I am an actor so, naturally, I work in retail to, you know, pay bills and survive. Christmas is both the best and worst time of the year for me. It is the best because it's Christmas and that is always a good time but it is also the worst because apparently Christmas fills people with rage and they take that rage out on the guy who folds hoodies for eight hours a day. That guy is me.
The other day, I decided to bravely venture to the crowded food court to eat some lunch. By some act of God I found a vacant seat and sat down. I'm not two bites into my Chubby Chicken sandwich (A&W, please come up with a better name for your chicken) when I notice the Hottness is sitting at a table across from me. This young man has a remarkably sensible haircut and is wearing a tie. I always welcome ties.
We make eye contact.
The contact of eyes continues for longer than a mistake.
What happens next has me gasping for air. He walks over to my table and sits. Do things like this still happen? Do people randomly meet in food courts? And do people have the nerve to actually make a move?
I'm already planning our gay wedding by the time he is sitting. I smile. He smiles back. ADORABLE.
Then he reaches into his bag (probably to grab his mother's engagement ring because he is certain I am the one he has been searching for) and pulls out a black book and some pamphlets.
Thankfully, I now know a lot more about the church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
Ugh. Real life.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Porn guy.
This particular story takes place about a month ago.
I will start off by saying, I have really beautiful friends. I know a lot of people think they are the "ugly friend" when in reality, they're just as good looking as their friends and they're just crazy and have low self-esteem and cry themselves to sleep.
This isn't the case with me. My friends are kinda ridiculous. They're so good-looking that people have to do a double-take because its a little overwhelming having that many beautiful people collide with your life all at once. I'm not saying I am ugly, but I am the ugly friend in this scenario. Don't try to make me feel better, I've dealt with it. I'm fine.
On one of our outings (usually to a bar in the Village) one of my friends (not really THAT beautiful and he's not really a friend) announces that his horrible and socially awkward roommate will be joining us. He invited Awkwardo because he felt bad that no one likes him and he had no plans for the weekend. We collectively sighed and resigned ourselves to play host to someone who would probably cramp our style (more than I usually do - you just can't have more than one awkward gay in your group before everyone is awkward and sexless).
Suddenly, in the middle of a conversation about something beautiful gay people talk about (and I listen to), the door to the bar opens. I'm pretty sure his entrance happens in slow motion to a sick beat and through a cloud of smoke, but even if it didn't, the effect was the same. Soon, we are all introduced to the awkward roommate, Dan, who isn't awkward at all but rather one of the cutest, nicest, most charming men I've ever met.
As the night progresses, we end up at the not-as-beautiful, not-really-a-friend's apartment. It's the end of the night and time for people to pair off. It's the usual pairs, so there's no drama. Because I live out of town, my friends share the duty of letting me sleep on their couches and this night I am to stay with not-as-beautiful and now, his just-as-beautiful roommate, Dan.
Here's where the story gets interesting.
As everyone is leaving, in pairs, Dan says, "Too bad I don't have anyone to cuddle with tonight." I am clearly the only other person not in a pair. Do I get the message? Not yet.
It get's better.
After everyone leaves, Dan and I are left alone in the living room. Without anything to really talk about, I comment on his amazing 5601 inch plasma flat screen. He responds with, "Have you ever watched porn on a big screen and in high definition?"
I hadn't.
He let's me choose the DVD. It's something about cowboys or guys in jeans or something. In any case, we watch two hours of gay guys pretending to be straight guys who like to have sex with other gay guys pretending to be straight guys. It might as well have been Titanic. Dan and I literally WATCH the porn. Sitting next to each other, innocent as lambs. Then go to bed. Separately.
I realize now that he was dropping enough hints that Helen Keller could have seen the signs and had the night of her life, but me, being the most awkward gay on the planet, slept peacefully on the couch with images of straight gay guys in tight jeans running through my head. In high definition.
I will start off by saying, I have really beautiful friends. I know a lot of people think they are the "ugly friend" when in reality, they're just as good looking as their friends and they're just crazy and have low self-esteem and cry themselves to sleep.
This isn't the case with me. My friends are kinda ridiculous. They're so good-looking that people have to do a double-take because its a little overwhelming having that many beautiful people collide with your life all at once. I'm not saying I am ugly, but I am the ugly friend in this scenario. Don't try to make me feel better, I've dealt with it. I'm fine.
On one of our outings (usually to a bar in the Village) one of my friends (not really THAT beautiful and he's not really a friend) announces that his horrible and socially awkward roommate will be joining us. He invited Awkwardo because he felt bad that no one likes him and he had no plans for the weekend. We collectively sighed and resigned ourselves to play host to someone who would probably cramp our style (more than I usually do - you just can't have more than one awkward gay in your group before everyone is awkward and sexless).
Suddenly, in the middle of a conversation about something beautiful gay people talk about (and I listen to), the door to the bar opens. I'm pretty sure his entrance happens in slow motion to a sick beat and through a cloud of smoke, but even if it didn't, the effect was the same. Soon, we are all introduced to the awkward roommate, Dan, who isn't awkward at all but rather one of the cutest, nicest, most charming men I've ever met.
As the night progresses, we end up at the not-as-beautiful, not-really-a-friend's apartment. It's the end of the night and time for people to pair off. It's the usual pairs, so there's no drama. Because I live out of town, my friends share the duty of letting me sleep on their couches and this night I am to stay with not-as-beautiful and now, his just-as-beautiful roommate, Dan.
Here's where the story gets interesting.
As everyone is leaving, in pairs, Dan says, "Too bad I don't have anyone to cuddle with tonight." I am clearly the only other person not in a pair. Do I get the message? Not yet.
It get's better.
After everyone leaves, Dan and I are left alone in the living room. Without anything to really talk about, I comment on his amazing 5601 inch plasma flat screen. He responds with, "Have you ever watched porn on a big screen and in high definition?"
I hadn't.
He let's me choose the DVD. It's something about cowboys or guys in jeans or something. In any case, we watch two hours of gay guys pretending to be straight guys who like to have sex with other gay guys pretending to be straight guys. It might as well have been Titanic. Dan and I literally WATCH the porn. Sitting next to each other, innocent as lambs. Then go to bed. Separately.
I realize now that he was dropping enough hints that Helen Keller could have seen the signs and had the night of her life, but me, being the most awkward gay on the planet, slept peacefully on the couch with images of straight gay guys in tight jeans running through my head. In high definition.
To start...
I am a twenty-something man, currently living in a suburb of Toronto, Canada and I am convinced I am the world's most awkward gay.
I know this is a huge thing to claim. There are thousands of gay people in the world, some more awkward than others, but from what I've witnessed in the years I've been out of the closet, I am fairly certain that I am the King of Awkward.
It's not that I am frightfully ugly, fat, have an awful lisp or have a skraggle tooth. In fact, I'm not bad looking at all (if I do say so myself). I'm fairly smart (well educated and well read, at least). People say I'm nice. I think it's my ordinariness that makes my inability to exist in the gay community that much more awkward. I can't blame my utter failure as a homosexual on the fact that I have a physical or emotional defect. I just find it difficult to function. Plain and simple.
Let me put my life into some context.
I grew up in a very religious, Born-Again Christian home. I lead a youth bible study, was a part of the church worship band and was the president of the Christian fellowship at my high school. Until I went to college, this was who I was. Needless to say, my life took a 180 when I came to terms with the fact that my passion for the church drama team was not simply because I thought theatre was a great way to bring the message of Christ to people, but because I really just wanted to jazz hands. I'm beginning to think that the church thing might play some part in my under-development.
I "came out" in my first year of University. I went to a school that had about three gay people in it, so this wasn't because I had found a group of homos that accepted me. I think it was probably because I started drinking and this coincided with me being more honest with people. With myself. Regardless, my first gay experience was with some random friend-of-a-friend, on his birthday in the bathroom of The Green Room in Toronto. Classy nights.
I met Keven (this isn't his real name, I know better than that) through my only gay friend at the time, a lesbian who lived near my university. She played a major role in my development in those early years. Keven was beautiful, fun and smart. We had the same major and very similar interests. He was a little strange, but I found this adorable. The beginnings of my reign as King Awkward began when I first met Kevin.
Long story short, he broke up with me after a year because he got into a school overseas. He told me not to wait for him.
I totally did.
Not that there were dozens of hot guys banging at my apartment door. There were maybe three and none of them held a candle to the glory of Keven. So like a complete sucker, I waited. Even when his emails stopped coming after two months. Even after he set his Facebook profile to private. Even when I didn't get a text, an email or a postcard for my birthday, I waited. It wasn't until he returned with his gorgeous European boyfriend that I got the hint.
Wham-mo.
My roommate started to suspect something was wrong when I started substituting ice for the vodka I kept in the freezer.
Since Keven, I have had a total of ONE other boyfriend.
This one's a good one.
Get ready.
I met Alex (again, fake name) working on a musical. Go figure. I took a liking to him almost immediately. He was tall, toned, tan and blonde. Sue me for being interested. By some miracle, he likes me back and we start dating after a month of knowing each other. Its true what they say, tools rush in.
After six months of really passionate handjobs and two really terrible attempts at sex, I get this text.
On Valentine's Day.
I screwed up. We need to talk.
Fuuuuuuucccckkkk.
Another one bites the dust.
I recently met the other guy. He was actually really nice, so...there's that.
Alex became a stripper to pay for school. I hear he's doing well.
Keven and Alex are just the two that got the title of "boyfriend." I have recently made a list of all the guys I have fallen in love with and beside each name I gave them a rating in degrees of how fucking crazy I was about them.
For example:
Drew S. 4
Paul M. 9.5
Drew F. 7
I really snapped the reins over Paul M., I was Facebook-stalk-too-much for Drew F. and I probably bought Drew S. flowers. I have emotional problems. And apparently really like guys named Drew.
The list is long enough to be depressing in a NEEDS MEDICATION kind of way and will probably be used against me one day.
The reason for this blog?
Recently, I have had a number of really awkward, yet hilarious experiences that I feel need to be shared. I have little faith that this blog will be read by anyone, but I hope that in the off chance that someone stumbles upon it, they get a good kick out of how embarrassing I am.
I'm not a sad person. I am just a guy who has the ability to laugh at his mistakes, shake his head and hope for better next time.
Lots of love (perhaps too much?),
B
I know this is a huge thing to claim. There are thousands of gay people in the world, some more awkward than others, but from what I've witnessed in the years I've been out of the closet, I am fairly certain that I am the King of Awkward.
It's not that I am frightfully ugly, fat, have an awful lisp or have a skraggle tooth. In fact, I'm not bad looking at all (if I do say so myself). I'm fairly smart (well educated and well read, at least). People say I'm nice. I think it's my ordinariness that makes my inability to exist in the gay community that much more awkward. I can't blame my utter failure as a homosexual on the fact that I have a physical or emotional defect. I just find it difficult to function. Plain and simple.
Let me put my life into some context.
I grew up in a very religious, Born-Again Christian home. I lead a youth bible study, was a part of the church worship band and was the president of the Christian fellowship at my high school. Until I went to college, this was who I was. Needless to say, my life took a 180 when I came to terms with the fact that my passion for the church drama team was not simply because I thought theatre was a great way to bring the message of Christ to people, but because I really just wanted to jazz hands. I'm beginning to think that the church thing might play some part in my under-development.
I "came out" in my first year of University. I went to a school that had about three gay people in it, so this wasn't because I had found a group of homos that accepted me. I think it was probably because I started drinking and this coincided with me being more honest with people. With myself. Regardless, my first gay experience was with some random friend-of-a-friend, on his birthday in the bathroom of The Green Room in Toronto. Classy nights.
I met Keven (this isn't his real name, I know better than that) through my only gay friend at the time, a lesbian who lived near my university. She played a major role in my development in those early years. Keven was beautiful, fun and smart. We had the same major and very similar interests. He was a little strange, but I found this adorable. The beginnings of my reign as King Awkward began when I first met Kevin.
Long story short, he broke up with me after a year because he got into a school overseas. He told me not to wait for him.
I totally did.
Not that there were dozens of hot guys banging at my apartment door. There were maybe three and none of them held a candle to the glory of Keven. So like a complete sucker, I waited. Even when his emails stopped coming after two months. Even after he set his Facebook profile to private. Even when I didn't get a text, an email or a postcard for my birthday, I waited. It wasn't until he returned with his gorgeous European boyfriend that I got the hint.
Wham-mo.
My roommate started to suspect something was wrong when I started substituting ice for the vodka I kept in the freezer.
Since Keven, I have had a total of ONE other boyfriend.
This one's a good one.
Get ready.
I met Alex (again, fake name) working on a musical. Go figure. I took a liking to him almost immediately. He was tall, toned, tan and blonde. Sue me for being interested. By some miracle, he likes me back and we start dating after a month of knowing each other. Its true what they say, tools rush in.
After six months of really passionate handjobs and two really terrible attempts at sex, I get this text.
On Valentine's Day.
I screwed up. We need to talk.
Fuuuuuuucccckkkk.
Another one bites the dust.
I recently met the other guy. He was actually really nice, so...there's that.
Alex became a stripper to pay for school. I hear he's doing well.
Keven and Alex are just the two that got the title of "boyfriend." I have recently made a list of all the guys I have fallen in love with and beside each name I gave them a rating in degrees of how fucking crazy I was about them.
For example:
Drew S. 4
Paul M. 9.5
Drew F. 7
I really snapped the reins over Paul M., I was Facebook-stalk-too-much for Drew F. and I probably bought Drew S. flowers. I have emotional problems. And apparently really like guys named Drew.
The list is long enough to be depressing in a NEEDS MEDICATION kind of way and will probably be used against me one day.
The reason for this blog?
Recently, I have had a number of really awkward, yet hilarious experiences that I feel need to be shared. I have little faith that this blog will be read by anyone, but I hope that in the off chance that someone stumbles upon it, they get a good kick out of how embarrassing I am.
I'm not a sad person. I am just a guy who has the ability to laugh at his mistakes, shake his head and hope for better next time.
Lots of love (perhaps too much?),
B
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