I am starting this column a lot earlier than usual... only two days past the date it was supposed to be in! Wow... yeah, I know. Well, I have a good excuse. I'm home again. The process of finishing up classes and moving was a total pleasure as you can probably imagine <note the sarcasm in my typing... >. Well, enough dilly dallying, on with my article.
Well, we are now very decent friends. The type that really talk to each other. That tell each other about our respective lives, and listen and give feedback. So, all in all, we are doing good and going on with remarkable ease. I miss him... I won't lie and say otherwise. On the other hand, I don't spend very much time thinking about him. I feel more strongly for him than I did for Hazel, yet I was able to let him go much more easily. Where it took me months with Hazel, it took 2-3 weeks to completely recover from Randall. I have a tendency of trying to convince myself of something when it isn't true. I don't believe that this is that sort of situation. For example, a week before I left, we went dancing. Randall managed to hook up with a really sweet Vietnamese guy, Alan. I managed to pull the guy I was with away and thereby gave them some privacy. Well, I honestly don't know if anything came of that, because I've been at home.
Home and Coming out
Over spring break, I had the worst week of my life, and it filled me with a lot of dread about coming back to Houston for the summer. I had far too many negative memories associated with living here. Basically, I came out to my parents on the night of the Oscars. It wasn't a premeditated decision, nor was it something that I was prepared to deal with at that time.
My mother and I were watching the Oscars. I had just come home from hanging out with my best friend. I spent most of my spring break and almost all of winter break with her, and so my mother thought I might be dating her. She asked if I felt romantic towards her, and I of course replied no, after all she's knows way too much about me to date. Then she proceeds to ask about the girls at school, none of whom I have much interest in. I said no, and then she asks (pretty much as if it were a rhetorical question to her), "You aren't gay are you?" By this time, the Oscars had returned, and I was fervently praying that Leo would NOT get an Oscar for Titanic (I KNOW I'm going to get enemies for saying that, but I honestly don't think he was particularly good... .he's hot, but not that good... ). I said, "Not now, mom, its back on." She turns the television off, and proceeds to berate me with questions. I had already decided that I wouldn't lie to her, and therefore I told her a lot. I told her about Randall, and that I was bi, about nearly killing myself over it (oh the dra-ma ). Well, she didn't take it well... in fact, it could be said that she took it very badly. The problem was not that she had a problem with the being bi part... she had a problem with me not keeping it utterly secret and acting on it. Now, it's a hard thing to deal with when you aren't condemned for what you are, but what you do about it. Yeah, I know, sounds Catholic right? Well, she's not.
The most disturbing aspect was that they said they were going to remove me from UofC claiming that it was a corrupting influence, and I would have to transfer to a Houston area school. I spent one day being interrogated by my father, who was kind enough to drag me to his office for a father-son hell session. We sat down together, I wrote my application essays to Rice, and he worked. Then in the car ride to pick my brother up from school, he asked me charming questions like, "Have you ever had a man's cock up your ass?" and "Have you ever stuck your cock up a man's ass?" It sucked, but I being the patient son put up with it. I never ate at home, I slept there, I didn't talk to anybody except my friends. I cried a lot. Strangely it was Hazel who helped me a lot. We talked for hours on-line, and he actually helped me out a lot... pretty much by being his own insensitive self!
I went back to school more readily and happily than ever, and very very disturbed. I didn't find out that my parents wouldn't take me out until I got home for spring break. I was a really really shitty week. And no, they won't come around. The only reason they've let me have as much lee-way as I have is because I told them that I wasn't doing anything about being bi. Basically that I was totally closeted to the rest of the world. So they think it's a deep dark family secret. My father also told my brother... which pissed me off. It's not that I have a problem with him knowing, but that my father didn't have the right to tell him.
Well, I'm home now. Currently my parents are out of town on vacation (with my brothers), so I'm quite happy... despite their desperate attempts to ruin my break. I have been struggling to get a job in a market which is continuously looking for permanent help. The fact that I'm returning to Chicago in 4 months is stopping me from getting a lot of jobs. I have also gone clubbing. I love to dance, and therefore I went dancing at a local club, Rich's. It was really great, and after being there for an hour completely alone, I managed to start making a ton of friends. They have managed to make my last week really really cool. I've had a lot of fun recently, partially because my parents are gone, but mostly because I really haven't had the luxury of just hanging out in a really long time. I also now have more gay friends than straight friends, and am honestly looking forward to the rest of summer (despite my parent's presence).
Okay, now its my turn to bitch a little bit about something I've noticed in the queer community. That thing is Drama. In recent dealing with queers around Chicago and Houston, I've noticed a huge tendency towards dramatics. For example, I was trying to speak to a guy at a club last Friday, and I tap him on the shoulder. The boy flies three feet and slams into the bar as if I'd decked him. To tell you the truth, after seeing what he did, I was very tempted to... perhaps I could put him in orbit?
Then, I'm on a mailing list, with a lot of Chicago area queer youth, for parties. It's generally run by a guy named Brian. Well, Brian's ex-boyfriend decides to e-mail the entire list and tell them about Brian's naughty/scanky/low behavior. As if that weren't enough, he asks for a boycott of all the parties. Then Brian replies back as if the harbinger of all that is good, queer, proper, and fun claiming that he's a good guy, and that people should still come to his parties.
Granted that these are but two examples, and hardly enough to criticize a whole community for two isolated incidents. Nor would I dream of it. I know a lot of non-dramatic down-to-earth fags. But, frankly, its not for lack of other incidents. I'm sure every person reading this has his/her own story about queer drama. And, its also not saying that straight people don't have their own share of drama, after all talk to half my ex-girlfriends! Well, bottom line is that in my experience, queers have an excited tendency towards ostentatious displays of their own lives for the purpose of garnering pity points (or bitch points for their enemies) from their friends, relatives, and especially the utter stranger. Why?
What makes a person want to make a loud display? I mean, isn't it more reasonable to bitch to your friends and not to everybody else? After all, it's your life, not anybody else's! <sigh> I think maybe its because people who are gay feel the need to be reinforced: to be told that they are cool and loved. I feel really bad for anybody that feels like they need that from another person. After all, I am my own master, and my life rises or falls by my own hand. No matter how unfair my situation is, I have to deal with it. If my parents take me out of UofC, I'm going to UT, and I'm going to make myself a better person for it. I refuse to lose, and nobody can make me lose but myself. I think that the reason I'm a little less inclined towards drama is because I don't want anybody I don't care about put out by trying to help me. I mean, I don't want to burden anybody else with my life, because I know I can deal with it (with the help of a couple of my closest friends). I don't need a scene.
I hope that as the queer movement grows, and more and more kids come out through non-traumatic coming outs (ESPECIALLY polar opposite to my own). The tendency towards drama will reduce, and queers will be secure in themselves enough to be able to curb their dramatic tendencies.
Places to go in Houston if you are a queer (quasi) youth:
1) Crossroads: west of Montrose on Westheimer. Next to Hollywood video with all the flashing neon lights. You can't miss it.
2) Rich's: Friday nights, 18+, $7 cover. Great music, even better company.
3) House of Pies: downtown on Hwy 59. It's a great place to hang out <not as good as IHOP, but hey!>, and totally queer-friendly.
4) Café Adobe: If you are ever feeling like you might be the only gay person in the world, just drive by this place any day. There were so many gay people you'd never feel alone again! Go Monday nights and you'll see a few of my friends up there.
I haven't written nearly as much about myself as usual, but that's primarily because what I have written brings back a really lousy feeling in my stomach. There is other stuff going on. For example I am going to a movie with a guy I really like... yes it's a date... I hope there's something there, because I really do like the guy. In any case, I'm going to sign off. As usual, e-mail me at <firstname.lastname@example.org> or IM me at email@example.com As always I will reply e-mail as soon as I can. I still have three e-mails I have yet to reply to, and I PROMISE I will get around to y'all!