Thursday, June 28, 2012

Cool Spot

My eyes opened to find the other half standing beside the bed staring directly at me. As my vision and my mind began to clear I could tell he was saying something. Since it was morning of our six year anniversary, I looked down his body to find the tray of breakfast and piping hot coffee. He has never brought me a breakfast tray in the entire six years we’ve been together, so it’s strange that I looked for this. As I came around, I focused on the warm anniversary morning greeting he was exhorting to me.

“The refrigerator is dead! Everything in the freezer is ruined.”

He turned and marched from the room to let me process the death that has befallen our house.

After much caucusing between the two of us and the dog as we stood over the corpse of our 10 year old Kenmore, it was decided that we had to go appliance shopping. This is when I returned to my theory that domesticity isn't pretty. You just might spend your anniversaries driving from massive appliance store to massive appliance store in hopes to find a great deal.

“Ok, so we need ice and water through the door” I said after the third store.

“Yes, but we’re to the point in our lives that we deserve a really nice fridge. So, freezer on the bottom and French doors.” My spendy partner said as he attempted to sell me on the 3,000 stainless models.

As I walked down the endless variety of ice boxes, I couldn’t help thinking of Scruff. There were things to consider: Bottom mount. Top mount. Side by Side. Dear God, who knew there would be so many choices just to keep my OJ cool.

“This will be our anniversary present to us” actually fell from my dear man’s lips as the salesperson attempted to ring us up. “Oooooo, like a trip to London, yet better. And colder. And a fridge. Without us leaving the house.” I said to the cashier as she attempted to sell us an extended warranty.

We decided on a nice black Kenmore Side by Side. It has ice and water on the door, because we’re fancy, yet not pretentious enough to have French doors on our fridge. I’m excited to take vacation photos of it, because… well it’s my summer vacation. And my anniversary present.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Alan Turing

When asked who my heroes are, I always start with Alan Turing.

Friday, June 22, 2012

The Center

Every year at Denver’s Pride Celebration I have an amazing time. Hanging out with close friends as we watch the parade of colorful floats, groups, and utter craziness go by, heading for the Civic Center Park in the heart of downtown. This is followed by wandering around the massive event filled with vender booths, clubs, and fattening food and beer.

Every year, since my first Pride Celebration back in ’89 I also get a ping of guilt. This is because every year since I first matched down the parade route in cut-off Z Cavaricci jeans, I really thought I needed to volunteer for the event. The celebration only happens once a year and is hosted by Denver’s LGBT community center. Every year I think to myself, I really want to do something to help The Center. I’ve gone so far as sign up for the volunteer orientation. Somehow, I made excuses to NOT step up and become a volunteer.

My excuses are lame. I have free time. I want to get involved.

My good intentions have made no progress.

This is why I must be writing about it here. It has prompted me click on the sign-up for information on the next volunteer orientation. If you live in the Denver area, I encourage you to join me. Click here. If you don’t live in the Denver area, I encourage you to harass me until I attend one of the classes. It’s the only way I’ll learn.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Lunch Time

Starting out for lunch today brought me nothing but giggles.

My workplace is in the heart of Denver's hip and trendy Capital Hill neighborhood. It's a place I know very well. Right out of high school, my first apartment was in this gay, counter-culture area  next to the downtown business center.

As I walked down the sidewalk I found myself front of the first gay bar I ever fightenedly walked into, so many centuries ago. I snickered that it's now a hipster bar. Out front was a gaggle of young gay kids killing time. I made my way through the gang, just a forty year old in a suit. The conversation I heard could of been from the days that I hung out in front of this stoop. One of having nothing to do, not enough money, and why there so many old men in suits pushing past them.

I wanted to stop and inform them that they're nothing new. They didn't invent "being cool." I over styled my hair, wore Daisy Dukes, and sported tiny T-shirts to highlight my wash board abs too. And did it better.

Instead I straightened my tie, winked at the smoking hot twenty-one year old checking me out, and thought about the last twenty-two years.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Good Friends

Sunday afternoons during the summer mean warm long shadows as the Sun takes its sweet time to set. For me it means heading over to our local bear bar for Beer Bust. A long standing tradition of beers, beards, and buds. You can tell the beer bust is in high season by the metal cattle fencing surrounding the bar’s parking lot turned play space for the bears, otters, and other animal themed male homosexuals.

This really is the time to connect with old friends. I get to have a couple quality hours without the pressure of everyday life; it’s less about hanging out in a bar and more about hanging out with friends. Old and new.

This last Sunday I had the chance to spend time chatting with a good friend I met way back in 2004 when I first moved back to Denver. I consider him a long-time bud. We were given some time to catch up on our lives, flirt a little, and generally spend time enjoying each other’s company. Please don’t ask me his name. I can’t remember.

Moving from Dallas to Denver was pretty traumatic. Leaving the gay ghetto, they had to peel my fingers from the door jamb of my beloved gay gym. When settled in Denver the first thing I did was to sign up at Denver’s small gay club, Broadway Bodyworks. This helped the decompression to a city without a centralized gay neighborhood. Around this time was when I met ___. We started to match our workout times to get more gym hangout time. We have been great buds ever since. Well, all but that small part where he greets me with “Hey! Steve! How’s it going?” And I once again, have to stumble over saying hey…. handsome. It’s been 8 years, how frickin horrible is it that I can’t remember his name.

Yes, I have tried all the games of introducing him to other friends, yet it seems that his name never comes up. “This is my good friend________. We’ve known each other since ’04.”

Maybe I should ask him to friend me on Facebook?

Tuesday, June 5, 2012


All this week I'm in a training seminar. It's training so I can be a Practitioner of the Myers-Briggs personality test. I find this funny because I am so anti personality test as part of my nature.

If you don't know this structured test it lumps you into four defined groups, assigned a letter, to be formed into an acronym. I'm sure you've heard at parties, "oh... I'm a INFP" and everyone nods like they know what the heck that means. Well, I'm now trained to explain what the letters mean. Good times.

The funny part of this training is my perceptions. If asked, I'd say I was a feeling, introvert. With all this testing, I've come to terms that I'm very extroverted. And I'm all Judging, not what I hoped, a touchy-feely guy.

Guess this stuff works. So my intuition tells me.