This is the worst entry that I have ever had to write.

This will also be the last entry I write at HCL.

On August 13th, the day before my 34th birthday - HERO ended his life.

As I slept, my dog Hope cuddling by my side, sickly-sweet smells of carbon monoxide filled my home. On the other side of my house, my black BMW sat idling in the dark pushing lethal gas into the garage and through an entry door to the house that wasn't up to code.

I keep wondering where the start of this story is: Was it the day I met HERO ? Was it the fight we had that night, standing outside my bedroom, just hours before? Or was it when HERO was five and after his Father left his Mother and she in turn took her own life in the same manner ?

The night before had been great - just last Tuesday. We had gathered at T's house with the boys to watch the Bravo line-up and pig out on snacks and desserts. Before hand I had hit the gym and while I showered, he groomed and we bantered back and forth. We were listening to Lucinda Williams and when I compared her to Bonnie Riatt, he commented how he had listened to her song "I Can't Make You Love Me" every day for the past two weeks. I let the comment pass - I was in a great mood. I've listened to that song probably 20 times since yesterday and the lyrics send a chill through my heart everytime. We had picked up a few bottles of wine and a white-chocolate cheesecake and a peanut-butter pie at AJ's before the shows. We had chided each other and spoken to a homeless woman in need of water. I teased him how easily he made new friends. I teased him in general, because I adored him and he was leaving to go back to college in a week for his last semester - and I didn't know how to say I loved him and I would miss him. He had been like a Mini-Dish-Water-Blond-Blue-Eyed-21-Year-Old-Tornado in my life these past three months - leaving my home in a constant revolving state of disarray and boyish home-making. I knew I yearned to have my house to myself again - but I knew it would seem half as big and twice as quiet as it seemed when he stood laughing in a room.

Something happened to me this summer, I found a relationship I had never forged before, what had started as a lover had become a little brother, even a son. He had become my family and I thought he was here to stay. I felt the type of love for him that I reserved for those that would become the strongest threads that I would weave into the tapestry of my life. Even after we broke up two weeks ago - I knew I loved him more than I could as a boyfriend. I was his protector. I wanted to protect him from everything bad - I never knew that I should have protected him from himself.

HERO had the tendency - as we all do - to be greatly affected by the excess consumption of alcohol. This night was not an exception, instead it was a clear example. It had appeared that, though quietly and respectfully, we had both moved on with our romantic lives. He had already had his first over-nighter - but regreted it badly the next day. He was still living in my house until school started, but he seemed ok - busily helping my friends plan for my birthday party and spending his days with Hope while I was work. He seemed like HERO. I never thought...I never knew. I had been holding back from him emotionally out of fear of confusing him with attention he might consider romantic. I hugged him rarely and had moved to just mussing his hair and half-hugs when I wanted him to know I still cared. I would kill to bear hug him now - I would squeeze and squeeze til he begged to be let go.. I kept any details about dates on the back-burner. When he asked questions, I gave information sparingly, hoping to avoid hurting him in any way. I would later realize, it was this lack of sharing - my confused sense of decency, that hurt him even worse. In the confines of my house, it was difficult - if not impossible - to have secrets.

As we drove home - he talked about our feelings - or more accurately he brought up that he didn't feel I was really comfortable around him anymore - that he had become a burden. I was taken aback. I tried to explain a poorly, executable logic - that when I really feel that close to another person - beyond a boyfriend - to the point of family - I found it difficult to show them constant physical affection - that I locked up. I went on to say I loved him very much, that I wanted to know him for the rest of my life. I should have said more. I should have told him how I looked forward to his graduation day, how I envisioned him bringing his boyfriends back down looking for my brotherly approval, how he would call me when needed advice or a laugh - I saw a future and he was part of it. I was attempting to shield him from post-break-up confusion - I had and would be even more so, unsuccessful.

I had made a phone call as we entered the house - BK, he and I talked and flirted and laughed, both a little drunk. As I circled my room telling BK stories about the evening I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Half hidden by the doorway, sitting in the dark - in my office, sat HERO on the floor. Listening. It was close to midnight when I ended my call, HERO came to my door and asked questions about BK, he asked questions about Me. I asked him why he considered it appropriate to eavesdrop on my conversations - I was feeling tinged with anger. He became upset, his voice stressed "I want to know you - your cutting me off - you don't let me in - you don't really love me". I explained I did, it was impossible to me to believe he didn't know that - why would I take him to San Diego, why would I still let him live in my home, why couldn't he believe it when I said it ? I was taking off my clothes to go to bed and he wouldn't budge. He began to disrobe - I asked him to stop. Please just hold me, he said - I need you - I need you to love me - I LOVE YOU - it's not going away - I don't know what to do. He began to cry and I told him I loved him, that we weren't meant to be, I hadn't wanted to hurt him - that I had known weeks before - we weren't meant to be. He said it would be easier for him if I hated him - he could get through this. I told him I would never hate him - he told me he would find a way to make me hate him, he kept saying he would find a way. It's hard to let go of certain words in the aftermath.

He followed me from room to room. My anger swelled. I began to lose my cool, I asked him how could I want to be with him when he pushed like this - harder and harder. I hate those words now, I hate the condescending tone I used. I begged him to let me sleep - he wanted this out now, and I wanted it over. I pushed him to the bedroom door and said goodnight, I want you to leave me alone now, I said - shutting the bedroom door.

I would have never thought of that moment; argumentative, but loving, insignificant - then unbearable - as the last time I would ever see HERO alive again. The police would later tell me that shutting the bedroom door had probably saved my life - and pulling my dog on to the bed instead of letting her sleep on the floor probably saved hers.

I don't remember if I dreamed that night. HOPE had woken me more then once and grogily I had fallen right back asleep. She was restless, she kept nudging me - I ignored her - I wanted to teach her to sleep through the night. The detective told me that her acute sense of smell was alarming her, she had been reacting nervously to something she didn't understand, something she smelled. I finally subcumbed to her nudging and got up at 5:45am to take her outside to pee.

Disoriented and half awake I pulled on only underwear and shuffled down the hall lit only by the grey-blue light of pre-dawn. I didn't have my contacts in, or my glasses on and the shape of the white comforter on the couch was enough to convince me that it was HERO sleeping there. I cut through the kitchen so HOPE wouldn't wake him. My head was pounding and I was very sleepy. As I opened the door to the backyard I remember wondering why HERO was doing laundry at such and odd hour - I had mistaken the drone of the engine for the rattle of the washer. I stood outside, dawn - not dark, not light surrounding me. Hope did number one and number two, I clapped half-heartedly as I felt I might fall back asleep - eyes closed while on my feet. When we came back in the house I noticed little things - my alarm clock had gone off (it must be 6am I thought) HERO's pillow was laying on the floor in the TV room, and the washer sounded funny. As I raced back to shut off my alarm clock I noticed the white comforter on the beige couch was empty - no sleeping HERO, just pillows and air. I felt nervous. Had he taken off over our fight ? I grabbed my glasses. I thought of my car - that sound, it's my car - what is he doing?

I got to the door that enters to the garage. A hold out from when the house must of had just a carport in the 50's, a white, wooden door with a window. It hadn't been to code the house inspector had said. I barely ever really thought of replacing it. There are some things that will stay with you forever, when I reached the door, when I say him lying just on the other side - I found one of those things. Panic rushed up, trying to pass the disorienting fugue brought on by the fumes - had he fallen? Ridiculously I actually thought for a moment - had he falling while doing laundry. I grabbed the unlocked door knob, but when I pushed it only went a few inches. Lying face down on the cement, garage floor, head akwardly to the side, his arm pinned under him - his feet were blocking the door. Hysteria rushed in. Logic rushed out.

I began to scream, I began to yell as far as the yell would travel..................NO, NO, NO.

I shoved and threw myself against the door. Tears streaming down my cheeks - my heart was pounding - the weak aortic valve was ripping - my heart was going to come undone. I lifted the window and smashed out the screen - waves of gas surrounded me. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed my phone. I climbed through the window and fell on HERO. He didn't move - he didn't scream, he did nothing. I hit the garage door opener. The fumes were making me dizzy, nauseous. Sunlight mixed with fumes. The garage was hot, oppressively hot. I grabbed the keys and turned of the ignition - dialing 911 at the same time. I was screaming - I hadn't stop screaming. The operator attempted to calm me down asking for my address - is he cold he said ?. I answered, NO - not thinking - he was hot, he had been baking. The operator asked me to roll him on his back. When I did I saw his eyes. Those beautiful grey-blue eyes - were nothing but a hazy white grey. I had passed to somewhere else by this point - somewhere outside of myself - maybe just a string connecting me and reality.

I attempted CPR.

I tried to hold on to that string.

I tried to save him.

I failed.

I yelled profanities. I cursed a god I don't believe in. I cursed HERO.

Why? WHY? Why ?

Curious neighbors came out to their lawns. The freak show had begun. First one cop car, then another, then another, then another. The cops watched me as they approached. The neighbors stared blankly. I sat in my underwear cradling HERO's dead body in my arms - and I still continued to scream.

Many moments came after that. Racing by, yet freezing for a horrific second to become amazingly clear - and then, racing on again. The cops sat me on my driveway. I sat huddled against a 2 ft brick fence - sobbing. They needed to know what happened, had we argued, what was my relationship to him, how long had he lived with me, were we homosexual, how do they reach his next of kin ? I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. This wasn't, this couldn't - really be happening. Tomorrow's my fucking birthday , I told one of the nervously pacing police officers - uncomfortable with the disclosure that we had been "more than friends" - HERO would have been 22 in just 6 days from that moment as well. At this moment - almost seeming triumphant - a cop came carrying out of the garage - the suicide note. I called my boss, I called T and C and BK....not able to make out what I was saying. They hopped in cars and raced to my home. The cops sat outside, already sweating at 630AM on a hot, Arizona summer morning while they strung up police line. The neighbors nervously went back to their lives, their sane, normal lives. The police opened all the windows in the house to air the carbon monoxide out of the house - you're lucky you're alive one said. At the moment I didn't feel alive - I felt hollow, sickenly empty and confused. The next hours involved detectives and questions, the arrival of my terrified friends and their tears. Hope ran from the police officers to my friends, unabashedly unaware that we weren't playing 'chase'.

The first days involved shock, crying, grieving, moving me temporarily to BK's, a constant flow, no - parade - of friends. And the phone rang and it rang, call after call, after call. Each call tearing at my soul, leaving me in a pile, unable to speak - unable to tell the full story. Only one thing seemed consistent to each day. The sense of loss, the feeling of hurt and the feeling that life had turned inside out. I came back to my house the next day - my birthday - only to pack his belongings. The next day I came back again to hand those same belongings to his devastated Aunt and Uncle and 8 month pregnant sister. We cancelled all the plans associated with my birthday and it seemingly came and went - except for the occassional painful and akward call from a family member or a friend - cut off half way through the 'birthday song' to be told the heart-breaking news.

The funeral came on Saturday, and then the Wake. I've just moved from one item to another - on the saddest checklist I've ever made. I've been drunk everyday but one. The Horrible Days, give way to Bad Days, and now a week later to just a sense of numbness.

There is so much more to talk about. So much else that has happened, but I'm tired, and I truly can never really remember feeling this tired before. Maybe it was when I read the suicide note asking me to " let him go", maybe it was the moment I found an entry from this site in HERO's car, maybe it's when I found letters written (but never given) to me detailing how he began to read this site against my wishes and had planned to continue to do so, maybe it's when I saw his best friend sobbing hysterically at the funeral - unable to return my gaze, maybe it's the first night I came back to sleep in my own home after 5 days away terrified to be in my home - the place he took his life, maybe it's when his father who abandoned him at 5 (gay himself and a meth addict) called me looking to connect with the man his son loved (yet he didn't even know was gay) - maybe it was any of these moments, none of these moments or ones I have even yet to comprehend - that I realized my life was forever changed.

HCL served a purpose for me at one time. I have grown alot as person sharing and learning about myself and my life here. Maybe after two years and almost 100,000 vistors - I want to live a more private life. I just don't have it in me anymore. There's so much else I need to work on now, so much more important stuff to do. Maybe in a year I'll come back - reinvented - with a softer approach.

Thank you for the times you've read me. Thank you for the emails, the laughs, the friendships, the calls, the pictures. I've made people think, I've made people laugh, I've made people angry and I hope I've made people care. I'll still read and email. I'll still care and learn.

For now though, I want to take care of me. I want to take my grief private and rebuild.

TO HERO (from my testimonial at his funeral):

You were my superhero,
not able to leap tall buildings
or fly through the night air.

But you had superhero powers
though less visible
that were always present...

You could light up a dark place
with your blue eyes and generous smile.
You could discern between "infer" and "imply"
(God knows I never could)

You could convince any world traveler
from any space on this weary earth,
that you had traveled to their country
and visited their sacred monuments,
to only respond, when asked:
Why no I've never been there
- in fact you had never left the country.

I wish you had seen your own smile
and watched it radiate in a room of boys.
I wish you were here to critique these words
and feign horror at my poor grammar.
I wish you had stayed around...
to travel
with your family
and your friends
and me -
to those far off places you knew so well
but had never been
or seen.

I love you and I miss you deeply.

Yep - truth is stranger than fiction.

Every life should have a little "Hope"


 

One entry found for codify.


Main Entry: cod·i·fy
Pronunciation: 'kä-d&-"fI, 'kO-
Function: transitive verb
Inflected Form(s): -fied; -fy·ing
Date: circa 1800
1 : to reduce to a code
2 a : SYSTEMATIZE b : CLASSIFY
- cod·i·fi·abil·i·ty /"kä-d&-"fI-&-'bi-l&-tE, "kO-/ noun
- cod·i·fi·ca·tion /-f&-'kA-sh&n/ noun

Oh Yeah - Well FUCK you !!

Marriage is such a "HOLY" thing - that's why divorce is more prevelant then cargo pants, we suggest "tax credits" to "welfare mothers" to push them to marry, we televise "proposals based on competition" (Bachelor/Bachelorette), "marriage based on national audience participation" ( Married by America), and vie on the Today Show to chat with Katie Couric and have every moment of our special "holy" day planned by a morning show.

I HATE the FUCKING Church - have always hated the fucking church - and am so sick of the right-wing, religious front, conservative sect of out nation and our world - squirming at even a hint of our acceptance. When is the last time you heard of the homosexual community being linked to genocide, starvation, civil liberties abuse, execution, terrorism or hell even Weapons of Mass Destruction (though admittedly I have met a guy or two who really - really might be in the running) ?

The Church needs to see the true enemy - it's easy, just hold the mirror up to your pious face.

and if there is a God - I only have one question: "TOP or BOTTOM" ?

...and so it can be.

I looked at him, in many ways as I had so many times, yet - as if I never had before.

I had done it, I had sat through dinner and conversation with Lucky - and even at points enjoyed it. He could see it, I could tell.

I was genuinely happier, stronger, more optimistic to embrace a future that once frightened me.

He went to mention at the end that he knew. He had heard there was someone else and he was happy for me. It felt forced on his part - which made it easier to tell him - that, honestly, there wasn't . I didn't need to tell him that I officially had ended it with HERO on Sunday morning, I didn't need to tell him tonight - peacefully I would sleep alone in my bed for the first time in 5 weeks - I only "wanted" to tell him that my happiness was emanating from me - not from or because of another.

As we sat at the wine bistro, it had begun, finally Arizona was about to get it's first true monsoon.

The wind whipped
trees fell folly
and the rain poured down - unafraid of either.

I looked at Lucky and I said, "Can we do one last thing?"

When he questioned what, I asked:

"Can we just walk out in to this storm - that rain - and can we just let it wash all of this away...can we just start fresh as friends ?"

We didn't make it a foot out the door and it drenched us - fashion gone to hell, bygones - just gone and we both laughed gleefully at how clean, how real, how beautiful it felt. I made him walk with me to my car and I gave him a song by East Mountain South about letting go and moving on:

"You only have to listen to it once", I said - "...but, please - listen to it now"

I climbed into my car, and through sheets of rain - I watched my past walk away.

...taking HERO to San Diego Pride, be back Monday. Y'all have a great weekend.

The worst thing about an honest question is meeting it with an honest answer.

Often enough, because the solitary moment (s) that follow will be painful.

I made HERO cry last night.

I suppose I should follow the logic that I can’t make anyone feel or do anything, but in my response to his question, I gave HERO a “reason” to cry.

Intoxicated and somewhat brash, he asked me if I thought I eventually would fall in love with him, or even now when I reflect on it – maybe – it was rhetorical and the question was stated more like “You’re not going to fall in love with me – are you ?”

It’s seems embarrassing that I can’t remember the sequence those nine or ten little words were stated in.

With my head cocked to the side and my eyes drifting to the street – I told him I knew I wasn’t going to fall in love with him. That somewhere last week, my mind met that street and crossed it, and now I was on the other side looking back.

He didn’t hold back.

He let it all out.

I held him in my arms as his shoulders heaved, his body sighed and he sobbed.

Howard Dean asks 16 questions, seems like he could have extended it to 116 - but then again George's attention span isn't that encompassing (and if there's a pretty ball of yarn around - expect him to answer no more than two questions)

Don'tcha hate it when some scandal erupts between your friends and your the one key person that everyone else feels comfortable divulging all the "true facts" too. Of course your sworn to secrecy by each individual party and you of course you live up to that - but everytime your cell rings you have to keep clicking back and forth between the relevant parties.

Where is Mary J. Blige to sing "No More Drama" ???

Ok - I've been quiet this past week, which as always means somethings up.

HERO kinda pulled a stunt last week that I've tried to move past - but in all I think made me realize though he's a wonderful, wonderful guy - he's got so much to learn about being in a relationship and I'm not sure I really feel like being his testing ground. Now I might have forgotten to mention another hitch to this story - um, see HERO really didn't have any place in Phoenix to stay during his summer break from college so I've been letting him live with me. Ok - not my smartest decision - I swear at the time it seemed like a really kind gesture and I figured he would be really busy with other things so it wouldn't feel like he was in my hair. Um, I was wrong. He's in my hair, my sink, my closets, my bathroom, my shoes, my bed - he's, uh - everywhere, every minute of every day. He means well, he really does - but I like living alone and though I adore him - he just seems like a lil 21 year old Tornado in my house. Anyway - I offered to let him stay the summer and I'm gonna live up to my word - he's done some stupid stuff that has made me realize this doesn't really have a future - but he's done nothing to deserve not being treated well and with respect.

...and well there's been some other interesting developments as well, but I'll save those for another time.

.... all is well. HERO and I had a really good conversation on Friday afternoon - where instead of silence or holding back - I really explained how embarrassing the situation had been for me and how afterwards I lashed out merely out of personal insecurity and a need to regain some measure of control. When he looks in my eyes and speaks to me - I can see nestled among the crisp, ice blue flares that encircle his eyes - his love for me (a word that hasn't been used between us since that night).

It was unusual for me to communicate so freely outside of this blog, but I approached it with the same humor and humility that I approached that entry.

I'm falling very hard for this young man.

Thanks to all, for some very insightful and humourous responses.

BTW - if you haven't seen SPELLBOUND, the Academy-Award Nominated Documentary on the 1999 Scripps Howard National Spelling Bee and the path it took eight of it's adolescent contestants from varying social and economic backgrounds to get there....PLEASE do. It will do more for your sense of human spirit then watching 'Legally Blonde Two" could ever do.

I think HERO and I had our first fight last night.

Well not really a fight - more like a "moment".

Not like a sexy moment - though it did happen during sex.

We'd been going at it for awhile and it was all hot and fun at first, but it was late and I was tired and we'd been drinking and I have to admit - and I hate to admit this - but I just wanted him to come already. Have I mentioned, er, uh - he's 21.

Yeah, didn't think so.

Well I've never really worried about my sexual prowness but when your with someone whose all for getting it every single night (and day) - you start to get well, a little insecure. He scoffed when he heard me reference the little blue pill one night - so I've been doing all these performances "au naturale" and I got admit I'm showing a little wear-n-tear. I know it sounds more studly to say I'm an inhuman fuck machine who fucks 24-7-365, no matter sleet, snow, or economic downturns - but hey, I'm gonna be 34 in a month, I work my ass off all week long - come midnight on a work week, after a few drinks - I gotta admit my thought turns to snoozing - not snogging (that means fucking in some slang way - I'm sure of it).

So my mind starts to reel while I'm fucking him, how much longer can I keep this up ? When's my boy gonna cum already - and, um well this dizzying array of self-questioning takes my mind and too many blood cells off the task intended. Well uh, you know. Anyway moment stops - I take him back from the TV room where I had been fucking him over a chair and we go to my bedroom. Happily, he hops on and it's going fine, but now my mind is on what just happened back on the chair: "shit! shit! shit!". I'm wondering what he's thinking, suddenly I'm really feeling the age gap, my heads racing - so much so that, well, um - you know. So in my head I'm getting all defensive and angry and shit - why they fuck are we up this late? why do I feel so much pressure to perform evey night ? - and all the time I'm thinking "oh shit - it's finally happening - it's the first to go".

So HERO is playing it cool, probably thinking it's the booze - or maybe thinking it's not the booze - but thinking I better think he's thinking it's the booze. So I want to shoot myself in the head and I'm still kissing him and playing with his ass and trying to keep things hot (insert here: KILL ME) and I whisper in his ear "I wanna see you cum baby" and he tells me "no" - he wants to see me cum first. I'm thinking fucker - have you been in this room for the past ten minutes ??

So now I'm starting to feel like a show pony - an OLD, ON HIS WAY OUT TO THE PASTURE - show pony. I ask again "Come on baby - I'll cum after YOU, I wanna see you shoot that load". He says "no" again. Tells me he's happy to just be in bed with me and if we aren't BOTH gonna cum then he doesn't want to cum. (insert here: shoot the fucking show-pony now - PU IT OUT OF IT'S MISERY).

So I sigh and get up and go in the other room and wipe off. We take a shower together and I kinda let in to him - about anything:

It's immature to think that a guy doesn't have the right to just get his lover off,

That he'll be a lot wiser when he's older,

That I'm feeling a lot of pressure to put out every night

That he never makes my bed right (um, yeah - I seriously used that one)

...AND the whole time I'm thinking "Oh SHIT - I've lost it".

So, er, uh - what did you do last night ?

Sexier then Demi Moore (have you seen him in a Versace Thong !!!!) , more powerful then Terminator (actually I think Maria Shriver could take him in an arm wrestling match - unless it was over a sale item at Barneys) and as adorable as that little fish in Nemo (but so much tastier with a little garlic butter and lemon).........

He's back.

Yes, I had a great time in LB. Met tons of new people and even made a stop at the Abbey in LA on the way up. More drinking though then even I was used to (think 9am - uh, well to 6am) - that with a ton of sun from West Beach and I was fairly under the weather come Sunday night. HERO looked after me with an ALOE VERA back-rub and some much needed cuddling.

Back to a hectic work life and for some reason sleeping dreadfully. Tons of nightmares (think 28 Days Later and it's all you can dream about no matter how many times you wake up).

I finally watched "Circuit" last night (I know, I know - I take forever to get in the loop - Hey BTW what's this new musical CATS that all the kids are talking about ??). I have to admit I never expected it to have such an effect on me. I suppose as a party-boy retiree (or is that "escapee") - I had a hard time seeing the gross reality to alot of it. Waking up in a bathroom stall - a little lost on what happened the night before (though you so know the bouncers of Crowbar or any other major city club would have you on the curb within 15 minutes of falling out). I got upset enough that at the end of the movie I went to the other room to cry so HERO wouldn't see. I'm not sure what it really was. In reflection this morning, maybe just the fact that I should be dead. With at least 3 pretty dramatic fall-outs on GHB to my name - I am, and was lucky. Maybe it's all the times I thought I appeared 'together' at a bar, but between a bevy of "beers and bumps" was so far inside myself nothing I must have mumbled must have made sense. Maybe it's shame. Shame that I probably knew how bad I was getting and didn't really care if I just got worse. Shame that I must have hated myself so much - that feeling anything but who I was - was worth the close to $1,400 a month habit at it's peak. How did just taking a hit of ecstacy 4 years ago on New Years Eve become a habit ? And what of my desire to still do drugs. I haven't stopped. Not cold turkey. I don't buy anymore and I have distance myself from those influences - but if I'm drunk and it's offered to me by a friend or admirer - well sure. I still find myself craving the warm feeling, the distance from my problems, the lack of inhibition.

This weekend I partied.
There was coke,
there was pot,
there was ecstacy,
a bump of tina.

But like the lead actor in the film, how easy would it be to get pulled back in ?

I'm a much stronger person then I was after all the personal blows last year. I won't add a question mark to that sentence: I know and believe this to be true. I have conquered, even slain, many of my personal demons.

But what of the feelings that made me crave drugs - are they stronger then the experiences that tell me not to go back down the path? I should make mention that HERO doesn't do drugs - at all. It's not that he's stopped, it's that he never started. I had to keep pausing and explaining lingo and scenes throughout the film : that's a bullet honey, no-no he's smoking crystal now, oh actually that's just coke. In his sweet farm-boy way he asked what their like and I found myself cutting short the explanantions as I found myself wanting to not just describe them, but do them with him. To feel him under me - fucking away on G. To dance to Tony Moran with him in my arms each of us in a K-Hole. To get tweaked out of our brains when we can't take a step further when the clock hit 8am on a Sunday morning at a circuit party - to only find ourselves able to go another 6 hours.

I wanted to corrupt him. I wanted to show him the darker side of things - the sexy under belly if you will. Then I thought of that night - that magical night with Lucky at the Sony Pavaillion in SFO for Mondo Millenium New Years Eve 2000. It was gonna be just a hit and then ok maybe just a bump - but I'll never do 'G' or 'Tina'. Four months later at White Party we did 'Tina' - just a bit - we didn't want to miss the next party - we were up for three days. Six months after that standing at La Cage with the only hot couple in Milwaukee, sure "OK - I'll try G"...and it was good and I found I didn't want to be in a club (or a bathouse) without it. And then last summer, I could find any of them in my house at a given time: Coke, Crystal, Ecstacy, G. I would lie to my boyfriend about whatever I was on - knowing I wasn't allowed to do G - claiming I was slipped a mickey when I fell out on Halloween. Once I convinced my ex to go to couples counseling after a few bumps of K - it would open us up I said. There were good times on drugs - to many of them. Walking home in the snow with my buddies, after a bar, as the sun rose over the Chicago skyline - rolling, laughing, my body so alive. Hearing Lucky say I love you for the first time on the dance floor - Lighthouse Family singing in the background "You and me will be - together for enternity - together we wil be so Hiiiigggghh" . 'Kitty Vision' at a friends house for movie night friends and bumpers. They were great times.

And now I feel like I've shut the door on them...

and it's harder to feel those things

- that way

- again.

 

HERO's coming down from Flagstaff tonight so I'm planning a romantic night at my favorite wine bar and italian restaurant. To be followed of course by a lot of hot sex. No - I'm not tossing out the "L" word yet and won't for quite awhile - though I have agreed to keep my dick in my pants this weekend in Laguna Beach with C. and T. for the 4th of July.

Have a great 4th - I'll write upon my return.

...with his grey-blue eyes framed by tears, HERO turned, trembling and looked at me and said the words:

I'm in love with you.

There. It's been done. No going back now.

It was late, there had been a lot drinking, pool party, birthday party, drinks with friends.

I would feel a sudden nervousness, a pang of anxiety when he would go off to the bathroom or when he was out of my sight. A sense of loss when his hand wasn't holding mine.

I had been getting cajoled by my friends all day long about his age, his sweetness. They all accepted him, adored him even. He could win anyone over with his slowed-down, casual, Midwestern drawl and unconcious, inquisitiveness.

I had spent the day protesting.

No it wasn't getting too serious, No we're not boyfriends we're just dating

But - my friends watched me like I was something behind glass and they were studying me as I said these things. I'm not a lier - they know that, just like they knew that maybe I wasn't even convincing myself.

So now at the end of the night - heading back to my place for sex and sleep, he began to cry and he said the words.

Funny - I don't even know if I said thanks.

...less blogging lately and much more living.

It's frightening to write these words, but there is a major reason for my absence and it's a boy. I've gone on dates with a lot of terrific guys since Lucky and I broke up and nothing compares to the time I spend with this guy. I'm calling him HERO, maybe because of how he acts or maybe because he's making me believe in something that I thought I might give up on.

There so many things I want to write about him that I just don't dare, not yet - when it's all so new.

...but most importantly - he makes me laugh, and smile...and think.

I'll tell you more soon I'm sure.

The last 48 hours have involved unbelievably fun, mucho, mucho caliente sex. I haven't put in peformances like these in years - I feel like I just ran the Boston Marathon. My lips feel like they have razor burn - my special visitor will be spending the night again on Saturday after Big C's bday extravaganza. Tonight out to dinner with all the boyz to kick off C's bday (I got him a tattoo for his birthday).....really need to write, but honestly right now I'm more into just having fun in the real world. ciao.