Summer 2013: Life as a Nomadic Homosexual

Here's the truth: I was going to write an entire post dedicated to the ridiculousness of MTV's Video Music Awards. I was going to discuss Justin Timberlake, *NSYNC, Robin, and of course Miley, but I struggled with it for most of the day.

There were a lot of things to make fun of, and there were a lot of funny things that were swirling in my mind. Anyone who follows me on Twitter saw my reactions first-hand, and I was shocked most of the way through.

However, talking about all of that, for me, would minimize the performance that I think should have been the "bring the house down" moment — "Same Love," performed by Macklemore, Ryan Lewis, Jennifer Hudson, and the perfectly imperfect Mary Lambert. Marriage equality won another battle and that's as far as I want to delve into the VMAs.

(Umm... yeah.)

Reader (that's you): Excuse me? Did you just get all weird and emotional on us?

Me: OMG! NO! Stop twisting my words! I just, sometimes, well, I HAVE ALL OF THE FEELS!

Reader: Way to make this awkward. 

Me: Well, the jokes on you, madam or sir, I have always made things awkward. So, you know, you really had that one coming.

Reader: Touche, Mr. Lost, Touche. Do we still get a post?

Me: Of course! I'm not an ANIMAL. I just wanted to address the giant elephant (or teddy bear, if you're Miley) in the room. Can I tell you some ridiculousness from my summer?

Reader: We have all been wondering why the hell you haven't posted all summer. We thought you gave up on us or life... or both. Did you?

Me: NOPE! Let's talk about the highs and lows together... READY?

Reader: We are never, ever completely ready... but let's go?

Summer 2013: Life as a Nomadic Homosexual, Pt. 1

This past summer was ridiculous, wonderful, exhausting, expensive, and fairly homosexual. I already divulged the details of Pride Month, but now it's time to discuss the aftermath of the booziest month of my life.

(Maybe not huge...)

Ooh Ooh Baby

Not only is that the name of a spectacular Britney song, it's also something that I have been saying in a far more innocent way all summer. You know you all have that one friend who got their life together WAY before you ever did? Graduated from college, got a job, fell in love, and got married in a beautiful ceremony? You're left standing there, asking yourself if it's time for you to buckle down and get serious about finding love or continue going to the same bars every weekend. That's when the DJ drops your favorite tune and a Britney song was on. 

(Hey, I never said I wouldn't sprinkle this post with Miley references.)

Well, those friends with their lives together are now having babies... and I am ramotional about it. Girl Next Door used to live across the street from me growing up and is my oldest friend in ze world. She was even crazy enough to have me as her Man of Honor in her wedding. (I know what you're thinking: She trusted me to give a speech? That she did friends, that she did.) Girl Next Door became pregnant late last year and gave birth to the most beautiful baby boy in mid-June. I have learned three things about pregnancy and birth from GND. 

1. Pregnancy is kinda hard because of getting larger, but mostly because you are forced into sobriety. I made the mistake of handing GND a big ol' bottle of wine the night she told me she was pregnant. 

(We have, since, had wine.)

2. Babies make a crap ton of weird noises and there is a constant flow of bodily fluids. They also have ZERO manners. This little Nugget of mine (Yes, I am calling him mine and he shall be known as Nugget. Shove it.) just let's one rip during the quietest of moments, THEN he expects you to clean it up. Reasons I know I am not ready for a child — dirty diapers and smelly babies aren't "cute" to me yet. 

(Ok, Nugget, you don't smell as bad as Courtney Love. You win this round.)

3. People give you a LOT of crap for having a baby. GND is the first of my friends back home to have a kid, so every time I turned around one of us was handing over some sort of something that we found and JUST had to let Nugget have. I am hoping because I am the only gay one in many of my groups of friends, that when I have a kid everyone will just hand me things because of the novelty of a homosexual having a kid. I just have to figure out how to monopolize on this before every gay man starts having a kid...

(Maniacal laughter ensues)

Campfire Nightmares

Guys... guys... GUYS! A couple weeks ago, I went to British Cowgirl's lake house in the boonies of PA. It was actually really fantastic to get out of the hustle and bustle of... D.C.? (I felt terrible and cliche for typing that. Who says that? Us big city folks need to unwind and go somewhere quiet and quaint! Ugh.)

This town has a population around 340 and is literally up in the mountains. Every year, for British Cowgirl's birthday, we head up to the house and party like its 1999. That was all fine and good... except this year the "group" decided to go on a hike. I agreed to go because of my love for British Cowgirl, not because I find the outdoors exhilarating. (I take my father's philosophy on the sightseeing — "They are nice to drive, boat or fly by.") Five minutes into our hike, my best friends decided to go OFF THE TRAIL. 

("Death comes to those who off-trail hike." It's in the Bible or something.)

I want you to understand how ill-prepared I am for hiking in general, let alone "off roading" it. Everyone was ecstatic this year because I remembered to bring sneakers, instead of flip-flops, for hiking. While everyone else was getting into their spandex, tank tops, and other sporty gear, I put on gay-ish cut-off shorts and a plaid button-down. (Plaid = lumberjack = appropriate hiking wear. Do the math.) I basically looked like I was heading to Bear Happy Hour. (Yes, that is a real thing). I knew my casually cute outfit would be lost on the nature creatures that were most certainly going to eat me, but I trudged on like a trooper to appease the masses. 

Slowly, our little group started to realize that, even for the most experienced hikers, this was a little bit much. We were literally hanging on to rocks to keep from falling into the water. I had been quietly afraid of poison ivy and attempted to avoid touching any plants. Then, it got to a point where I was either going to submerse my body into the plants or tumble down the side of the mountain into the river.  Suddenly, it was decided that the best way to get back to our cars would be to CROSS THE RIVER and see if the other side would be easier. 

(I'm probably just going to use J. Law to explain my emotions from here on out.)

I had two options in this sick version of Hunger Games my friends had thrown me in. (See, I am even using her movies. #obsessed) I could either venture across the mildly raging river with them and hope for an easier path home, OR forge my own way back up the mountain and hope that I could do it without assistance this time. Since I had no Louis to my Clark, I decided to trek with my friends.

(This is calm compared to what I crossed. OK, OK... maybe, JUST maybe, I am exaggerating.)

My first of many mistakes was taking off my shoes to cross. As soon as I stepped out onto my first rock, I started to lose my balance. I watched my friends cross one way, and I decided to try and cross just half a foot over from their path. Fail. The first step I took on my own path led me into water that was up to my upper thighs. (Remember, I am wearing cute cut-off shorts, not hiking shorts.) Laughter ensues from my friends, and I contemplate all the ways I am going to murder them. 

I hobble back to the regulated path they had sort of created and tried to very slowly follow my other friend, who is as close to Pocahontas as I am to Bear Grylls. I watch her stumble and submerge her shoes in the water. The laughter switches over to her from me for a few minutes, and I quietly thank baby jebus that my shoes are still dry.

The rocks feel like they are getting more unstable with every step, and I am losing my confidence in my poor coordination skills. What upsets me the most about what happens next is that I decided to stand, completely still, and figure out what my next moves were when my center of balance decided to shift and my legs buckled. What it looked like to all of my friends was that I randomly decided to SIT in the water up to my shoulders.

(Fear not, I was not as graceful as this.)

I sat in the water for a moment, contemplated just laying completely down and letting the river do what it wanted with my body. Instead, I got up and trudged through the rest of the river with a bit more confidence, because I had nothing left to give nature — my dignity had floated away already. The rest of the hike wasn't terrible, even though I was soaked.

I took a total of five showers in a 48-hour period, because I don't do dirty. For all of my complaining, the weekend is usually a lot of fun and it's my chance to be "outdoorsy" like my dating profiles say I am! 

Four Days Later

I woke up last Wednesday with red bumps all over my wrist. I panicked and immediately sent Mama and Papa Fab an email, asking them if I had bed bugs and giving them a brief overview of my will. I spent an hour and a half at work, on and off, looking up bed bugs and trying to decide if all this work to get rid of bed bugs was worth it, or if I should just move. (Thank. God. I. Am. Not. Dra.ma.tic. *gay claps*)

I worked myself up into such a panic that I left work early to go to the doctor and have her tell me when my expiration date was. Much to my shock, awe, pleasure and dismay, she told me I was being ridiculous and that this was obviously poison ivy. 

(My second worst fear, behind bed bugs, of course.)

The doctor sent me along my way with steroid cream, a renewed outlook on life, and a reason to email all of my friends and talk about myself. 

Miley: Oh, dear.

Readers: Apparently, you are very judgey in my mind. I don't appreciate it, so stop. 

Babies: Small aliens...

Hiking: Dangerous and could lead to getting your arm chopped off, "127 Hours"-style. 

Fabulously Lost: Diseased and on the verge of death. Or, I might be cured in five days. 

Gay Urban Dictionary

Over the years I have always prided myself on the fact that I have been completely and totally honest with all of my friends and family. If people ask me about my coming out experience, I have gladly recounted every detail (because why wouldn't I want to talk about myself endlessly?). There are some terms in that are very specific for the gay community that we have decided to adapt to mean new and weird things. It's away of further segregating ourselves into groups within our own, already segregated, group (SUPER HEALTHY). I just thought it would be lovely to include all of you in on these terms, because as we begin to force equality on America...these terms might become more prevalent. Basically I am your "Gay Mr. Miyagi", except 10x cuter...and not Asian...or ancient. (fahhhk, ok I am just your gay sansei. OK?) So here it goes, here are the terms of the gays.

(RAINBOW SHOOTING CHOPSTICKS!! ok I never claimed to be good with photoshop)

1. Twink: Does this term sound weird and made up to you? That's because it is, we made it up. When most people here "Twink" they usually think it will finish with "ie", you know, to make it "twinkie." Alas, that has nothing to do with what we use the word for. A Twink is a young looking skinny gay male, usually in their early 20s with absolutely no facial hair. Most Twinks are also a little more feminine in nature. Try saying Twink over and over again without smiling at the ridiculousness of the word and the definition. I DARE YOU.

(Little Jesse McCartney was such a twink. I was in love with him at 15. I don't wanna talk about it)

2. Bear - This is where things get a little weird. (Whaaaat??? They weren't weird with Twink??) For some reason, unbeknownst to me, many moons ago the gays decided that their subgroups needed to be aligned with animals. Maybe it is because we are animalistic creatures who enjoy a good time. Maybe it's because we got lazy after coming up with Twink, that the idea of going all Shakespeare on the gay community was a little too much for us. I will never know the right answer, but I can most certainly report on these oddities and their definitions. Anywhoz, a Bear is generally a bigger, hairy, gay man (Think lumberjack). There is some debate within the community about whether someone who is not "bigger" can be considered a Bear if they are just muscle-y and hairy. Due to the inner feuding over this prestigious title, you will hear someone who has lots of muscles, but isn't overweight, being referred to as a Muscle Bear. Either way, you kinda get the picture. Bears are manly men. (oh, and if you are a young bigger guy, you are referred to as a Cub)

(This is a real movie. It is available on Netflix. I thoroughly enjoyed it, so suck it)

3. Otter - What is with this madness around animals??? I have no idea. Anywhoz, an Otter is a skinny hairy man (We realllllyyy focus on the hair thing). This is a term, frankly, that I discovered middle of last year. I chuckled when I heard it....

(Um, so you can probably imagine a skinny hairy guy. LOOK AT THIS CUTE OTTER? What a darling)

4. Drag Queen/ Transgender - The reason I put these two things together is because they are two completely different things that people seem to confuse on the reg. A Drag Queen is a man who dresses up as a woman (Did you see how I didn't use a "gay" man...cause straight peeps do it too). A person who is Transgender is someone who identifies with the anatomy of the sex they weren't born with. Therefore a Trans Man is a man who was born with a vagina, but their gender identity is that of a male. BOOM. MIND BLOWN. YOURE WELCOME. (Also...don't use trannie, it is super derogatory.)

(Fabulous show. Ridiculous contests. AMAZING guest hosts)

5. Gold Star Gay - This refers to a gay man who has never slept with, or really done anything sexually, with a female. Some gay men will try to make themselves seem more experienced with women by calling themselves "Silver Star" or "Bronze Star" depending on how far they have gone with women. It's another foolish competition that I have most certainly fallen into the traps of. I am pretty much a Gold Star Gay. At this point in my life I am fairly allergic to vagina. 

(Vagina free since....well for a very long time)

6. Breeder - This may come as a shock to some, but this is a gay term for straight people. It's kind of like our way of calling straight people Muggles (cause everything comes back to Harry Potter). If you haven't figured it out yet, straight people are called  Breeders because they are able to procreate the traditional way. Some say it out of disgust "Ewww, this place is crawling with Breeders, let's go." While others, like myself, use it in a very matter of fact way, "I have many breeder friends who are not ready to breed just yet."

(the gayest superhero duo to ever exist...)

7. Fruit Fly- This is another term that generally refers to a straight person. This is a much nicer way of saying F** Hag, which I loathe with every bone in my body. Basically, a straight female who spends all of her time with gay men and seems to attract gay best friends on the reg can be referred to as a Fruit Fly. Some famous Fruit Flies include Kathy Griffin, Cher, and Grace Adler. 

(But, like, I love her. #typical)

Let's go ahead and treat this as a Gay Urban Dictionary, Pt. 1, because there are plenty of other terms that we use and categories we separate ourselves into to make life more complicated. 

Also...I think I am going on a second date with an OkCupid guy... WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TOO??? I'll explain more next week. 

Gay Community: Full of hierarchies that all finish with someone on the bottom *wink, wink, nudge nudge* (Get it??hehehe)

Fabulously Lost: Just looking for my love connection and maybe a fruit fly or two along the way. 

Breeders: Welcome here, but not everywhere. (HOW DOES IT MAKE YOU FEEL??? Ok, so if you are reading this blog, you probably aren't the ones who are unwelcoming to gay people. I get it. I'm sorry. Now I feel bad. Ughhh)

Harry Potter in Shambles

Most of my close friends are aware of my odd fascination with most things Harry Potter related. What I really mean by "odd fascination" is that I tend to try and fit anything HP related into my daily conversation. I think this is a normal thing, but I have been told that I should hide that type of crazy from most people until several dates in. (Other "odd fascinations" I have include, and are not limited to, '90s teen bop music, '00s teen bop music, '10s teen bop music {Shut it...Selena speaks to me], and Sabrina the Teenage Witch. And Britney.) Whenever I thought about which HP character I would end up with I, along with most human beings, imagined I would date Harry or Ron or even Malfoy (loves me a good bad boy. he's a fixer-upper.) I never in a million years thought I would end up on a date with Hagrid.

Now, my Hagrid (it bothers me that I can say "my Hagrid" forever and for always...), wasn't as hairy as the mythical friendly half giant that lived on the grounds of Hogwarts, but he wasn't too far off. This gentleman began messaging me over OkCupid and seemed decent enough. I had gone on a string of bad dates with people that had fit my "type" (which means they were black.) and decided that I needed to branch out and date people who were outside of my "type" (which means non-black). This was mistake #1.This seemed logical enough for me and gave me new found hope that I was supposed to find someone who I wasn't conventionally attracted to and that we would find love in each other because of our differences!

Hagrid worked locally at a restaurant and was 27 years old. He was 6' 4", had some light scruff, and only had face pics on the site. (this generally means he has something to hide, but as we know...I'm a desperate daisy and tend to forgo any warnings) He didn't delve into exactly what he did at the restaurant but he did say that he loved where he worked because of the regulars. This should have been seen as a red flag, but instead I saw this as him being a friendly guy who enjoyed getting to know the patrons of the restaurant he owned. (Notice what I did there...he said he worked at a restaurant and I convinced myself he owned it. #crazypartyof1) Hagrid told me he wanted me to come to his restaurant where he worked for our first date, but I decided I wanted to be treated like the gem that I am and wanted to go to his favorite restaurant in his neighborhood in Baltimore. This was mistake #2.

When I arrived at the "restaurant" that he chose as his favorite in his neighborhood, I should have probably turned around and left but I didn't. This was mistake #3. The outside of the bar looked like it was made of wood that scavenged from an old dirty pirate ship. The neon sign was like the little sign that could, flickering every so often to let you know they were O-EN.  There was also one window on the first floor and it was blacked out. I decided that this was just "rustic charm" and tried to give this dive a chance. 

Hagrid was sitting there at the end of the bar when I walked in and his "scruff" was a full fledged beard and when he stood up, he not only towered over me, but he was twice the weight of me (and I am no tiny duckling). Instead of the normal handshake to say hello, he engulfed me in a hug...and smushed my face into his beard nest thing. Not running away at this point was mistake #4

Hagrid: You look just like I thought you would! I hope you like my choice, I'm a regular here.

(There he goes again with the "regulars"....)

Me: You look...just like....you. This is an interesting place...do they have good food/drink specials. 

Hagrid: Well I wouldn't say they have good food, but the chef knows how to heat up a good burger. 

Ummm he knows how to heat up a good burger? What the hell does that mean? This is a restaurant shouldn't they be cooking the burgers fresh? Shouldn't it be a specialty since that is standard bar food?? WHERE THE HELL AM I?!?!

Me: Well it sounds like you know a good burger...what are their drink specials

Hagrid: Beer

Me: Oh nice, uh..err...do they have anything else?

Hagird: I'd stick to the beer

Me: So I guess I don't really need to look at the menu do I? (mistake #5)

Hagrid: That's the spirit! I knew you'd like this place.  I hate sissy fem gays who can't handle a little roughness around the edge. 

So... I don't think about myself as a "sissy fem gay" but I also like the finer things in life. My family never taught me how to camp and I like new clothes and nice restaurants and being treated well and staying in hote....ok so I might be a little bit of a "sissy". (who the hell cares. Suck it judgers) On the same token, I loves me a good dive bar because they tend to have good greasy food and cheap drinks. This place just looked like it was mice infested and hadn't been cleaned since the mid-1800s. I let him do all of the ordering because I couldn't understand the garbling of the bartender when she came up to us. She looked like a cross between and amazon woman and a yeti. Impeccable english.

(This is a real painting. All I had to type in was "Yeti Woman" and soooo many pictures came up. people are weird)

 We tried to make small talk about everything and anything and slowly began to realize we had very little in common.

Hagrid: Do you like dogs?
Me: Yeah, I didn't grow up with dogs but I like the idea of small to medium sized dogs. My bffl has a boxer that I'm in love with
Hagrid: Oh...I have a great dane. He is kinda unruly, like me! 
Me: Ha..ha..thats cool. What do you like to do for fun on the weekends?
Hagrid: I work most weekends at the restaurant, so I don't have a lot of time to hang out. 
Me: Right! What kinda restaurant is it?
Hagrid: It's actually almost exactly like this place a few streets over...its owned by the same guy!
Me: *shudders* Fun....so what do you do there? (mistake #6)
Hagrid: Well I was a bartender, but I drink too much sometimes so I was demoted to bar back. He can't fire me though cause I blew him once. He's afraid I'll tell his wife. *begins a hearty bellowing of a laugh that almost knocks over our "beers"*

As you can see, we have very little in common. For starters, our dog choices are not compatible. While this seems minor in this very moment you have to remember that I am on the search for long term lovin'. This means that if he prefers bigger dogs, later in life (Not that we would EVER get there) he would want a big dog. I have no urge to have my kids learning to horseback ride on our dog. Second, he works most weekends because he is a bar back. I work during the week and usually use my weekend for "extracurricular activities." Finally, I have no issue with his job choice or that he works at a bar that looks like you get herpes from sitting in it, but that he is proud of his job security due to blowing the owner at one point in time.

The really 'effed up part of this (disturbed that we haven't reached the effed up part yet? ME TOO)  is that after we awkwardly finished out food (and by finished I mean I pushed around the charred circle that resembled what used to be a burger) Hagrid asked me if I was okay walking him back to his place....and...I...said...yes. HOLD YOUR HORSES. I had no intention of going back to his place for hanky panky, but I was intrigued by the adventure of seeing where a half-giant lives. (I hear you judging me. I feel it with your eyes. That's just rude. Can't a guy just walk a giant home?) This is mistake #7.


Anywhoz, what I saw there is something that both shocked me and left my jaw dropped for days. Hagrid opened the door to his Baltimore row home and let me into what looked like the island of misfit...well...misfit everything. As soon as I walked in there was artwork on the wall that was large and in charge and had pizza smeared on it. I could tell it was pizza because there was a slice stuck to it in the top right hand corner.

Hagrid: We had a party that was a little wild 
Me: Oh wow, is it like an after work thing on the weekends?
Hagrid: Uhh...no it was like a Monday? I don't know, whatever the first Monday of the month was.


Nowwwww, we were closing in on the beginning of December, so this Pizza Artwork had been left on the wall for almost a month. But WAIT...it gets better! We moved past this Picasso and moved onto the living room where clothing made up what should be where a carpet was. Men's, women's, and children's clothing was strewn about. (Did you squint at that for a second? Did I just say children's clothing? Yup, yup I did) I also saw random children's toys laying all over the place and began to question what I had gotten myself into and just as I turned towards the door I was almost completely knocked over by a massive furry bear of an animal.

Hagrid: DOWN NICKELBACK! GET DOWN! 


You'd think I'd be startled by this stampeding elephant dog but, in reality, my mind immediately went to the fact that his dog was named after Nickelback, the widely hated American rock band. Not only did I find this a dumb name for an animal, but I also was appalled because I don't like this band and I have never found their songs (which all sound the same) all that exciting or great.

Me: Did you say your whale dog's name was Nickelback?
Hagrid: Yeah, they are the greatest band of all time. I have a tattoo dedicated to them on my body, you'll see it later if you're a good boy. *winks*
Me: I think I'll pass, I generally don't need rewards for being a good person. Why the hell are their children's toys and clothing everywhere?
Hagrid: Um, they're my roommates sons clothing. You remember the bartender from the bar we ate at? I live with her and her 3 year old son. Don't worry, when we have parties he stays at his grandma's down the road. 


Yup, he calmed my nerves. Hagrid let me know that the child is  not around for their pizza slinging, wolly mammoth stomping, incoherent garbling, beer guzzling parties. I am now completely comfortable with the situation I have gotten myself into, THANKS for that Hagrid. It was at this point, and only now, did I feel that I was ready to leave. As I walked towards the door I could hear him following me to let me out. I turned around to the most surprising event of the evening. This was the final mistake, mistake #8.


Hagrid lifted me off the ground, put me against the wall and planted a kiss on a majority of my face with his giant man bearded lips. I felt like my head was being taken over in an alien death kiss as my feet wiggled in the air. After what seemed like eons, he put me back on the ground.

Hagrid: I have wanted to do that all night. You have nice lips
Me: Uh, well I think I should go.
Hagird: If you ever wanna go out again, let me know. I can get you free drinks at the bar...if my boss isn't there. 


I, as I know it must surprise you, did not take him up on this kind offer. I cut down the beanstalk, sans any golden eggs, and never saw the giant again.

Internet Dating; Infinity
Fabulously Lost: Curbing Harry Potter Fantasies
Mistakes: Blatantly obvious to everyone but me
Voldemort: He won this battle.