May I have the next dance?

As I was watching youtube with my best friend (we were bored so we started looking for videos of cute guys kissing), we stumbled with this.

Accepting the fact I was gay didn't take me long, even though I had to lie in front of my whole class, the moment I understood what "gay" was, was the moment I said "Oh, so that's what it's called? Cool." (Note: Read, if you haven't, the Innocence post, this is kind of a follow up)

I had it pretty easy on myself.

But accepting yourself is one thing, being accepted by the one you love...

When I finished junior-high, we had a prom (per se), we each went on our own and had a small waltz at the beginning, luckily I had my best girl as my partner. Helmet-Head looked really cute, he sat next to me at dinner, he still didn't know I loved him, and then there was... the dancing.

I say I have a pretty lousy memory, and it's true, but I'll never forget what happened that night.

No, we didn't kiss.

But we danced.

I loved him very much, and I knew that after that night we wouldn't be seeing each other, his parents wanted a different school than the one I was going to.

That was going to be our last night together (next time I saw him was 3 years after that), and he asked me if I wanted to dance with him.

Fuck yeah!

(Post-Edit Note: For those wondering... No, nothing happened with him after that; he was straight, so he chickened out of our friendship when he found out about my crush.)

Open Wide! (the mouth!... pervs)

Having money is awesome, everyone knows that… but being a teenager with money? Makes you feel like you own the world. Two weeks after I’d started working as a graphics designer I decided to spend some of it on improving myself. I first decided on going to the dentist to get my teeth whitened, but then they told me how much I had to pay and immediately after that, I went straight to the first Wal-Mart I could find and bought some Crest Whitening Strips, the ones that had to be used for 7 days.

The instructions were simple; I just had to apply the strips 2 times a day, for 30 minutes at a time.

I did an amazing job following instructions, for the most part. On the 6^th day, I had just came back from work, it had been an exhausting day, I remember just putting on the strips and going to my bed to rest for a while, I would remove the strips… soon…

8 hours later, I woke up with the weirdest feeling in my mouth, I checked, and oh yeah, I had completely forgotten the strips. Of course, I did the logical thing, took them off and applied the last pair of strips. Smart of me, right? 30 minutes later I, obediently, rinsed my mouth and continued my daily routine so I could go to work.

Remember the feeling I had? It gradually became a painful one. I was at work already, and I couldn’t just tell my boss I wasn’t able to work because I had a throbbing teeth-ache. There was a lamp in my desk and I started noticing that whenever I opened my mouth, the warmth of the lamp stopped the pain, the warmth was gooood.

Luckily I had a private station there so I could easily have my mouth open with the lamp almost touching my face, while still being able to work. I did that for a couple of minutes, enjoying my pain-free time, when my boss came in, telling me something about a design I’d done. He saw me, and I saw him, and we just kind of looked at each other ackwardly for a moment. I closed my mouth, moved the lamp away from me and continued working, as any good employer, he just went back to his office and came back a couple of minutes after.

Eventually, I explained to him what the fuck I was doing.

Now THAT is what I call a Par-teh!

A couple of years ago, in my eternal quest for independency, I started working as a cashier in a super-mart. It was pretty standard stuff, except for the fact that we sold a lot of different shit, and I mean a LOT. The store was divided in 4 main sections: pharmacy, everyday, liquor store and music department. I was in charge of ringing the last 3; pharmacy had its own cashiers.

Monday evening, no people at all, I was completely bored out of my mind, so I went to the pharmacy to talk to the guys over there, one of them had to be twice my age and he absolutely adored me (in a straight-adoring kind of way); the guy was on his own that day and the moment he saw me he went all “Thank God you are here, I need to piss” (Pharmacy has to have at least one cashier at all times, store policy). I could see my own machine from where I was (and I could be out of station) so no problem for me.

A couple of minutes after the guy leaves, I’m standing there just watching the clock tick, when this huge 50-year-old-all-american-cowboy (I’m not kidding, he was almost a waking cliché) goes up to me and, in all his manly voice, asks me:

Cowboy: Do you guys have generic Viagra?

Fag: O____O Say what now?

Thank the gods my co-worker arrived the exact moment to save me from laughing in front of the poor guy, he had heard the cowboy and immediately told him that, yes we do sell generic Viagra.

I almost ran from there, tears silently going down my cheeks from having to withhold my laughter. 10 minutes later, as I was happily sending txt messages to a friend of mine about the whole thing, Cowboy comes to my station with a basket, I had calmed down by now but then I saw the 2 things he wanted to buy.

He had the Generic Viagra with the receipt, a bottle of scotch, and… a big-size bag of watermelon-flavor lollipops.

I could easily make some pedo-jokes, but I think that, even for me, that’s over the top…

Life's a song...

Why can’t life be a musical? First of all, because half of my friends would commit suicide before the intro, and secondly, if life were a musical… this would happen:

Well, not as glamorous as you'd expect it, but I'm sure Life would make this kind of musical.

Lately I’ve been wondering why life can’t be a musical (I know, I know, really gay of me, let me be)… I’m a huge Buffy fan, I absolutely loved the special musical episode, Hairspray? Chicago? Cats? Across The Universe? Heck, I’ve even watched High School Musical (1 and 2).

I’m not into the idea only because everyone would have a great voice and amazing dancing skills, but because, musicals are honest. There’s an honesty that only requires a minimum effort to capture, you know what’s happening with everyone by just hearing out a bit of the tune they are dancing/singing to. Life would be so much easier, wouldn't it? You'd knew you are screwing things up with your significant other just by hearing them sing or something. So much easier, yet...

Why can't this happen? I'm not asking why can't my boyfriend just start singing his feelings or fears, I'm asking, why can't we just do that? Just... say what's really in our minds without fear. I'm pretty much talking from experience here, but I know I'm not the only one who feels like this (right?). What I really want, aside from being able to sing, is honesty. One of my life's motto is to never complain unless I'm doing something about it, and so I promise this: I promise that I'll live according to a musical's honesty. That I'll say what I feel, when I feel it.

Trying to go back to my point, if there is one, is that… life sucks, songs or no songs, get used to it. No, no, I’m kidding. I’m still hoping for a day when I’m out shopping or something and, out of nowhere, people start singing and dancing for something as trivial as napkins. I guess I’ll keep on hoping.

Note: I’m blaming this post on a friend of mine who made me watch Across The Universe, but who am I kidding? I was dying to watch the movie around 6 months before it came out (and never got to watch it till almost a year after that. Watch it if you are in the mood.

Coming out of the closet (mom edition)

A couple of years ago, when I finally had my first boyfriend, I was still inside the closet with my family (the fact that everyone in high-school and… basically anyone who knew me that didn’t have my last name is irrelevant), so when I went out on a date with my Doctor (oh yeah, didn’t mention that before, did I?) I told my mom “I’m going to Tomboy’s house after work, see you later!”

That week I “went” to Tomboy’s house at least 4 times. Everything was going fine, I actually went to her house one of those times, lucky me… my mom called me on my cell to tell me she was outside of tomboy’s house. My penis shrank so much I almost grew a vagina. That was a nasty analogy, wasn’t it? Sorry.

Sooo, anyway, I finally decided I had to tell her, didn’t wanna have to beat around the bush… no pun intended.

After the fifth date with McQueery, I came home to find my mom watching TV, she’s just sitting there with the soaps, I sit with her for a while; she noticed I wanted to tell her something, she turns off the TV, looks at me and says – What do you wanna tell me? – I really went rigid, trying to find a way of coming out gracefully… and all I can say, is that I failed miserably.

Fag: Mom, the thing is…

Mom: Yeah?

F: Well… I, mmm, well… you saw this guy and well… *inhales* thethingisthatI’vehad5dateswithhimalreadyandIreallylikehimandyeahthat’swhatIwantedtotellyou andthatmybutthurts, butthat’sbecauseI’vebeenseatingforawhile! DAMN! *hyperventilates*

M: So, what you are trying to tell me is that…

F: Yeah, I’m gay…

After a while, she finally told me this:

M: Just promise me that you’ll never wear women’s clothing, ok?

I love my mom.

Louis Vuitton

Straight friend: Wow… look at that hot MILF.
Fag: Oh my gawd, I LoVe her purse, *w*.
S. F.: Don't be so gheeey!
F: *keeps staring*