So often during high school--and, for some of us, even beyond that--it is impossible for us to imagine the end to the secrecy and shame of being in the closet, or an end to feeling so alone because we made the decision to come out. Struggling with being different, we shut ourselves away from life to write about the latest thing that has happened to us because we recognized that our sexual orientation was--in no truly significant way--different from that of the majority of our peers. It can be dark. It can seem hopeless.
I just saw Camp, and the relationship between Michael and Vlad was so, so, SO very close to the one between me and the guy I loved in high school that I was screaming with rage over the situation when I left the theater. But it was a good screaming! It was the screaming that heals. But Vlad... Vlad was exactly like him. Same level of cuteness and genuine goodness, marred by the same issues.
Wednesday night, I went to Woody's. I danced with one of my girl friends for about a half an hour, then sat in the corner for most of the night before leaving about an hour early. I will never be a part of the "gay scene".
HOWEVER, having realized my inadequacies and regretfully accepted my status as eternal spinster, I have decided to channel my energies into helping out my fellow men. Last night, I went to the local fireworks with two of my friends with the intention of hooking them up. It was funny because we sat there on a military base amidst hundreds of families and talked about various intimate parts of our pasts. I swear some kid must have gone back to her family and asked her dad what "rimming" was. Anyway, after that we went to a diner and chit-chatted for a while. It worked; they're planning on seeing each other some more. I was proud of myself for knowing two nice boys, recognizing that they would have things in common, and introducing them to each other.
Okay, quick post (because I lost the longer version) but NO less amazing.
I wrote that I went to Pride the other day, yes? Amazing experience, memories that will last a lifetime... Yeah, it was a great day. Well, it turns out that the day was even more amazing than I thought because who could have imagined that I, Formerly Scott, the guy standing there amidst thousands and thousands of queers wondering if any of them had every even heard of Oasis, was standing and watching the parade next to another Oasis writer. No no, wait, it gets better. Not only was I standing next to her, but I came to the parade with her and did not know that we had this in common. In one of those bizarre coincidences, Formerly Scott and Blue Tinged Skin, two people ordinarily separated by hundreds and hundreds of miles, stood next to each other at their first NYC Pride Parade thinking that the only things they had in common were that they were gay and that they were friends with a really great straight gal. It's kind of like two superheroes meeting as their everyday-person-cover, isn't it?
Yesterday was one of the best days of my life! I can't even begin to describe the rush of my first gay pride parade (so this is going to be a short blog thingy). I've never been so glad to live near New York City! Even at my train station, this small suburban one out in the middle of nowhere, there were MASSES of gay people. I had no idea there were so many of us here, especially when you consider that this was just a sample of the multitudes that must actually live here and decided not to go to the parade. Seeing that, I knew it was going to be a wonderful experience. When we got there and left Penn Station, I was so surprised to see that it was just two blocks over, on Fifth Avenue! I mean, this was the big tourist place, the place we go at Christmas to see all of that stuff; a family place, really, not to mention an affluent area. And here was the parade! Queers of all nationalities and ages, relationship statuses and body types marching, prancing, and dancing their way from 52nd all the way to their haven in the Village. There were motorcyclists and families and cowboys and strippers, marching bands and firemen and dominators and submissives, high society drag queens and volleyball players and clubber boys and congregations, Peruvian groups and Lamba Legal representatives and Swish Priders and proud mothers, Stonewall Veterans and high school gsa groups and choirs and square dancers, and the parade kept coming. And coming. And coming. Actually, I didn't even see the end, but I stood there for at least three hours. By four o'clock, we were ready to make our way to the Marketplace in the Village. BUT, before we went, this float with these drag queens and other men done up like royalty went by, and their footman came out of the back with a white plastic-beaded necklace. He walked over to our side of the street and hands started darting out past me, the voices behind me saying, "Me! Me! Give it to Me!" And then, the strangest thing happened: He waved his hand away and said, "No no no," and he pointed at me and gestured for me to lean forward. He placed the necklace over my head like he was crowning me, then he smiled and said, "Happy Pride!" Everyone around me started cheering for me and all I could do was blush. It was so exciting! The guy next to me, Jo[h]n (I found out later), said to me, "You've been chosen! NO ONE ELSE around here got those beads, and out of all of them (elaborate hand gesture) he chose YOU! You're the chosen one!" I was giddy for the rest of the day, wearing my beads with Pride even though no one but those people around me knew the story behind them, and even though I wasn't anywhere near as beautiful as the majority of those gorgeous, gorgeous New York boys. But I was Proud. I belonged. For one perfect day, the entire city was gay or gay-friendly, and I felt so extremely thankful that I was a part of the happy, screaming, prancing, not-a-care-in-the-world, adversity-forgotten, sexually-free, rainbow-clad, diverse culture/lifestyle/classification/orientation/whatever-the-hell-you-want-to-call-it that is being gay.
Yesterday, I spent time catching up with a very respectable young woman whom I had not really spent time with since we graduated from high school almost a year ago. It was very interesting, and not only because she knows more gossip than God. I, F. Scott, Jeremy, whoever you wish to call me, was finally given some sort of relief regarding the straight boy I loved in high school and all of the mental anguish that went along with him, and it made me feel really good. Allow me to elaborate.
I went for a date in New York City on Saturday night with a really nice boy. We ate at a small cafe in Greenwich Village and strolled through Central Park. I had more fun with him than I've had with any guy in a dating-type situation in a long time, and we didn't even kiss. Oh, 'twas so enjoyable. I am fine with being single, and I am over my ex. Life is good.
Well, I, Scott, have just been dumped for the first time.
It hurts more than I thought it would, yet less in an odd way. I feel like it will be difficult but too easy at the same time.
Relationships are strange.
Okay, I hope this entry doesn't get too graphic ot "too much information" for any of you, but the topic has been on my mind.
A couple of weeks ago I was talking to my friend Chris about possibly dating this guy Rick. When I mentioned that I didn't think it was going to happen (mainly because I was interested in my current boyfriend), he said that he had figured it wasn't going to happen, anyway. Wondering what sort of secret Chris knew, I asked him why he thought that.
I spent the day with my boyfriend yesterday and I had a wonderful time. It was strange to be with him here, near my home. We went to all of the normal places, places where I could easily run into people I know, and I enjoyed the thrill of it. It didn't matter, because I loved being with him.
We started our day by going to lunch at some place way out in the middle of nowhere. The waitresses' names were Billie and Becky Lou and the like, and the parking lot was filled with pickup trucks. Before we got out of the car, he gave me a flower, and I had to try my hardest not to kiss him right there. I reminded him that we had to be discrete, though; I pointed out where we were. "There are plenty of fences for us to be tied to out here," I told him. It wasn't as melodramatic as it sounds. We both smiled. We had just seen The Laramie Project, both a stage version and the movie, the week before, and it was sort of a catalyst for the relationship.
Well, my predicament over what to do about the new guy who liked me and the old one who liked me again is over. New things happened, I decided, and I am very happy with my decision.
A week ago, I went to a play with some friends and the old guy drove. I sat next to him in the front seat and we flirted the whole time. When we got back, everyone else went to bed and we went back to his place to watch a movie version of the play we had seen. We ended up getting closer and closer, laughing more and more, and I finally brought up what happened back in January. It was awkward at first, but we talked about it freely and even a little jokingly, and I got some satisfying answers. It was as if he undid everything that had happened, as if he erased all of the bad feelings I had back then. He even said that the reason his relationship didn't work out was because he thought about me too much, and that he had prayed and considered the matter a lot and determined that he made a mistake when he said that we would make better friends than boyfriends. I was skeptical, but I started believing him the more he talked. I mean, why not believe something so positive? So then we started making out for a while, and despite our efforts to the contrary ("We need to set an example," "We're higher species; we can control ourselves.") we ended up doing a bit more. By the morning, as we saw the sun rise, he was calling me his boyfriend. So that's how that happened.
It turns out that a new development arose when I least expected it.
There is a new guy in my life. I met him last night, we talked, and we're going to give things a try.
... and the other guy is going to have to deal this time.
No, I'm not doing this just to get back at him.
I'm not even sure if I want to get back at him.
But I think things are going to be a little more interesting now.
Okay, so two months ago a guy from my real life who barely knew me told me over the internet that he liked me. Against my no dating policy at the time and my better judgment, I told him I liked him too. All was happy.
Two weeks later, after talking online and basically deciding that we would be dating when school started again, he said that it wouldn't work and that we would be better friends than boyfriends. He had no real reason for the change of heart, and I was hurt.
::laughter dying down into humming noises:: Hmmmmm... mmmhmmmhmmm... Oh, that was just enjoyable... hmmmhmmm...
Well, as I was waiting for my school to finally close this evening, I decided to browse through the XY personals, and I don't think that I've had this much fun laughing and crying because of my empathy for people since... well... since that MTV's "Made" this morning about the football player who wanted to be an opera singer and had absolutely NO sense of pitch, let alone ANY talent for singing. (I admired him for trying, but I thought it was ridiculous that the people kept telling him he was so good when he still needed a LOT of work. I mean, they gave him "Aura Lee" as his piece. "AURA LEE"? That's an audition piece for a regional choir! That's singing basics. "Aura Lee"... Wow, I was so embarassed for him I was laughing and tearing up and making a scene. It was very intense for me.)
Well, last week I returned to Woody's for the first time in a few months. I've lost a little weight since the last time and I donned a new shirt that made me look even thinner, so I was feeling pretty good about the whole thing. I mean, I'm not hideous; surely someone would find me attractive enough to dance with me, and I was in the mood for some fun.
My friends and I decided to go at the last minute; the night actually started as a gay bowling night, but after an hour of some really bad bowling we decided that we should go somewhere that was more suited to our strengths. We packed my car with two of my girl friends (one a lesbian, one straight), a girl and guy from the gay union whom I didn't know very well before then, and me. After a good amount of time listening to various bad club songs and me singing along to Cher (whom I LOVE because she sings in my range), we finally started seeing the city in the distance. That was when I sort of freaked because I've never driven in the city before, but with the help of my friends and the fact that there were almost no cars on the roads because it was late on a Wednesday night, we finally maneuvered to a parking garage and got out. Then we did the usual "take only what you need: license, " discard thing, and we left the car to walk to the club in the bitter cold without jackets because we weren't sure if there was a coat check or not. The streets were very different from the way they were in October. There were no cute boy couples walking with their arms around each other or groups of guys laughing loudly and greeting the friends they ran into on thre street; the streets were very empty right up to the club. We finally got there, paid, and entered.