I Am Revolution

I’ve been talking big for years. Growing up, I’d tell my mother,” I’m going places, momma. Just you wait and see. I’m going to be big.”

My first step was to get out of what I like to call, the “wet social rectum of Colorado” that is Longmont. My second step was to move in with stable friends, and maintain a constant financial constant. My third step was to climb the dance scene, and become one of Phunk-E-Elements most notorious go-go dancers. My fourth step was to move to the big city: Denver. My fifth step was to get clean, and leave a life of drugs behind. My sixth step was to move to a nicer apartment, and get a respectable job, that I could be proud of. My seventh step was to get into college. My eighth step was to drop out of college, and find one that better suited my needs. My ninth step…

My next step is undetermined. I’ve been thinking of my next move for months, now. I am just so incredibly indecisive. I lie in my bed at night, and my mind just screams, New York! Miami! San Francisco! Seattle! When in reality, I am too terrified to even think about the consequences of moving to such a large city, without any friends, any connections, anyone at all.

On the other hand, my life has been a horrible shade of taupe. How amazing would an adventure be, right about now? I’ve been looking through old blog entries, and really taking time to myself to figure out what’s going on with my life. After months of being blown off by my “friends”, and never really having anyone that I could constantly trust and confide in, I’ve found that I’m in the perfect position to start a new adventure; to start a personal revolution. I don’t have any real ties to living in Denver, or any personal connections keeping me here. I don’t know what it is exactly, but it kind of feels like a natural step for me.

I had a really hard time when I first moved here. However, through perseverance and constant belief in myself, I created a livable life that I was happy with. Was, being the key word. I think that now, I’m ready for the next step. There has to be more out there, than this daily frustration. As Elle Woods says,” If the fabric doesn’t work with you, then don’t work with the fabric!” So, when you’ve done your best and it just doesn’t work, then move on, and try life somewhere else.

Eric said that I would never leave. He said that I would never leave Denver, for a bigger city, and that I would end up living in Colorado.

Well for some of us, mediocrity doesn’t suffice. He almost made me feel bad for wanting bigger and better things. Hey, if he wants to live the same life of, waking up, Triple Iced Venti Vanilla Latte, driving to Hamburger Mary’s, working, stopping by a friend’s house, doing some drugs, driving home, creeping through the door so that he won’t wake up his mother, and slinking into bed, so be it. Who am I to inflict my personal goals on others? All I know is that I am destined for more. I will not live a lackluster life of tedious, wearisome, monotony. I’m better than that.

I’m not saying that I won’t come back. I don’t even know if I’m leaving. What I do know, is that I am going to make some big changes. In fact, I’ve already started.

I want you to know, you were my best friend.
Matty B.

Bottom on Top?

Not days before my roommate and I decided that I was to move out at the end of the month, I finally unpacked my last few boxes: one of which containing my old computer, that I haven’t used in almost a year.

I sat there for hours, looking at old pictures of past friends; at my past life. As I scanned the folders full of pictures of me and my “best friends” dancing at raves, drinking at BBQ’s, swimming during the summer, and the legendary “morning after breakfast’s” at Denny’s (post party, concert or rave), I couldn’t help but to feel this incredible pit in my stomach.

Dilated pupils, lock jaw, sweaty, blurry faces, grinned back at me from the brightly lit screen. I remember looking through music magazines when I was younger, seeing all these fabulous people dancing with the exact same expressions... Except the feeling that occurred was very different form the one that I have now.

At the age of 13, I remember ripping pictures of these fabulous people out of Happy Magazine and Flaunt. It filled me with and endless amount of optimism, because I would lie there listening to the electro-pop album that came with the magazine, picturing crowds of people scream my name, as I danced my little heart out.

Living in a sheltered suburb of Colorado can definitely be deter you from a dream of fame. It was only a matter of time, before I found myself re-applying on facial glitter, and blotting the beads of sweat from my face with a stage hand’s t-shirt.

I had a little flash from the past last Thursday when I was working the floor at TRACKS. Two adorable kids ran up to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and stared up at me wide-eyed.

“Are you beautiful?” The thin, attractive twink asked me.
“Excuse me?”
“What he means is, are you Matty B.eautiful?” Screeched the thrilled fag-hag companion.
I stopped and stared at them for a beat.
“I suppose I am now, aren’t I?” I hesitated.
The two exchanged glances, immediately screamed at the top of their lungs, and tackled me.
A bit confused, I stood up, adjusted myself and grinned at them; confused.
“You are a LEGEND! I can’t believe you work here! Are you dancing tonight?! When’s your next show? Are you still dancing with Bliss? Where have you been? None of us have seen you for, like, a year! Are you dead? How are you? I heard another dancer broke your leg to get your slot dancing for Phunk-E! Oh my GOD! The picture of you dancing at Ultra World that I got off of Denver Underground is on ALL of my friend’s myspace!”

I was completely taken aback. I quickly collected myself and shook the stunned look off my face. I gave them a brief catch-up on the past year, delicately leaving out the drug addiction, horrible break up of the Boulder Raving Crew, and the destroyed mess my life had been until about three or four months ago.

The boy was completely mesmerized by my life, and couldn’t stop staring. I told them to come to me if they needed anything, and politely excused myself; directing them to run along and play nice with the other kids. As I retreated to the employee bathroom, I couldn’t help but be complexly overwhelmed by the entire situation. I took a moment to myself, grabbed a Red Bull, and headed back out to the floor.

As I finished looking at the pictures from past raves, I felt this incredible sense of qualm. According to my 13-year-old self, I had it all: People screaming my name, being recognized on the street, girls and guys wanting to fuck me, much less be me, and an entire crew made to assure a positive experience at raves and parties. What more could I want?

The downside of taking unmarked pills that came in a little baggie, is that is doesn’t have a “side effects” label, detailing the result of your consumption. My personal side effects label is incredibly lengthy; which was the deciding factor in changing my lifestyle.

I certainly don’t know where my life is going, or where I am going to be. However, I am quite confident as to where I have been, and where I will not be again.

Maybe I traded my glow sticks for a mop and broom, and perhaps I gave up fame at parties for the humble life of floor staff at TRACKS. What’s important is that I am living a life where honesty, being clean, and good old fashioned hard work is earning me a healthy, positive future. It may not be the most glamorous life, but I figure any situation can be a glamorous one, if you throw on a little glitter.

Plastic parts, broken hearts, masterpiece, scalpel please…
Matty B.

Busy Queen Bee

Working at the most popular gay club in Colorado defiantly puts you to the test. I spent the evening running around with an arm full of glasses, a headset full of people yelling for security to break up fights, certain bartenders yelling at me for more beer, and everyone and their mother grabbing my ass.

While working under extreme amounts of pressure may break people down, I find it exciting, and incredibly amusing. Although I have to do no-so-glamorous tasks every so often, I still find myself with a grin on my face at the end of the night.

I’ve been getting busier and busier lately, in an attempt to drown out any thoughts I may have about my friends, relationships, or family situations. Between working two jobs, trying to catch up on sleep and bills, I have been fairly successful. I haven’t had time to worry about what people think of me, because I’ve been having such a blast living life day-by-day.

My dear friend Nic and I had a wonderful brunch together a week or two ago. I was apparent that I had been completely overwhelmed by my first night working at TRACKS that previous evening, considering that I was in public wearing a purple sweatshirt, black sweat pants, green flip flops, and oversized sun glasses.

We got to sit down and talk about the crew: Steven, Eric, Nic, myself. It was nice to be able to talk to someone who could actively listen, and then provide feedback.

Steven suggested a few ways that I could improve myself; being less gay. To some degree, I know exactly what he’s talking about. No one likes a raging queen. Girl, I know I don’t. However, in the gay community I see a lot of guys snapping their fingers, and screaming “hay grill!” at the tops of their lungs, and while I admit to doing that from time to time, I also see how fake it is.

Growing up, everyone knew I was gay. Lets be real here; when I open up my mouth, a drag queen falls out and kicks you in the face. When I was younger I would always baby sit my little brother’s friends, and they would always ask me,” Matt, why don’t you talk in your normal voice?”

At the age of 13, and a freshman in high school, that’s a hard thing to hear. Living in the wet social rectum of Colorado (Longmont) surrounded my faggot hating, boot wearers, was tough enough as it was. The fact that I had a queeny woman voice that I just couldn’t shake, added insult to injury.

I don’t feel like writing anymore.
I get a lot of demands to update my blog. I know all my friends read it. (whether or not they are talking to me)

You know what? It’s not fir to me for everyone to be reading my life. Especially when I don’t want to write about it, at the moment.

If you’re reading this, and you want to know what’s going on with me, you are going to have to pull your shit together and fucking ask me.

What happens when I’m tired of being that great friend to everyone else, and I have NO ONE to return the favor?

I stop writing.


We Get High In Back Seat Circles, We Break Into Mobile Homes
Matty B.

Listen

I was sitting on the couch watching the OC Season Three, and Ryan and Marissa finally got back into Harbor, and started applying for colleges. Seth and Summer decided that they should both apply for Brown. I decided I needed to get off my lazy ass and do something with my life. So I put on some pants and decided to take action. Nothing in your life will change, if you don’t change. So does the journey to self discovery begin.

Last night was my first night back at the gym. I think that the best way to feel good about yourself is by creating positive changes in your life. When you work out, your body releases endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. It’s as simple as that. It wouldn’t hurt to feel good about my body. Plus, my roommate suggested that I should consider getting liposuction. Although he says tons of stuff like that to validate his own personal decisions, it wouldn’t hurt to tone up, and slim down. No one likes a fatty.

I made a list of things that I wanted to accomplish between now, and the New Year. At the top of that list, was to get away from this shitty school known as the Art Institute, and get into the University of Colorado at Denver. I’ve decided that my major is going to be Digital Media Art, with a minor in French. Considering it wraps together two of my passions, it should be a good fit. All I have to do now is apply, and figure out how to pay for it!

Another item on my list, was to create more art. I’ve really been letting myself go, as far as art goes, with the exception of my blog, because I’ve been so busy, attempting to improve my financial standings. Well not anymore! I had my final day at Melt, and now I actually have time to do things with my life, that actually matter.

I really think that this will be a positive step for me. Taking some time to myself, observing things that aren’t a positive influence in my life, maturing and developing my body... it should be interesting to see how this plays out.

Until next time…

I’m all alone at a crossroads

Matty B.

All The Leaves Are Brown And The Sky Is Grey


The past week has been over saturated. The Highs, the lows, the colors, the grays; when it was good, it was great. When it was bad, it was fuckin' ugly. All I can say is that I did NOT get the R&R that I needed. I did however, see the true colors of my friends, and have an absolute blast.

The sky has been a miserable melancholy gray for the past few days. Between the rain, the wind, and the browns of the trampled fall leaves, the city has been wallowing in its’ own self pity. As I sat under my white and green Lacoste umbrella listening to my iPod, I realized that sometimes, you have accept the fact that sometimes things aren’t always what you tell yourself they are.

I sat there looking at the world around me, the cold black streets, the dark grays and browns of the surrounding buildings. Maybe its pessimism or maybe it’s a moment of clarity, but Denver isn’t so amazing. Life isn’t as amazing as I keep talking it up to myself. I’ve been trying to convince myself that if I work myself to the bone, get in with the right people, wear the right clothes, make enough money; things will get better for me.

I went to my first 21+ night, at TRACKS, on Friday. There were maybe four people there. Okay that’s a bit of an exaggeration; however, there couldn’t have been more than 50 people there. At the hottest gay club in Denver, there were only 50 people? It was definitely a shocker and a let down. I heard Saturdays are the night to go, but was still hoping that it wasn’t the pathetic excuse that is undoubtedly was. I however, still had a blast because I had a few drinks and a few rides on the mechanical bull, with my very dear friends (and Lesbian Mafia), Bri, Rae, and Ange.

When I text Eric that night letting him know, I got no reply, as usual. It seems that more and more, he’s been screening my text messages. In fact, I can’t remember the last time he’s actually text me back. Oh yeah, he text me back on Friday, when he cancelled on me to sporadically drive to Longmont to hang out with a friend. You know, I keep talking him up to myself. I keep talking up all my friends to make them so much better than they actually are.

I suppose I wouldn’t be as upset as I am about being blown off, if it didn’t keep happening. It’s not just him, either. My friends just think that they can say one thing, and do something completely different. Maybe it’s the people I’m choosing to spend time with. Maybe I’m too easy going, and let them think its okay to blow me off. Either way, it’s fucked up, and it’s getting old. Fast.

The bus comes, and I step up, pay my fare, and sit down in the first available seat. I look around at all the different faces, and I can’t help but to wonder if something similar is happening with them.

Growing up, I had very minimal friends. In fact, I had no friends. I was pretty much a social outcast until my junior year of high school. I had been going to school with the same people for years, and no ever looked twice at me. I was hideous and overweight, and my family was broke. I lived in a trailer, for Christ’s sake. I spent as much time as I could, dancing at the studio in Boulder, because it was my escape from the loneliness of being at the bottom. Well now, I’m not at the bottom. I’m not broke, hideous or overweight anymore. Hell, while I am a bottom, my friend’s call me a “bottom on top”.

But I still have that very familiar feeling of being alone. Here I am exuding success, and suddenly I realize that I’m not as high up as I thought I was.

Sometimes, when you work for something hard enough, you actually get the desired result. That’s not the case with me. Nothing is ever handed to me, not that I would want it to. Every so often, I would like things to go in my favor.

Every so often, I would really appreciate a friend.

California dreamin’ on a cold winter’s day
Matty B.

Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired


My phone rang at 10:15am this morning. My hand surfaced out of the deep red sea of comforters, and lazily sought out whatever was making such a wretched noise, at such an early hour. Heather told me to get my lazy ass out of bed, and to join her and Beth downstairs at Panera Bread, for a bagel.

A pair of knit sweats, a Lacoste undershirt, and an oversized pair of white sunglasses later, I was munching on an asiago cheese bagel with light spread. I knew I looked a mess. It was almost embarrassing to be in public looking the way I did.

After I went back to my apartment, I hopped into the very inviting shower. I sat there for a moment, just thinking about everything that has happened over the past week. In response to my resignation at Melt, the owner offered me a pay raise, to stay for a month, and hire two people to replace me. We talked it over, and he admitted that he had been over working me, and underpaying me. I agreed to help him out, and we decided I would stay until October.

When I was on my two-hour break in between jobs, Aimee and I went to Diedrich’s Dazbog to get some coffee, and get away from the mall. Afterwards, we went to Cheeseman Park, where we just laid in the grass, and talked. She said she didn’t know how I did it. Working two three jobs, going to school, and managing time with friends… told me of her mother’s concern. I re assured her that I was going to be okay, rolled onto my back, and took a deep breath; breathing in the fresh smell of a grassy vacation.

Eric and I went to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory two nights ago, and it was absolutely delightful. We got to talk about everything that’s been happening over the past few weeks, and really get to reconnect. We made plans to hang out this weekend, and I am more than thrilled to do so.

I’ve felt so incredibly overwhelmed by the constant chaos that’s been fueling my life recently. Every morning I’m up at 8am, and every night I get home at 11:15am. Work all day, and utter exhaustion by the time I hit my pillow at midnight. I haven’t even been able to think about guys, dating, fucking, anything. Hell, I’ve barely been able to keep up with myspace.

Being disconnected from the world has completely segregated me from all my friends. It’s a lonely life, working all the time. More often than not, I’ve found that I’m always feeling alone, and depressed. Sitting on the bus, on my way home is the worst. Being plagued by exhaustion plus feeling completely isolated emotionally, is almost unbearable.

I step out of my shower, and the Muffs “Kids in America” start to play. I pat dry my face, pull on a graphic t-shirt, girl jeans, and my trade mark sunglasses. There’s no way I’m going to let myself fall into a funk. I’m young and I’ll bounce back from this! I have to. I will.

As I step outside, I realize how beautiful today is. I’ve spent weeks cooped up inside, and I could never take the time to appreciate the beauty around me. Why ruin my ONLY day off, by worrying and fretting over work?

I may have her sense of humor, her hair, and her eyes, but I am not my mother. And I am going to make the best of my days.

Everybody live for the music!
Matty B.

Who Cares About the Young Folks?

I decided to start attending the Art Institute for two reasons: One, they offered EXACTLY what I wanted to get a degree in. Two, they said after I turned 18, they would be able to offer me loans and grants that would, not only pay for school, but would also help with living expenses as well as supply costs. To say the least, I’ve been anticipating my birthday because I could FINALLY stop working 70 hour weeks at two different jobs. I could relax a little, and focus 110% on school.

School is very important to me, especially if I’m paying for it. Because I moved out when I was 15 I spent two years of high school trying to balance jobs and school, and it ultimately drove me to dropping out, because of how exhausting it is. I swore to myself that when I went to college, it would be different. I would finally be able to do be a “normal” student, who had the opportunity to dedicate himself to his degree.

My financial aid officer let me know today, that that wasn’t going to happen.

A week after applying for a number of loans, grant, and scholarships, the department head of the financial aid office sat me down, and we had a little discussion. Not only had I been denied ALL loans that I had applied for, for living expenses, but because I don’t have a co-signer, I was denied ALL loans period. Including ones that would cover tuition. For me, school costs $8,223.00 a semester. That doesn’t include supplies or lab fees. Just 6 classes a quarter, once a week. That’s $18,000.00 a year.

I can’t afford that.

This had been the 8th time I went to financial aid, looking for help. Isn’t that their job? After speaking to everyone and their mother, I still had no answers, and nowhere to turn. After speaking to the head of the department, my spirits were low. She asked me why I was attending the most expensive school in the state, if I had no money. I replied, it’s because I am so passionate about art, I will do almost anything to stay. She studied me for a moment, as I grabbed my things and stormed out of the office.

I’m the first person in my family to go to college, and now I know why. I called my mother in tears. She said that perhaps I should look into other schools. It’s early enough in my schooling, where if I were to transfer, I could just cut my losses with AI, and start over fresh. She says I should aim for the new year, and apply for spring semester.

Maybe she’s right. I’ve noticed a trend recently with myself: When something looks really good, I get excited about it. When something sounds really good, I take action. When something turns out to be amazing, I dedicate myself to it. However, when shit hits the fan, and things aren’t quite what they seem, I start to doubt myself. Then when the problems are too great, I get overwhelmed, and run away.

Just like men. Whenever I’m in a relationship, I feel trapped, and I don’t know what to do. So I break it off. Happened with Roby, and it’ll happen again.
They say anything worth having, you have to work for. Well, when do you know if you’re working at something that will never happen?

I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I definitely look forward to my admissions meeting at CU Denver.

Treat ‘em like animals.
Matty B.

“Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving”

“I wish I was thirty, flirty, and thriving!” Those were the words that fast-forwarded Jennifer Garner’s character from the prepubescent age of thirteen, to the successful, attractive, “big shot” magazine executive, at the age of thirty, in the movie, “Thirteen Going on Thirty”.

At the end of the movie, she learned that she had treated her best friend wrong, and realized that everything she ever dreamed of was right where she left it: in a huge house in the middle of Connecticut, at the age of thirteen.

Well what happens when your childhood as well as your adulthood, are less than perfect? Why does that tall, skinny bitch get to have an amazing career, a gorgeous boyfriend, and still manage to have that fresh, rested look on her face, in the morning? That’s not happiness you see on her face, it’s a really good MAC foundation and bronzer.

I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, and I was concerned at what was staring back at me. The face was all too familiar: Pale, sickly, exhausted, and full of worry. The difference now, is that instead of me just waking up after a six-day coke binge, I was waking up after six, thirteen-hour workdays.

When I got to school this morning, I was immediately directed to the Financial Aid Department, where they told me I owe them thousands of dollars. After I leave, I walk to a computer lab, so I can apply for loans. I was declined. Then I go back to the Financial Aid Department, and they can’t help me, I have to schedule another appointment. So I do, for next Thursday.

As I sit here and think, I seem to have a revelation: their shit here stinks. I’m the first person in my family to go to college. EVER. Although I LOVE going to school, and I LOVE doing the projects assigned to me, the fact that they are creating all of these obstacles, just because I want to learn is bullshit.

Maybe it’s because I’m exhausted. Maybe it’s because I have been feeling sick for almost a week, and I just can’t seem to get a good night’s rest.

I know two things: I’ve been jumping through their flaming hoops, like a good little lion, but that is going to stop.

The other?

I need a hug.

Being an adult is just like being a kid. Except now I’m in debt.
*sigh*

You don’t always get what you want. You don’t even get what you need.
Matty B.

The New Girl in Town [Part One:]

The bright afternoon sunlight gently caressed my face, as I looked up to the deep blue sky. As I clicked my cell phone shut, the reality that I was an adult had just begun to don on me. Stacy as US BANK was delighted to tell me that the credit card I applied for this morning was approved. However, instead of the standard $300 limit, they were going to give me $1000.

I walked into Safeway to buy Eric a pack of cigarettes, while he was picking up his black button up shirt from the dry cleaners, for this evening’s festivities. I handed Anne my ID card, and I couldn’t help but notice that she was giving me a sideways look. I had completely forgotten about the sparkling pink tiara that was delicately resting on my head. I politely explained to her that it was my birthday. She flicked her eyes to my ID, and declared that, yes, it was my birthday. She wished me well, and I was on my way.

I skipped out, and it seemed that the world was a bit brighter. All my fears about becoming an adult just vanished in a matter of moments. In mere hours, I’d be surrounded by all of my good friends, old and new. I’d be dancing the night away, and there’s nothing better.

I am thrilled, to say the least.

Matty B.

Perfect Day

I finally had my first full night’s rest, since moving into my new apartment. There was a cool summer breeze that kept me huddled under my new duvet cover all night, My 1,000 thread count Egyptian Cotton Sheets were comfortably broken in, and I was exhausted from working my ass off on the set of a fashion shoot all day.

10:51am. I was scheduled to work in 9 minutes. Knowing that the next bus would be coming at 11:36am, I took a deep breath, called a co-worker to notify her that I was going to be an hour late. Even though my morning was off to a rocky start, I was determined to set it back on track.

I slipped off my clothes, and slinked into the shower. I started my morning with a start: First with an invigorating body scrub from my work, followed by a small bowl of granola, finishing with a quick flatiron of my hair, and a cigarette. I swiped a banana off the counter to take for lunch, and headed out.

As I finished my second cigarette, the bus pulled up ten minutes late. But not before splashing a huge puddle of black gunk onto my new shoes. I frowned for a moment, brushed my hair from my face carelessly, tapped them off on the side of the bus and smiled at the bus driver, while I paid my fare.

I hopped off the bus, and started walking across the parking lot, towards the mall. As I crossed at the pedestrian cross walk, this crazed woman with fried white hair and an expression that resembled a cat’s asshole, screeched to a stop, less than a foot from my leg. I ignored her clear inability to drive, and kept walking to work.

Work was less than amusing, however I was working with my favorite co-worker, Asuka [Oss-kuh]. Then, I received a text message from Derek. He said he was in the area, and that he wanted to stop by and see me at work. This was an interesting situation, because not only was I not very attracted to him, but I had never met him before, and had only spoken with him very briefly a few times. However, my day was pretty boring, so I figured this would add an interesting turn in events. …And it did.

Although he was more attractive in person, he had nothing of value to say. His mouth was like a leaky tap that would not stop making useless noise. He was my ideal build: Big chest, strong arms, a bit of a beer gut; basically they body of a gorilla. However, it did not make up for the bad teeth, religious tattoos all over his body, and lack of cranial activity. We politely parted ways, he told me to call him when I got off work, and I told him I would.

Like the gentleman I am, I call him after I get off. I figure, although I’m not particularly attracted to him as far as dating goes; I haven’t been laid in quite some time, and he looked like he would at least be somewhat decent in bed.

He didn’t answer.
When I text him, he responds,” Sorry dude. I’m just not attracted to you.”
I pause for a moment, and re-read what he wrote. I text him back asking exactly he wasn’t attracted to. He responds,” I just like guys that are shorter than me, and you lip ring is a huge turn off.”

Those are two bits of information you could have gotten off of my profile on connexion. So not only was he an unattractive moron, but to add insult to injury, he was an unattractive moron who didn’t want to sleep with me. That is SO my life.

I walk to the bus stop, and start the ride home. I talk to my brother, and he tells me that if he doesn’t get this job in Chicago, he’ll be immediately moving to China, where he’ll teach ESL. He figures he won’t be back for five years or so. Apparently it’s expensive to fly back and visit.

I sit on my bus, with my head hung low. BFF Eric and BFF Steven were at Eric’s house in Broomfeild, while BFF Nic, was at Mary’s pregaming before a concert. I headed home, spirits and mood, low.

As I started my shower, I heard “California Dreamin’” by the Mama’s and the Papa’s. I smiled to myself and remembered that while I don’t always get to choose the circumstances of my life, I get to choose how I deal with them.

I wish the best to my brother.
And I can only look hopeful towards to future.

Because sometimes you need to deal with it alone.

“California dreamin’, on such a winter’s day-”
Matty B.

That’s The Way We Get By

He told me today that he’s leaving. He’s going to road trip to Chicago, and he doesn’t think he’s going to come back.

I held the phone close to my head, and I dazed out in disbelief. I asked him when he was leaving. He replied,” Tomorrow. …I’m not going to be here for your birthday.” I closed my eyes, and hung up the phone without another word.

When I was 15, had no friends, and was forced to live in his mother’s abusive home, he was there. When I spent the entire day at a school with people that shared a mutual hatred with me, he would come pick me up and tell me it would all be okay. When I couldn’t deal with the world, we’d hide from his mother in the shed out in the back yard, and smoke chronic out of a makeshift bong made out of Styrofoam cups.

When I moved to Denver, and didn’t have a friend in the world, he would drive out to stay with me, to let me know that I wasn’t completely alone.

I shared a bed with my little brother until I was 13, and a room with him until I moved out. For two years, I haven’t had the rejuvenating sleep that I would get from sharing a bedroom. When I moved out, my older brother stepped up, and filled the void that my little brother had left.

When it’s your family, I don’t think you’re allowed to call it an unhealthy co-dependency. When you’re family, it’s called a bond.

While getting clean, he would talk me through long nights. Even if for only a minute, the fact that he was the one person in the world that I knew would answer his phone and talk to me... no matter what happened.

Over the past few months, I haven’t been as available to see him as much as I’d like. With going to school full time, and working two jobs, it’s been tasking. However, we’ve always kept touch. So when he called me and told me he wasn’t coming back, I was absolutely devastated. I still am.

It’s one of those tasking situations that life likes to throw at you, right when you think things are going to be all right. I’ve really prided myself on being emotionally independent for the past few years, and it’s been made very apparent to me how dependant I actually am.

I couldn’t hold the tears in, as “Family” off the Dreamgirls OST started up. It felt I was loosing a leg. It felt like I was loosing a part of me.

My mom says that he’ll run out of money, and will be knocking on my front door begging for a shower and some food in no time. The problem is, is what if he doesn’t come back? What if something happens? He’s not the most responsible man. Almost 21, he’s not even finished with his second year in college, and lives in his van. I love him regardless of his personal decisions. However, I don’t think he’s thought this through completely.

I shower off my emotions, and I step onto the dry carpet. Refreshed and new, I feel empowered. Maybe I don’t need him as much as I thought. You know what? If he wants to run off to Chicago, and never come back, let him.

I put on my face, and flatiron my hair. With every deep breath, I feel myself calm. It’s not like he’s never done this before. I ran away to Mongolia for three months, last summer, missing my birthday. He does this all the time. I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I love him, but if I don’t let him make his own choices and mistakes, then how is he going to learn?

Good Riddence.

We found a new kind of dance in a magazine
Matty B.

Quinceanera

My favorite television shows growing up were Law and Order: SVU, CSI: MIAMI, and Cold Case. So yes, moving to a big city is defiantly terrifying for me. Especially because if I fuck up, get murdered, or become homeless, I’ll have nowhere to go, or any clue what to do. However, I have a plan for my life, and I am destined to fulfill it.

My doubts weren’t if I was going to make it out here, but if I could make it out here alone, and by myself.

When I first moved to Denver 9 months ago (has it really been that long already?), I didn’t have very friends to my name. In fact, the fact that I was so alone, really pressured me into being outgoing enough to make new friends, start over fresh; thus the initial goal of my move.

It wasn’t easy, to say the least. I found myself running to the homes of old friends, in Boulder, where I felt safe, and accepted. This was a repeating occurrence for the first 4 months of living in Denver. In fact I even tried to date a boy that lived in Boulder, to perhaps force me to be there even more. I very quickly wizened up, realized that I was a big boy, and that I had moved to Denver to grow up: So I did.

Denver has been less than welcoming. My dear friend Nic was fortunate enough to get a warm welcome, he states in his blog. I however, as usual, am left fighting for new friendships, and acceptance among the VERY cliquey “Gay Denver Social Scene.” Through my Best Friend Eric’s employment at the most popular gay restaurant in the city, I’ve started to meet people, network, and even find a few friends.

He’s always telling me how my friends are always his friends. The people that I introduce to him end up being his friends as well. Well little does he know, that by waiting tables at this fagulous restaurant, he’s introduced me to a world of people that I could never begin to talk to.

Yes, straight women [and the occasional straight man] absolutely love me. I wear bronzer and I tell them what to wear. I dance with them at clubs, and I’ll willingly cut and style their hair. (Sorry about the rhyme) Yet no matter how many girlfriends I’ve had, I’ve just had an impossible time breaking into the gay scene, until I started hanging out more frequently with Nic and Eric.

Eric is my confidant. I tell him everything, and spend as much time with him as I can, not to mention the amount of time I spend sitting in his section at his restaurant. He introduces me to fabulous people, always has my back, and is always honest with me. And honesty is a difficult trait to find in a man. Especially a gay man.

Nic is my life coach. A few years my senior, he’s been through similar things I have: Big move to a new city, starting over from scratch, and breaking into the gay scene. He takes me to fabulous clubs, recently started dining with me, and always gives me advice when I so desperately need it. And of course poses for pictures with me while at a club or event.

Basically, I’ve been instilled with the whole package: Matty B.’s Starter Kit To Becoming Fabulous in The Mile High City.

While I don’t know what the future holds for me, I do know one thing: As my “coming out” date approaches, I know that I have two people at my side who can gently guide me in the right direction, as I develop as a person, and as a socialite.

Everybody comes to Hollywood, they want to make it in the neighborhood-

Matty B.

You Said, You Can’t Change The Way You Feel, But I Can

Everyone had stone cold expressions. No one would make eye contact with me. I was walking through a Technicolor world that had a raging black ink stain. I couldn’t understand why everyone was so calm, so still. I frantically ran in circles around these people, waving my arms screaming at the top of my lungs, but no one made a sound. Not even me. My brothers were sitting next to each other. I ran past them, to see her bloody remains in the open casket. How could this have happened? Why hadn’t they prepared her for the viewing? Why was everyone so lost?

I could feel the beads of cold sweat slowly slide down my face. I was incredibly aware of my surroundings, and the people around me. I run to my brothers, and start shaking them; hitting them; crying. They both look at me with brilliant eyes, and I feel them pull away from me.

They say in unison,” What are you getting so upset about? You hated her. You’ve been wishing for this day your entire life. Everyone knows she hated you more than anything.”

Stunned, I take a step back. Was this what I had wanted? Spending my entire childhood picturing all the horrible things that should happen this wretched woman, finally did. Years later, after I gained my freedom. I start to cry, and run back to the open casket.

My mother looks up at me with a completely blank expression, not unlike how she used to greet me when I was a kid, after disappearing to Central City for weeks at a time. I rest my head on her chest, and my mind just wanders.

I’ve never really come to terms with my childhood. Nor have I ever come to terms with the horrible things that my mother used to do; whether or not it was directed towards my brother and I. As far as I’m concerned, my life started June 19th 2005, when I stood there in the rain, knocking at my cousin Vyckee’s door, holding my cheerleading duffle bag, filled with a few pairs of stained clothing, flip flops, $23.54, and a few photographs of friends and family.

Suddenly I’m standing with a totem pole expression, and I take her hand, and whisper, “I love you”. Her eyes go wide, and she leaps out, grabs my neck, and pulls me into the coffin.

I wake with a start. Third night in a row that I’ve had this terrifying dream, and I’m in the same familiar position as before; wiping sweat from my brow, brushing tears from my eyes, and breathing heavily. I lie back in my bed, and rest my eyes shut.

I’ve been pretending nothing has happened. Whenever something unfortunate happens, I shut it out, and paint a smile on my face. My entire philosophy on life is, “Nobody likes a Debby Downer!” as well as, “If you start the day with a smile, then you’ll finish it with one.”

For the most part, it seems to work. However recently, I’ve been finding that my mind has just been haunted by everything that has happened over the past decade. I believe that if you are going to get anywhere in your life, you have to accept the bad with the good. It seems though, that I’ve just been ignoring the bad, and trying to focus on the good… and that can be an exhausting feat within it’s self.

I sit at the bottom of the shower, and let the heat and pressure cleanse my body, as well as my mind. As time slowly passes, the waves of heat release the pent up emotional baggage that has been plaguing my mind for the past few weeks. I run my hands though my hair, and tilt my head back, to feel the water wash over my face. I slowly breathe in and out, relaxing my body, freeing my mind, and accepting the things that I cannot change about my life, and about myself.

As I towel myself off, I can already feel some weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I lie in my warm, dry bed, and try to think about how I can make tomorrow a better day for myself.

I don’t know if this will be an effective way to ward off these nightmares, but it’s defiantly a step in the right direction. Sometimes you just need to take a moment for yourself, assess your situation, accept the bad with the good, and reassure your optimism through moments of self-reflection.

They say that everyone is looking for that perfect soul mate. Well, I’m just looking for that perfect soul.

How could it hurt you, when it looks so good?”
Matty B.

W.W.J.D? W.W.E.W.D?

It seems that it’s been a rough few weeks for a lot of people. While standing in the print shop today at school, I overheard one of the staff members talking to a friend of hers about how she hasn’t spoken with her dad in almost a week because she told him that she was a lesbian. Right before I finished my cigarette two hours earlier, I over heard a skinny blonde boy talking to his friends about how no matter what he does, he just can’t seem to get his boyfriend to open up to him. [Girl, I hear you.]

Over the past few days, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about everything that has been going wrong in my life: My continuing feud with my roommate, my immense amount of work followed by an abysmal pay, the fact that I didn’t have time to be with the friends and family that I love most, all topped off by the continuous addition of school work that appears to be endless.

When I feel like I need encouragement or motivation, I turn to my true hero: Elle Woods. Although a fictional character of the popular movie, book, and Broadway show “Legally Blond”, I feel that the way Amanda Brown captured the pure optimism of this woman is absolutely inspiring, and can be applied to real-life; my life.

Like Elle, I like to think that no one gets anywhere in life with a shitty attitude. And you know what? We’re right! You’d be very surprised how far a kind word and a friendly gesture can go. You can easily turn someone’s day around with a smile and a compliment. My friends know this. In fact I have two that know exactly what to say, to make me feel better. Unfortunately for me, one is very busy being a fabulous waiter “Hamburger Mary’s”, and the other is quite the drive to visit.

So, What Would Elle Woods Do? Would she bend and snap? How about an exfoliating facial cleanser? Better yet, what does Barbie do when she’s not seeing Ken anymore, She’s been working all day in 6” heels, and it feels like she’s made of cold, hard, plastic?

After my date with Mr. Constrictor, I felt like I was an empty shell of myself. I sat in the cab and thought about the previous night’s events. Flashbacks of him telling me,” You’re so gorgeous, I deserve you. You’re so fuckin’ hot. Get on my bed. Take off your pants.-” were all too overwhelming. Isn’t that what I want? A man who takes control, knows what he wants, who makes good money, and lives in LoDo?

I stood frozen in the shower, absolutely blank. The thought of me lying there expressionless was more than familiar. As I sat on my balcony and smoked a cigarette, I couldn’t feel a damn thing. I still can’t. Maybe that’s why it’s taken me two hours to write an entry.

When does it get better? Ever since I was a kid, everyone I know tells me that it’ll get better. Give it a few years, it’ll be amazing. Well, I’m days from being an official adult, and it has yet to kick in. I’ve missed my entire summer, because I’ve been stressing, working, and attempting to pull my life together enough to get a full night’s rest.
I can’t even enjoy the things I used to, because I’ve been so manic. At least while I was dating Mr.Revenge, he brought be back. Being a complete child wasn’t ALL bad, with him; he still knew how to have fun. He could lie around all day, and not have a care in the world. I can’t even finish a cigarette without thinking about whether or not I’ll have money to buy another pack.

I think I’m a bit over due for a vacation. Perhaps a few personal days. All I know is that I need to get out of my head, and spend more time with people that can make that possible.

Robot, why are you so robotic?
Matty B.

Art Smart?

One of the biggest appeals of entering college was finally being treated like an adult. Little did I know, most of my teachers were either brand new and had no idea what they were talking about, or had taught the class so many times that they were completely distracted by their personal life, and had no intention or desire to give us the education that we sold our kidney’s to afford.

I walked into my Digital Media and Design class at 7:26am, and sat down at a computer, half way to the back of the class room. I wanted to make sure that I was close enough to see the projection screen, but far enough away from the teacher to discretely check MySpace and Connexion. The first thing out of her mouth was, “Who are you, and what on earth are you doing in my class?” I raised my gracefully arched eyebrow at her and replied,” I’m Matty B. I missed the first class, because of an error in my FASFA, and I wasn’t allowed to attend class, until it was figured out.”

While she stared at me blankly with her eyes glossed over, a dribble of drool delicately dripped from the side of her mouth. So I did what any American person would do when presented with the problem of talking to someone that appears to have a hard time understanding the basic words that are you coming out of your mouth; I repeated myself slowly and loudly.

I signed in, and sat down at my desk as she droned about how to use Microsoft Word. As she handed out the daily assignment, she started to present a Power Point Presentation about the history of camera’s. I reminded her that we weren’t in a photography, and that she was teaching A digital media course. She apparently realized that she wasn’t showing the right presentation, and instructed us to take a break.

As I smoked down my third cigarette of the day, I thought about al the previous teachers and professors I had had in the past. Growing up, my teachers have instilled two major rules in my life: Treat others the way you want to be treated, and if you wish to be treated like an adult, you must act like an adult.

What if the adults in your life act like children? Short tempered, poor people skills, and a complete density to what’s going on around them? While at an institution of learning, there’s a standard of how the professors should act, right? WRONG. In between power trips, and complete ignorance to the fact that they actually have to PREPARE for a class, the art of teaching has been completely lost.

I look for inspiration in my life. I associate my self with people that will make me a better person, or at least will direct me in that direction. Through friends and family, I seek intelligence, humor, and life. That’s why I attended the Art Institute of Colorado. I heard that it was full of cutting edge professors who had a passion for teaching.

I was wrong.

Instead, it’s full of money grubbing teachers who are stuck “teaching” classes they don’t want to. Passion? I think not. More like punishment.

Remember when art meant something?

Matty B.

Bittersweet Symphony

They say that a good thing never lasts. And so far, it’s proven to be true. Am I one of those people that try and materialize something out of nothing? Convince myself that there’s a possibility for happiness with this person that I hardly know? I’m not one to place all my money in one bet, but I am someone that will put an investment towards something that has hopeful potential.

Mr. Revenge and I recently called it quits. Things were going amazingly, we had a blast together, we saw each other quite frequently, and when I was with him, it felt like home. So what was the problem, you ask? The problem is that he felt the same way about me, as I did about him. And for him, that was a terrifying concept. The last thing he said to me was, “I’m just meant to be single. I can’t handle all of this. I‘m done with us.” After realizing that he was breaking up with me, I immediately hung up on him. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of hearing my reaction.

It’s funny to look back at the course of our very brief relationship, and attempt to recognize what exactly made me think that it could work out. He’s a 23 year-old grungy drug addict, who’s not only never had a real relationship in his entire life, but only has one real friend, whom he talks shit about when she’s not around. I try and date older men because they’re supposed to be mature, and in control of their life; pulled together if you will. However, that wasn’t the case, in this instance.

You know, the best part of Mr. Revenge, was that I felt like a kid again. I felt like I was in high school, I could go crazy, have fun, laugh, roll around in the hay, and it was alright. It was the most honest thing I felt in the past year, and it was great, no matter how short-lived.

This isn’t the only relationship that’s ended abruptly because it was “too good to be true”. After Brady and I broke up, his reasoning of staying separated was,” This can’t be it. I can’t spend the rest of my life with my high school sweetheart.” You’re right, that doesn’t happen. It doesn’t happen, because people won’t let it. He didn’t want to get married, go to college together, have three children, two cars, and a beautiful home, because that’s what his parents did. God forbid, he turn out like his parents: Happy, successful, and loving every minute of their life.

Since when did the “American Dream” become such a nightmare? Is it really that scary that people might actually want children, and a husband? I’ve talked to a few of my gay friends, and that’s the last thing on their mind. It’s almost a stigma to want such a nuclear lifestyle. While I sit here and write about relationships, their out doing poppers and getting fucked in an alleyway. Not that I’m saying that I’m against that behavior, but how is it, that an entire generation can give up on love so easily?

I try and pass the time by watching a season of Sex and the City. I’ve always been considered the “Samantha” of our group of friends, however it feels like lately I’ve been a bit worn out by the whole idea, all together. Maybe it’s been all the lack luster sex I’d been having. Or maybe it was just the horrible dates with a dozen assholes in the past few months, that threw me off my usually predatory behavior. But overall, I’ve just become bored with the whole scene.

As I talk more and more to my friends, it seems that there are very few of us that have idealistic views on relationships, and the future. It’s almost taboo to not be taboo. What do you mean you haven’t had sex in three months? What? You’ve never had sex in the TRACKS bathroom while high on coke? Everyone I know has! Everyone is attracted to drama. Let’s be honest here. I’d rather be reading Perez Hilton, than the wedding announcements in the local newspaper. I want to see grungy dirty sex, and people throwing drinks at each other! Give me some skanky red head with a drug addiction over Oprah any day!

At the end of the day though, I begin to realize that I begun to find a healthy balance. I’m not Samantha, fucking everyone that shoots me a friendly smile. However, I’m not that “insta-boyfriend” who feels they need to be in a relationship, either.

I’m not prefect, but I’m getting there. Until then, you’ll see me out there with open arms, and an open heart.


You want all my love and my devotion
Matty B.

Sweet Sweet Sweet Sweet Fire in the Street

11:02 am. I bolted upright, and as I tried to escape my impending death, I got tangled in the sheets, and fell hopelessly to the ground. The screeching alarm was deafening. I quickly grabbed a pair of underwear off my floor, followed by a t-shirt and some disgusting sweats. I scooped up my keys, laptop, and cigarettes, quickly brushed my teeth, and started hiking the six floors down, to the lobby.

It seems that someone on the third floor thinks that grilling in their living room at 11 am in the morning, is a good idea. As I walk into Panera bread, which is located in the first floor of my building, I notice that no one is even phased by the flashing lights, and deafening fire alarms going off. Everyone is eating their salads, as if nothing is happening, completely ignoring the fact that there could be someone burning alive just feet above them.

As I order my usual coffee, and take my place in the leather chair that I always sit in, I try to go about my business as usual. Open my computer, start it up… but I can’t help but be slightly thrown off by the fact that everyone is to distracted by their own lives, to realize that something real is happening. People on their cell phones, drinking their coffee, yelling about contracts… it’s exactly the type of person that I don’t want to be.

How do you know when you’ve become so involved with yourself, that you don’t even notice the world or people around you? Over the past few months I have to admit, I’ve been incredibly busy with school, working until my fingers bleed, and attempting to have a social life, so yes I became one of those people. Until recently.

I met Mr.Revenge at Denver Pride, this year. He grew up with my hairstylist, and is in school right now to become one as well. Kara introduced him to me, while I was dancing my heart out to DJ Heckler, and was looking less than appealing. He seemed real cool, but I was a bit intoxicated and distracted by the music, so I danced on my merry way.

Back at the apartment, Kara gave me a call. Apparently she was at the bar across the street, and wanted to come up. I was delighted to hear from her, so I went down and got her and Mr.Revenge. Since sobering up, he started to look a bit more appealing. He was even kind of funny, which I was surprised by. Who would’ve thought that there are men out there that are attractive AND funny?

We hit it off pretty quick. Kara wasn’t feeling well, so I cooked her some food. She decided to go home, and I was definitely disappointed, because I wanted to spend more time with Mr.Revenge, but she was his ride back to Loveland. After a quick phone call to Ashley, I offered him a ride home later the next day, if he wanted to stay. He happily accepted.

We talked all night. I laid in his arms, and we shared everything about each other. He told me his life. No one has ever been so upfront with me about things before. He had a very intimidating first impression, however feeling his body on mine, getting him to laugh, sharing cigarettes with him; it was the perfect first meeting.

And then there was the morning after. I dread morning after’s. I look like a train hit me. Doesn’t matter if I’ve been drinking, smoking, partying, or just had a quiet night. When I wake up in the morning, I AM NOT CUTE. I looked into his eyes. He brushed my tangled hair out of my face, and kissed me. He was as beautiful as ever. Messy hair, grin on his face. We got dressed, because I had to get him home at a decent hour.

The entire drive home, he had his hand either in mine, or on my leg. We stopped for coffee and gas, and flew down i25 to get him home. I thought about him for the rest of the day. And I saw him the next.

I don’t know what it is about him, but it’s a bit unsettling. All I know is that unlike the people around me, not only am I going to see this fire, but I’m going to let it burn.

“The queens of the court grin under a delicate fan-”
Matty B.

Out And Proud

The dictionary defines the word Pride, as the state or feeling of being proud. I can safely say that everyone at this years Pride Festival 2007 was exuding that, and then some.

The music was amazing. Although the weather was unbearable and water was no where to be found, the fabulous fagulations of Denver were dancing their little hearts out. The hot weather, hot music, and hot men were almost overwhelming. However, I found that there was one thing that could cool me down from all the heat: my little purple paper bracelet.

The funny thing about alcohol, is that you seem to loose all your inhibitions... if you drink enough, that is. After my fourth Cranberry Stoli and what they were calling "PRIDE"'s, I seemed to escape the heat.. as well as half of my clothing.

Every year I absolutely look forward to PRIDE Fest. Lets be real here: This is my Christmas. I just delve myself in glitter and alcohol, whip out my flags, and dance my heart out.

DJ Heckler was amazing as usual. Although i didn't get to follow up with him at Vynil , i soaked up every last second that the DJ's spun.

To say the least, it was what was to be suspected.

Would it be perfect?
Matty B.

If These Walls Could Talk

I love to go into other people’s houses. I find that one of the best parts of meeting someone new, is being able to go into their house, and see how it’s decorated. Let’s be honest here: I’ve seen my fair share of bedrooms, however every time I walk into one, it’s completely different.

I went over to AJ’s house, a couple of months ago. He’s a 29 year-old black man that lives in the Denver Dry Lofts (only doors down from an old friend of mine, Steven). What’s so great about this building, is that it’s completely renovated, styled and painted very modern with tan carpets and beige walls, accented with stainless steel, and overlooks the breath taking Downtown Denver. However, they couldn’t be more differently decorated.

From what I remember (and it’s been months since I’ve visited Steven’s house), his apartment was VERY minimalist. He had two perfectly rectangular modern black futon-style couches facing each other, a glass coffee table in the middle, with a book of photography placed in the center, a smaller glass end table with three candle votives, a glass dining room table, and a chair next to the window, complete with ashtray, for guests. His bedroom was a bed pushed to the center of the far wall, beige down comforter, a light army-green accent throw and a cherry beside table with matching bookcase and bureau. He had three framed pictures of Lindsay Lohan cut from a magazine, and a photograph of all of us on his shelf.

What does his apartment say to me? Professional homosexual who (sometimes) strives for cleanliness and order. Everything has it’s place in his apartment, not unlike the people in his life. Not very sporadic and very un-lived in… almost secret. It exudes a magazine-apartment feel. An interesting perspective, but I adore his apartment, to say the least.

AJ’s apartment was the complete opposite. Clutter everywhere. The apartment was very African tribal art meets business bohemian. Dark leather couches, tapestry’s over everything. Covered in tribal art, floor to ceiling. Smelled of weed and sensual massage oil. The only thing better than his very passionate sex, was what I learned about him through his apartment. It was like I window into his soul: He loved to live in his passions. Very urban and very interesting.

It’s boggling how two apartments that are exactly the same, lived in by two gay men, could be so completely different. I am a personal believer that my home says a lot about me. Whether it be clean or dirty, minimal or cluttered; it speaks lengths about who I am.

Chad and I just moved to a new apartment together in the Downtown/ Capitol Hill area. Gorgeous downtown views, remodeled apartment, minimal lobby and elevators. He was the first person to start unpacking. I go to school and work full time, so I took a few days to pull myself together before opening the first box.

When I came home from work today, his room was finished, and the living room was cleared. There’s an oversized sofa, my television, and my CD player. Other than that, it’s completely BAREN. I talked it over with him, I’m we’re both very excited to hang pictures and art all over the walls. I’m very excited to make this art to put on the walls.

Where we differ, is our bedrooms. His is very similar to Steven’s. Since I am such an expressive person, I have a hard time understanding how someone could find comfort in such an empty room. I am such a loud and outgoing person, that my room screams red tan and maroon. There’s art already on the walls, accompanied by my favorite movie and signed band posters. You walk into my bedroom, and you immediately know what my favorite color is, what my favorite bands are, and what my favorite movie is. Hell, you even know my clothing style, what my friend’s look like, and what I like to do (I have an entire desk FULL of art supplies).

You walk into Chad’s room, and you see his bed, his night stand and a computer desk. I live with the man, and see his everyday, and I still have 101 questions to ask.

What does that say about Chad and I? We’re complete opposites. I am a very in-your-face, hey-how-are-ya, I’m Matty B, welcome to my life, sort of guy. Chad on the other hand is very introverted, quiet and reserved. Although we’ve hit a few bumps in the road, I know that I’m going to learn a ton from this guy. Maybe how to be a bit more mysterious. Maybe he’ll learn to relax and lighten up a bit; have some fun, meet new people.

As far as personality goes, is it better to be upfront and honest with people? Perhaps a little “too” friendly? Or is it better to be reserved? Wait for people to talk to you, hold back and let the others live life aggressively?

Either way I think that you have to find a balance. Hopefully Chad will be that for me.

Matty B.

Bug-A-Boo

It’s interesting what people’s true intentions are. My most recent fling, Mark III (this is the third Mark that I’ve fooled around with in the past few months.) said to me last night,” Everyone’s always contradicting themselves. No one can keep an opinion.” And you know what? I have to agree with him. However, he was just saying that to get me to come over and have sex with him. Seemingly, it worked.

I was sitting at school working on a project, when his little “Connexion IM Window” popped up onto my screen. He started off by complimenting me, commenting my “decked out” profile, being mildly witty and humorous, while slipping in his little sexual innuendos. I immediately saw his game. Just like my Connexion profile says,” The only reason why you’re looking at my page, is either because you want to fuck me, or because you hate me.” Clearly it was the former.

I immediately told him that I was not looking for a hook-up. (It’s this new fad that I’m trying: not being a slut.) It was suggested that maybe I should consider possibly having a relationship. Apparently, my friends think that I should do more talking and learning about the man I‘m interested in, and less fucking. It seems that that’s the route to a healthy relationship; IE: not putting out on the first date.

You see, I don’t have a problem with relationships. In fact, I love being in them. I enjoy the idea of being able to rely on someone for something, even if it’s only accompaniment. The problem isn’t that I don’t want a relationship per say, I just have yet to meet anyone worth spending an extensive amount of time with. I’m having a hard enough time adjusting to the limited amount of time I’m spending with my roommate, Chad., much less nursing a new relationship.

After about an hour of talking, him attempting to seduce me (I found it incredibly amusing), and him beating around the bush, he just came out with it. He was cute and intelligent, and worked teaching theater to under-privileged kids, so this guy had to have a head on his shoulders. I told him to meet me in front of the Art Institute at 11:30pm.

He pulled up in a little red Tercel ( the same car my dear friend Ashley drives/ shares with me) and got out of the car. He was bigger than I was ( a little overweight, pretty hairy, defiantly bear-esque; but I was into it.), beautiful eyes, gorgeous smile, and this rugged masculine voice that gave me a stir in my little red briefs. We first talked about how he DID NOT want a relationship, and was just looking for someone regular to have come over. I wasn’t so sure about him, but we continued. We then talked about art and why I moved out so young (everyone asks), and after about half an hour I was getting tired, and asked to go home with him. He was thrilled.

So far, so good?

I get to his apartment, and the walls are painted all these different colors. I flash back to my grandma living in a downtown Boulder Co-Op. It feels like I should be getting ready to do yoga (considering every position I was in that night, I might as well have). He makes his bed, and we lie down to go to sleep. However, he had other plans.

The first thing that made me think twice was how he didn’t want me to take off my underwear. Not the weirdest fetish, but interesting nonetheless.

The second thing, was his back hair. I ignored it.

The third thing was how he (and I quote) “Am a totally natural guy. I use olive oil as a lubricant.” Wait- what?

I did NOT get fucked that night. Thank you, but oil will break down a condom and render it useless, as well as, I’m not a Brochette. I don’t need to be covered in oil and served to this Italian man.

Finally, I didn’t find it at all satisfying. His penis didn’t live up to the Italian name, and he was very awkward in bed. (although I am thin and look light, I am 6’4”, and NOT. You can’t just flip me any which way… I have long limbs) It was overall 2 ½ stars, and I don’t think that I would be into seeing him again.

The next morning we grabbed a coffee in the Panera Bread, that it’s underneath my apartment building. He immediately told me that he wanted to see me again. I stopped mid-sip. I turned to him and told him that even though he was a nice guy, had beautiful eyes, and was… interesting, he wasn’t my type. (I can’t see myself spending a lot of time with him, and in fact the time I did spend with him was borderline taupe. The overall experience was “all right”.)

The tables had turned. He suddenly wanted to date, and I suddenly did not. I found the entire situation kind of ironic and a little funny, until I checked my Connexion Inbox. Three emails in two hours telling me about how he wanted to see me again and had a great time. Compliments get you far with me, but you can’t persuade someone to be date you. ( I learned that the hard way)

It seems that when all I want is a hook up, all I get is a phone full of text messages and an inbox full of emails; while whenever I want to pursue dating someone, all I get is either no response, or a polite brush off (and then there are the emotionally unstable one’s that we won’t even get into).

So the question is:
Do I lower my standards and start dating someone that I don’t see/ want to have feelings for and just date, for the sake of dating? Or do I hold out for some interesting, beautiful person that may or may not exist?

Fully alive? (I love life)
Matty B.