Mr. Month

Preface:

“Many of you I know professionally. Some of you, friends, family and prostitutes, may very well be in this story. The others, sitting next to a warm fire right now with a cup of hot coco, well… these in the audience are probably sensitive and magical trolls that have nothing better to do than judge me and my placement of commas, obviously. This is a work of fiction.  I am still a virgin, to this day Nancy. The lord Jesus and gracious mother earth have given me a Hail Mary card and immunity to the effects of any drug. I know I should just say, ‘NO WAY JOSE,’ but it’s all good in the hood because I currently fall into protection under the grandfather rules of 1907 and in Leviticus I’m pretty sure it says I’m allowed to say whatever the fuck I want so long as I don’t have tits and a JJ. I’m exempt, however, even with this rock hard evidence, you will be offended. I make no excuses. Please stop, drop and roll your way over to that exit button while you’re ahead.” – Ronald Regan – U.N. Summit (Look it up)

Mr. Month

Everyone you meet has the opportunity to teach you a life lesson if you’ll only let them but if you ride a hog named Larry like me, at times that life lesson needs to be tattooed on your body. Especially following a mediocre or even hard break up. Consider how troublesome it may be to experience a break up where you’ve returned from a ten day vacation last year and you found out that the one person you gave your heart to is about to crush it and imagine also that person cheating on you with some east side, buck toothed tramp from Grindr.  Consider also, kitten mittens. I’d like them for Christmas this year.

If my life had a motto during that time to keep me going, it was to have strength from within myself. Surely if it wasn’t to have strength, the other motto would have been, “burn everything.” I was at no point in my life to return to my Nelly days where all the ceilings were on fire. I’d finally need to cash in that renter’s insurance check, throw out my red high heels, tell Reba this isn’t her playground, get fancy, and count on my next few rebound relationships to help me deal. 

So about six months after the break up I found my strength to get back on that imaginary horse and another month after that I was ready to start dating again, with feelings. If you didn’t know, there’s a “feelings switch” that guys can turn on.

November was eventful last year in Austin and just happens to be a wonderful time for the Gays in general. One half of one percent delete their dating profiles, fire their pool boy, grow a mustache and take dating seriously again. I attribute most of these seasonal attitudes to argyle sweaters and the new stricter No-Shave November Laws on Facebook. It was at this time that I took a step across enemy lines and decided to devote the next year of my life to becoming a lesbian. That equates to 3 gay-man years if we’re bringing algebra into it. Naturally the first thing I’d need to do is adopt a dog from a no-kill shelter. After accepting my hero badge I could then leave the shelter and parade this living thing around like a trophy to get stuff, hopefully from the government. Don’t judge me; it’s just how I was raised. This last year the only thing I wanted more than a remote controlled massage chair or to become a lesbian was a boyfriend equipped with a mute button.

New cute puppy pictures and flannel outfits posted on the internet meant that it would be just a matter of time. It didn’t hurt that Ken and I had already been flirting on OKCupcake for a while. He knew I had just adopted a dog and was, clearly, serious about dating. I was especially interested in Ken because he wasn’t Asian but more than that, on a more genuine level of interest, he had those abs that people get just from being skinny. I’d always wondered how that happens and decided I’d be going all, raiders of the lost ark in his kitchen at some point. To this day I’m still impressed that I was able to resist from drinking out of the fancy cups at his garage apartment.

We met at that one bar everyone gets crazy about every year no matter where you’re from. Last year it was a Christmas Themed dive bar that brought back memories of a simpler time when I got touched by Jesus at that state fair. That year I accepted Jesus into my heart and my pants, my hands bound in holy prayer.  It was like that same feeling you get when you start smelling cinnamon apples in all the shops. Yes, Bath and Body Works or as I like to call it, Satan’s Lair. Later Jesus and I played a dart game where you pop ballons and I won a poster showcasing Beyonce’s belly dancing skills. Those balloons weren’t the only things to get popped. Thanks JC!

Then, years later in this Xmas Dive Bar, I wasn’t trying to be racist but as I looked around the bar I couldn’t help myself when I came to the realization that Jesus was a big ol’ bottom. This surprised me because the reviews online said that people just didn’t like the smoke in there even though nobody was technically allowed to smoke due to “the fucking Austin liberals” as one reviewer put it. Now Jesus usually doesn’t have much evidence stacked in his favor but I could faintly remember him being a very convincing top, faintly. Could every Yelp reviewer be wrong or was this décor to blame?  Jesus had so many crowns and his ropes were real fly. For some reason this made me choke, not on Christmas, but on the remnants of memories from my childhood when Jesus raped me. Suddenly visions of locked car windows, Jesus’ abs, and my mother’s chain smoking flashed back. I think we all remember those few faint images that flash back as Jesus is choking us in the back of an old station wagon. Life lessons I’ve been afforded so I headed over to the actual bar where a chipper, almost Santa-like man was practically giving out drinks. According to my mother, if you’re going to be smoking, you had better be drinking.

He walked in as I ordered a whiskey drink, twinkling as I sip and for a moment you could see his butt cheeks tense up. He ordered the same drink and we immediately got masculine boners due to gay rules about ordering whiskey. We walked like penguins, both hiding our excitement over to a wobbly corner table. He had just left the gym and said that he was trying to bulk up.  It’s amazing how many times I’ve heard that in my life. Heard, but never said.

We hit it off. His mustache was cute and we found a mutual person to detest. A vile woman he works with was also a business acquaintance of mine and she’d recently been an unwanted addition in his department.

Our dates consisted of a dog park, flirting but no touching, and lunch. We did this quite a few times spanning more than a few weeks until one day he invited me back to his upstairs garage apartment. To be clear, his apartment was above a garage. It wasn’t an actual garage. He’d decorated it well, I was digging it and he lived in a good area of Austin.  As we were leaving the dog park that bright bushy day my new puppy that I got from the shelter (remember him?) decided that he gets car sick in stranger’s cars. He threw up three times on the way back until there was nothing left to hurl. To add to the stress, he proceeded to poop in Ken’s house when we finally arrived. We locked him out of the room, I apologized, and then we took a shower together. That’s when things got messy.

We took our time until we eventually found the bed and our way to doggy style. Things were going how things go and near the end of our pursuits a tiny, almost speck of, uhhm, material exited the general area. Never welcomed but I wasn’t losing my shit over it even if he was. I guess it didn’t help that at the exact same time my dog made it into the room and proceeded to pee on his bed sheets. I told him the first time is supposed to be awkward and it’ll all be fine. So he went to the laundry mat and I went home. I never got a returned text or phone call. That was the shitty part and the last I ever heard from Ken.

So maybe it wasn’t going to work out with Ken and maybe that was because I wasn’t, lesbian enough. I needed to date a Justin Beiber if I was going to go full lesbian and for Christmas I got exactly what I wanted. But… like any new gift you get for Christmas you’d probably finish the bottle in 22 days and forget to recycle it.

I got back on OkCupcake, ready to force my love on the next unsuspecting victim! I found a guy way out of my league. Beiber, we’ll call him, had been a medic in the army and lived in Hawaii for four years usually bartending on the beach after he was done surfing.

My persistence paid off on Christmas Day. We met at a large park just as the sun was setting. I anxiously awaited his arrival and kept second guessing my outfit. I was wearing a new thin black sweater with a sewed in scarf. It’s still the gayest thing I own but it was cold and it was already in my car. The whole thing could have turned into one giant fashion disaster. It didn’t even match my pants!

The minute we met there was a spark. I wish I could joke about that but it was a real undeniable connection we both felt and I’m honestly still confused by the loss of this one. Maybe it was his raw cave-man like splendor but for some reason I couldn’t leave him that night. We walked down to a Christmas fair area next to the park. There was a smell of a fire in the distance. We talked, he opened up to me and I couldn’t hear enough. He told me about a rescue he took in, a violent dog that he compared himself to. He cried, this tough tall army medic with classic good looks cried on our first date. Not a lot thankfully, but he loved this dog. I thought to myself, if he ever feels for me half of what he felt for his dog I’d be lucky to have him. I know how it must sound, but almost a year later my heart still hurts every time I think of that story. 

We slowly crept through the trails on Town Lake finding a walking path that leads from one of the biggest parks close to downtown. He held my hand and a love for astronomy and respected my opinions; in fact, he was excited to hear them. He held me close under the stars as we scuffed towards a bridge overlooking the water. It was so unreal that I thought he must have some mental instability thing that people just don’t see at first. At some point I remember thinking he was probably more likely to mug me and throw me into the water rather than pull me in for a kiss. I think I winced as if he were some bully on the playground ready to sucker punch me and take my Pokémon trading cards and lunch money.  I was in luck and instead of a punch to the gut I got hit right in the heart. It was getting even colder outside so he wrapped his oversized jacket around me and we kissed for a good, few hours holding each other until the sun came up. It was like the ending to Bridgette Jones Diary, except I was living it rather than watching as I eat all the pasta in my apartment. Wouldn’t it be funny if someone was there watching us while eating a bowl of left over spaghetti? If you’re into that sort of thing I do read my fan letters.

We had already agreed to meet on the day after Christmas and honestly, neither of us wanted to wait so we saw each other again in the same spot just a few hours later picking up where we left off. We couldn’t stop talking and kissing and it was so sweet it could make you sick. He thought it was unrealistic for me to sit across from him at a table rather than have me close. Sitting across the table was too far. This was an invited romance considering my last major relationships were with guys incapable of understanding their own sexuality and only found any type of PDA to add to that stress. We bounced around from restaurants soaking up great food and coffee.  It seemed as though we’d found something special as the words I love you dangled from his tongue. He practically stuttered as he spoke saying that he La-La-Lo-iked me. When you’re single it’s the sort of ridiculous crap you see other people do and you vow to never be so stupid. But man… when you feel it you just don’t care what other people are going to think, so you do it anyways.

Even as I measured these welcomed feelings for Beiber, I had to admit that it was moving too fast and I knew it but I also didn’t want to lose the momentum. He started staying over immediately and we hadn’t spent a single day apart since that night we met at the park. I already had a vacation planned for Denver, more of a nomad migration of sorts. A “see how it goes” adventure for me to explore the mountainous area and maybe even chop some wood in one of those flannel shirts I’d bought. My grandfather once told me a story about an adventure he took early in life, traveling through Colorado with some friends and camping in different spots along the way. He explained the beauty of the mountains, crisp clean air, soft pure white snow and a coziness amidst something so vast. He described it so well I kept the story with me and over the years I’ve kept thinking back to it, wanting to re-create an experience my grandfather had more than fifty years ago. What better way to honor a man I look up to and admire than to relive a great experience in his life?

I hadn’t planned to bring Beiber and in fact, I was secretly against the idea. I wanted to fly and he couldn’t consider the idea due to something I don’t remember. I think I was discovering his eyes that day and slipped out from what he was saying. That’s a nice way for me to say that I just wasn’t listening. I was back at work for a day or two before I left on my vacation, on New Years Eve day. Beiber met my friends the day before and we’d joked about being ridiculously clingy around them beforehand as an inside joke. We were completely fine with anyone or everyone being disgusted by our infatuation with each other. We had already become a team, ready to support whatever the other needed. Denver, however, had other plans for us.

After he met my friends I thought it would be a good idea to go on the vacation with him. The alternative meant that I’d be apart from him for more than a few days and that wasn’t even an option. I rented a little Nissan Sentra and off we went. I had just bought the new Taylor Swift album and put it in the car, ready to play on repeat. He wasn’t having it after one song, strike one Beiber. If he didn’t appreciate a Taylor Swift album how was he ever going to understand my complex emotions!?

The drive to Denver is a long one and we weren’t stopping for rest. We hadn’t planned anything and he was doing most of the driving. He also brought his adorable new puppy with no name but she was a puppy so there was that whole mess. Months later he finally text me and let me know he’d decided on something from star wars for her name. So two gay guys, a cramped small rental car, a new puppy competing for his affection, and 44 total driving hours… what could go wrong?

The drive was actually great there. We talked more and more, discovering new things and even the silence was filled with laughter and music.

In New Mexico we stopped at a horrible diner and had the worst meal we’ve both ever eaten and in the gift shop there was anything you could ever want to remember Colorado. In that horrible place, New Mexico, we had the best time making fun of absolutely everything. And in Denver we shopped and made our way through the snow until we made it to the town I’ll raise my kids in, where I’ll have my wedding, and where I want to be buried. We reached Estes Park and bunkered down in a room with a great view of the mountains.

There was, however, a creeping distance I felt from him in Denver and he brought that to Estes Park. I didn’t understand how you could not want to be romantic in such a wonderful place. It wasn’t always rainbows and butterflies. Sometimes he was aggressive. All I have to say is, if your man hasn’t spit in your mouth in the heat of passionate love making, you’re missing out. At least that’s what Martha Stewart told me when we were locked up together. I remember her telling me how aroused she got when Chris Brown hit something. Oh, how I wish Martha had her ankle bracelet off so she could join us.  

The first night in Estes Park Beiber and I got into our first fight and it was one of those fights you can’t really recover from. I blame bourbon. It makes me feisty and the next day I knew I’d said too much and gone too far. At this point I think you could understand that this is always a hard revelation for me to attain. We’d never recover and we never have. I poured the half empty bottle of bourbon into the bathroom sink and it stained the bowl. I knew there’d be party foul repercussions if my frat brothers ever found out but the bourbon had to go.

We tried to keep it alive when we got back from Denver but it just wasn’t the same. I’m actually more upset now that I forgot my Taylor Swift CD in the rental Car. Beiber, if you’re reading this you owe me a T-Swift CD.

For twenty two days we spent almost every moment together. Insanity probably captures it best but for now we’ll use the word infatuation. I gave him his things back and I decided it was best for us not to talk at all. I’ve been through breakups and when it’s over. It’s over. I immediately started dating someone the next week. I turned off my emotions from Beiber, completely, like a switch as if I was expecting him to come back and turn me on.

It was almost February and I’d already been through so much so I decided to spend my time with someone who’d not only take my mind off Beiber but someone who also shared many of my interests. Manly things like camping, playing swords while peeing outside, and staining furniture. This was when I contemplated having new a boyfriend but only for a month at a time like a calendar of boyfriends. I would see how things went with, Charles, and then if it didn’t work I’d just start an experiment with hopes of learning more about myself and what I wanted out of a romantic relationship.

Charles had abs, he was an advanced nerd working with microchips and played the guitar. Case closed, where do I sign and I do. We met at a Vietnamese restaurant and when we met I could see the look he had in his eyes. It’s how I looked at Beiber the first time I met him. There was something up and it smelled familiar. We starting hanging out a lot and it was as if we were friends that just happened to sleep together. On valentine’s day I asked him to be my boyfriend as we camped together for the first time. About a week after that he had an opportunity to introduce me to one of his friends and he didn’t. I hadn’t thought about it much but that smell was coming back. It was bull shit. I confronted him, politely and asked if he’d ever see a point where I’d be a “mentioned and welcome” part of his life. He said no, and I broke up with him. Ain’t no body got time for that.

March rolled around and I was swatting them off like flies. Ladies, it was raining men. This time, two men. Brian and Jaun and I thought to myself, maybe THIS is what I’ve been missing? I’ve been doing it all wrong for too long and I’m just too much for most guys to handle. I’m opinionated, social, some-what educated, and a natural busy body not to mention, bat-shit-crazy. One man wasn’t going to be able keep up with me and if they could it would be likely that they wouldn’t have similar goals. I decided to try it out the way a college girl tries out another college girl. Two at one time and with cultural variety.

The sex was interesting but nothing different than any other threesomes. I’m pretty sure Jesus would not have approved but then, I remember faintly a BDSM fantasy he was too eager to try that night at the fair. Not to mention he was totally voyeuristic, always tweeting me later asking that I stop singing in the shower and always reminding me to wash my feet.  I decided I’d just go for it and for a month I did until I couldn’t anymore. I understand why they needed a third person in their relationship. Brian could have sex 1000x a day if you let him. Mean while Jaun and I would just pretend to be asleep. It didn’t help that Brian and Jaun had been together for more than a few years and they constantly bickered back and forth about stupid shit. It also didn’t help that Brian was vegan and we couldn’t eat real foods. I started to wonder who was I becoming!? I may have rejected the religion of my people but there’s no way I was giving up my red meat. A few weeks in they finally invited me into their relationship as the third boyfriend. Brian told me they’d both agreed and all I needed to do was murder a hooker in Vegas to join the club. Bearing in mind I’d already done this made things that much easier.

I am happy I didn’t turn my nose up to the idea but at the end the day it’s not what I want to come home to and I knew if I joined the love triangle, somebody would get chlamydia and we’d never know where it came from. I won’t be the start of some pandemic.  

Before I called it quits with these two I ran into a guy I had missed out on a date with about a year prior right after I broke up with my cheating ex, Fuckwad. Fuckwad was the Spanish guy I gave my heart to for about 7 months and the cause of this sexual and emotional revolution. I ran into St Peter out at the clurb, doin my thang. I wasn’t looking straight ahead and hit him like a muscular wall of fun. He was just what I needed in my life at the time. A middle eastern guy with a rock hard body and a personality that would. Not. Quit. Such a big, personality.

We were both a little drunk and just immediately starting dancing together. The next day I realized that I hadn’t had that much fun with a guy in years. We focus so much on love that sometimes we forget to just have fun. Such a strange thing but he was the first guy I’ve ever dated that felt comfortable going out to the club with me and dancing. So we started dancing our lives away and before I knew it the world just stopped for a while and I wasn’t worried about how long my relationship was going to last. I didn’t worry about anything. St Peter told me he loved me like the second week in and I believed him. What’s not to love? He made me lunch and we took short trips. He was kind, so much kinder than I expected him to be.

Even so, I hadn’t had time to myself in a while and it felt like I was just going through all of these guys. I didn’t want to commit to anyone but if I had to go back I think I would have given him a better shot and a clearer mind. That’s not to say there weren’t major problems. Once we planned a dinner. I took off my lunch break and bought all of the things and prepared. An hour before I got off work he sent me a picture of food. He was out with his friends having dinner. He didn’t cancel with me or tell me he was going out with his friends. This picture didn’t even have a caption. It didn’t even have a caption; it was just a blank snapchat. All I was to him was a blank snapchat! I made dinner for myself that night. Things like this constantly occurred and the little things add up after a while. About two months in I’d broken up with him twice because he seriously could not get his act together. Who was his dating coach, Tara Reid? He struck out the third time when he told me he wouldn’t kiss me in front of his friends. I won’t be hidden. If you’re not proud to have me, you don’t deserve me and that was the end. I drunkenly broke up with him as I found an Uber and locked up my car downtown. He cried and I still can’t believe he didn’t see that coming.

I took the summer off to focus on work. The gays don’t date in the summer anyways. We tan, we focus on our friends, and we take vacations. There’s no time for a relationship in the summer, everyone knows this LaTonya. This time away also provided me some time to reflect.

Nearing the end of the summer I decided to join an all gay softball league. I had never played softball in my life but that didn’t mean I was going to let softball play me. I’d slap the weave right off softballs head if I was given the chance. I was surprised to find out that there aren’t as many weaves in softball as I thought. I’m not sure what I was expecting now that I think about it.

I had just left a pre-pre practice sign up where they watch how bad the new players are. If you enjoy the first few episodes of American Idol you might have also enjoyed watching our new team learn to throw and catch. So I was leaving practice and decided that since I was in a new area in town I might like to pull up my grinder just to see what the locals are up to.

Cander messaged me immediately and I wasn’t hating all his scruffiness. He told me he was visiting from Turkey on a work visa and asked me out to coffee and he gave me his number right away. At first I was worried he was some kind of catfish but took my chances anyways. Who is going to pass up a date with Turkish guy?

We started seeing eachother a few times a week. I would drive downtown and he would take the bus always meeting at the same coffee shop until I started picking him up from his hotel. It’s crazy, sometimes fate intervenes in your life and everything you planned turns out to be a cruel joke that the Universe allows you to believe. Suddenly I found myself thinking about moving to Turkey and wondering what my life might be like there. Cander cooked for me and when he stayed over he cleaned my house and when I came home he rubbed my back. He listened to me and cared. More than any of that, I do not waiver, and there is no exaggeration when I say that this person, from a world away could understand my heart better than anyone I’d ever known and in that same breath I say that he is the most loving and honest person I have ever met.

It seemed impossible that we would have the same favorite movie, grow up in a similar way, share political beliefs and favorite foods. When my mind wanders he knows how to catch it. He’s the guy you experience life with. I could trust him to raise my kids and my closest friends absolutely loved him.

As his time crept up I had to wonder if I felt strongly for him because of his innocent heart or because time was running out. Given the chance I know I could spend my life with Cander and be happy and on the other hand I find it cruel to lead him to have hope for something that may never happen. It’s not so easy to move from Turkey to the U.S.

So I told him before he left that it was over and there was no hope for us. He wasn’t happy to hear it and we didn’t speak for about a week. His time was almost up, however, and I couldn’t stand to see him leave without saying goodbye. So we met one last time at the coffee shop where I first saw him, this time as friends. I’d allowed myself to believe that I could flip a switch with him and turn off everything I felt. We had an awkward dinner and he was cruel to me. He jabbed at me in part of our conversation and called me fat and hinted that I didn’t care about him. I was furious and I couldn’t handle it so I threw some cash on the table and started to leave, crying uncontrollably. He chased after me still upset but confused. I told him that I had still loved him and it killed me to see him go and then he kissed me. Not like he ever had before. I was frozen as he told me that he would do whatever it took to come back, he’d find me and we’d be married. I could only kiss him, unable to form words.

He’s applied for citizenship but it’s a lottery. Fate brought him to me once before and I hope one day fate brings him back to me again. Until then, what am I to do? It could be years before he comes back. I feel like Hellen Hunt in Cast Away except I know Tom Hanks is on that island. So Cander and I made an agreement. If he can find his way back to me we’ll get married. Until then, I’m not waiting up for him and he’s not waiting up for me. It’s just as strange as the ways we were brought together but we both have lives to live. The world isn’t fair but I’ve been given plenty of opportunities, and chances to make something work. In this past year I’ve met so many amazing, kind and even really hot men.  I’ve been blessed with opportunities to learn and grow in love and I’m a stronger, kinder person for it.

Cander and I stay in touch every day. He’s been back in turkey for a few weeks and sends me pictures and he’s told many of his friends about the American guy who stole his heart. And although I love him, he’s become like a best friend to me, because that’s all he can be right now. It’s tragic and it’s beautiful and for now it’s in the hands of fate.

Any time I spend with another guy right now feels wrong. Like I’m betraying Cander, but at the same time, we’re human and he’s on the other side of the planet. I want him to have someone to hold and I know he wants the same for me.

So last week I had dinner with a guy from Spain for shits and gigs. He was undeniably attractive, the type of guy so attractive that it almost makes you uncomfortable. “Did he loose a bet? Why is he here with me?” He was a welcome and must needed distraction considering I hadn’t had sex since Cander or shared a conversation with anyone who could keep up like Ignatius could. A couple weeks, for me, is a long time to be cut off. Ignatius was visiting from San Francisco and I don’t think he really understands the favor he did for me while he was here. Sure, we had a fun time visiting Barton springs, cruising through a Mediterranean festival and taking time to go out dancing.

What he doesn’t know is that when we were out dancing we ran into Fuckwad, my ex from Spain who cheated on me over year prior. He’d grown out a beard but he couldn’t hide from me. It’s that triumphant moment you want when you go to your ten year high school reunion or run into the ex that really had you crazy in love until the love is gone and you’re just crazy.

Here I was having fun with a more attractive, smarter and sexually aware guy, ironically from Spain. He must have seen us dancing all night, having an amazing time and as I ran into my friends he must have seen that too. After fuckwad I thought I’d never be able to love again. I cut myself off for a long time and didn’t allow myself to feel anything for anyone. I ruined close friendships and pushed people away and slipped into a depression but I picked myself back up. I found the strength from within myself to trust and love again. Seeing fuckwad wasn’t about winning. When you’ve been hurt so badly, just being here and proving you’re strong is enough.  I guess the lion king was right about that whole circle of life thing.