Real life.

So Cam and I have been together for a week!

I mean that literally. We have LITERALLY been together for a week. I sleep at his place, he at mine. We have our meals together we brush our teeth together we take the subway together. Because we're in the same show, we see each other at work (though its mostly brief encounters in passing while we're ripping one costume off and throwing on another in six seconds).

The only time we weren't together this week was for about four hours while I was re-dubbing some audio for a short film I shot.

I'm pretty amazed that we're not at all sick of each other. Usually, I start having murderous rage blackouts if I spend more than five hours with the same person, but I just can't get enough of Cam. He is just so entertaining and awesome (he says the same of me...*blush*).

Not to mention the toned, tan body and amazing make-out ability.

But I fear a dark day has dawned...
(Whoa drama)

The show has closed, so we won't see each other every night of the week and he has just gotten on a bus to Montreal for a week to work with a modern dance company...full of hot, gay dancers who are probably way more fit and flexible than me.

I know...its just a week, right? WRONG!!

He gets back on Sunday and I go in for some MAJOR SCARY BLOODY SURGERY on Wednesday. I'll be in the hospital for a week and then recovering at my parents' house two hours away for another week.

I feel a little ripped off. The timing has been bad from the start. Just when we finish the show and begin the process of proving that our amazing relationship is not a showmance, he leaves for a week and I leave for another two.

Text messages can only get so hot before you get bored (or they get super awkward).

We have agreed to constantly call and text each other. He's been texting me from the bus for the past couple of hours about how sore his ass is from sitting for so long.

Yeah...we're already at that point...

I'm going to watch something Disney and eat some cookies and then go to bed. Alone. For the first time this week.

A Surprising Update

Okay internet, some surprising news.

After totally giving up on Cam and ending the backstage flirting, I am now dating him.

Yep. Here's what went down.

After expressing my concern that the constant backstage flirting may lead to me being locked up in a crazy-house for stalkers and cutters, Cam and I held to our promise not to flirt with each other. For about twelve minutes.

In fact, it got worse.

He finally told me that he was in a very awkward position. He had only been dating his boyfriend for a couple of weeks when we met and regretted that he rushed into things with him. We came to terms with the fact that though we both have feelings for each other, that it would be mature and honorable to keep these feelings at bay until the circumstances allow us to express them further.

We implemented a strict "no touching" rule. Even when I missed a train home and had to sleep at his place. No touching!

Eventually, I told him that he is going to have to break someone's heart if he wants to be happy and that I am prepared to back off if he decides its me. I'm super impressed with my selflessness at this point (I needed to earn some extra karma points, badly).

He broke up with his boyfriend. (**insert girl squealing noise**)

We're not committing to anything super official at this point. We're both conscious of the 'showmance' curse and don't want to end up hurt in the end. I hope I`m doing the right thing...

All the good ones are taken...

Dear internet,

I haven't posted in a while because I've been working on an epic failure for the past few weeks. This is going to be a long one. Here we go.

I am currently dancing in a show downtown. I use the term "dancing" loosely. I mostly walk to tempo. In any case, I started the show late and had to put in extra rehearsals to get caught up. I was to meet with the choreographer outside of rehearsal time for one-on-one sessions so I didn't show up not knowing anything and pissing everyone off.

On my first day with the show, I walk into the studio and am greeted by the choreographer, a short, dancer-type woman in a lot of layers and jazz pants and the dance captain, a tall, lean dancer in baggy sweatpants, over-sized wool socks and a hilarious graphic T. Let's call this guy Cam. I learn early on that Cam is there to be my "girl" in all the partnered choreography. I know I am in trouble as soon as we start the first tango.

I can't help but be a little attracted to how confident he is. From what I've noticed, when a guy is a little effeminate, they tend to apologize for their behavior by either putting on the gayest show they can perform or lack confidence all together. Not Cam. He knows who he is and if you don't like it, you can go fuck yourself. I was smitten.

In the rehearsals that followed, we started to connect. Not only would we sit together during the extensive notes sessions we received daily, but we would take breaks together, doing adorable things like read classic novels in the lobby together, while everyone else went for food. At one point, after receiving direction to not hold hands with our partner during a particular scene in the show, Cam expressed his dislike for the idea by holding my hand. For a solid two minutes. In front of everyone.

Now, maybe I was being pathetic and my wishful thinking combined with an overactive imagination distorted what might be innocent friendliness into steady flirtation, but I kinda fell for it.

Hard.

I learned from a friend, who is also in the show, that Cam was seeing someone and though it's not too serious, another guy exists. So, I did what any awkward guy in this situation would do, and brought it up to Cam. He pretended to not hear the part about his boyfriend and quickly changed the subject.

It starts to get weird.

My birthday arrives and I have to spend it in rehearsal. Though Cam occupies most of my time, I have managed to make other friends and coerced them into taking me out. It became a bit of an event and people were pretty excited for an excuse to be with each other outside the stress and sweat of rehearsal. Cam doesn't show for my party and the next day pretends that he had no idea that it was my birthday (though the cast sang the birthday song to me in three part harmony...it was beautiful).

I kinda get the message. I saw the movie. He's just not that into me!

Because I'm so mature and emotionally stable, I totally ignore him for a day. This, of course, drives him fucking nuts and I can tell he's dying for my attention. I finally give the poor guy a break and start a really nonchalant conversation about the weather or kittens or something, when another cast member says, "Oh, thank God. Cam was bitching all night about how you've been ignoring him."

WHAT!?

Only someone with romantic feelings would care, right?

RIGHT!!??

As the days go on, the flirting turns to hot touching and even spooning on a prop bed (much to the chagrin of the stage manager). He even takes me (and only me) out for dinner where we talk and connect like soul mates.

Then comes the breaking point.

He says to me in a casual way, "Why aren't we dating?" To which I respond, "Because you have a boyfriend."  Without hesitation he says, "Well that can easily be taken care of."

At this point I've had enough. History tells me that I am about to fall into crazy love with Cam and start thinking about our grandchildren. I can't let this happen. So I decide to just nip this critter in the bud before I start carving his name in my arm and smelling his soiled socks.

To shorten this already too long post, I'll simply finish in bullet points.

- I tell Cam that the flirting should probably stop because I have a tendency to get hurt in these situations.
- He apologizes and then gives me an oh-so-friendly reminder of his boyfriend who he is in love with and would never hurt.
- To make me feel better about myself he offers, "If I wasn't seeing someone, I'd be all over you."
- I'm like....you were! Piece of shit.
- Now things are awkward and I have no one to cuddle backstage (except that weird girl who thinks she's a gay man and touches us inappropriately).

I hope I did the right thing by ending my suffering quickly. I know honesty is the best policy but I feel like I've just been broken up with. Why am I crazy?

One day I hope someone is as into me and I am them.

Ugh. Only me.

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.

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.

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