"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.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
“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.
Matty B .
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.
Matty B .
Monday, October 20, 2008
“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.
Matty Beautiful
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.
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.
Matty Beautiful
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.
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.
Matty Beautiful
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.
Matty Beautiful
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
“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 theirskanky, 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.
Matty B.
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
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.
Matty B.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
“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.
Matty B.
“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.
Matty B.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
“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.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
The club was packed full. I hadn’t ever heard of the headlining DJ, so I spent most of my time on the roof deck, having drinks, and laughing with friends, while music from the billboard charts, were remixed and blared from the speakers. In fact, I didn’t spend any time listening to the music. Saturday at Vinyl was about me and my friends having fun, and letting loose. It was an opportunity to escape the gay scene, and spend time with people I really cared about.
The first thing he said to me was, “I’m cool with gay people. My friend is gay. I’m cool.”
I looked up from my drink, and raised my eyebrow at him, challenging. I replied, “Is that so? Well I’m glad you feel that way. I on the other hand, don’t have a taste for them, as a whole. I try to look past their sexual identity, and know the person behind the dick.”
He smiled. “I like you,” He said with a wink.
I laughed. “I figured you would.” I replied, as he sat down next to me.
“I’m Ortiz” He said.
“I’m Matty Beautiful”
“And you are.”
“Do you read my blog?” I said with a slight sneer.
Five minutes later, as I was finishing the drink he bought me, he introduced me to his four friends, that were coming over. Apparently, they were in the Navy, and on leave for a few days. I couldn’t help but laugh, and think to myself, of course they’re on leave. How convenient. An hour passed, and two of them latched on to my girl friends, while the other three boys talked to me, and posed for myspace pictures.
I felt Ortiz’s hand on my thigh, as we all positioned ourselves for the extensive amount of pictures Kara wanted to take. Apparently it was an oddity to my friends, how i managed to shmooze boys, even at one of the most notorious straight clubs. I was actually surprised myself, considering that I’ve been to Vinyl a hundred times, and hadn’t have this kind of luck. I also haven’t had huge blonde hair, so perhaps that played a little roll.
We went downstairs to the main floor. My fabulous friend Ms.Easy was dancing on a box, and yelled down to me. I reached up and gave her a hug. When I turned back around, I wasn’t accompanied by just Ortiz, but his two friends as well. I raised my eyebrow, and thought to myself, well this will be interesting.
I was the only person in my group that walked out of the club with a grin on my face. The disgruntled girls trudged behind me, jealous. I couldn’t help but smile. I ran over to Kara, grabbed her hand, and we drunkenly skipped and danced through downtown.
I sat down in the car, and closed my eyes. One hand on my back, one hand in the back pocket of my jeans, one hand on my neck, and another on my thigh. A soft kiss on the lips, in a crowd of rough people dancing. Hot breath in my ear, those drinks really started to kick. Both arms up, my body dancing side to side, smooth stomach exposed..
The car stopped, and my eyes jolted open. Kara was laughing at me. Apparently I was snoring like no one’s business. I laughed as I stumbled out of the car, and fumbled with my keys. I lied in my bed, and fell asleep instantly.
Satisfaction.
My gay friends always ask me how I “bag the straight guys”. To be completely honest, I have absolutely no idea. I think it’s because I don’t pretend and try to be this macho Abercrombie guy. I have feminine qualities about myself, that come completely naturally, and I think that those appeal to straight men. I always have my face on, and clear, perfectly air brushed features will attract anyone.
Don’t get me wrong, I frequently get the brunt end when it comes to my mannerisms. It’s frustrating when bitches at the club talk really loud about how their man doesn’t need make up to look gorgeous In reality, a little concealer would help with their patchy, red skin. As for those girls, I would be jealous too if I wore Claires eye shadow and NYC eyeliner. How embarrassing would it be to see a boy with better make up than you? Very.
While I may get a lot of shit from a lot of people (friends included), I think I’ve found a really happy medium: noticeably wearing make up, but not drag queen or tranny. What’s wrong with a boy being beautiful? Not a damn thing.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
“New York City! I Be The Mother Fuckin’ Greatest! Work It Out!”
I was reading the headlines on the CNN website this Wednesday afternoon while at work, and in the center of the page, was a story detailing the increase of visitors to New York City. Considering my love for the city, I had to click the link and see what all the fuss was about.
“Forget the Empire State Building. Some New York tourists are eager to see the city's other landmarks: Carrie's stoop, Charlotte's gallery and that restaurant where Samantha threw a martini in a boyfriend's face.”
The article was about how people all over the country, were paying thousands and thousands of dollars to book vacations, where they could lead the “lavish” lifestyles of the characters from Sex and the City. One vacation company even offered a four-day stay in a four star hotel that included, dinner at restaurants frequented by the SATC characters, shopping at their favorite boutiques with personal stylists, and the option of Botox injections.
As I finished reading the article, I sat there screening it, smiling to myself. I couldn’t help but to think of my own experiences in New York City. I think that you should always create your own adventure, when you travel somewhere distant. I remember the excitement of getting on the wrong train, the relief and relaxation of finally getting to my destination.
I stared off flying into Boston. Ashley and I thought that it would be cheaper to fly there, and then take a train to New York. Plus, we’d have the opportunity to see more than just the city, and it would feel more like an adventure. And it was.
I was there over a year ago, but I can still feel the buzz when I think about it. Waking up at 7:30am to get an espresso from Central Perk (yes, it exists), walking through the littered streets of the city all day, followed by lunch at Moonshine Café (where the character Mary Jane, from Spider Man, worked). My days were filled with little adventures. I never did the same thing twice, because I had too many opportunities to try something new and different. It was my first time experiencing a world outside of Colorado. I jumped at every new opportunity, and gladly took every wrong turn; always finding a new and exciting adventure.
Everyone warned me that I would experience culture shock, because I came from a mountain town, in the middle of a land locked state. They couldn’t have been more wrong. From the second I arrived, I knew that it was going to be the city that I wanted to spend the rest of my life in. The vibrancy of the colors of the people that lived there, and the thick, rich culture that surrounded you, was inspiring.
I dreamed of moving there as a child. I always knew that I would be bigger and better than the tin can that I grew up in. I look at my top friends on myspace, and have a sense of respect and admiration for the people that I see. People like Brett Ellis and Clint Catalyst really inspire me to be a unique, honest, and expressive person.
While I may love the indi-pop culture icons, I know that I have my own name to make in that world. Considering I live in a city and culture completely that’s vapid of original thought or individuality, I think that I’ve made an admirable impression.
How can you make a splash, if you’re stranded in a cultural desert?
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
"The Flower Said I Wish I Was a Tree, The Tree Said I Wish I Could Be, a Different Kind of Tree.-"
There’s something cleansing about an early morning rain. When I woke up this morning, I couldn’t help but feel a little refreshed, after taking a long hot shower. After toweling off and selecting my outfit from my closet, I turned to look outside to asses the weather. Wet. There’s a tree that grows in my neighbor’s yard that branches out right up to my window that drooped lazily under the weight of the freshly fallen rain.
Sometimes I lie in my bed and look out the window, and think about how I used to play in this old tree house when I was a kid. It’s easy to wish life was that simple, again. Getting mad when mom made us stop playing groundies on the play ground to come in and go to bed, or waking up early, because we knew my older brother CJ was going to come and visit us.
When I was a little kid, I always dreamed about growing up, and getting as far away as I could, always desperately trying to escape the clutches of my crazed mother. Little did I know, with adult hood came adult responsibilities and adult feelings. In a matter of years I went from hide and seek in our yard, to hiding from ex-boyfriends, and seeking new ones, at the club.
I’m not playing in a completely different fantasy land, though. I’m living in a world, where people are pretending that they are celebrities, and lead this fabulous, gaudy, luxurious lifestyles. In reality, they’re just sluts, and have fucked everybody. My mystical back yard has broadened to Cheeseman Park, the club scene, and house parties. I’ve just traded my super hero powers for the power of persuasion and gossip. Now, the dragons I used to battle as a kid have grown into skinny white boys that wear knock off Burberry, and drive their mommy’s convertible.
I thought by dating someone a bit older than I normally do, I would find someone that had more substance, and lived their life down here on earth. What I found, was a little too much substance.
He was smart, funny, very clearly successful (judging by his convertible BMW, his Dolce and Gabanna jeans), but I just didn’t feel that spark. He was significantly more educated than me on current international events, and considerably more traveled. Then again, who isn’t? I’ve only had to opportunity to leave Colorado once. It’s a challenge to gain worldly experience when you’re land locked in state full of heterosexual Caucasian Christians, who think by going to church every week, they make up for their secret methamphetamine addiction and solicited homosexual affairs with prostitutes. Sound about right, Reverend Ted Haggard?
Yesterday afternoon, he drove us to a very inconspicuous Chinese food restaurant a few miles east of downtown, on Broadway. While the food was delicious (it actually might have been the Chinese food I have ever had), I felt like I was Carrie, when a date of hers would take her to a very seedy restaurant that was filled with what she later realized, were married men. I didn’t mind, however. It was private and quiet, where we had the opportunity to talk.
Mere minutes into talking, I knew that I wasn’t quite at his level. This, we both recognized, was because of the significant age gap. (He’s three years younger than my mom… making him 34) As much as I consider myself to be mature and experienced with men (and life), it took someone with his mind to bring me back down to earth. I’ve been living in my own fantasy world, where I thought that I was this smart, educated boy beyond his years, where I considered to know a lot about what’s going on in the world. After being lost in his conversation for a few moments, I realized that I had started slipping into thinking like the every gay man I hate.
We drove back to his house, where we hugged, and parted ways. I sat in my jeep for a moment, thinking about how vapid I must have sounded, talking about indi-pop bands, and the salon I worked for. I stopped at Diedrichs on my way home to grab a non-fat white mocha, and spend some time by myself. It had started to rain, and all I wanted was to sit on the patio, smoke a cigarette, drink my favorite cozy beverage, and watch it pour.
A smiled at the barista’s cute attempt at flirting with me when I ordered my drink, but I was in no mood to play cute little hipster. It was strange. For the first time in as far as I could remember, I felt that I wasn’t intelligent enough for someone. It definitely sent me for a loop, and sparked some inner thought. I thanked him, said goodbye, and left him with a wink and a smile.
I sat on the patio for over an hour, blithely staring into the rain, lost in thought. Here I was, wanting more out of people, and the minute I meet that someone who has more, I am completely overwhelmed. It was almost amusing how I’ve turned into a modern day Goldilocks (platinum hair and all). This boy is too hot. This man is too old. This bed is too small… Well the chair at Diedrichs was just right.
You can call me picky if you will, but I think it’s imperative to be as selective as possible while dating. You can’t force something that’s not right. You have to meet someone that is on the same level as you, otherwise it just won’t work. I’m not ready to have a big adult job, with a fancy car. I don’t want to have to live with the OCD of wearing all designer names, all the time. I still want to get dirty when I play with my brothers, and mess up my credit. I think I need to take a step back, and enjoy being 18 for a while. I can have a fabulous apartment and shiny mid-life crisis car… when my mid life comes. Until then, I’ll be fabulous driving around in a car I can afford, living the life of a teenager.
I guess this fisherman will have to look for younger fish in the sea. (If you can call Denver a sea, that is.)
Matty B.
There’s something cleansing about an early morning rain. When I woke up this morning, I couldn’t help but feel a little refreshed, after taking a long hot shower. After toweling off and selecting my outfit from my closet, I turned to look outside to asses the weather. Wet. There’s a tree that grows in my neighbor’s yard that branches out right up to my window that drooped lazily under the weight of the freshly fallen rain.
Sometimes I lie in my bed and look out the window, and think about how I used to play in this old tree house when I was a kid. It’s easy to wish life was that simple, again. Getting mad when mom made us stop playing groundies on the play ground to come in and go to bed, or waking up early, because we knew my older brother CJ was going to come and visit us.
When I was a little kid, I always dreamed about growing up, and getting as far away as I could, always desperately trying to escape the clutches of my crazed mother. Little did I know, with adult hood came adult responsibilities and adult feelings. In a matter of years I went from hide and seek in our yard, to hiding from ex-boyfriends, and seeking new ones, at the club.
I’m not playing in a completely different fantasy land, though. I’m living in a world, where people are pretending that they are celebrities, and lead this fabulous, gaudy, luxurious lifestyles. In reality, they’re just sluts, and have fucked everybody. My mystical back yard has broadened to Cheeseman Park, the club scene, and house parties. I’ve just traded my super hero powers for the power of persuasion and gossip. Now, the dragons I used to battle as a kid have grown into skinny white boys that wear knock off Burberry, and drive their mommy’s convertible.
I thought by dating someone a bit older than I normally do, I would find someone that had more substance, and lived their life down here on earth. What I found, was a little too much substance.
He was smart, funny, very clearly successful (judging by his convertible BMW, his Dolce and Gabanna jeans), but I just didn’t feel that spark. He was significantly more educated than me on current international events, and considerably more traveled. Then again, who isn’t? I’ve only had to opportunity to leave Colorado once. It’s a challenge to gain worldly experience when you’re land locked in state full of heterosexual Caucasian Christians, who think by going to church every week, they make up for their secret methamphetamine addiction and solicited homosexual affairs with prostitutes. Sound about right, Reverend Ted Haggard?
Yesterday afternoon, he drove us to a very inconspicuous Chinese food restaurant a few miles east of downtown, on Broadway. While the food was delicious (it actually might have been the Chinese food I have ever had), I felt like I was Carrie, when a date of hers would take her to a very seedy restaurant that was filled with what she later realized, were married men. I didn’t mind, however. It was private and quiet, where we had the opportunity to talk.
Mere minutes into talking, I knew that I wasn’t quite at his level. This, we both recognized, was because of the significant age gap. (He’s three years younger than my mom… making him 34) As much as I consider myself to be mature and experienced with men (and life), it took someone with his mind to bring me back down to earth. I’ve been living in my own fantasy world, where I thought that I was this smart, educated boy beyond his years, where I considered to know a lot about what’s going on in the world. After being lost in his conversation for a few moments, I realized that I had started slipping into thinking like the every gay man I hate.
We drove back to his house, where we hugged, and parted ways. I sat in my jeep for a moment, thinking about how vapid I must have sounded, talking about indi-pop bands, and the salon I worked for. I stopped at Diedrichs on my way home to grab a non-fat white mocha, and spend some time by myself. It had started to rain, and all I wanted was to sit on the patio, smoke a cigarette, drink my favorite cozy beverage, and watch it pour.
A smiled at the barista’s cute attempt at flirting with me when I ordered my drink, but I was in no mood to play cute little hipster. It was strange. For the first time in as far as I could remember, I felt that I wasn’t intelligent enough for someone. It definitely sent me for a loop, and sparked some inner thought. I thanked him, said goodbye, and left him with a wink and a smile.
I sat on the patio for over an hour, blithely staring into the rain, lost in thought. Here I was, wanting more out of people, and the minute I meet that someone who has more, I am completely overwhelmed. It was almost amusing how I’ve turned into a modern day Goldilocks (platinum hair and all). This boy is too hot. This man is too old. This bed is too small… Well the chair at Diedrichs was just right.
You can call me picky if you will, but I think it’s imperative to be as selective as possible while dating. You can’t force something that’s not right. You have to meet someone that is on the same level as you, otherwise it just won’t work. I’m not ready to have a big adult job, with a fancy car. I don’t want to have to live with the OCD of wearing all designer names, all the time. I still want to get dirty when I play with my brothers, and mess up my credit. I think I need to take a step back, and enjoy being 18 for a while. I can have a fabulous apartment and shiny mid-life crisis car… when my mid life comes. Until then, I’ll be fabulous driving around in a car I can afford, living the life of a teenager.
I guess this fisherman will have to look for younger fish in the sea. (If you can call Denver a sea, that is.)
Matty B.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
"Clumsy"
The weather today was cold and moist. Snow fell from the sky like large, wet kisses, landing on my cheek and nose. I pulled my scarf around my neck, and wrapped my coat tightly around my body. I fumbled with the keys to the salon, as I tried to balance today’s newspaper, a venti non-fat white mocha, my iPod, and my makeup kit, all in one hand. After resting the contents of my arms onto the front desk, flicked on all the lights, and began my daily routine.
The quiet of the empty salon is calming. I like to come in early so that I can make a daily agenda for myself, and take my time preparing for a busy day. After I empty the dishwasher, count the cash, and complete my confirmation calls, I often stand on the balcony that overlooks the outdoor mall, and drink a piping hot cup of coffee, while I smoke a cigarette.
During down time, I chatted up my friend TC, whom I’ve been mildly hitting on over the past few months. I find that the furthest I get with someone is usually flirtatious texting, and a few dates. I rely a lot on my clever wording and witty banter, which are more often than not; lost on the person I’m talking to. For instance, I’ve been talking and seeing Vad for months, but it never developed into something sustainable. Between my heavy dance schedule/ full time job, and his master’s degree, we just never have the opportunity to see each other. This is a complete shame, because he’s a wonderful man, that I love spending time with.
This of course isn’t an isolated situation. I meet someone really great and fun to be around, we totally hit it off, and then we just drift apart. I don’t necessarily consider myself to be pessimistic. I just would hope that someone could maintain an interest in me past the bedroom. What’s more pressing, is that I have yet to meet someone that holds my interest .
tayranrichardson You just haven’t found the right one!
MattyBeautiful: something to that degree
tayranrichardson (3:38:29 PM): So what else is going on? Are you talking to any boys at least?
MattyBeautiful (3:38:46 PM): I talk to plenty of boys. Nothing seems to out.
MattyBeautiful (3:39:02 PM): just horn dogs usually
tayranrichardson (3:39:21 PM): I totally get that...
MattyBeautiful (3:39:37 PM): it happens. I’m 18, tall, and blonde. That’s what people see.
tayranrichardson (3:40:24 PM): Maybe that’s what you portray
MattyBeautiful (3:40:44 PM): Have you read my profile? Better yet, have you read my blog? I think people will see what they want, regardless of how I try to portray myself.
As I got ready to leave for the day, I thought to myself about what TC and I had talked about. Maybe I’m not portraying myself in the right way. I spend a lot of time evaluating how I am perceived by others, so as to better my character. Maybe the trick is to stop putting so much pressure on how others see me, and focus a little more on how I see me.
Maybe then I’ll see someone worth seeing.
Matty B.
The weather today was cold and moist. Snow fell from the sky like large, wet kisses, landing on my cheek and nose. I pulled my scarf around my neck, and wrapped my coat tightly around my body. I fumbled with the keys to the salon, as I tried to balance today’s newspaper, a venti non-fat white mocha, my iPod, and my makeup kit, all in one hand. After resting the contents of my arms onto the front desk, flicked on all the lights, and began my daily routine.
The quiet of the empty salon is calming. I like to come in early so that I can make a daily agenda for myself, and take my time preparing for a busy day. After I empty the dishwasher, count the cash, and complete my confirmation calls, I often stand on the balcony that overlooks the outdoor mall, and drink a piping hot cup of coffee, while I smoke a cigarette.
During down time, I chatted up my friend TC, whom I’ve been mildly hitting on over the past few months. I find that the furthest I get with someone is usually flirtatious texting, and a few dates. I rely a lot on my clever wording and witty banter, which are more often than not; lost on the person I’m talking to. For instance, I’ve been talking and seeing Vad for months, but it never developed into something sustainable. Between my heavy dance schedule/ full time job, and his master’s degree, we just never have the opportunity to see each other. This is a complete shame, because he’s a wonderful man, that I love spending time with.
This of course isn’t an isolated situation. I meet someone really great and fun to be around, we totally hit it off, and then we just drift apart. I don’t necessarily consider myself to be pessimistic. I just would hope that someone could maintain an interest in me past the bedroom. What’s more pressing, is that I have yet to meet someone that holds my interest .
tayranrichardson You just haven’t found the right one!
MattyBeautiful: something to that degree
tayranrichardson (3:38:29 PM): So what else is going on? Are you talking to any boys at least?
MattyBeautiful (3:38:46 PM): I talk to plenty of boys. Nothing seems to out.
MattyBeautiful (3:39:02 PM): just horn dogs usually
tayranrichardson (3:39:21 PM): I totally get that...
MattyBeautiful (3:39:37 PM): it happens. I’m 18, tall, and blonde. That’s what people see.
tayranrichardson (3:40:24 PM): Maybe that’s what you portray
MattyBeautiful (3:40:44 PM): Have you read my profile? Better yet, have you read my blog? I think people will see what they want, regardless of how I try to portray myself.
As I got ready to leave for the day, I thought to myself about what TC and I had talked about. Maybe I’m not portraying myself in the right way. I spend a lot of time evaluating how I am perceived by others, so as to better my character. Maybe the trick is to stop putting so much pressure on how others see me, and focus a little more on how I see me.
Maybe then I’ll see someone worth seeing.
Matty B.
Monday, April 28, 2008
"I Make Them Boys Go Loco. What Want My Treasure, So They Get Their Pleasure From My Photos."
I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t like attention from men. We all know that I am the epitome of a Leo, and love my share of spotlight and attention. Recently, I’ve found that my personality and lifestyle is very similar to my good friend, Kyle. While, yes, we may post a few shirtless pictures here and there, we don’t hook up with people off the internet, like most gay men do. This morning for instance, I had six new emails complimenting me. When I graciously thanked them, and politely notified them that I don’t have sex with just anyone, they become defensive, and sometimes rude.
MattyB.: I don’t hook up with people.
N***: What will it take?
MattyB.: To have sex with me? You have to date me.
MattyB.: I’m not like other gay guys, believe it or not.
N***: That's fine with me. Anything for you.
MattyB.: ...You’re in a relationship
N***: That's pretty much over…
MattyB.: How convenient.
It’s not that I think that I’m above them, or a prude. I just try to keep my body, as well as my mind, as safe as possible. While the fact that it’s less interesting to read about, is moot. I figure with all the crazy situations I find myself in, my life plot is engaging enough with out the midnight romps.
Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of sexual conquests as a crazy young teenager, like we all have. And I’m not saying that I don’t have sex… because (as you read) I do. I just don’t troll the internet and bars finding beefcakes with big dicks to fuck me. It’s demeaning, being a piece of meat. However, I find that I’ve grown and have matured past the mindless hook ups and midnight booty calls. I guess I don’t need the sexual satisfaction to validate the way I feel about how I look, or my body. Instead, I save it for people that I actually want to share my body with. When you see a picture of me suggesting nudity, it’s because I want to share the way I feel in that moment, with you. Not because I want to get pounded.
I was talking to Brady last night about how he was thinking about how he was considering becoming a stripper, when he moved to Colorado Springs. I was a bit taken aback, to say the least. First, he is in a steady relationship with Doni (who I find a hoot). Second, he doesn’t quite have that… desperation, that you need. Finally, he’s not much of a dancer. I mean, he can bop back and forth, wiggle his hips, and groove to the music, just fine. However, when it comes to strutting on stage naked… that takes a certain flair.
It’s hard to see the ones you care about lead a lifestyle that you don’t’ necessarily agree with. Especially, when they are traveling down a road that you know too well. I wouldn’t wish any part of my past upon anyone. I tried to talk him out of it, but we both know that he is a hard headed scorpio, and will have to make his own decisions in life. All I can do is be here to hold his hand, when he needs it.
I guess that’s what love is. Or at least the closest I’ve came to it.
XXO Matty B.
I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t like attention from men. We all know that I am the epitome of a Leo, and love my share of spotlight and attention. Recently, I’ve found that my personality and lifestyle is very similar to my good friend, Kyle. While, yes, we may post a few shirtless pictures here and there, we don’t hook up with people off the internet, like most gay men do. This morning for instance, I had six new emails complimenting me. When I graciously thanked them, and politely notified them that I don’t have sex with just anyone, they become defensive, and sometimes rude.
MattyB.: I don’t hook up with people.
N***: What will it take?
MattyB.: To have sex with me? You have to date me.
MattyB.: I’m not like other gay guys, believe it or not.
N***: That's fine with me. Anything for you.
MattyB.: ...You’re in a relationship
N***: That's pretty much over…
MattyB.: How convenient.
It’s not that I think that I’m above them, or a prude. I just try to keep my body, as well as my mind, as safe as possible. While the fact that it’s less interesting to read about, is moot. I figure with all the crazy situations I find myself in, my life plot is engaging enough with out the midnight romps.
Don’t get me wrong, I have had my share of sexual conquests as a crazy young teenager, like we all have. And I’m not saying that I don’t have sex… because (as you read) I do. I just don’t troll the internet and bars finding beefcakes with big dicks to fuck me. It’s demeaning, being a piece of meat. However, I find that I’ve grown and have matured past the mindless hook ups and midnight booty calls. I guess I don’t need the sexual satisfaction to validate the way I feel about how I look, or my body. Instead, I save it for people that I actually want to share my body with. When you see a picture of me suggesting nudity, it’s because I want to share the way I feel in that moment, with you. Not because I want to get pounded.
I was talking to Brady last night about how he was thinking about how he was considering becoming a stripper, when he moved to Colorado Springs. I was a bit taken aback, to say the least. First, he is in a steady relationship with Doni (who I find a hoot). Second, he doesn’t quite have that… desperation, that you need. Finally, he’s not much of a dancer. I mean, he can bop back and forth, wiggle his hips, and groove to the music, just fine. However, when it comes to strutting on stage naked… that takes a certain flair.
It’s hard to see the ones you care about lead a lifestyle that you don’t’ necessarily agree with. Especially, when they are traveling down a road that you know too well. I wouldn’t wish any part of my past upon anyone. I tried to talk him out of it, but we both know that he is a hard headed scorpio, and will have to make his own decisions in life. All I can do is be here to hold his hand, when he needs it.
I guess that’s what love is. Or at least the closest I’ve came to it.
XXO Matty B.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
“Straight Boys… Where You At? (I’m A Boyfreind Kleptomaniac.)”
Everyone knows that the big and beautiful men with gorgeous golden muscles and bright white smiles secretly love the hipster, alternative boys. I mean look at the amount of profile hits I’ve had today. First of all it’s a Tuesday, and I already have 108 profile views (that’s a lot for this website. i'm the 25th most viewed profile on the entire site, internationally)… and it’s only 8pm! Not to mention my myspace profile, where collectively I have had over 50,000 profile views, since I started a few years ago.
While we may love their tight abs and broad shoulders, we all know that they love our long thin frame, and decisively placed piercings. You know our type. Black straight leg pants, slip on Vans, big hair (full of extensions), fake eyelashes, thick black liner, and brightly colored vintage t-shirts that harmonize with our eclectic and seemingly sporadic tattoos.
It’s not a surprise that guys like us have a mutual admiration for each other. Opposites attract, right? It’s only because of today’s “ideal of beauty” as to why you don’t typically see such different people together.
I recently received an email on connexion from the epitome of the “Abercrombie Gay Male.” He’s 19, 6’, 190 lbs, has washboard abs, and a big beautiful chest, to match his big beautiful smile. It’s funny because I expected his profile to read the exact same as every other guy that looks like him, and messages me. It’s boring to see that your only interests are: “hott bois, workin out, fast cars, sex, not really into the club scene, but still go for hott bois.”
When I went over to his page, I was mildly intrigued by what he had to say. Apparently he’s in school majoring in communication, and has a fairly developed musical taste. I noticed and was thrilled to see that he was a fan of “good” indie-pop. (You would be surprised how much terrible indie music is out there.) He even listed that he was a movie freak, which would be a future conversation starter.
I read the first email he sent to me that said,” Ur too fucking cute.”
Normally, an email like that would come from a 50 year old man, a crack head crystal queen, or the big meaty beef cakes. Usually, I disregarded them, and replied with a simple yet curt, “thank you.” I find the in most cases; people just want to fuck me. As flattering as that may be, at the end of the day, you just feel like a used piece of meat. However today, I was feeling a bit audacious, and emailed him back.
We emailed back and forth a couple of times about what we do and what not. I dance for two companies, and work full time at a salon. He works out and goes to school. I often don’t tell people that I frequent the gym for a couple reasons. (I consider 4 days a week frequent) It’s mostly because I don’t have a six pack, or perfectly etched pecs. However, I’m not necessarily going to the gym to have that perfect body. While EVERY GAY MAN wants that beautiful body of an Adonis, I mainly go to help boost my health. Not only do I sleep better at night, but it’s also helping me to quit smoking, and repair the damage I did as result of on my previously unhealthy lifestyle. Not to mention that it also boosts my self esteem when I see the pounds melt off the scale.
I was interrupted from chatting with him, because I had to actually do my job (god forbid!), which temporarily ended our conversation. This gave me time to collect my wit, and prepare to be charming, yet delightfully hilarious.
I’m sitting here at my desk thinking about guys that I’ve dated in the past that looked like him. Jason was dumber than a box of bleached hair (and that’s putting it lightly). Jeremy wasn’t much of a thinker either. Who doesn’t know which direction is west? I mean, come on. Work with me!
I’m not going to put to much pressure on anything, though. My profile says I’m not looking for anyone for a reason… because I’m not. If someone happens to find me, fabulous. If it happens to come from that, bonus.
All I know is that I’m looking for a part time lover and a full time friend. I don’t have much time or energy for much else, these days.
Matty B.
Everyone knows that the big and beautiful men with gorgeous golden muscles and bright white smiles secretly love the hipster, alternative boys. I mean look at the amount of profile hits I’ve had today. First of all it’s a Tuesday, and I already have 108 profile views (that’s a lot for this website. i'm the 25th most viewed profile on the entire site, internationally)… and it’s only 8pm! Not to mention my myspace profile, where collectively I have had over 50,000 profile views, since I started a few years ago.
While we may love their tight abs and broad shoulders, we all know that they love our long thin frame, and decisively placed piercings. You know our type. Black straight leg pants, slip on Vans, big hair (full of extensions), fake eyelashes, thick black liner, and brightly colored vintage t-shirts that harmonize with our eclectic and seemingly sporadic tattoos.
It’s not a surprise that guys like us have a mutual admiration for each other. Opposites attract, right? It’s only because of today’s “ideal of beauty” as to why you don’t typically see such different people together.
I recently received an email on connexion from the epitome of the “Abercrombie Gay Male.” He’s 19, 6’, 190 lbs, has washboard abs, and a big beautiful chest, to match his big beautiful smile. It’s funny because I expected his profile to read the exact same as every other guy that looks like him, and messages me. It’s boring to see that your only interests are: “hott bois, workin out, fast cars, sex, not really into the club scene, but still go for hott bois.”
When I went over to his page, I was mildly intrigued by what he had to say. Apparently he’s in school majoring in communication, and has a fairly developed musical taste. I noticed and was thrilled to see that he was a fan of “good” indie-pop. (You would be surprised how much terrible indie music is out there.) He even listed that he was a movie freak, which would be a future conversation starter.
I read the first email he sent to me that said,” Ur too fucking cute.”
Normally, an email like that would come from a 50 year old man, a crack head crystal queen, or the big meaty beef cakes. Usually, I disregarded them, and replied with a simple yet curt, “thank you.” I find the in most cases; people just want to fuck me. As flattering as that may be, at the end of the day, you just feel like a used piece of meat. However today, I was feeling a bit audacious, and emailed him back.
We emailed back and forth a couple of times about what we do and what not. I dance for two companies, and work full time at a salon. He works out and goes to school. I often don’t tell people that I frequent the gym for a couple reasons. (I consider 4 days a week frequent) It’s mostly because I don’t have a six pack, or perfectly etched pecs. However, I’m not necessarily going to the gym to have that perfect body. While EVERY GAY MAN wants that beautiful body of an Adonis, I mainly go to help boost my health. Not only do I sleep better at night, but it’s also helping me to quit smoking, and repair the damage I did as result of on my previously unhealthy lifestyle. Not to mention that it also boosts my self esteem when I see the pounds melt off the scale.
I was interrupted from chatting with him, because I had to actually do my job (god forbid!), which temporarily ended our conversation. This gave me time to collect my wit, and prepare to be charming, yet delightfully hilarious.
I’m sitting here at my desk thinking about guys that I’ve dated in the past that looked like him. Jason was dumber than a box of bleached hair (and that’s putting it lightly). Jeremy wasn’t much of a thinker either. Who doesn’t know which direction is west? I mean, come on. Work with me!
I’m not going to put to much pressure on anything, though. My profile says I’m not looking for anyone for a reason… because I’m not. If someone happens to find me, fabulous. If it happens to come from that, bonus.
All I know is that I’m looking for a part time lover and a full time friend. I don’t have much time or energy for much else, these days.
Matty B.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
"I See Right Through To You."
I was drinking abottle glass of wine, when an IC screen popped up, while I was checking my email on connexion. A very attractive man that lives in NYC/LA. one of the first things he said was, “ you are a special person.” Naturally, I was intrigued, and told him to continue.
We spent about an hour talking about me. He just rattled off what he thought (or as he said “felt”) about me, and my life. I of course, thought that he was just another loyal reader, who was regurgitating information that they read on my blog, trying to impress me. Until I read this:
*****: your mom's twin died young?
MattyB.: how on earth did you know that?
MattyB.: i've never written about that.
I had this pit in my stomach that dropped. Robbie, my mom’s twin (whom my little brother is named after) died when he was four, which devastated my grandma. It quintessentially de-railed her entire life, literally, until the day I was born. She completely abandoned her family, because she was so beside herself with grief. Both of my uncles don’t speak with her because of this reckless abandonment. There have been periods of time where my mother hasn’t spoken to her, even though she has more than made up for the lost time, by helping her raise me and my little brother.
We continued to talk until late in the night. He basically painted a picture about how CJ and I’s relationship went from day one, until this very day. There is no doubt in anyone’s mind that I loved him whole heartedly. Which is why it probably ended so poorly the first time. I felt that I couldn’t ever have that same un restrained love that I was more than willing to share with him.
*****: you protected him
*****: cared for him
MattyB.: you have no idea.
*****: wait
*****: did you ever feel he got high so that he
could be with you?
*****: and then not remember
MattyB.: i feel that it was easier for him to cope with.
MattyB.: .. this is actually kind of a rough subject for
me.
I almost felt tears welling up inside of me. I had never talked to anyone about ho I had felt about CJ, to anyone. Not even CJ. Not even myself.
People don’t quite understand what it means to have a relationship with me. I didn’t have an opportunity to have a strong family connection while I was growing up. I always relied and depended on my friends to be my support system, my family. All of my friends know that. I spend all of my time talking to and spending time with them. Everyone knows that I have a very tight-knit group, that I spend LITERALLY all of my time with. I treat my friends as my pseudo family.
I don’t know what it is.
I have a little more searching to do I guess.
Matty B.
I was drinking a
We spent about an hour talking about me. He just rattled off what he thought (or as he said “felt”) about me, and my life. I of course, thought that he was just another loyal reader, who was regurgitating information that they read on my blog, trying to impress me. Until I read this:
*****: your mom's twin died young?
MattyB.: how on earth did you know that?
MattyB.: i've never written about that.
I had this pit in my stomach that dropped. Robbie, my mom’s twin (whom my little brother is named after) died when he was four, which devastated my grandma. It quintessentially de-railed her entire life, literally, until the day I was born. She completely abandoned her family, because she was so beside herself with grief. Both of my uncles don’t speak with her because of this reckless abandonment. There have been periods of time where my mother hasn’t spoken to her, even though she has more than made up for the lost time, by helping her raise me and my little brother.
We continued to talk until late in the night. He basically painted a picture about how CJ and I’s relationship went from day one, until this very day. There is no doubt in anyone’s mind that I loved him whole heartedly. Which is why it probably ended so poorly the first time. I felt that I couldn’t ever have that same un restrained love that I was more than willing to share with him.
*****: you protected him
*****: cared for him
MattyB.: you have no idea.
*****: wait
*****: did you ever feel he got high so that he
could be with you?
*****: and then not remember
MattyB.: i feel that it was easier for him to cope with.
MattyB.: .. this is actually kind of a rough subject for
me.
I almost felt tears welling up inside of me. I had never talked to anyone about ho I had felt about CJ, to anyone. Not even CJ. Not even myself.
People don’t quite understand what it means to have a relationship with me. I didn’t have an opportunity to have a strong family connection while I was growing up. I always relied and depended on my friends to be my support system, my family. All of my friends know that. I spend all of my time talking to and spending time with them. Everyone knows that I have a very tight-knit group, that I spend LITERALLY all of my time with. I treat my friends as my pseudo family.
I don’t know what it is.
I have a little more searching to do I guess.
Matty B.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
”I’ve Got My Hair Fixed, Makeup Done, I’m Ready To Go. I Walk In the Club, and You Know I’m The Show-“
The Marquee was packed. Chelsea and I arrived a comfortable (and fashionable) 45 minutes late. No need to show up when the doors open. The last thing I need is to shit in an empty auditorium downtown, looking like I have nothing better to do. When we arrived, we walked up to the will call booth to pick up our tickets. Moments later, we were passing by security guards, and walking up to my very fabulous friend Rock Star Aaron, (very popular and noted Denver DJ) who happened to be one of the hosts of the event. After someone (that neither one of us knew) snapped a photograph or two, I bid him farewell, and scoped the place out with my new favorite person, Chelsea. Not moments later did we run into a crowd of my adult (21+) friends, drinking brightly colored drinks in wide rimmed glasses. I was thrilled to have people over the age of 16 recognize me, and bombard me with hugs, for once.
Chelsea and I met at the salon that I work for, Fix. She not only is my direct supervisor, but is also the owner’s daughter. She’s tall, thin, fierce, and has the most beautiful wavy platinum and blonde extensions. In many ways, she is the “Skipper” to my “Ken”. She is a huge fan of the band “the Chain Gang on 1974”, who happened to be playing with my favorite band Jeffree Star. Naturally we were stoked, and HAD to go together. We even planned matching outfits.
Every band that played that night was even better live. The crowd was screaming, the music was blaring, it was easily the best live performance I have ever seen. And in the Marquee, no less! Right before Jeffree came onto the stage, a very familiar song started to blare from the speakers. “Spice Up Your Life” by the Spice Girls blasted all around you, as he came out onto the stage. I turned to look at my posse of friends, and you could see the thrill and excitement in their expression. By the time Jeffree had finished his first song, the entire crowd was in complete and udder awe. His hair was bright pink, his clothes were tight. The band that was playing for him, and doing back up vocals Electric Valentine were dressed in tight black straight leg pants, and rocked glitter accessories that matched their make up. It was a beautiful sight to see.
After Jeffree Star and Electric Valentine finished their set, I made my way over to the merchandise tables, to meet and greet with him. A few minutes later I was standing with the lead singer of Chain Gang, Kam, and was talking to him and his girlfriend Chelsea, about live music and upcoming shows that they were going to have. Suddenly, I get a small tap on my shoulder. As I turned around, it was a small group of 14-16 year old kids wearing plastic beaded bracelet’s, with big smiles and sweaty faces.
The tallest (and I assume oldest) of the group sheepishly stepped forward, and said very quietly,” Are you Matty B.eautiful?”
I smiled and said,” I am! And who might you be, little one?”
She turned to her friends, blushed and giggled; then said “I’m Daisy. This is Eric, Jem, Kiki- (the list continues, but I regrettably couldn’t, for the life of me, remember all of their names.) Could we get a picture with you?”
I laughed and said “Of course you can.”
They all huddled around me, and one of the girls fumbled with their digital camera. Soon, I was posing for photos with each one individually. 5 minutes and what seemed like 100 kids later, I was thanked with a hug (that left a makeup stain on my shirt), and they were gone. I turned back to the merchandise booth and looked at Chelsea, who was smiling and laughing.
When i was 16, i would frequent parties and raves, which soon led me to become a dancer for two major production companies. In a matter of months, I was dancing on stage for some of the world's bigget DJ's. Trajjik, Heavygrinder, Icey, Miss Lisa, I started spending the weekends with fabulous people who loved music as much as i did. I was working at a bakery, wearing flour stained aprons by day, and dancing my heart out on stage, wearing hot pink booty shorts by night. I suppose that was the very beginning of a B.eautiful revolution.
I spent every waking moment studying pop culture. From listening to Millionaires and Jeffree Star, to studying his and Raquel Reed's photographs, so that i could further develop my make up artistry skills. I wanted to live and be that life: a living easel that could be explored, colored, cut, coped and experienced. I spend my life living and breathing art, whether it is through dance, writing, photography, or being photographed… I live and breathe art.
Naturally, spending so much time submerged in the hipster culture scene, I’ve learned and picked up a few things. I may not necessarily live in California, New York, or Miami, but I think it’s important to be knowledgeable of popular hot spots, and trendy places to be, if I happen to find myself in a situation where I have to opportunity to network.
ChrisCashe: omg, did u go to tracks last night?
MattyB.: i didn't, i rarely go to tracks these days
ChrisCashe: i went with 2 friends, and met up with a few others. and got kicked out after being there for 2 hours. it sucked. almost got arrested for underage drinking. lol I was buzzzin hard and talked my way out of it.
MattyB.: Well the Denver PD are push overs. (plus they love some drunken twink ass)
ChrisCashe: yeah it sucked . and i saw my ex there flaunting sthit around
MattyB.: That's what tracks is about. Seeing exes and flaunting shit. Well, that and being groped by their employees.
ChrisCashe: i'm so not from colorado
MattyB.: where are you from?
ChrisCashe: I'm from Oklahoma
MattyB.: did you used to go to the Wreck Room?
ChrisCashe: I had plans to go with a bunch of friends, but left before I could. You know about Oklahoma?
MattyB.: i know everything.
ChrisCashe: lol whatever! have u been to OKC or something/?
MattyB.: no i've never been
ChrisCashe: omg how did u know about it!!!!!!!!!!!!! hhahaha!
MattyB.: i've been told that i'm "just one of those people who just know everything about everyone." ;)
ChrisCashe: that's what i hear.
After all the bands played, Chelsea and I invited Kam and his girlfriend Chelsea to go to Denver Diner with us. They were stoked, and insisted on coming… right after they loaded their truck. We had a few drinks at the bar next door, while we waited for them to finish. About 45 minutes later, Chelsea called me, and told us that they were about done. When we went out front to meet them, Jeffree was just leaving his tour bus with a gaggle of tattooed gays. Behind him, was his manager MissE, who was desperately looking for a light for her cigarette. A thanks, a wink, and a pearly white smile later, we stood there and talked about live music for almost an hour. MissE was not only a super cool chick (it was her birthday that night!), but she was also down to earth, telling me about some of her and Jeffree’s secret inside stories about their tour that they had. I laughed out loud when she told me that he’s been arrested for assault SEVEN times, and that she budgeted bail money into their tour expenses.
Around 2am, I bid her farewell, after promising her that I would myspace her the next day, and get information about them playing on the Hurley Stage during Warped Tour. Apparently, we “had to get with her, so that we can party together!” She even told me a few trade secrets about how to get back stage, which I plan to utilize.
To top off the night, as we were walking away, we ran into the two members of Electric Valentine, and gushed about how amazing they were on stage. They were more than happy to give us their 3 Song EP Demo Disc and a hug, before we trotted off to Denver Diner to meet Kam and Chelsea.
On the drive back home, Chels and I blasted Electric Valentine’s “All I Wanted” from the litte speakers in her Scion. She was sitting in the passenger seat looking at the T-Shirts we got, and chatting about how we have to continue to see these small venue shows. In all honesty I have to agree. When an artist is performing at a smaller venue, it’s almost like they are trying harder. And it definitely shows.
Having that close intimate connection with someone, while they’re sharing their music with you… is the beauty of live performance. I know that I’m always giving it my all when I’m dancing on stage, always trying to give more and more of myself, even when there is nothing left. That’s what makes a great performer, in my opinion. Always looking for more, and always giving more.
Maybe I just have a soft spot for people in the lime light. Maybe I have a soft spot for artists. Either way, it was one of the best nights of my life… and I think I’ve finally found my niche. Not at the gay bars, not at the gay clubs, not even at the coffee shops… I think my new love affair is the underground music scene.
I haven’t felt that alive in a long time. You should experience it for yourself.
Next Concert I’m THRILLED to see: Millionaires with Breathe Carolina at Cervantes.
Matty B.
The Marquee was packed. Chelsea and I arrived a comfortable (and fashionable) 45 minutes late. No need to show up when the doors open. The last thing I need is to shit in an empty auditorium downtown, looking like I have nothing better to do. When we arrived, we walked up to the will call booth to pick up our tickets. Moments later, we were passing by security guards, and walking up to my very fabulous friend Rock Star Aaron, (very popular and noted Denver DJ) who happened to be one of the hosts of the event. After someone (that neither one of us knew) snapped a photograph or two, I bid him farewell, and scoped the place out with my new favorite person, Chelsea. Not moments later did we run into a crowd of my adult (21+) friends, drinking brightly colored drinks in wide rimmed glasses. I was thrilled to have people over the age of 16 recognize me, and bombard me with hugs, for once.
Chelsea and I met at the salon that I work for, Fix. She not only is my direct supervisor, but is also the owner’s daughter. She’s tall, thin, fierce, and has the most beautiful wavy platinum and blonde extensions. In many ways, she is the “Skipper” to my “Ken”. She is a huge fan of the band “the Chain Gang on 1974”, who happened to be playing with my favorite band Jeffree Star. Naturally we were stoked, and HAD to go together. We even planned matching outfits.
Every band that played that night was even better live. The crowd was screaming, the music was blaring, it was easily the best live performance I have ever seen. And in the Marquee, no less! Right before Jeffree came onto the stage, a very familiar song started to blare from the speakers. “Spice Up Your Life” by the Spice Girls blasted all around you, as he came out onto the stage. I turned to look at my posse of friends, and you could see the thrill and excitement in their expression. By the time Jeffree had finished his first song, the entire crowd was in complete and udder awe. His hair was bright pink, his clothes were tight. The band that was playing for him, and doing back up vocals Electric Valentine were dressed in tight black straight leg pants, and rocked glitter accessories that matched their make up. It was a beautiful sight to see.
After Jeffree Star and Electric Valentine finished their set, I made my way over to the merchandise tables, to meet and greet with him. A few minutes later I was standing with the lead singer of Chain Gang, Kam, and was talking to him and his girlfriend Chelsea, about live music and upcoming shows that they were going to have. Suddenly, I get a small tap on my shoulder. As I turned around, it was a small group of 14-16 year old kids wearing plastic beaded bracelet’s, with big smiles and sweaty faces.
The tallest (and I assume oldest) of the group sheepishly stepped forward, and said very quietly,” Are you Matty B.eautiful?”
I smiled and said,” I am! And who might you be, little one?”
She turned to her friends, blushed and giggled; then said “I’m Daisy. This is Eric, Jem, Kiki- (the list continues, but I regrettably couldn’t, for the life of me, remember all of their names.) Could we get a picture with you?”
I laughed and said “Of course you can.”
They all huddled around me, and one of the girls fumbled with their digital camera. Soon, I was posing for photos with each one individually. 5 minutes and what seemed like 100 kids later, I was thanked with a hug (that left a makeup stain on my shirt), and they were gone. I turned back to the merchandise booth and looked at Chelsea, who was smiling and laughing.
When i was 16, i would frequent parties and raves, which soon led me to become a dancer for two major production companies. In a matter of months, I was dancing on stage for some of the world's bigget DJ's. Trajjik, Heavygrinder, Icey, Miss Lisa, I started spending the weekends with fabulous people who loved music as much as i did. I was working at a bakery, wearing flour stained aprons by day, and dancing my heart out on stage, wearing hot pink booty shorts by night. I suppose that was the very beginning of a B.eautiful revolution.
I spent every waking moment studying pop culture. From listening to Millionaires and Jeffree Star, to studying his and Raquel Reed's photographs, so that i could further develop my make up artistry skills. I wanted to live and be that life: a living easel that could be explored, colored, cut, coped and experienced. I spend my life living and breathing art, whether it is through dance, writing, photography, or being photographed… I live and breathe art.
Naturally, spending so much time submerged in the hipster culture scene, I’ve learned and picked up a few things. I may not necessarily live in California, New York, or Miami, but I think it’s important to be knowledgeable of popular hot spots, and trendy places to be, if I happen to find myself in a situation where I have to opportunity to network.
ChrisCashe: omg, did u go to tracks last night?
MattyB.: i didn't, i rarely go to tracks these days
ChrisCashe: i went with 2 friends, and met up with a few others. and got kicked out after being there for 2 hours. it sucked. almost got arrested for underage drinking. lol I was buzzzin hard and talked my way out of it.
MattyB.: Well the Denver PD are push overs. (plus they love some drunken twink ass)
ChrisCashe: yeah it sucked . and i saw my ex there flaunting sthit around
MattyB.: That's what tracks is about. Seeing exes and flaunting shit. Well, that and being groped by their employees.
ChrisCashe: i'm so not from colorado
MattyB.: where are you from?
ChrisCashe: I'm from Oklahoma
MattyB.: did you used to go to the Wreck Room?
ChrisCashe: I had plans to go with a bunch of friends, but left before I could. You know about Oklahoma?
MattyB.: i know everything.
ChrisCashe: lol whatever! have u been to OKC or something/?
MattyB.: no i've never been
ChrisCashe: omg how did u know about it!!!!!!!!!!!!! hhahaha!
MattyB.: i've been told that i'm "just one of those people who just know everything about everyone." ;)
ChrisCashe: that's what i hear.
After all the bands played, Chelsea and I invited Kam and his girlfriend Chelsea to go to Denver Diner with us. They were stoked, and insisted on coming… right after they loaded their truck. We had a few drinks at the bar next door, while we waited for them to finish. About 45 minutes later, Chelsea called me, and told us that they were about done. When we went out front to meet them, Jeffree was just leaving his tour bus with a gaggle of tattooed gays. Behind him, was his manager MissE, who was desperately looking for a light for her cigarette. A thanks, a wink, and a pearly white smile later, we stood there and talked about live music for almost an hour. MissE was not only a super cool chick (it was her birthday that night!), but she was also down to earth, telling me about some of her and Jeffree’s secret inside stories about their tour that they had. I laughed out loud when she told me that he’s been arrested for assault SEVEN times, and that she budgeted bail money into their tour expenses.
Around 2am, I bid her farewell, after promising her that I would myspace her the next day, and get information about them playing on the Hurley Stage during Warped Tour. Apparently, we “had to get with her, so that we can party together!” She even told me a few trade secrets about how to get back stage, which I plan to utilize.
To top off the night, as we were walking away, we ran into the two members of Electric Valentine, and gushed about how amazing they were on stage. They were more than happy to give us their 3 Song EP Demo Disc and a hug, before we trotted off to Denver Diner to meet Kam and Chelsea.
On the drive back home, Chels and I blasted Electric Valentine’s “All I Wanted” from the litte speakers in her Scion. She was sitting in the passenger seat looking at the T-Shirts we got, and chatting about how we have to continue to see these small venue shows. In all honesty I have to agree. When an artist is performing at a smaller venue, it’s almost like they are trying harder. And it definitely shows.
Having that close intimate connection with someone, while they’re sharing their music with you… is the beauty of live performance. I know that I’m always giving it my all when I’m dancing on stage, always trying to give more and more of myself, even when there is nothing left. That’s what makes a great performer, in my opinion. Always looking for more, and always giving more.
Maybe I just have a soft spot for people in the lime light. Maybe I have a soft spot for artists. Either way, it was one of the best nights of my life… and I think I’ve finally found my niche. Not at the gay bars, not at the gay clubs, not even at the coffee shops… I think my new love affair is the underground music scene.
I haven’t felt that alive in a long time. You should experience it for yourself.
Next Concert I’m THRILLED to see: Millionaires with Breathe Carolina at Cervantes.
Matty B.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
"I Never Knew A Heart [like yours] Existed, Outside Of Make Believe!"
I was talking to my friend Kyle yesterday, about the whole "Blog Scandal" that has been happening this past week. Apparently a lot of people were very angry that i would air their dirty laundry so openly. (Chances are, is that you're reading my blog right now to see if your name, or someone you knows name is in it). Not only are the people immidiately involved a bit perturbed, but the people they sleep with weren't too pleased either. In case you've been living under a rock, i'll spell it out for you: everyone on campus, is sleeping with everyone else. Or... that's what a naturally assumed. (and we all see where that got me!)
Over the past few months, Kyle has been crushing on this guy that we both became acquainted with at Brady's party. He was cute, funny, had an awesome taste in comedians. Not only that, but Kyle and him shared a class together, and frequently got to talk and study together. After hearing that Kyle was interested in him, i told him that he should totally go for it! As any serial dater (like myself) would say, if you want something, go get it. No use sitting around and waiting for it to fall in your lap, right? Nothing will happen in your life if you don't spark change. Plus, living is no fun without a variable or two.
So he did as i suggested. a little light flirting and a few hang outs later, they made a study date! How exciting is that? This super cute boy that he likes, agrees to come and go over some... notes. The lights are dim, with acoustic rock playing in the background. of course you're wearing your most expensive jeans, but play it off like it's totally casual. you offer him a drink, and naturally he accepts. Suddenly you're laughing about the professor's disgusting tweed coat he always wears, and how the tests are so hard that you never seem to get in enough studying. One thing leads to another, and your iPod's shuffle setting starts to play "Black Tongue" by: the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. The look in his eye and the smirk resting on his lips, tell you it's on.
But wait! You're pulled back to reality, where you notice his most recent facebook update, detailing that he's in a relationship with a friend of yours! you laid down all this ground work for this amazing cinematic evening that would ideally lead you to the most amazing first sexual experience. Naturally, you find that he is not available, and the entire time you thought he was interested in you, he wasn't. What a fucking break. How typical.
We have all been in these situations, where you think that you are on the same level with this person, then you're slapped in the face with a harsh dose of reality. Like we all are, Kyle was a bit discouraged. As someone with a third person view, i was a bit confounded as to why this boy wasn't interested. Let's be honest here: Kyle is smart, funny, and has a good head on his shoulders. He's tall and thin, looks great in a tie and vest, and frankly has one of the most developed musical tastes that i've encountered in a long time. (next to my own of course.) ;)
Then i take a look at my most recent interactions with men. Whenever i meet someone that i am interested in, i'm always dropping hints, subtlety making them aware of what a great person they are, and constantly compliment them. i suggest music to them that i think they would like, and insist we go out to fabulous restaurants, always finding an excuse to touch them. Unfortunately it's a rarity that BOYS pick up on such discreet flirtations. I've found that the only way to get a boy's attention is to yell in their face that you want them to fuck you. Even then there are occasions where they are still confused.
For Kyle, that isn't an option. He is the first virgin at CU that i have ever met. He takes the health of his body very seriously (like myself), and doesn't just fuck ANYONE that lives across the hall from him at the dorms. I find that an incredibly attractive personality trait. having respect for yourself and your body is a moral that many of my friends are not familiar with.
I told an old friend of mine (that i recently pissed off), that it wasn't all about the six packs and the bubble butts. Believe it or not, there are more to people than how they can appease your sexual appetites. I personally find that intelligence and charisma can be sexier than any bulge or dimple. However, people need to learn on their own, rather than take my advice. That ultimately results in a plethora of life lessons for me to write about, which keeps all of you reading.
I told Kyle that he shouldn't get discouraged, because he has yet to find someone that has the depth and intelligence that he would need from someone. Plus, it's better to be safe and hold onto something a little longer, than to be sorry about how you lost it. I sure learned that lesson early.
I have a feeling that his spirits are going to be lifted soon. I'm going to visit him this week!
Stay tuned for updates!
Matty B.
I was talking to my friend Kyle yesterday, about the whole "Blog Scandal" that has been happening this past week. Apparently a lot of people were very angry that i would air their dirty laundry so openly. (Chances are, is that you're reading my blog right now to see if your name, or someone you knows name is in it). Not only are the people immidiately involved a bit perturbed, but the people they sleep with weren't too pleased either. In case you've been living under a rock, i'll spell it out for you: everyone on campus, is sleeping with everyone else. Or... that's what a naturally assumed. (and we all see where that got me!)
Over the past few months, Kyle has been crushing on this guy that we both became acquainted with at Brady's party. He was cute, funny, had an awesome taste in comedians. Not only that, but Kyle and him shared a class together, and frequently got to talk and study together. After hearing that Kyle was interested in him, i told him that he should totally go for it! As any serial dater (like myself) would say, if you want something, go get it. No use sitting around and waiting for it to fall in your lap, right? Nothing will happen in your life if you don't spark change. Plus, living is no fun without a variable or two.
So he did as i suggested. a little light flirting and a few hang outs later, they made a study date! How exciting is that? This super cute boy that he likes, agrees to come and go over some... notes. The lights are dim, with acoustic rock playing in the background. of course you're wearing your most expensive jeans, but play it off like it's totally casual. you offer him a drink, and naturally he accepts. Suddenly you're laughing about the professor's disgusting tweed coat he always wears, and how the tests are so hard that you never seem to get in enough studying. One thing leads to another, and your iPod's shuffle setting starts to play "Black Tongue" by: the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. The look in his eye and the smirk resting on his lips, tell you it's on.
But wait! You're pulled back to reality, where you notice his most recent facebook update, detailing that he's in a relationship with a friend of yours! you laid down all this ground work for this amazing cinematic evening that would ideally lead you to the most amazing first sexual experience. Naturally, you find that he is not available, and the entire time you thought he was interested in you, he wasn't. What a fucking break. How typical.
We have all been in these situations, where you think that you are on the same level with this person, then you're slapped in the face with a harsh dose of reality. Like we all are, Kyle was a bit discouraged. As someone with a third person view, i was a bit confounded as to why this boy wasn't interested. Let's be honest here: Kyle is smart, funny, and has a good head on his shoulders. He's tall and thin, looks great in a tie and vest, and frankly has one of the most developed musical tastes that i've encountered in a long time. (next to my own of course.) ;)
Then i take a look at my most recent interactions with men. Whenever i meet someone that i am interested in, i'm always dropping hints, subtlety making them aware of what a great person they are, and constantly compliment them. i suggest music to them that i think they would like, and insist we go out to fabulous restaurants, always finding an excuse to touch them. Unfortunately it's a rarity that BOYS pick up on such discreet flirtations. I've found that the only way to get a boy's attention is to yell in their face that you want them to fuck you. Even then there are occasions where they are still confused.
For Kyle, that isn't an option. He is the first virgin at CU that i have ever met. He takes the health of his body very seriously (like myself), and doesn't just fuck ANYONE that lives across the hall from him at the dorms. I find that an incredibly attractive personality trait. having respect for yourself and your body is a moral that many of my friends are not familiar with.
I told an old friend of mine (that i recently pissed off), that it wasn't all about the six packs and the bubble butts. Believe it or not, there are more to people than how they can appease your sexual appetites. I personally find that intelligence and charisma can be sexier than any bulge or dimple. However, people need to learn on their own, rather than take my advice. That ultimately results in a plethora of life lessons for me to write about, which keeps all of you reading.
I told Kyle that he shouldn't get discouraged, because he has yet to find someone that has the depth and intelligence that he would need from someone. Plus, it's better to be safe and hold onto something a little longer, than to be sorry about how you lost it. I sure learned that lesson early.
I have a feeling that his spirits are going to be lifted soon. I'm going to visit him this week!
Stay tuned for updates!
Matty B.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
“You're So Nice and You're So Smart. You're Such a Good Friend, I Have To Break Your Heart.”
People spend their lives looking for that one thing that makes them exponentially happy. Usually, it’s something that is almost impossible to find. For some it’s that gorgeous downtown loft. For others it’s that gorgeous man with an 8 pack and an 8 inch uncut cock. For me, it’s that fantastic person that completely captures my life. They’re my best friend, my confidant, and my partner.
When I first moved out of my mom’s house, it was Bri. We lived and loved life together. We had the world in common, and spent every moment experiencing it. In high school, it was Brady. I didn’t have many friends at the beginning of my senior year, because I had spent the previous year doting over him. We were attached at the… hip. When I moved to Denver, it was Ashley, and Aimee. We would go to the club together, drink together, go to school together, and go to the gym together…
I tend to surround myself with people that I care about, and treat every moment with them like it was my last, because you never know when it may be. Of course, I am still friends with them, but not like I used to be. Between work, school, and living situations, we’ve drifted apart. One un-replied text message turns into three unanswered phone calls. Suddenly, we’re drifting off each other’s “Top 8” on myspace, and we’re merely a friendly picture comment every few months.
Usually it’s of equal fault because of our mutual negligence. However, the turmoil in my most recent friendship was almost entirely my fault. These days, I think I look for the flaws in people, because I feel pessimistic towards the outcome. After Jenna and my HUGE blow out witch each other senior year of high school, and being phased out by my so-called best friends CJ and Tasha, after I relocated to Denver, I have had a hard time opening up to people. Since my separation from CJ and Tasha, I think that I can honestly say that I haven’t loved someone as much as I loved them. CJ and I talk occasionally, but it always just leaves me with a sour taste in my mouth, because I know it’ll never be the same.
I made a few assumptions about Jeff that I perhaps shouldn’t have. Perhaps I said a few things that I could have kept to myself. I have a hard time trusting and naturally assume the worst from the people I consider to be close to me. I think it’s because I’ve been lied to, dissed and dismissed by so many previous “best friends”. At this point, I just assume that anyone who holds that title is going to turn out just like the one before, and that I should just enjoy it while it lasts… because it won’t. This of course, isn’t a positive way to think about my friends, nor is it a way to live life.
I spend a lot of time preaching that people should try to see the world in its purest form, when I myself can’t manage to see past my own pessimism. Looking in at myself, I see that I am setting myself up for failure by writing everyone off as an asshole, before giving them a chance. This is hypocritical because I’m always trying to get people to see me as an individual, rather than grouped in with the rest of the “bitchy gays”. Thus my inner conflict.
Of course I didn’t sabotage all this by myself, however it was suggested that I don’t point my finger so directly at people. Apparently some don’t look as good under the limelight, as I do. Meaning, I don’t have secrets and masks. I put all my shit out in the open for people to see… and that is what makes me real. I’m not afraid of judgment, like other people are.
I’m not one the regret and wish about things that I had done in the past. I try to work it out, and if I can’t, I learn from it and move on. I talked to Jeff last night, and tried to talk things out with him, about my most recent blog posts. As of last night, I think we came to an understanding. People who don’t know me, have been calling me “noble” and a “marauder”… and not in a nice way. If they spent any time with me at all, they would know how I approach people, and understand that that is how I am all the time.
..if that makes me noble, then so be it.
Brady and I talked tonight for a few hours. First over text, then we talked on the phone, after I got home from dance. As Brady said to me in a text message this evening:
“As a defense, I should also say that people are entitled to their secrets. But if the secrets put others at risk, that’s when people should know.”
I responded:
“I absolutely agree. Can I use that as a quote for my blog?”
He then said:
“What, the entitled to their secrets part? Sure. I might get emails now too tho. ;)”
We both find this entire situation very amusing. I’ve been to a hundred parties where liquor and what they ate for lunch, wasn’t the only thing people were purging. Word vomit is only magnified when you add alcohol to it. The difference between me and THE REST OF THE GAY COMMUNITY, is that I’m not intimidated to voice my opinion. Anything I say or write about, I would comfortable saying to their face.
I don’t know if that makes me honest or a just a bitch. Either way, I’m not stereotypical, and I pride myself on that.
Matty B.
People spend their lives looking for that one thing that makes them exponentially happy. Usually, it’s something that is almost impossible to find. For some it’s that gorgeous downtown loft. For others it’s that gorgeous man with an 8 pack and an 8 inch uncut cock. For me, it’s that fantastic person that completely captures my life. They’re my best friend, my confidant, and my partner.
When I first moved out of my mom’s house, it was Bri. We lived and loved life together. We had the world in common, and spent every moment experiencing it. In high school, it was Brady. I didn’t have many friends at the beginning of my senior year, because I had spent the previous year doting over him. We were attached at the… hip. When I moved to Denver, it was Ashley, and Aimee. We would go to the club together, drink together, go to school together, and go to the gym together…
I tend to surround myself with people that I care about, and treat every moment with them like it was my last, because you never know when it may be. Of course, I am still friends with them, but not like I used to be. Between work, school, and living situations, we’ve drifted apart. One un-replied text message turns into three unanswered phone calls. Suddenly, we’re drifting off each other’s “Top 8” on myspace, and we’re merely a friendly picture comment every few months.
Usually it’s of equal fault because of our mutual negligence. However, the turmoil in my most recent friendship was almost entirely my fault. These days, I think I look for the flaws in people, because I feel pessimistic towards the outcome. After Jenna and my HUGE blow out witch each other senior year of high school, and being phased out by my so-called best friends CJ and Tasha, after I relocated to Denver, I have had a hard time opening up to people. Since my separation from CJ and Tasha, I think that I can honestly say that I haven’t loved someone as much as I loved them. CJ and I talk occasionally, but it always just leaves me with a sour taste in my mouth, because I know it’ll never be the same.
I made a few assumptions about Jeff that I perhaps shouldn’t have. Perhaps I said a few things that I could have kept to myself. I have a hard time trusting and naturally assume the worst from the people I consider to be close to me. I think it’s because I’ve been lied to, dissed and dismissed by so many previous “best friends”. At this point, I just assume that anyone who holds that title is going to turn out just like the one before, and that I should just enjoy it while it lasts… because it won’t. This of course, isn’t a positive way to think about my friends, nor is it a way to live life.
I spend a lot of time preaching that people should try to see the world in its purest form, when I myself can’t manage to see past my own pessimism. Looking in at myself, I see that I am setting myself up for failure by writing everyone off as an asshole, before giving them a chance. This is hypocritical because I’m always trying to get people to see me as an individual, rather than grouped in with the rest of the “bitchy gays”. Thus my inner conflict.
Of course I didn’t sabotage all this by myself, however it was suggested that I don’t point my finger so directly at people. Apparently some don’t look as good under the limelight, as I do. Meaning, I don’t have secrets and masks. I put all my shit out in the open for people to see… and that is what makes me real. I’m not afraid of judgment, like other people are.
I’m not one the regret and wish about things that I had done in the past. I try to work it out, and if I can’t, I learn from it and move on. I talked to Jeff last night, and tried to talk things out with him, about my most recent blog posts. As of last night, I think we came to an understanding. People who don’t know me, have been calling me “noble” and a “marauder”… and not in a nice way. If they spent any time with me at all, they would know how I approach people, and understand that that is how I am all the time.
..if that makes me noble, then so be it.
Brady and I talked tonight for a few hours. First over text, then we talked on the phone, after I got home from dance. As Brady said to me in a text message this evening:
“As a defense, I should also say that people are entitled to their secrets. But if the secrets put others at risk, that’s when people should know.”
I responded:
“I absolutely agree. Can I use that as a quote for my blog?”
He then said:
“What, the entitled to their secrets part? Sure. I might get emails now too tho. ;)”
We both find this entire situation very amusing. I’ve been to a hundred parties where liquor and what they ate for lunch, wasn’t the only thing people were purging. Word vomit is only magnified when you add alcohol to it. The difference between me and THE REST OF THE GAY COMMUNITY, is that I’m not intimidated to voice my opinion. Anything I say or write about, I would comfortable saying to their face.
I don’t know if that makes me honest or a just a bitch. Either way, I’m not stereotypical, and I pride myself on that.
Matty B.
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