Forever Walking

How do you know when you're ready for a relationship? Well...first, buy a potted plant. And, if the plant is still alive a year later, get a pet. If the pet is alive and healthy a year later, go on a date.

-Some Movie

I remember that quote from some movie I watched a while back. It's the only thing I remember from that movie, but it's something that's stuck with me, and that I've been trying to apply to my relationships with a lot of things...not just boys. 

(also, I think the movie might have had Sandra Bullock in it.)

I love blogging. I think my favorite thing about blogging is going back and reading older entries. You know, getting a fresh perspective after days/weeks/months/years of disassociating myself from a particular post (especially looking at entries dedicated to ex boyfriends and marveling at all the time and precious energy I had invested in them).

The problem seems to be, though, that I get so caught up in thinking that every post I write has to be some philosophical, provocative series of golden thought nuggets that should immediately be published in the New Yorker, that I eventually cave under the self-imposed pressure, and my poor blog suffers months of neglect.

But not this time.

I need blogging too much.

Honestly, I need to feel like I can actually devote myself to something. I need to feel like there's something here, inside me, that needs to be released...and that I can release. I need to feel like I can be stained, and that I leave stains. I want to know that whatever I touch keeps a little bit of me on it--even if it is on my own blog. I want this blog to symbolize a new effort from me, in everything.

This blog will be my potted plant.

And everyday I will water it. I will give it sunshine and nurture it and watch it grow and see what it becomes. It may not become a great thing to the world, but if I can keep at it and take care of it, it will become a great thing to me, and that's really all that matters. And, after a time, when this blog has become me...I'll add a pet to my life, whatever that pet may be...

Could be going back to school.

Could be getting a job that means more to me than just paying the bills.

Could be finally writing a novel.

Could be a pet llama that I name Honky-Donk. Who knows.

It probably won't be a boy.

But for now I won't think about it. For now I'll just start over, and think about the little things. The fundamental things that I need to think about. For now I'll concentrate on watering this potted plant, and hope for the best.

(and boy, I hope tomorrow goes well.)



And I think it's already starting to work. I didn't intend for this entry to turn into a philosophical golden thought nugget. But I think it did, and that's ok. This is not the type of plant that grows straight up. It'll probably knot, and splinter, and curl in on itself. Its chlorophyll will mature and evolve, changing it from olive green to emerald and back again. I have no control over that. This blog is a living thing.

So, I'm logging on to Facebook today, minding my own freakin' business, when my Feed visually assaults me with shirtless pics of a certain friend of mine at an unknown beach. Needless to say, in my current single state they were the last pics I ever wanted to see. No, actually, you can't possibly understand what these pics did to my goody bits, because you haven't seen them. So I will give you a taste of them (the pics, not my goodies. THOSE stay in the jar...honest). Now, out of respect for this friend I won't give his name or post the actual pic of him, but this following pic I stumbled upon comes pretty close to how his mostly-naked body looked on the beach:

Now, hopefully you guys understand why I was so hot and...ummm, bothered.

But I'm not here to vent my sexual frustrations (ok, maybe partially). Believe it or not, I actually have a deeper point.

After being borderline turned-on by my friend's pics, I proceeded to message him via Facebook Chat, you know -- to see how he was doing, and jokingly suggest that he think of his gay facebook friends and their fragile hearts before he posts more pics of himself wet and shirtless. This friend, being the legitimately straight (DAMNIT) but awesome guy that he is, casually joked back. The conversation didn't last much longer past that.

Later that night, as I was pondering life's eternal purpose over a sink of dirty dishes, it suddenly hit me how much maturer I've gotten. You see, not too long ago, I would have seen that picture of my straight friend, joked flirtatiously with him, and read entirely too much into his joking back. This would have led to a few weeks of increased flirtation on my end, and complete neutrality on his...finally culminating in weeks worth of depression and exhaustion from reading into signals that weren't really there. Also, there would have been the risk of throwing away a casual, but still worthwhile friendship with someone.

But no, I flirted with a hot guy, accepted the fact that he was quite straight, and left it at that.

Go me. :)

You'd be surprised by how hard this is for some gay men. And it highlights some things I've learned:

1) Do not go after closeted men. Really, he may be hot and we may have something in common, but I've learned that if he's not out of the closet it's best to just stick to my own kind. Pursuing a closeted man may seem dangerous in a sexy way at first, but really it's just dramatic, and it says a lot about where the person is, in regards to a relationship. I, as a fabulous out-of-the-closet gay, am looking for the type of guy who is willing to give himself completely to the love I'm so willing to give, openly. Not gaudily. But still -- openly. I've learned enough from experience to know that I'm not going to get that from a guy a who can't be open, no matter how much we have in common outside of that pesky sexuality thing.

and...

2) I've learned to always be aware of the fact that straight men have egos. And, though they will deny it until they're blue in the balls, want to feel attractive. Some straight men are also so egotistical that, if they know they're in the presence of a homosexual male, they will go out of their way to confirm that this homo thinks they're attractive. You know, so they can say, "I'm so hot, even the fags want my dick. Bla bla bla! I'm a tool!" To accomplish this end, there are some straight men -- actual straight men -- who will flirt with gay men to the point that those gay men let their guard down and completely expose their interest, then leave them out in the lurch. It's cruel, really. Now, smart gay boys (like me) can, in some cases, actually manipulate this straight male ego to get more out of said straight man than he is initially willing to give...but at the end of the day, it really isn't worth it. STAY AWAY. Keep it casual, but that's it. Keep the heart off the sleave.

Tying these two points together, not going for the closeted guy automatically prevents me from going after the guy I think is closeted, but in reality is as straight as the WWE (...wait). In the case of my friend, part of the reason I was so able to take his joking at face value was the fact that I let myself take him at face value. He says he's straight, so he's straight. Period.

Two simple rules. When followed, they do a lot to keep me (and my pants) out of trouble, and actually help me collect some straight male friends.