Beware the Aberzombies

You learn life lessons no matter where you are.


My friend Tom just retired from twenty years in the Army. He has a wife and two kids. I met Tom, with his wife first through an event at church, then at their first gay pride parade. It was his first gay event other then bars and T-rooms. I wrote about it here.

The other night I was kicking back some beers with Tom, his wife, and his wife’s new boyfriend at JR’s. After coming across as a complete nerd explaining why our local gay bar is called JR’s Tom started to update me where he was in his transition to being openly gay, his new job in the private sector and what his plans where moving forward.

As we chatted, a small group on the other side of the table started to make fun of people coming in the front door. Most likely new to gay bars, a couple of guys seemed hesitant. They didn’t dress in complete modern up to date styles and did not in any way seem like Aberzombies. As one guy tripped coming in the gays giggled.

Tom stood up and in a military calm tone of voice explained that it probably wasn’t that long ago that they were stepping into a gay bar for the first time. That making someone the butt of your joke isn’t cool, in fact makes you look like an ass. Humor comes from wit, not judgment.

Upon sitting down and without missing a beat Tom continued to explain how helpful I was in supporting and helping him learn lessons about his new life. I was dumbstruck. “Yeah” I said “you learn from me?” That’s funny.

Cheesy Goodness

Yesterday was spent with my nose in a lap-top and my head in the fourth century.


Well from eight to two, anyway. After attending a five year old’s birthday party, by eight pm I was spent. Through, tired. Nothing was going to move me from my couch. Not even an invite to go to an impromptu BBQ with the gay street bikers and their amazing assortment of over the top, exotic side salads or their use of gorgonzola in the prosciutto topped burgers. They are a real bike gang, yet they need vests that read “SONS OF WHOLE FOODS” stitched across the back. Even their lure couldn’t get me to leave my Super-squishy, elle shaped sofa of softness.

Then, my stomach thought changed my mind.

The pizzeria/cell phone/gas station/quinceañera dress shop is right around the corner. So, really there wasn’t a reason to put pants on, a dirty T-shirt and boxer briefs and I was fine.

This was my justification until the pizza took ten extra minutes and I started tweeting in the middle of the gas station. This is when I discovered a local boy cruising me. At first I thought he was judging my poor choice in Calvin Klein sport wear, and then I realized he was wearing the new gay uniform. The black, tight T-shirt with paux-metal studs and metallic paint adorning crosses and skulls and other over-done tuff [sp] symbolism. Like a gay knock off of Ed Hardy. I will never understand why guys like this style, as it reminds me of the Kardashians or the rotating cast of the Pussycat Dolls, Why men wear these shirts is beyond me.

Please don’t think for a second that I don’t appreciate the irony of me judging a guy wearing a shirt that Cher would think was over the top, whilst I stood there in a ripped up wife-beater and stained Calvins. This realization turned me into the strange man who hangs out in the local pizzeria/cell phone/gas station/quinceañera dress shop in his underwear, laughing to himself.

Alexander the Great

My whole week has been consumed by Alexander the Great.


I have a ten page paper due in seven days, comparing Alexander’s campaign of conquering new territory for the propose of empire building to the founding of our modern government. Yet, I’m more intrigued by his sex life.

I eat this history stuff up, yet I’m having an ongoing issue with the Professor teaching this class. Here’s an example:

History Professor’s version:
Alexander the Great had a father named Phillip. He was King of Macedonia before Alexander and was murdered at his Daughter’s wedding.



GWM, swimmers build, ruler of empires,

Seeks muscle-bound bear, bodyguard type.

Must have large sword.  

Me: Whitney Houston, You: Kevin Costner.

No Persians

 

Textbook’s version:

Alexander the Great had a father named Phillip. He was King of Macedonia before Alexander and was murdered at his Daughter’s wedding by a bodyguard named Pausanias. Pausanias had been a lover of Philip, but became jealous when Philip turned his attention to a younger man; Pausanias got all Jerry Springer on the new boyfriend and became a stockerish creepy ex, causing the new boyfriend to off himself. The dead boyfriend’s best bar mate, Attalus, gets all possessive and gets Pausanias drunk and rapes his ass. Pausanias, with his ass still sore, goes and assassinates King Phillip.

Well, the textbook doesn’t say “rapes his ass” but you get the idea. But, the point is that my very conservative teacher, who also teaches at a Christian college, takes the time-old tradition of editing out the gay bits.

So, my paper does compare and contrast the differences between Alexander the Great and the US Constitution, but really will read like a Michael Tomas Ford novel. I do find it challenging to link Alexander’s own long term relationship with a bodyguard to the three branches of government, yet I did make a great simile in regards to when Alex’s lover dies, he forces an entire city to throw themselves onto Mr. Hotty bodyguard’s funeral fire to the Bush presidency.

Steve in a Vacuum

Last Blog Challange Question

I have finally made it to the very last question in the sixty-four blog challenge. It only took me six months, but we’ve come to the last question. And the toughest question:

The last thing that made you cry.

This is tough because it takes quite a lot to make me cry. The last thing that put me into tears was writing about my toughest choice question on Marches blog challenge FIVE DEGREES. You can read about that here.

I going to re-post it as well to answer this last Blog Challenge question:

In the pre-dawn morning I stood in the main terminal of LaGuardia Airport in New York City. My flight back to Colorado was departing soon. I had just helped drive a moving van across country ending in Dalton’s new life in Brooklyn.

There were a lot of tough choices to get us to this point. Some bad, some good, but the culmination of all these choices after four years together he was starting his life in New York.

In a way, that morning was the end of choices. We rode to the airport in calm silence. We watched the dark buildings of the strange city that would change what meant to be Dalton and Steve speed pass on the highway. The crushing crowd at the airport seemed to be move in slow motion. If only we had more time in our relationship…. Seconds ticked by…. Dalton and Steven as a couple where moments away from evaporating… I flashed to the smile on his face when he finally pulled his head out of his notebook at that coffee shop in Dallas. If we only had more time.

We hugged and he turned quickly. He disappeared into the crowd.

Five years have passed since that day and I wouldn’t change anything on the path since. Our bond is stronger today then even back then. We knew even on that day that we really would be connected forever. Yet choices had to be made to keep moving forward.

Our decisions define us; the tough choices define our character.

BIKE Shorts

I’ve started to work out at my school’s gym on the days I have class. I find that during that time of day I’m completely alone in the gym, other than Mr. Eller.




You want them to look like this...

Mr. Eller is the head of the athletic department and connoisseur of polyester coach shorts. We met a couple of weeks past when during my orientation to the gym explained to me what dumbbells are verses free weights. I feigned interest when showing me the emergency stop on the tread mills, I then expressed shared enthusiasm for making sure every plate gets returned to the correct place. Upon showing me the locker room and showers I was surprised when he didn’t demonstrate the proper soap lathering technique.  

...when they really look like this.

I have spent a lot of time since then thinking about gym coaches. No, not like you think. Okay, sort of like you think, but more about their style. I’ve been wondering about when a young man, fresh form college with a degree in physical training and education of athletics stops and says “I really need an ensemble that is comfortable, kicky, yet demands respect?” He then searches the finer magazines designed for the up and coming coach. CoachVogue and CQ (Coaches Quarterly) both point to the B I K E short. Not bike shorts or biking shorts, no. BIKE shorts. They’re comfortable, accentuate the upper thigh, and demand respect as they are cut in a maternity style under the belly. And every coach in the United States MUST wear them.

My new bud, Mr. Eller has a rainbow of colors in BIKE shorts. This has started me to think about my upper thighs. Have I denied showcasing my thighs to the world? I just might head to the sports shop and pick me up a pair. Get my polyester on.



Fall

I had to put on a hoodie this morning to take the dog for a walk.


When this happens, I am always reassured that Fall is my favorite season. This is due to the break in the weather. The long, dry summers of Colorado turn into cool autumns. The hot, summer storms end and crisp mornings begin.

Part of this love for cooler weather is the end to air conditioning. I can now open the windows for the first time in months. In the evening, I can crack open the window as I slip into my crisp, cool new IKEA sheets and duvet. A summer of hot sheets is now behind me.

I slip into a cool sheets and drift off to sleep listening to the outside world. The sound of the AC droning on and on is gone and instead I can start to hear the owls coming awake and starting their work day.

As I wrap my duvet around me, I’m thankful for the cool room surrounding me. I listen to the night sounds in our small fictional town wafting in the window. A train blows its whistle in the distance, I’m quickly asleep.

Life is Better then the Days Behind

The theme, it seemed last week in the blog-o-sphere was relationships. Relationships always need some sort of attention, if you’re still trying to re-tune your relationship it means you still care. And that is a good thing.


After years together two men can get into a routine, because men are men. If it works for them, who can judge the life they have built. If the routine is unhealthy, say… like why am I always the one man who cleans the shower, then the years of sharing a life together can open up communication as they have designed it.

Whether it’s a relationship where one partner flies off during the week or a relationship that works even though they don’t share a house, I’m sure if asked they’d say that the skin of a cookie cutter relationship wouldn’t fit them anyway. Because, life if better then the days behind.

The unwritten theme of relationships after being together for many years immediately made me think of a very old song. As much as I’m aware that posting a song in your blog to put in emphasis to a point is very “fan girl” I guess I’m guilty. I’m okay with that.

The Femail Man

Sometimes I fear that since I so infrequently check my mail box that the femail man will someday call the cops to do a welfare check at my house.

Yesterday was a mental break day for me, Tuesday found me scrambling to completed a major report for work and today I have an exam at school. Yesterday was all about gym shorts and un-washed hair. Just one of those days where you spend hours going up every isle at Über Target throwing crap you’re your cart you’d never buy unless under the influence of the man fumes coming from your dirty T-shirt.

“Wow, they’re paper towels… but in a box!”

It wasn’t until late afternoon that I came to my senses and really started my day. This is when I was greeted by a month’s worth of mail at the mail box. And also Ted. Ted is a neighbor that would find fault in toast. The type of person that actually posts on Facebook or Twitter about how he doesn’t like any new formatting changes. “God, I hate the new Facebook blah, blah, blah” It was his anger over the femail man not lining up his mail that made me realize that I was in an exceedingly great mood. I guess the whole “recharge your batteries” thing, actually works.

Today I have paper towels in a box and my mail out of my box. I also feel ready to take exams at school and generally re-join the world.

LABOR DAY

The weather has changed.

The heat of late August has passed, giving me a cool morning as I take the dog for our early morning walk.  I think that Harley also senses the change as we walk along the canal that runs behind our house.

I try not to think that this is the beginning of fall because knowing Colorado, the dog and I will be met again with eighty degree temperatures soon enough. This morning autumn greets us.

Harley races ahead.

Our Labor Day will be filled with lounging in bed drinking coffee then a BBQ at a friend’s house. The morning it’s just the two of us wandering in the chill looking for bunnies to chase.