean revealed to me later, that he had been waiting for Josh Scott to ignite a feud, during their alone time together, it became very clear to me what kind of person he was. Rather than a wolf in sheep's clothing waiting to attack, it was the opposite. He was a sheep inside a (very expensive) lion's wolf's clothing.

After about thirty minutes of Sean avoiding eye contact with me, and what felt like an eternity of his breeder boyfriend ranting about what an amazing president George Bush was, i finally decided that i was wasting my time, and that i was going to leave. I locked my gaze with Josh Scott, and we wordlessly agreed to make our exit. The last thing i remember from that evening was Sean trying to deal with breeder boy's inane republican monologue. I laughed at him as I left. Kipp was accused me of leaving because i was "uncomfortable", when in reality i was just bored at the anticlimactic evening. i thought that Sean was a worthy advisory, when in fact, he was a sheepish as his boyfriend.

It was then, when i realized how much i didn't care about my relationship with Sean. Yes, he has money, and cars, and is thin, with beautiful skin. But what does he REALLY have, that his money can't buy? At the end of the day, he's a sad, bored, scared, little boy who thinks that by controlling his friends and his boyfriend, he can create this "perfect" world, where the only people that get hurt, are the one's of his choosing. Well, that only works if you buy into his reality (pun intended). if you don't care, and see it for what it is, then it meaningless. I wish him good luck with his bubble.

... it's just I'm just not going to support someone who lies and cheats on their boyfriend (who happened to be a good friend of mine at the time), and thinks that it's okay. The fact that Jonathan chooses to be with someone like that, is flabbergasting. i thought that Jonathan had more self worth than that. it just breaks my heart to see Sean take advantage of someone who is clearly weaker than him. i can't support someone like that... I can't be friends with another Jimmy or Trev. it's poision.

"Push it baby, push it baby, outta control-"
Matty Beautiful

“Too Little, Too Late-”

The reality of people can be overwhelmingly predictable, and absolutely crushing. One second I’m a “worthless human being who will die alone,” and the next, I do something worth admiration, and every hateful person that I’ve EVER met, wants to be my best frienemy.

I sit here listening to Matt Kollar and the Angry Mob: Farewell Adventure, and I can’t help but to feel a little riled up! For the past week old friends have been coming out of the cracks in my life, pretending that they’re sorry… pretending that they give two shits about me. But of course, they want to be in my “Top 8” on myspace. The worst part is, is that it’s not just one or two people. DOZENS of people have started to read what I write, and see my portfolio, and learn of my life experiences, and now they have realized what they are missing out on.

“Matty. I don’t even know why we’re fighting. I mean, this is SO dumb. You’re off doing all these amazing things… and I just miss the times we had together.”

“Matt- I mean, Matty B., I am so sorry for the way I treated you in middle school. And in high school. And that time I saw you at that party. I shouldn’t have called you all those things.”

“I really miss you. I wish things were how they used to be. I saw your blog about starting over in California then I read all the other ones, and I miss you. Can we work something out?”

“There are special people out there, and you’re one of them. I always knew that about you. I’ve always loved you. Can we go get coffee or something? It was really wrong of me to leave you when I knew you needed someone. I shouldn’t have did or said those things. I’m sorry”

There is nothing harder for me, than sticking to my guns and reiterating to someone that I still do not, and never want to be close to them again. I am a very sentimental person, who is known for keeping movie ticket stubs, backstage passes, and old photographs, because everyday I’m thankful for the opportunities that I have had, as well as the wonderful times that I have had.

That’s where the lines become gray. I have had so many great times, that I try to forget about all of the bad ones… which from almost two decades of repressing bad memories, it’s become second nature. So when an old friend comes back to try and salvage the relationship that they have ruined between us, it’s easy for me to only remember the good. Suddenly, I’m back at square one: used and abused, cursing myself for making the poor decision to invest in an abusive relationship. If anyone really knew the extent of what I have gone through with people who I called my friends; my family, I would be overwhelmingly embarrassed, because I don’t want anyone to really know how bad at judging character I am. People always tell me I’m gullible, when really I just trust people. If someone tells me something, is it that far of a stretch to think that it’s true?

Well, I can’t afford to be that person anymore. My first few experiences in California consisted of meeting tons of amazing new people, from surfers to celebrities, which has proven to me that I am no longer living in a social cul-de-sac. Denver is a small fish bowl filled with sedated Beta fish, just waiting for someone to bump and provoke a civil war. I have been carefully floating, paying close attention to not rub anyone the wrong way (with the exception of extreme cases), in hopes that I’ll make it through alive.

You know what, everyone? You had your chance. You spent the past 15 years of my life making me MISERABLE, and now all of a sudden you care. Well, I forgive you, but we won’t ever be friends again. What can you do to make it up to me? You can treat the people that you currently have in your life with some love and respect. Because I don’t ever want anyone to feel the way I have, growing up. I’ve finally moved on. You should, too. In most cases, I loved what we had, and still love you. But frankly, I love ME more. Please stop pretending you have a heart, and actually figure out a way to grow one… because you’re not only dead on the inside, but you’re dead to me. I should have done this, years ago.

As of recent, I have been scooped from the bowl, and dropped in a pond. Yes, it’s a little dirtier, I have to find my own food, and the size can sometimes be a little daunting, but the opportunities in this new pond are endless! Not only for my career, but socially. There are so many other fish, not to mention other creatures and lifestyles. Plus, there’s the beach, or the mountains, or the city… wine bars, coffee shops, gyms, smoke shops, clubs, bars, concert halls, shopping, theater, opera, restaurants… the list goes on, and I want to experience it all. I’m going to experience it all… with new people in my life. However, on those lonely days, I’ll still have my ticket stubs and old photographs to remember the fish bowl.

Not to mention the very few people I can call my friends. It’s a small group, but they never want anything from me, but my love. And those are the people who I will remember, forever.

”I never knew a heart existed outside of make-believe.”
Matty Beautiful

“What’s The Name Of The Club? I Can’t Remember. But It’s Alright. Alright. Just Dance.”

The club was so loud that the ringing in my ears almost drowned out the music. I was surrounded by gorgeous, half naked men, breaking it down to Janet Jackson. If you think you’ve been to a nightclub before, you haven’t been to Tiger Heat Thursdays, in Hollywood. It was held at the the Avalon Theater, and was the size of a large concert hall, decked head to toe with VIP’S and beautiful people. Apparently it was the place to be on a Thursday night, and it definitely lived up to it’s reputation.

I wasn’t familiar with the layout of the the Avalon Theater, so I just felt my way out the side door, to enjoy a much deserved cigarette, after a very long set of dancing. I slinked out of a hidden door, and leaned against the cool, black, brick wall. I took a deep breath of the salty Californian air, closed my eyes, and soaked up my surroundings. After a moment or two, I dug into my pocket, attempting to find my cigarettes, and my very elusive lighter. Unsuccessful, I turned to my left, to ask the beautiful blonde woman standing next to me, for a light.

“Do you-“ I started

“Of course honey.” She finished before I could even get the sentence out of my mouth. She was clearly an experienced clubber, judging by her short blue dress, bare legs, and spiked neon blue heels.

She lit my cigarette for me, and said,” You know a lady never lights her own cigarette…”

My face dropped. “I ALWAYS say that!” I half-drunkenly exclaimed at her. We stood there and talked for a few minutes as we smoked our 100’s, and laughed at all the wasted, slutty, boys inside. She looked SO familiar to me, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Before long her entourage was motioning for them to all go inside.

“I’m Matty B., by the way. I’m SO rude, that I forgot to introduce myself.” I reached out to shake her hand.

She laughed at me, and replied,” I’m Stefani.” I looked at her sideways, and raised my eyebrow at her. She ignored my hand completely, and leaned in to give be a big hug. She smelled like grapefruit and sugar, which I only remembered that because it’s my FAVORITE snack. As she pulled away, she whispered in my ear “ GaGa…” She winked at me, and waved as she walked inside (what I learned later was) the VIP door.

Thrilled and stunned at the same time, I flicked my cigarette out, and skipped back inside. Not moments later, the DJ cut the music and announced over the loud speaker,”Club Tiger Heat would like to welcome tonight’s honorary VIP: Lady GaGa!”. The crowd screamed and I quietly smiled to myself. While my friends were busy whoring and skanking, I was networking and meeting celebrities. I knew that it was an omen of what was to come.

Right then, I knew I had finally found where I belonged.

“I wish I could shut my playboy mouth!
Matty Beautiful

“California Here We Come-”

It was a very long night of drunken laughter and dancing with some of my closest friends, while canoodling with a couple different boys (who will remain nameless, per request of said boys). It all ended with a bang (literally for a couple lucky youngsters) when the police were called twice, which resulted with one of the house members being detained until a sober friend could come retrieve him from his drunken incessant rage. It was a night to write home about, to say the least. Unfortunately, I had a few too many cocktails, and was not acting as a lady should, so I cannot recall most events that occurred. Fortunate for us though, there’s a wonderful duo that ALWAYS reminds us of boozy indiscretions: digital cameras, and facebook. Thanks again, twenty first century!

I woke up the next morning remembering my flight to Orange County the following day. The beauty about quality liquor is that not only will you not necessarily cause you to throw up, but it will just kind of slosh around in your stomach until you consume enough food to soak it all up. As fate would have it, I am currently at the start of an insane yo-yo diet that consists of me only consuming 500 calories a day, only drinking alcohol twice a month, and working out four times a week (I have lost 16lbs in 5 weeks, thank you very much. I was getting a little heavy….). Needless to say, I had to take a break from my lunacy to rediscover what it felt like to sober. Not to mention, I not only reeking of liquor, but I smelled like each of the boys I had spent the evening with. I was a walking fragrance ad for every cologne sold at Sephora.

My last day in Colorado went by so quickly, I didn’t even have time to reflect about the previous evening. Before I knew it I was soaring miles in the air, and looking out a window onto an ocean made of cotton balls, being illuminated by a pure, golden sun; sparkling. Every so often there would be a hole in the wisps of clumpy cotton, and you could see the sharp, dry peaks below, being gently cradled by the afternoon sunlight. After about two hours of liquid flight, the pilot declared over the loud speaker, rudely interrupting the E! True Hollywood Story of Heidi Klum, that we were going to begin our descent into the Santa Ana airport. We slowly started to dip down towards the clouds, when I felt my heart drop. I was leaving everything and everyone that I knew behind. Everything that I have built, is in a different world, behind me: my family, failed relationships, failed friendships, successful friendships, and of course Brady (whom I can always count on to answer his phone).

This is it. I was finally starting down the path of ACTUALLY living my dreams! The plane delicately glided across the surface of the clouds, before it took a sharp dive, completely submerging it’s self. Outside every single window, was a sea of grey. The seatbelt sign flicked on with a crisp “ding”, only moments before we hit a rough patch of turbulence. A grin danced upon my face, as we flew through the ocean of fog. Panicked faces surrounded me, until about five minutes later, when we finally dipped out of the clouds. As I looked out of the window, my expression quickly changed. In an instant our roles had reversed, and I was the passenger with the panic-stricken expression. I expected golden beaches and lush green plants, spilling into the streets. What I saw was a grey, rainy, morose, California, desperately yearning for a little attention from the “famous” California sun. I quickly checked my attitude, knowing my face wasn’t hiding what I was thinking.

We landed, and hundreds of pushy, sweaty people started to force their way out of the cabin of the plane. I sat there politely (and SHOCKED), as the rest of the plane cursed their way out and into the real world. I looked over at Josh Scott, and half-smiled. Maybe this was like the turbulence. I had to remember: first impressions aren’t ALWAYS the impression to go with. I can’t remember how many terrible first impression’s I’ve left with people. I paused for a moment, and tried to remember that the rough patches just make the ride more fun.

I stepped out of the airport, holding my only possessions contained by my black Adidas messenger bag, that I ALWAYS have with me. A cool breeze ran through my hair, brushing it out of my eyes, before I had the opportunity to do so myself. I told Josh Scott to sit down and put on his headphones, as I slipped on mine, and scrolled to “California” by Phantom Planet. For a good five years, I’ve been listening to that song every time I wanted to escape my dull, land locked life. It was my little oasis that temporarily relieved me from my epic journey through a cultural desert. Actually listening to it IN California, not only made perfect sense, but it also eased the blow that California wasn’t exactly what I had expected.

A few minutes, two cigarettes, and a VERY large hug from a Palm Tree (I had NEVER seen one!) later, I started to feel a little more comfortable. I knew that it was just an off day, and I wasn’t just going to fly directly into a dream world that I’ve been fantasizing about for over a decade. Nope, that would be too easy… and I’m sure as you know by now, nothing comes to me that easy. In fact, I usually have to work my ass off, to even get a little karmatic gratification. My phone started to ring and vibrate in my pocket. I slid my hand into it, and pressed down on a side button, to silence it. I’m starting a new year and a new life. I am going to do this right. I’m ready to finally start fulfilling my destiny.

I walked over to an ash tray and pressed my cigarette butt hard into the sand, and turned to Josh Scott. I smiled at him, as I pulled my hood up, shielding me from the gentle dusting of rain.

“What do I do, now?” I asked.

“ If you like it, then you should’a put a ring on it…”
XXO,
Beautiful

“Your Words Don’t Stick. I ‘aint Perfect, But You ‘aint Either”

I realized I had made a huge mistake by inviting him, the second he started to get comfortable with everyone at the party.

It all started innocently enough. The ‘Big Gay House’ was packed with fabulous gorgeous boys, bouncing and dancing to Britney’s new album. We were all playing beer pong in one room, taking shots in the kitchen, making out in the stairwell, and smoking outside, all at once, all in a loud, colorful blur.

Jimmy was clearly out of his element; he was in a city he never came to, in a house full of gay men that he had never met. It was only natural for him to feel a little bit awkward or out of place for a while, until he warmed up to everyone. I of course did the best friend duty all night long: I introduced him to everyone, made sure his drink was always full, and smoked with him whenever he needed one-on-one time. That’s when the evening took a turn for the worse.

I am very good about not letting anyone get me down. If I have a moment of weakness, I am EVEN BETTER at hiding it. The last time I was comfortable enough to boldly show anyone my character flaws, we stopped being friends, and he moved in with a man who not only has an immense distaste for me, but actively tries to fuck my life. To say the least, that relationship yielded.

“You know how much Kyle means to me. Not only is he kind-hearted and genuine, but he’s a virgin, and you CAN’T just fuck him. I won’t allow it,” I said simply, crossing my arms. “He’s looking for someone who he can trust and be with, and not to just a hookup. You have to be… gentle when it comes to Kyle. He means a lot to me.”

“Matty B., we are both adults. If I want to fuck him, I’m going to. He can make that decision on his own, with out you butting in. I’ll fuck who I want, when I want, regardless of what you have to say about it-”

“You’re acting like the type of person that Kyle will see right through, and would never be with, just so you know.” I replied as I shifted my weight from one leg to the other and snapped at him.

I was right.

It was almost two am. We had been fighting off and on, all night long, a different issue each time. He had been yelling at me for about two and a half cigarettes, (I was going to guess about 25 minutes or so) when I felt our friendship start to die.

The cold enveloped my body like ice water, but I didn’t feel a thing. I didn’t even hear the hateful things that Jimmy was drunkenly slurring six inches in my face. I could see the small bits of spit flying out of his mouth, and wondered if any of it was landing on my makeup. I was completely numb to him. The world was silent, and in slow motion. Each one of his words were slowly sculpted by his lips; foam colleting in the corners. It was like watching the tides of the ocean rush in, and slide out… rush in, and slide out. It was calming, which resulted in a small smile. This sent him into another fit of rage.

Time passed, and soon the ocean of words that were pouring from his mouth, became boring and repetitive. I slowly turned my back to him to walk inside, dismissing him, when he grabbed my arm with a maliciously firm grasp. Suddenly the world hit play, and the volume of his words were being blasted in my face. It was GO time.

I whipped my head around in a brunette flourish, and was looming over him, my eyes large, and body firm, my words soft and precise.

“What are you going to do Jimmy? Hit me? Do it. I’ve been hit before, and it wouldn’t surprise me that you would resort to violence, when things aren’t going your way.”

I ripped my arm out of his hand. He was clearly startled, and hadn’t expected me to be so convincing, so honest. He quickly recovered, and leaned in close to my face, attempting to regain what he thought was the alpha position. What he didn’t understand was that he never had that position. I allowed him to feel like he did, so as to not to tempt his drunken aggression.

You see, Jimmy is a very emotional and aggressive drunk. Everybody knows it, especially me. I usually know how to keep a handle on the situation, but tonight, I didn’t care. I am usually a little apprehensive when I’m with him, because he can be so unpredictable when he drinks. Tonight, I didn’t care what he did. He crossed many lines, and he had to know.

“You think I would hit you Matty? You think I would actually fuckin’ do that? You think I would?”

“You’re an inch from my face, aren’t you?” I replied curtly.

“I can’t believe that you would think that. After everything I’ve done. After all this time, you think that of me,” he yelled into my face, continuously spitting all over my makeup.

After one sentence from me, the world had gone silent again. Jimmy was back to being the star of this independent teen-angst film. I was just a filler-role, fulfilling my brief one liner, before he could continue his monotonous monologue. It was exhausting. I looked down at him, directly in the eyes. I looked past his clothes, past his words, and into his heart.

“Matty! You never let anyone in! How do you expect anyone to love you if you can’t ever let down your wall for a fucking second? No relationship you are ever going have is going to work! What? Are you jealous that I’ve fucked Zach and Asia, but not you? What is it? What the fuck is your problem? No wonder it didn’t work with Scott, or Nama, or John.. should I continue?”

I looked away from him. Cold tears crept down my hot cheeks, slowly at first, and then faster until it was a thin, steady flow. What he didn’t understand was that I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t upset that he was calling me out on all my failed relationships. I know I’m not perfect. I can’t even explain what exactly I was feeling. I wasn’t emotional at all.

I had come to the overwhelming realization at that moment, that he didn’t get it. He was witnessing my heart break, right before his eyes. I came to the cold, hard realization that he wasn’t my friend, and he wouldn’t ever be. I thought that after all the shit we had been through, he would be the one I could honestly call my friend. In that instant, after hearing the words that came out of his mouth, I decided that it was over. After all of the sculpting, culturing, and hard work of developing him into this amazing person that I would be proud to call my BFF, it had ended with a tear. He was a lost cause. And even I couldn’t do anything about that.

I smiled at him, and rubbed his shoulder. It wasn’t his fault. He just wasn’t the one. He has put me through some tough shit over this past year, and I thought we had gotten past all of it, but he never learned. More importantly, he didn’t even realize what he was doing, or that treating your friends like a disposable Kleenex was wrong. I winked off the tears, and took a deep breath. I was going to have to start all over with someone else. At least I realized it now, and not in five years, when I’d have really grown attached.

I flew up the stairs and into the bathroom. Before anyone could even get up the stairs, I was already descending down them, my face completely flawless again, with a white smile, and a cocktail.

My new friend Bay, whom I had met earlier that night, came over to me a few minutes later.

“Hey Matty, are you alright? He was looking pretty bossy out there,” referring to the hour long feud that had taken place out back, on the other side of two very large (and very transparent) sliding glass doors.

“Nothing a little MAC can’t fix, right?” I replied with a painful smile.

“Lets go have a drink, Beautiful.” He smiled, as he wrapped his arm around me and led me to the kitchen, where I gracefully maneuvered around where someone had thrown up earlier that night.

“I couldn’t agree with you more!”

I truly believed that Jimmy was going to be the one I could talk to, the one I could be honest to. After months and months of ground work with him, I thought he would turn out to be a decent guy. As of now, I was wrong. Who knows what the future will hold. Unfortunately with him, I’m not optimistic.

”What hurts the most, is being so close.”
Matty B.

"Like Shattered Glass-"

I cooked for him. I prepared baked chicken teriyaki over steamed rice, with fresh vegetable stir fry, and a white wine. While we were sitting there eating, I looked over at him as he dove in head first to his meal. I silently smiled to myself when I saw a mouth full of food behind a grin. The meal had taken two hours, but it was all worth it, at that very moment. What he didn’t know yet, was that I had baked blueberry muffins to eat the following morning, for breakfast.

Afterwards we went upstairs and sat on my bed, where we played scrabble and chess. I totally kicked his ass at Scrabble (the entire game), but he barely redeemed himself by winning at chess afterwards. This is going to sound stupid, I know, but I was legitimately happy. I had no desire to go out with my boys. I didn’t want a cocktail, or to go dancing. Hell, I didn’t even want a cigarette or need to smoke. Sitting there with this socially awkward kid was not just great, but things were… okay.

He slid his hands under my sweat pants, and gently touched my freshly shaven skin. I recently started working out again, and my muscles were throbbing with the satisfaction of actually being used. Without saying a word, his hands found my most sensitive spot on my calf, and tenderly started working the muscle free from tension’s grips.
I
looked at him. I REALLY looked at him, to get a good read of who he was. He seemed like this great intuitive guy, who was absolutely gorgeous, was incredibly smart, 100% introverted, with this strained manic laugh, that would normally irritate me, but didn’t. The only problem was that no matter how hard I tried to get him to open up, he wouldn’t. …or couldn’t. I didn’t know if he’s guarded, or just insensitive. But I was willing to work through that, to see what was inside.
We were lying in my bed, and although he is significantly taller than me, I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight. He held me tighter, and turned around to kiss me. I slept the entire night holding him, the soft skin of my cheek lying gently pressed to his smooth, strong back. I felt my heart smile.

“I am.”

A few moments pass.

“Well yeah, I prolly should have told you. Just never thought about it”

A couple minutes pass.

“And they’ve mostly been dates. Nothing that’s been going on a long time.”

I felt my heart sink out of my chest and onto the ground. i haven’t slept in 28 hours, and I can’t even imagine trying to sleep before I try and get this out of me.

Five weeks ago, we were standing at a bus stop, slow dancing with each other as cars sped past, the night cool, his body warm. He pulled me in closer, held me tight, and kissed me deep. Strangers passing, horns honking; the world was silent, because I was the star of a Clark Gable movie, and nothing was going to ruin that.

Two weeks ago we were sitting in my car in the middle of the night, talking for hours, learning about each other. The night was so cold, that my windshield had frozen over, and I had to periodically turn on the car, just to keep us from getting frostbite. I told him that I wanted more. That I wanted him. I wanted to walk in that direction.

Last weekend I cooked for him. That person I cooked for was not only my best friend in the whole world, but I loved him to the stars and back. It takes a lot for me to kind of put myself out there, and really provide for someone. I’m so used to taking care of only myself that it means a lot for me to do something like that. It’s almost…. Personal. It’s been years since I’ve done that for someone.

Just now I told him that I wasn’t dating either of the guys that I had been with the past few months, anymore. He told me that he had started seeing other people.

I am beyond words. I don’t even understand how to feel, how to react, or what to do with that. I feel deranged. That could be the result of sleep deprivation, though. Help?

Matty B.

“Sticky and Sweet”

Once upon a (recent) Thursday night at Tracks, I was a very drunk boy, who was spilling his heart out (between taking shots) to a very beautiful and wise drag queen in the DJ booth at Tracks. I told her about how the last few boys I was fixed on were lying, cheating, dirty boys who apparently needed more attention than I could give them. I poured out how they were seeing other boys, and lied to me about it, as I poured over my steadily decreasing martini.

She placed the headphones that she was holding up to one ear onto the booth, took the drink out of my hand, delicately whisked the rest of the light green liquid into her mouth (without as much as a lipstick mark), and leaned in close, so I could hear what she had to say.

“Beautiful, how long have I known you?”
“Years?” I gasped, rolling my eyes and dramatically throwing my arm over my head; draping my body onto the vinyl albums, next to the neon green and pink turntables.
“Matty B., I have seen you select men of your choice out of the crowd, take them home, and try to domesticate them. Sweetheart, men here are dogs. You take ‘em home, scratch their bellies, slap a leash on them for a walk around Cheeseman Park (to attract other men with dogs), and then you release them at a big farm, where they can run free. Yes, they might lick your face, put their nose in your butt when you least expect it, cuddle with you in bed, and hump your leg every so often, but a DOG can’t ever love you as much as you love him. It doesn’t matter if you feed him, give him baths, and clean up his shit. Unless YOU are a dog too, it won’t ever work out. Trust me sugar pie, you are not a dog, and that’s why we love about you.”

I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do with all of this truth, which was cleverly draped in wit and humor. A few moments passed while Christina Aguilara belted her final notes of the evening. The lights flickered on, and my dumbfounded expression quickly changed to skepticism, as I took a delicate sip of her Bacardi and Coke.

“What? You don’t believe me? Look at them.” She said as I peered out of the DJ Booth, and down onto the illuminated dance floor. 1:30am, and security was herding the gays like cattle out through a little double door on the far end of the club. Her description was not only incredibly accurate, but the sweaty shirtless men started to all look the same. Dirty, panting, sticky, messy, and with one thing on their mind: getting out that door, and finding another dog to get off on. They pushed, bit, and snarled at each other, spitting and drooling everywhere. She was right, they were filthy, and I was a fool.

I slid open my Helio to text my boys, to see if they had been herded out with the vermin, but they beat me to the punch. Jimmy was already calling to see where I had slinked off to. Everybody knows that you couldn’t possibly retain any dignity if you are still in the club when the lights come on, all sweaty, makeup running, and shirtless. Like true social veterans, we would immediately react when our cell phone alarms went off (set to 1:25 am), warning us we had a 5 minutes to escape through the front, before we were harshly unveiled by the fluorescent lights.

After everyone had left, I walked around saying goodbye (carefully stepping Around broken glass, empty coke baggies and torn clothing) to all the bartenders, security, and Erik (the club manager), giving ample amount of time for the police officers out front to break up the fights between the lesbians, and for the gays to drunkenly drive to Denver Diner. Jimmy pulled the car around, and I hopped down the steps and into the back of his car, hungrily awaiting biscuits and gravy.

As we drove away, I looked back to see a pack of boys grunting slobbering, and howling, in the parking lot next to the club. Maybe DJ Markie was right. As we sped away, my phone vibrated. John, a very cute boy that bought me a drink earlier that night, sent me a text wondering where I was, and what I was doing now that the club was closed. I thought about it for a minute, trying to decide whether or not to invite him along with us. After a few minutes, it was decided. It wouldn’t hurt to take this cute pup out for a run around the block… just as long as I remembered that that was all it was: a run around the block with a cute dog.

“Don’t tell me you’re not hungry, because we both know that’s not true-“
Matty B .

“Don’t Want to See the Sunrise. I Don’t Want To See The Sun-“

It was early. I stood behind him with my arms draped around his naked body, as we looked out the window, watching the world slowly illuminate. The room was cold, but our bodies were comfortable while we were touching. I kissed the back of his neck where five freckles danced like stars littered across the sky. I could feel his happiness, if for only those moments, in the morning light, in our private sanctuary. I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was an honest happiness, or just a result of a beautiful night with a beautiful man, who told me I was beautiful.

He turned to me with his hands resting around my hips, kissed me, and walked to the bathroom. I grabbed a clean pair of briefs out of my overnight bag, and silently slipped them on. I didn’t want to leave, but I was unsure of his intentions. I had ample opportunity to ask him while we lay in his bed looking, talking, touching, loving, all night, but I was scared of what I might have heard. I don’t understand what love exactly is, but I think that it could be described by brief, pure moments of happiness. …and I wasn’t going to spoil that morning with questions.

After a veggie bagel, a coke, and a very lazy afternoon with him and his roommate, I decided that I was going to leave him, so that I could go home and sort out the affairs that I had blissfully neglected, while I was with him. As I drove home, my iPod shuffled the most appropriate music that reflected the things that were going through my head. Kylie Minogue cooed to me through my speakers, asking me what I really wanted. What was I looking for?

As I swooped and glided through town, I couldn’t come up with an answer. I have been dating a various pool of men over the past few months, whom all had wonderful (and terrible) traits to them. However, I found myself letting go and drifting apart from them, when I didn’t feel the heat that I needed.

I was talking to Kraig, a boy that I thought I was interested in a few months ago, and told him that I needed something more from him, that he couldn’t give me. I have plenty of friends. I need a best friend, and then some. Someone who I can be completely honest with, who will love me for it, not judge me. I want to be able to do the same for someone else. I want be spoken to with kindness, and respect. Not man handled and treated like some tweaker twink at Tracks. When I’m touched, I want to feel what they’re feeling. I want to physically and emotionally experience them, without having to read their connexion profile.

I haven’t called someone my boyfriend for a very long time, because they always get some sort of ridicule or are joked at because they date me. Everyone knows about the JJ catastrophy. How could anyone forget? And then of course there is the David situation. What a nightmare. I really loved being with both of these men, but because of my thin skin (back then) to the social pressure of their friends, our wonderful relationships crashed and burned. It’s always something: I’m too young, I live to far away, I dated a friend (or friends) of theirs, I dance too much and don’t have enough time… Christ on the cross, I have felt like the world was working against me when it comes to men. That’s why it’s been so long since I’ve dared to call anyone my boyfriend. I don’t like what comes with that label. It’s too much to handle, and frankly it’s a death sentence for any of my relationships.

It was early. I was lying with my eyes open, not thinking, unblinking. His arms were around me, safe, warm, lost in dream. His shallow breathing on my chest gently tickled my skin, but not enough for me to squirm. After he drove me home, I kissed him goodbye, as I collected my things. As I unlocked and opened my door, I turned at the last second to see if he had left. He was still sitting there, watching me, waiting for me to go in. I hid my blushing behind a smile and a wave, and hopped into the house. As I walked up the stairs, I heard him pull away, music gently drifting away.

I don’t know what I want from him, or any man. But if I could have a few more moments like that in my life, I would sure be happy. If only for those moments.

“Tomorrow you’ll be free. To take you away from me-”
Matty Beautiful

How Does It Feel To Be Different Than Me? Are We The Same?”

I started volunteering for a non-profit organization called Atlas. It’s a Boulder County AIDS Project (BCAP) funded organization that promotes safe sex, HIV testing, and HIV awareness to Boulder, and its’ surrounding counties. Through education and frequent testing, the mission is to always be knowledgeable of your status, and if you’re negative, you stay negative. If you’re positive, you prevent the spread of the virus.

I was asked to be a part of the group of “core members” a few months ago. Since then, I’ve had the opportunity to meet a lot more people in the Boulder gay community that I normally wouldn’t have. In the first meeting I went to, I was surrounded by smart, attractive, funny men, who were not only passionate about their sexual health, but were also active volunteers in the gay community. Heaven.

It was a complete turn around from the gay people I had been hanging out with six months ago. No body was talking about how they were looking for ecstasy, or how they barebacked in the dorm showers. No, I was sitting in a room where people were passionate about their education, goals in life, and most importantly, their health. After spending some time meeting some new faces, and talking to old friends, I really felt like I was home. At first I was a bit skeptical about the type of guys that would be there. I was expecting the aberzombie asshole who couldn’t think for himself, that I usually met while attending a predominately CU function. I was pleasantly surprised, to say the least.

While I sat there filling out a HIV quiz about what I knew, and what I didn’t, the group (of about 35+) were talking about different STI’s, and what we needed to know about them. I looked around the room, and although there were many different types of gay men there (ranging from 18-35), everyone just got a lot. …somehow it worked. It was almost like they could put their differences aside and not just get along, but be friends.

Lets be honest, here. If there is one demographic of people that fight amongst themselves the most, it’s going to be the gays. I mean, we have drag queens, tranny’s, queens, twinks, bears, S&M Enthusiasts, Abercrombie preps, back beat boys, straight “acting” boys, wilderness men, club boys, ravers, circuit boys, muscle men… the list goes on. How on earth are they all going to find peace with each other? They don’t. Until they manage to pull it together for a worthy cause that affects ALL of them. Who knew that HIV would be the glue that holds the gay community together? For this, we can set down our weapons (weather it be our words, fists, or eyelash curlers) and our differences, to band together to support the discovery of a cure. If not to find a cure, then to promote a healthy lifestyle. It gives me hope that the world isn’t full of complete assholes, who just want a pump and dump.

I’ve been to a few Atlas outings since, and have a lot coming up in the future. I signed up for as many workshops, and volunteer opportunities as I could, because this is an amazing group to work with, and I actually enjoy waking up at 9 am on a Saturday (with a hangover) to make HIV Prevention Packs. It has changed my mood, and I feel good volunteering. I really enjoy it, and am very glad that I get to do it, again. Maybe I’ll meet someone worth meeting, there.

”I can’t stop the rain-”
Matty Beautiful

"Material Girl"

Saturday evening he stopped by unexpectedly, to give me a huge bouquet of pink roses and white tiger lilies. I didn’t know what to say. It had been a while since someone had given me flowers. Jimmy raised his eyebrows in skepticism when I walked up to Kraig, and gave him a hug. It felt honest and real, but my friends told me that I needed to be careful. Apparently I didn’t know “what I was getting myself into”.

Last Friday, Kraig came over to have cocktails with Jimmy, Asia, Zach, BB (lesbians Brandi and Bonny, who are best friends), and I. Well, everyone who was 21+ left to go out to the bars at around 9, which left Kraig, Zach and I hanging out at Zach and Jimmy’s apartment drinking, and watching tv. Around 11, Kraig decided he had to go home, because he had an early hike at 8am in the morning. I hugged him goodbye, and he left. Zach and I proceeded to make fun of people on connexion, and vote randomly in everyone’s “quick polls”.

Jimmy’s large, lush, pillow-filled bed was calling my name, and I went to bed soon after Kraig left. I woke up around 8am, to three voicemails and 9 new text messages. Clearly I had I missed out on something epic, that happened the night before. Jimmy went over to his friend Matt’s house after the bars, where he ran into none other than… Kraig.

Apparently Kraig went over to hang out with a mutual friend of ours Jimmy Martin (be careful not to get the two Jimmy’s confused), when he had told me he was going home to get some sleep. According to my best friend Jimmy, Kraig and Jimmy Martin had locked themselves in his bedroom, and then showered together later that night. Not before trying to talk to my best friend (who was very intoxicated at the time and doesn’t even remember what he said), and “explain” why he was downtown, and not with me.

After telling me exactly what had happened, Jimmy tried to read my expression, waiting for my reaction. I slid my sunglasses down, and lit up a cigarette, and took a moment to soak in all the news.

Kraig and I have been hanging out frequently the past few weeks. I first met him the Thursday before my birthday at Tracks. He works with Zach, who was persistent that I meet him. After getting to know him a little bit that night, I invited him to my house party that I was throwing the following night, to celebrate my birthday. He was thrilled to come. The next morning while Zach and I were drinking Starbucks and smoking on the porch, he asks me what color foundation I wear. I told him NC 25, and that it was funny that he asked, because I was running low, and had to go out and buy some.

Later that evening people started showing up, looking absolutely fabulous. The glitterati had arrived, and it was a sight to be seen. My theme was Glam Rock (chosen by the people who voted in my quick poll on connexion), and everyone made the effort to look their most fabulous. When Kraig arrived, he gave me a little black MAC bag. It clicked in my head immediately. He had called Zach earlier that morning, and asked him what color make up I wore, and went out and bought it for me. I looked at him, and he grinned, as I jumped into his arms.

The night continued without a hitch with the exception of a few drama queens occupying the bathrooms, and the unusually wet and rainy weather. Luckily I was wearing a MAC face, so I knew it wouldn’t melt off in the rain. Kraig ended up leaving a little after 1am, much to my despair. But, I gave him a huge hug, and he thanked him for his very thoughtful gift. A broken $100 bottle of tequila later, a drag queen’s heel getting stuck in the cracks in the porch, and Britney Spears playing for the 340597348534th time, almost everyone had left, and I snuggled up in my friend Tim’s bed (he was passed out on the couch), and went to sleep.

“I’m conflicted,” I told Jimmy.

He looked at me. “What’s there to be conflicted about? He lied to you.”

“Well,” I replied. “I really like him a lot. I enjoy spending time with him. He’s really sweet. He called Zach to see what color my skin was, so that he could match it. Who does that?”

I paused for a few moments, because I knew what I should do. We got home a few minutes later, where I proceeded to ignore Kraig’s text messages. I just didn’t know what to say to him. I hate being lied to, and it’s a total deal breaker. I’ve had too many men lie to me in the past, which has led to them risking my health. I’ve decided After a few hours, I chatted with him over texts, and told him what was on his mind.

He said nothing happened, he was so sorry that he lied, and that he wouldn’t do it again. I told him that I would chose to believe him that he didn’t do anything, regardless of what my friends said. But that this couldn’t ever happen again. I don’t have it in me to be involved with anyone that puts me in a situation like that. It’s too draining.

A few hours later I was watching TV with Jimmy. I received a text message reading “I’m outside.” I opened the door, and there he was, standing with a bouquet of pink roses and white tiger lilies. I didn’t know what to say.

I’ve spent the last week thinking about everything. I guess I won’t know if I’ve made a good or bad decision, until this matures a little bit. I’m going to the club to meet him tonight. For the record, I hope it works out. But, that’s another blog, I suppose.

"Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me, i think they're okay-"
Matty Beautiful

“You Really Are My Ecstasy”


This weekend was Global Dance Festival 2008 at Red Rocks. 10+ world renowned DJ’s spinning at the largest outdoor amphitheater in Colorado. Thousands of people dancing the night away, sweaty, buzzed, touching… it was the biggest Denver Underground Party of the year. Three years ago at Global Dance Festival 2005, I sat at my vanity, applying foam stars to my face, and a generous application of silver glitter to my body. I slid up my little pink shorts, zipped up my black platform go-go boots, adjusted my mesh half-shirt, fastened my mini plastic laser tag vest, and grabbed my alien laser gun. The theme was “out of this world”, and was thrilled to be dancing at my first GDF.


I met with the other go-go dancers earlier that week, so I could pick up my costume, and go over the set list, and negotiate who got to dance each set. How it works is that as the night progresses, more people show up, and better DJ’s start to spin. Usually, veteran dancers get the later sets, because you get more exposure to the crowd, the DJ’s, and most importantly, the media.


Since it was my first GDF, I was assigned to dance four sets earlier in the evening, for DJ Trajikk, Kostas, and Ty Tek. I was a little disappointed, because I had danced for all three of those DJ’s more than a couple times, because they were local headliners for local parties and raves. However, I figured I was lucky to be scouted to dance at GDF and that it was a honor to be there at all, so I smiled, grabbed my VIP passes (that had my set list laminated on the back), and headed home.


Dancer call was at 8pm the following Saturday. After being set up in the dressing rooms, we were given a tour of the stage and the floor by the production manager. The set up was extensive. They had dancer stations on two of the front speakers, as well as a small catwalk in front of the stage. Marked by colorful neon “X’s” was our placing on the stage, of where we were to dance. My color was neon blue.


For the next hour or so, we finished getting ready, and gossiped about the DJ’s and their skanky, slutty, money grubbing, drug addicted, gold digging, delightful girlfriends. My first set came in a blink. It was 10:01pm. I popped a pill in my mouth, and walked out onto the stage with my dance partner Grace, as Trajikk started to spin. The crowd screamed as we danced it tight robotic movements towards our specified colored “X’s” at each side of the cat walk. The lights went down, and we froze. In a flash our bodies slid and twisted to the music, thrashing to the dark industrial beats.


The night flew by. After I finished dancing my last set at midnight, I started to pull my things together in the dressing room. One of the senior dancers busted into the room, screaming and crying. I set down my makeup brush, and ran to her side. She pushed me away, as she raged about her boyfriend being a cheating pig. Suddenly Mike, the production manager, charged into the room.


“Hailey, you’re on right now. Get the fuck out on that stage or I swear”- He cut himself off when he saw her crying on the floor; makeup smeared, hair matted. “Enough is enough. I’m sick of your drama and theatrics. Matty Beautiful, it’s your time to shine.”


He ripped her VIP list off her neck, and handed it to me. “Her set list is on the back. You’re a “pink x” now. Go!” He ushered me out of the door, ignoring the hysterical girl sprawled out on the floor.


I ran to the stage, and flipped my VIP pass that was hanging around my neck. I looked at my watch: 12:20am. I looked down my set list to see which DJ I was dancing for. I stopped in my tracks. The DJ I was dancing for was Paul Okenfold. He was one of my favorite DJ’s, and I was going to be of his two primary dancers.


The lights went down as the music broke. I grabbed a bottle of Fiji water, and slinked onto the stage. I looked through the darkness, trying to find the pink “X” on the stage floor. Then I remembered… it was on top of the speaker stage left. I darted behind the DJ booth, and crept to the front of the stage, where there was a ladder leading to the top of the speaker. I took a deep breath, smiled, and climbed my way to fame.


The lights flashed as I stepped onto the speaker. The crowd roared. I was standing fifteen feet above the front row of screaming fans. In the very front were some guys who made fun of me in high school. I quickly looked away, and out towards the thousands of fans. The music started again. The speaker beneath me shook and vibrated, as music began to fill the theater. I looked to my left to the Tiger Lily, who was dancing on the speaker opposing mine. She looked at me questioningly, and I shrugged my shoulders, and made a crying motion. She rolled her eyes, and gave me thumbs up, and a wink. This was it.


As the progressive trance pumped out of the speaker beneath me, I pulled everything I’ve ever learned, every bit of energy I had, to show everyone what I had to offer. My set started to wind down, and the music became a bit softer. I looked down at the group of guys that I went to high school with. They were staring up at me, hands in the air, screaming “Matty Beautiful!” at the top of their lungs. I grinned, waved, and looked back, down the ladder. Statia was smiling at the bottom of the ladder, hodling a fresh bottle of water. I turned back to the audience, smiled and waved, then climbed down where the next dancer was waiting. My legs felt like jello, as I walked off stage.


Three hours later, I had danced for Paul Okenfold again, Junkie XL, and Diesel Boy. Three of my favorite DJ’s that I listened to religiously. After my last set, I was jogging off stage, when mike stopped me.


“You really rocked tonight, Beautiful”

“Oh! Uh thanks! I just love to dance.” I blushed as I replied.

“You look awesome out there. You’re truly talented.” He smiled. “I can’t wait to work with you again.”


He shook my hand and led me off the stage, where there was cold water and a makeup stain, from where Hailey had been crying on the floor, waiting for me in the dressing room. I stepped over her mess, and plopped myself into one of the padded parlor chairs sitting in front of the vanity.


I looked at myself in the mirror, knowingly. My thin frame, and gaunt features dusted with glitter looked back at me.


Beautiful, you made it. This is the acceptance, the fame, and the love that you’ve always dreamed of.


I popped another pill, and walked backstage, where Paul Okenfold was standing, drinking a sugar-free Red Bull. He turned to me and asked, “Are you Matty Beautiful? The guy that was dancing on my speakers tonight?”

I slowly turned to him, and quietly said “Yes.”

“I’ve never seen someone dance so hard. It was inspiring.”

“You’re one of my favorite DJ’s. How could I not dance my hardest?”

I got him to sign my pink booty shorts, and talked to him for a few minutes, before he was whisked away by some man in a suit.


I turned away and smiled, my chattering teeth clanking together fiercely. I trembled as I went to go collect my things, and leave through the back door. I called my friends to pull around and get me. All of a sudden, I needed to get out. I need to get home. I was light headed and over whelmed, when I ran into some people who saw me dancing on stage. They yelled my name, and wanted to get pictures, but I pushed past them, shaking from hunger, or all the drugs I had ingested in the past 12 hours, or both. I drank some more Fiji water, and lit up a cigarette, and ignoring the calls of my new fans, behind me.


I slipped into the back of my friend’s car, and said firmly, “Lets get out of here.” We sped away, leaving the bright lights, loud music, and my grasp on reality, behind.


I left that life behind a long time ago. Yesterday, instead of primping for GDF’08, I spent it having a few beers with some friends at Boulder Creek, cheering as people flipped out of their tubes as they went down the not so gentle rapids. I haven’t even thought about that life in a long time, and it’s such a wonderful change to be free from its shackles.


I’m a different person today. And I know it shows.


“Have you ever noticed, that I’m acting like I’ve never been before?”


Matty B.

“You Can’t Text Message Break Up!”

“Lets Party” and “I want to see you,” were the last two messages I received from him. I invited him out to the club on Thursday, as well as to Chelsea and my “Pirates and Thieves” party last night. He wasn’t able to attend either. I wasn’t surprised however, because he is always telling me that he’s super busy all the time and he never seems to be able to tear himself away from his grueling lifestyle of smoking weed all day and drinking all night. Finding time where both of our schedules are in sync is such a rarity, that when we do get to see each other, it’s that much better.

I first started talking to John on myspace a few months ago, when he left me a comment on a picture I had taken after the Jeffree Star concert. “I’d hit that” was his opening line, to what quickly became a new flame… or so I thought.

Normally, I wouldn’t have thought twice about someone that who’s first words to me were a shameless sexual innuendo, especially if that person was bisexual. Bisexual men in my life have all proven that they are habitually promiscuous, and usually lead end in heart break. However, I give everyone a blank slate, and after reading over his myspace profile and seeing what he was all about, my snap judgment was compromised. His profile read that a girl broke his heart, and now he was looking for someone that made him happy. He’s a huge fan of indi and electro pop, loves the Millionaires, and proclaims love isn’t something you see, but something you feel. Hook, line, and sinker, I was sold.

I visited him in the hospital in the middle of the night, because he was sick with kidney stones, and was all alone. I had been invited to a party that night where many of my very good friends were celebrating someone’s birthday or some sort of shenanigans to that degree. Despite the disappointed text messages and three drunken voicemails, I hopped in my jeep, and drove over to Avista Medical Center, to visit this “wonderful” boy in need.

We watched Family Guy, and talked about music for hours. Sometime after midnight the nurse came in to give him his pain medications. After she left, he invited me to come over to his bed, and lie with him. An hour later, I kissed him goodbye, and let him get some sleep. I headed home, where I went to bed (at two am), thinking about what a wonderful boy he was.

We talked almost every day since, which I found to be a breath of fresh air. Since high school, I haven’t been able to talk to someone that I was interested in, without them being total smarms; trying to get me drunk, or high, with the goal of getting laid. John’s capability for conversation almost immediately surpassed what I initially thought of him. In a matter of days my perception of who I thought he was going to be, completely changed. He was kind, funny, and smart… he seemed to be completely different than how he appeared, which to me was very attractive.

I went over to his house, expecting to only hang out with him for a few hours and then be on my way, because I had to go open the salon the next morning at 9am. However, talking led to kissing, which led to spooning, which led to massaging, which led me to staying the night.

He was lying on me, looking down, and running his hands through my hair. All I could do was smile, because being with this boy made me so happy. I looked into his dark brown eyes, and I just had to grin. I touched his scruffy cheek, and slid my hand behind his head, and kissed him gently. He has full lips, with three piercings on the bottom, which were warm and smooth to the touch. I rolled him on his side, and traced his chest with my finger. I leaned up, kissed him again, and looked him directly into his eyes.

“You make me really happy,” I said to him. Naked. Honest.
“I’m really glad you’re here. You’re beautiful,” He replied.

I smiled, and rested on my back. He looked down at me and kissed me again.

“What was that for?” I asked him.
“I don’t know. Every time you smile, I just have to kiss you.”

I studied him for a moment, but couldn’t help but to smile, when I found nothing wrong with this genuinely perfect moment. He kissed me again harder, and I closed my eyes. I can’t wait for this to become something. This boy makes me so happy. I know I’ve found something great, I thought to myself, as he slid his hand down my lower back, and I bit his lower lip.

A week or so later (last night), we finally found time to see each other. Unfortunately my Pirates and Thieves party wasn’t appealing enough, and he ended up spending the night with his best friend Britt, who just came back into town. I completely understood, because I know how it is to have strong friendships, and thought nothing of it. Until we talked on AIM this morning.

DymitriStarr: I’m fuckin bored.
MattyBeautiful: I just got to work. What did you end up doing last night?
DymitriStarr: Fuckin my girl and goin to bed
MattyBeautiful: Ha.
DymitriStarr: I’m gonna go fuck her again… ttyl
MattyBeautiful: Oh.

-a few moments later-

MattyBeautiful: Thank you by the way.
DymitriStarr: for what?
MattyBeautiful: For the night we had. It reminded me that I can still feel like that. I don’t ever want to talk to you again.

I couldn’t believe what he said to me. I couldn’t believe that I had felt so... honest towards someone that would act like that. I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Why do I keep subjecting myself to people that continuously treat me like I’m worthless? Like I’m a piece of ass? I spend a great deal of time trying to screen people that want to hurt me. I haven’t been in a relationship for so long, because I am so paranoid that some boy is going to come into my life, and I am going to have to go through the same excruciating pain that I barely recovered from, over two years ago. It’s ruined friendships, like the one between Jeff and I. I just think that the world is out to get me, because people like John put on this façade and convince me that I’m just being over protective of myself, and then laugh in my face when I start to let someone in.

All I can do is try to learn from it. But what is the lesson? To not let people in, and live in this huge fortress of solitude? That’s no way live your life. How vapid would your life be if you blocked everyone out? I know from personal experience that it’s too hard and exhausting to always be suspicious of your friends and lovers. Life shouldn’t be like this: where people lie to you, just to lull you into a false sense of security, only to take advantage of you. “Look everyone! I bagged Matty B.eautiful!” This isn’t a game. I’m not a sport. These are my feelings… and to disregard that is not only disrespectful, but disappointing. I try to have great faith in people, and it just breaks my heart when a man is just that: a man. Stereotypical, untrustworthy, unfaithful, piece of worthless shit, man.

I’m really upset about this. All I can say is that its grueling to live life with a wall up… and it hurts too much to love everyone. I’m at a crossroads. How do you find happiness with anyone, when you’re not happy yourself? How can you trust others, when you can’t even trust yourself to make the right decision about which people to trust?

Fuck.

I’ll be honest though. It wasn’t all bad. He reminded me that I was alive, and could feel that giddy school girl crush feeling, again. If for only a few weeks, it felt good to think about someone a lot, and get excited to see them. I guess I have to look at the silver lining in these situations. However thin the lining may be.

“I wanna hold your hand…-“
Matty B.

“Freak show. Freak. Freak show. We Can Give ‘Em A-”

The Thursday before Pride at Tracks, is always quite the sideshow. Every man that owns a Britney, Christina, or Mariah album is there, struttin’ their shit, to “Material Girl”, hoping to attract a mate from the wide-eyed crowd circled around them. I’m sure you can imagine the assortment of routines and shows that are put on. The bartenders with their big muscles and spandex shorts, the management with their ghoulish faces in the back room with very minimal light, counting mountains of cash, the lesbians with their oversized shirts and full beards, the boys in the R&B room bending and contorting every which way around each other, and who could miss the twink clones who look identical, and may as well be joined at the hip… literally.

I’ve spend a lot of time trying to figure out what exactly I am and where I belong, within the gay culture. Walking through the club glancing at each different act, I wonder exactly where I fit. Ultimately, I don’t really belong to any particular group or brand of gays. On the upside, it gives me the prerogative to dress and appear as I like. I prefer to go to Tracks alone because it gives me the freedom to make those appearances and flit around from group to group, without having to entertain somebody else the entire time, or feel obligated to act a certain way.

I have had a lot of friends in the past that find it to be a huge annoyance and complete imposition, when people come up and talk to me. One of my favorite things to do is meet new people, so it’s only natural for me to introduce myself to everyone I come in contact with. However it’s not fun for me either, to take someone to the club who has never been before, and then having to introduce them to everyone that I run into… which is usually a significant portion of the people there, especially if they aren’t looking to meet anybody new. Plus, I enjoy my solitude while walking around and surveying the scene. I like to know who’s there, who to visit, who to avoid, and who to meet. I always lay out a game plan, to ensure a productive evening of networking.

I decided last Thursday, to meet my very fabulous and very cute new friend, Michael, at Tracks. He goes to CU, and we have a few mutual friends, but we hadn’t spent any time together until we agreed that enough was enough! We decided to have lunch one day at the beginning of the summer, and one thing led to another! Now we’re fabulous friends, and I must say, he is hilarious, and full of life. He has something these Aberzombies lack: a personality.

After my first survey of the club I met him and his adorable friend Rachel, outside for a cigarette. It was about 11:30pm, and the club was sufficiently full. As I stood talking and smoking outside with my new friends, I noticed some old friends, not 30 feet away from me. Nic, Eric, and Steven were all standing together in a little clot, doing the very thing I was just doing not five minutes before. Eric and Steven made eye contact with me, while Nic chatted away on his Blackberry. I quickly turned back to my friends, writing them off as being in a drunken daze. I sure as hell would have been if I was 21, and at kiddy night (18+) at Tracks, and I preferred to tell myself that they didn’t see me… even though I saw them pointing, and talking my direction.

Not just one year ago, all four of us were affectionately known as the BFF’s. We had spent the past years hanging out, going out, and being quite the fabulous quartet. We were notorious for our annual “Pre-Pride Party”, held the Saturday night before Pride. Everyone would be there. The house would be packed full of fabulous people, drinking Flirtini’s and Champagne. It was a very gay affair, to say the least. Two years ago, Eric and I got so drunk, that we folded the seats down in the back of his Expedition, whipped out some blankets, and fell asleep, only to wake up mere hours later with hangovers, to go cheer at the parade. We were always together, enjoying the festivities.

Well, not anymore. When I was 17 (two winters ago), I started casually dating this guy named David. I was living in a studio apartment in Uptown Denver, and would frequently take the bus from Downtown, to Boulder. I was new to the city, and often got home sick, and spent a lot of my off days in Boulder, with friends. I had yet to meet the people I know today, and spent all of my time alone. I knew of course, that it would take time to get to know new people. But I didn’t have many opportunities considering I was underage, lived in a small studio apartment, and spent my days locked inside because of the extreme winter weather. So the days I actually could manage to get out, I did… and went straight to Boulder.

I met Kurtis while he was dating Steven. They had had a rocky past few years, and it was clear that things were ending… and fast. Between Steven moving out of their apartment, and to downtown Denver, and Kurtis’ intense school schedule at CU Boulder, they didn’t have the convenience of living together to work out their issues. Months after they broke up, he was always been very kind to me, especially during my (rough) move to “the big city”, so it was only natural that I kept in contact with him. I personally try not to take sides when it comes to people ending relationships. I’ve done it in the past, and I’ve made the wrong decision… a couple of times.

One night, I took the bus to Boulder, where I was hoping to meet David for a nice evening in. Of course the gods were against me, and I ended up spending 8 hours stuck on a bus. Two of which, I spent digging snow out of the way with 30 other people, so that we wouldn’t get stuck in a sea of white. I had a wheel of brie, and a bottle of chardonnay, that I was very excited to share with David that evening. So excited, that I spent hours digging a bus out of five feet of snow, in the middle of highway 36. Instead, he decided to blow me off to spend the evening canoodling with his ex-boyfriend, with whom he was still very in love with. That however, is a man I’ve written about too much in the past, and I’m not even going to begin to open THAT Pandora’s Box of mess.

I finally arrived in Boulder, drenched, freezing, and no where to go. The bus I was on got stuck at the South Boulder Park and Ride, blocks from my dear friend Kurtis. I called him up, and like a saint he invited me over. When I finally arrived at his door, he just laughed, and told me to go shower. I was incredibly grateful, and appreciated his hospitality. A bottle of wine and some hilarious stories about our dance pasts later, we were lying in his bed. It had been a long time since someone had been so kind to me, and it gave me hope that there were still good people out there. I was stranded there for four days, waiting for the blizzard to stop. We spent our days watching movies, and going to his apartment complex gym to work out, and spent our evenings drinking, and laughing. It was the most fun I had had in a great while. I really liked this guy, and really saw myself with him.

Steven told me that I shouldn’t get upset that my friends have slept with the people that I liked. In the near past, I would go on dates with guys that I really liked (and that I thought liked me for more than my barely legal butt), only to hear that they had already fucked Steven, or fooled around with Eric. Since it wasn’t a big deal to them, I figured I would be okay. So unprompted (disregarding the booze), I told Steven that Kurtis and I had seen each other that past winter. At first he was fine with it, but month after I told him, Steven went into this fit of anger, and disowned me… without telling me how he felt. Only through the grape vine did I hear that he was mad.

Looking back, the level of his immaturity is disappointing. I always considered him a friend, and was very active in developing our friendship. Unfortunately, it’s hard to be great friends with someone who’s significantly older than you, especially when one of their favorite activities is drinking at the bars, and you’re only 17. What adds insult to injury was that it was HIM that told me not to fret over my friends sleeping with men I was interested in. “It’s going to happen, and you can’t get upset over it”, was the exact words he said to me. Moreover, they had been broken up for months, and had no communication. In my book, that’s fair game.

But now, we’re strangers, standing 30 feet away from each other, because he can’t take his own bit of advice. I’ve found that people will look for any reason to hate you. Especially when they see that you have a happiness that they don’t. I try to be as inclusive as possible with all my friends, but when someone decides that they want to stop the love, then it’s out of your hands, and you just have to move on.

And that’s what I did. As Michael, Rachel, and I went inside to dance to my favorite song “Let Me Think About It” by Fedde La Grande, I made eye contact with Nic. I smiled and waved at him. He returned the smile, waved, and shrugged at me, with an expression that I interpreted as “I’m sorry it’s not what it used to be.” My pocket buzzed, and I slip open my Helio to see that he sent me a text. It’s good to see you. Keep your head up. Just keep walking your own path. (I paraphrased a little, because I deleted it the other day).

I smiled to myself, because Nic is someone that I really respect, and look up to. I’m not one to speak his opinion about this whole situation, but we do make it a point to get together and have coffee, when both of our busy schedules permit us to do so.

I spent the rest of the night dancing my ass off to DJ Markie, spinning in the main room. It was an action packed night with some amazing friends, and without one drop of booze, I managed to have an amazing evening. As I left the club, I couldn’t help but to smile to myself.

Even though Eric clearly sided with Steven (disregarding that Steven had slept with Eric’s ex-boyfriend not a week or two after they had a very nasty break up, and then LIED about it.), moved in with him, and not only ignored my presence at Tracks, as well as fail to wish me a happy Pride, I managed to walk out feeling better than when I arrived. Eric and I have been friends for almost six years, and it broke my heart when we stopped talking the first time. And the second. And the third. Not anymore, though. I used to think that my best and most loyal friends were going to be the one’s that I’ve had the longest. I’ve realized that that isn’t true. While I have a few very good loyal friends that I’ve known a long time, I’ve noticed my new friends are friends with me because of who I am today, and not friends with me for who I was yesterday, or last week, or last year.

As I drove home, I received a text from Michael. I Love you Matty B.! I always have so much fun with you! “Dreamgirls” from the Dreamgirls motion picture soundtrack started to play. I set down my Helio, lit up a cigarette, and clicked it over to “Scattered” by The Trucks. Belting out the lyrics, I flew back to Boulder, where I knew I would always be home.

"I can breathe for the first time-"

Matty B.a