Denial: Not Just An African River

I have mentioned before that I came out when I was 16yrs old to a group of people who were as surprised by my coming out as they were by Lance Bass coming out. (I'm still holding hope for J.T. to get rid of Jessica Biel and come out....a boy can dream). Right after I came out, I became one of those gay's who denounced the community and decided I was above stereotypes and a general need for the LGBT community as a whole. Over the next five years I continued to be a vigilante for the straight community, you know since they were experiencing so many hardships and needed my support, all while claiming to be the "New Typical Gay." Although, in the last 2 years I have embraced this community and called it my own and stopped being such a whiny biznatch about it. Recently, I have had time to reflect on just why I had such a snarky attitude for so long. It's all because of....Straight Men.

This seems like a no-brainer, but like most things in my life...it is not for the reasons you would suspect. I mean, of course, there are the societal pressures to "act straight" and be "masculine" because that's what we have been taught to do since we were really young. There are the general fears of being bullied and having hateful things spewed at you like venom. But, I have a tough skin and I could also give two shits about people who hate me for being gay. My concern is with those open-minded Straight Men who consider themselves to be friendly with the gays, but not completely aware of what being gay is or how it might affect them. 

I decided early on it was my mission to educate Straight Men and be their friend while also putting down ze gayz. I have had a bajillion conversations with Straight Men about how I came out and what the process was and without fail the conversation always has some variation of this: 

Straight Men: So, like, how did you know you were gay?

Me: I mean, just like you knew you were straight. I found men attractive and not the vag. 

Straight Men: Did you ever try being with a girl...sexually?

Me: Variations of "sexually" yes, and it was terrible. Have you tried being with a guy...you know to see if you were gay?

Straight Men: Whoa dude, no. I'm not gay.

Me: Yup, my same sentiments towards trying stuff with women.

Straight Men: So, like what kind of guys are you attracted to?

Me: If you are asking if I am attracted to you, the answer is no. (this is generally true...) I am not magically attracted to all men. 

Straight Men: Wait, so like you're not attracted to me at all? Why?

Me: Are you attracted to all women?

Straight Men: No. 

Me: I am not attracted to all men...soo...you fall under the group I am not attracted to. 

Straight Men: But like, what about me?

Seriously, most of these conversations end with these people being some level of confused at why I am not attracted to them. That's not to say that I have never had strong feelings towards a straight man....but usually when I do, I am able to be with them in some capacity, i.e. they are not 100% straight (Hehehe ...yeahh...get it girl).


With those select few Straight Men that I have found myself attracted to or decided to pursue I always enjoyed the chase. You know that scene in He's Just Not That Into You, where the interview different people on how they know when someone is interested? They flash to two gay guys and they say they know within like 3seconds, with just a glance, whether they want to sleep with someone or not and whether that person wants to sleep with them. That is the most accurate thing I have ever heard about the gay community in a movie about straight people.

(Loveee that the subtitles are in Spanish)

I really honed that skill in college with several people. The first person I really felt the need to pursue that was "straight" was someone I actually met when I was a senior in H.S. and he was a freshman at UMD and lived on my brother floor. I didn't really think much about him at first because the only thing I knew about him was that he was a Drug Dealer. Ok, ok....I know what you are thinking, but I was never really into that in college. I drank like a fish but I never felt the urge to do drugs, probably because they are all illegal. (The hypocrisy of drugs being illegal and bothering me yet the underage drinking didn't is not lost on me, I assure you). But for some reason, almost two years later Drug Dealer looked a lot more appealing to me and was suddenly this attractive man who had "lived a life" in college. 

We were randomly at the same parties at my brothers place and a few other friends along the way and we would always catch each others eyes. It always lasted longer than three seconds and I would get these intense butterflies as if something needed to happen. Then one night at the end of September we were at a party at my brothers place and there was a group us playing "Never Have I Ever" (because when you are 19 and drinking Natty Light you need to play "revealing" games....) Someone would say, every single time, "Never have I ever....been with a guy....sexually". Literally, without fail this question would be the first one asked because I was always the only gay male in the group and I would have to put my finger down, but it was a little different this time. 

Drug Dealer  was sitting next to me and hit me a couple times in the leg to show me that he put down half a finger. He then pulled me aside after the game to have a chat. 

Drug Dealer: Did you see my finger?

Me: Why yes yes I did? Whatever did you mean with half a finger?

Drug Dealer: Well, it means that I'm not sure and I'd like to explore I think?

Me: Aww well lots of people do that in college, thanks for telling me. Lemme know if you want to talk about it more?

Something was fishy but we went back to the party like it was nothing and just drank more delicious Natty Light. The next week we were at a different party (So...I partied a lot. get over it.) and at this one Drug Dealer pulled me into a bedroom to talk again. 

Drug Dealer: I've been thinking about this a lot and you a lot

Me: Well, what exactly have you been thinking about 

Drug Dealer: I think...well... *grabs me and kisses me*

Drug Dealer: Whoa, I just kissed you. We kissed. 

Me: Ummm yes, you did just kiss me.

Drug Dealer: I can't believe I just did that. I can't believe I just kissed...you. *said with a little bit more snark, seediness then I would like*

Me: Welp, I think I am good on insults tonight...thanks. 

I stormed out in drunk dramatic fashion (Surprissseeee) and headed towards drunk food with some friends. Drug Dealer began furiously texting me saying he wanted to talk about things and fix what he said. I was not having any of it, yet I enjoyed the banter and the pining that was filling my phone. Finally I agreed to walk with him to his place and get on the bus back to my residence hall once we had finished talking. 

Drug Dealer: First off, sorry I didn't mean to sound so disgusted. 

Me: You're a real charmer. I appreciate the apology, I often like to have this happen after a kiss. 

Drug Dealer: It's just that by kissing you, I was recognizing that I am not just straight.

Me: Shocker. 

Drug Dealer: Look, I liked kissing you. I want to do it again. Thats what freaked me out. 

Me: Well, I haven't had any complaints thus far. I accept your apology.

The conversation dragged on and we discussed his feelings and what to do with all of them. We also agreed that we didn't have any feelings for each other, but there was an odd mutual attraction. Once we got back to his place...I didn't end up getting on the bus and we ended up...finding other things to do. This back and forth continued over the next year or so. The last time we "spent time" together he left his wallet in my room when he left when I went to go to the bathroom. The funny thing is, I went to the bathroom to try and figure out how to get him to leave to not spend the night. I ended up throwing the wallet out my window to him and saying we should probably not do this again. I said that all out the window. From my 4th floor apartment. Because I'm classy. 

At some point along the way he stopped selling drugs and got clean and is now married to a girl. This seems to be a theme with the Straight Men I end up "dating" or "spending time", a lot of them are married to women. (No wonder I am single...I keep turning men straight...oof). This is just one of many tales of the Straight Men of my past and why I blame many of them for my denial of the gay community for so long. Every once in awhile I get a pang for that chase...but then I remember...I'm now to lazy for that ish. 

Straight Men: not attracted to all of them, chaser of some Questionable ones

Drug Dealer: A dealer of lovin' not druggin' for me

Fabulously Lost: Putting the puzzle together as to why I am single 

Pride or Die: DC Edition

So remember that time I told you that Pride was this past weekend and I would update you? Well...I didn't lie. Here is the update. Boom. I am not a liar. Score one for Team Fab! Before I tell you about my fabulous glitter filled weekend I have to tell you about my pact I made with a small group of my friends to not drink for a month.

I know, shocking right? Over Memorial Day weekend I was with some of my lady friends and the decision was made as the weekend was winding down. For some reason we decided that it would be a good idea to limit our drinking before a wedding we are all going to at the end of June. I stayed quiet during most of this only chiming in every once in awhile because I enjoy good beverage or two. A good drank or two allows me to dance like there is no tomorrow, mack it like my lips will fall off if I don't continue, and fall in love strippers and straight men. I am not a slave to the drank or an alcoholic...but I meannnn cahhhhm ahhhhn. (Judgement stops here...rude.)


We weren't going to go cold turkey...well, because that's just something that's too over zealous for a group of kids in their mid-twenties to do. The girls decided they were allowed 4 drinks, total, in a week and I was allowed 7 drinks. We fdecided to start an email chain, "Sober and Sexy", to help motivate each other not to drink. Needless to say....I failed miserably. A solid 72hrs after this deal was sealed I went to the strip club and obviously needed social lubrication to make it through.

I told the group the next day with my head held low and feeling shameful, and you know what they did? They turned out to be the most terrible AA group I have ever heard of. I didn't realize it was a competition...I tried to win back their trust and didn't go out at all the next weekend. I missed a BAR crawl for them and dancing in the club with old friendz. This did nothing to win them over and I was shamed into the corner. One of my lady friends even gchatted me to let me know how horribly I had failed. I felt like I was on the Intervention episode of It's Always Sunny.

(Check it out: Intervention)

Anywhoz, I told you all of that because I'd like to be able to blame them for my dying at Pride in DC. I figure I am nothing if not a good "blamer on others" and this seems like the perfect time to do this.  I would also like to take a moment to blame a couple of other people for my "state" of being on Saturday. 

• The waiter, Drew--- he was charming and kept bringing carafes of alcohol to our table like it was his job or something. (Facts, it was his job. Facts, he did a damn good job)
• The Allies --- none of them stopped me from consuming carafes like they were water. (they also might have been inebriated) 
• My Parents --- their love of a good breakfast fruity drink was passed on to me and in the end....we all blame our parents for everything anyways right?

Ok, now that the blame is allocated to the correct people I can continue. I went to brunch with a group of my favorite Allies and proceeded to drink mimosa's like I'd just lost my job and my only true form of happiness would be found at the bottom of my glass.

 So drinks were a-flowin' and laughs were being had and somewhere along the line I decided that it would be a good idea to post photos to Facebook/Instagram/Twitter like it was my new job. This caused me to be extra vain and constantly check who was "liking" and commenting on the photos. (I deemed everyone who didn't like the photos to be homophobic. It's a thing).

At some point during the hullabaloo I began texting with my mother. Now I have mentioned before, Mama Fabulous  and I are pretty tight when it comes to Mother-Gay Son relationships, but it has gone to far now. I need to be stopped. I need my phone taken away from me, because for some reason I have decided it is good for me to "drunk dial" my parents on a regular basis. (Yup...I drunk dial my parents...judge away). It usually only happens when I am day drinking or fairly early in the night after a happy hour of sorts, but always ends with them talking to me like a child.

This was our "Pride Day" convo;

Me: Hi there Mama Fabulous, you are so wonderful.
Mama Fabulous: Hi! Is everything okay? 
Me: Yeah, you know, just here with some girls eating brunch.
Mama Fabulous: That's great! Are you having fun?
Me: Oh definitely. I called to tell you that I am grateful that you like gay people. So many people have bad parents who don't like them. You are good. You are a good parent. Thanks for not being terrible. I am less damaged.
Mama Fabulous: Well, you're welcome I think. Have you been drinking at all?
Me: Just a little bit, its early. I have had brunch. I would say this to you without the drinks, because you are good.
Mama Fabulous: I don't want you missing out on more fun talking to me, why don't we chat more tomorrow. 
Me: Look how good you are, I won't miss out on fun. I am fun. Love you!
Mama Fabulous: Love you too, please be safe. 


I am a mess. Who drunk dials their mother? WHO? (That's a rhetorical question...jerk). I have a phone full of people who would love to talk to me and who might also be day drinking and can understand my logic. Jeez, I could also open Grindr...which may or may not have found it's way back on my phone. Uhh...errr.. I was mugged and someone grabbed my phone and then put Grindr on it and then made me keep it on there. It's not my fault. I. was. mugged. (I will go to any lengths to blame others for my actions....). Instead I called my mother.

Outside of that, the parade went off without a hitch and everything was fantabulous. We watched in the scorching heat as rainbow boa's, ass-less chaps, pink cars, drag queens, famous gays, politicians, and religious groups marched around Dupont Circle in support of the most amazing community of people. I purchased enough rainbow crap to last a life time and proceeded to lose a majority of it over the course of the day. I also did that thing where I become insanely generous and bought my group a bunch of rainbow stuff too, that they also lost throughout the day. Overall it was a bad day for money but a good day for Fabulously Lost.

In my head I made connections with a ton of the people marching. I felt myself "making eyes" and falling in love with several of the groups. I also got some stellar photos of my favorite groups:

Ummm...do I need to explain why they are my fav? I'd go all Brokeback Mountain with them....

I have no idea what they are...gay fruit? HAHA...fruit...HAHA..get it?

Everyone went batshit crazy when they walked by...need I explain why? Big Love, anyone? Anyone at all?

I also took about 42 "videos" that I thought were pictures...so I missed a lot of the cool floats due to my inability to use my fat fingers properly. As the parade finished so did my tolerance. I ended up passing out with my Twin until almost midnight. We missed several gay dance parties, made some queen's very frustrated,  but ended up having a grand time staying up watching Footloose.


Ok, ok, so I know it wasn't as eventful and crazy as I thought it would be either. I got drunk, bought rainbow crap, called my mother, and slept. It was a lovely day but I think this weekend with Baltimore Pride might end up being a little bit crazier. Most people tend to think that DC is better than Baltimore for most things, and they may be right, but I know Baltimore like the back of my hand. I know the ins and outs of that little gay community and I suspect there to be some cray cray shiznat to go down. Hold on tight ladys and gents...this might be (hopefully is... *wink, nudge, nod*) a bumpy ride.

Fabulously Lost: Owner of more Rainbows than San Francisco
My Liver: A medical phenomenon
Mama Fabulous: A saint for dealing with me
Photography: Not a job option