Maybe we should take a break

There are many ways to break up a relationship, some are creative (sending a voice-recorded build-a-bear with the message "I think we should break up") and some are just lame (texts, IMs, over the phone... or in any way that involves saying "it's me, not you"), but, no matter how you do it, it's still going to be painful.

You know what's a bad way of breaking up with someone?

Telling them that you still love him, that you need him or that you feel that he is the one, but that you don't really know what's going on, what's going to happen between you and that... maybe, the best thing to do, is take a little break.

Oh come on.

I don't want to be rude, or crush anyone's hopes, that is the last thing I want to do, I don't kick when the bitch is on the floor already.

But, oh come on!

"I'm not breaking up with you, I just need a break"

Are you listening to yourself?

If you can't handle the relationship, then just go ahead and just say it, ending a relationship now instead of extending the date for a week or three, it'll only make it worse,

if not for you, do it for him. Break it up.

Buying the Cow

In an interesting string of events, I've come to realize something that I wouldn't want to be called for in any other situation, ever:

I AM the cow.

The saying goes like this "Who is going to buy the cow, when they get the milk for free?" And I don't even want to start on the connotations of calling myself a free-milk-giving-cow. But I am.

It has always been like that for me, I can't seem to grasp the idea of a relationship going like this: "friends-date-kissing-making out-sex"

And what happens when you kiss a guy you like BEFORE really even... talking to him?

You end up in a FRIENDSHIP, and of course the guy isn't too anxious to get into something more formal, after all, he's getting all the perks with no burden whatsoever, and you wonder why the relationship didn't blossom?

You are the cow, and here, I am the cow. You'd think I learned my lesson the first time, took me 4 months AFTER our first kiss (with many others following) before he accepted our relationship, which is a lot of work gone to waste considering the whole formality of it all lasted exactly 3 months. Recap: 2 months beating around the bush, 3 months of kissing and fondling and angst (that part was only mine) and then, after that, 3 months of a really lousy relationship.

The part that bugs me, is that... even though that happened almost 3 years ago, I can still think of my following relationships or involvements and in all of them (and, frankly, in all before) I've always been a Cow, and I even defend myself with the thought "Well, of course I need to give some milk for free, he needs to know he's going to like me".

I'll be damned if you think there's any good in giving away all you have for free, so please: Don't be a cow.

We need to talk

a.k.a. "Relationship breakers, a cliché compilation and why they suck (Part 1)"

We need to talk.

Nothing good comes out of "we need to talk," ever. Not only is that a phrase no one wants to hear, it's a phrase dreaded everywhere and in every language possible. Why? Because it turns something ordinary and casual (talking) and phrase it as the most important thing you'll be doing. 

I know I've covered some relationship topics before, I may not know all but I've certainly heard almost everything there is to hear, and if there's something I don't want to hear, ever, is this:

You deserve better than me.

Who was the idiot who came up with this? I'll tell you who: a loser, a quitter, and someone who probably didn't the deserve to be in a relationship in the first place.

Let me tell you something about what "you deserve better" implies:

First, it implies that you know you are doing a lousy job as a boyfriend. Not only that, it also makes it pretty clear you have yourself in a low standard, to even think you are with someone who you don't "deserve".

And third, and maybe the most important thing: It means that even though you know you are doing a bad job, you prefer to take the easy road and quit the relationship, instead of working and hoping and trying to improve.

Because that's just it, here's the ironic twist:

Saying "you deserve better" may actually be a true statement, if the guy is willingly giving up the relationship because he can't make the effort of working to be better... then you DEFINATELY deserve better.

And the worst part is, we don't like "better". We don't want, need or seek better. We are in this relationship because WE want to be in it. Right?

I'm going to be as honest as I can allow myself in this one and say it: I work hard to be in a good relationship. I know, I know, that's not what a relationship is supposed to be, like everything else it has to have a balance, not everything will be sugar-coated and pink. It isn't. But if I can do anything to make my man feel better, godammit I will, because that's what it's all about.

I haven't had this one applied to me, but it happened to a girlfriend of mine, I was a friend of both parties involved and it wasn't a pretty sight. 

So, what the fuck?

In his words... "She needs someone better, She's so amazing but I don't deserve her!"

In her words... "I don't know what happened, he just said he couldn't be with me anymore, that I needed to find someone better!"

Let me say it once more: What. The. Fuck?

There's only one thing that I can say, and it is this: Girl, if he's not willing to be better for you, then you REALLY deserve something better.

A Censored Fag

I'm loud, noisy, if there's a chance to be out and proud, I'll take it... And yet, the first time someone actually tries to censor me is not by any of this.

It was all because of my t-shirt.

A friend of mine invited me to hear him play at a public school, he was going to play some reinassance music to a bunch of 3rd to 5th graders.

As I was in a corner of the small auditorium, just sitting and waiting for the kids to show up when my friend comes up to me and tells me I need to change my shirt.

Excuse me? 

Apparently, the director of the small consort didn't think I was wearing something appopiate for kids to see and that I needed to change shirts or cover the caption. There was no way I could cover it, flip it? Something, anything, to cover it up. Luckily my friend had changed shirts for the presentation (just to look nicer) and I could use the one he wasn't wearing.

What did it say? "Love Sucks" and it had a broken heart right next to it.

The apple really doesn't fall that far from the tree

-This happened while I went grocery shopping with my mom-
Mom: Look, see that guy over there? He's really handsome.
Fag: What?... Oh, yeah... kind of, I don't really like what he's wearing.
Mom: He has a nice way of walking, I like his attitude.
Fag: Sure, but he's not dressed really well, is he?
Mom: Who cares? Why do you even want him with clothes?

---

PS: Yes, I'll pretend the last months with no updates whatsoever didn't happen

FAGbulous Tip #36: Always Give a Good First Impression

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Quédate...

Te pedí que te quedaras, para que las lagrimas no pudiesen llegar.

It's the little things that matter.

It's the little things, a gentle touch, a calm kiss, him just grabbing your hand and holding it, and don't get me started on the cuddling... those small details are the ones that really, really let you know... how much in love you really are. For me, holding hands can, and has had as much, effect on my emotions as a kiss. I'm a romantic, can't help myself.

Remember the chocolate guy ? It all started because he didn't mind holding my hand in public. It may sound (it totally is) pathetic, but living in a small town has had it's effects, and finding a guy willing to hold my hand while walking in a park, a hell of a highlight in my life. A straight guy, small detail I didn't want to understand until he started dating a really good girl-friend of mine.

People have always told me that I'm a really loud fag, and that I don't care about what other "normal" people think. Which is totally true, I don't give a flying fuck what people think about who I am as a sexual being; but that doesn't mean I'm having hot-n-steamy gay sex in public, (not that I wouldn't want some hot-n-steamy gay sex, mind you) it means that if I want to hold hands with the guy I love, I will freaking do it no matter who is watching. That's all I ask, you know? I don't find it fair that every time I go out I see at least 2 or 3 straight couples almost having sex in a park (in broad daylight, no less), but two guys holding hands ? NO FREAKING WAY, the outrage! The shame!

WTF?

Being side-tracked, and not in the good way.

Note: This took place over a year ago.
He was almost leaving, he already had his seatbelt on, his door open, I was just outside, my mind made up - It's today, I'm going to tell him right now! - and the moment I was about to say it... he offered me a piece of chocolate.

I was completely side-tracked, without knowing what else to do, I accepted. So he took my hand, and gave me a small piece. I couldn't do anything else.

Fag: *hugs* I... I... (have a freaking chocolate in my freaking hand ! God dammit) I... just leave ! BYE !

I was already inside my house before he was even gone.

Stupid chocolate, disappeared a moment after.

So THAT is what it takes...

It's in situations like this that I know why I love my friends.

Me on the phone with one of my besties:

Fag: I... I went to the mall yesterday... and I bought something...
Her: ... what?
Fag: A... white hemp belt.
Her: OMG, you know what that means? You are officially out of the closet!

Like I said, I love my friends.

I'm a cuddler.

I'm a cuddler, and if there's one thing I love to do with the people I like is cuddling, with my boyfriends and best friends is no exception.

Except that... I don't have a boyfriend to cuddle with, that the only real friend I have left that would help, can't. And that the person I really, really, want (need) to cuddle with... hasn't talked to me in over a month.

But I need the cuddling, the warmth it gives... I needed it so much that I did the last thing I thought I'd ever do for it.

I called an ex.

Not just any ex, my first official boyfriend. The one who broke it off because I didn't want to have sex with. The one who's only real attribute (besides his really gorgeous ass) was that he liked me. No chemistry, no real connection, just him wanting to be sexually intimate with me and me wanting to be with him emotionally. Neither of us got what we wanted.

Last week, almost two years after we had broken up, He logged on and we chatted a bit, he told me he was back in town for the rest of the month. "How about you, coming over to my place?" he said.

And I, against all the warning signs popping in my head, accepted.

....

Fast-forward >> I'm at his place, he's taking a shower... and I feel like shit.

Just because I needed someone to cuddle.

Being a fag is not a fad.

Note: In order for some parts of the post to make sense, I'm not referring to everyone in the new trend of fashion guys that spend more money than an average girl in products, I'm referring to the one's that are gay, duh.

Times change, and the way we look at many things change accordingly. Recently my aunt tried to convince me that there are more gay guys than 30 years ago, I didn't have time to expose my case, but I just said that it wasn't like that. Now I do have the time so here it goes.

We all know homosexuality has been around for ever, in Greece the kids learned the way of pleasing a man from his teacher, Julius Cesar had both male and female lovers, etc. It was accepted and it was normal.

Then, apparently, someone, somewhere, *coughs*StupidChurch*coughs again* decided this wasn't cool, so it became "Adan and Eve" and we got screwed (in a sad, non-literal way). Male with female, that was what The-Almighty-God wanted and that's what he shall receive, if not then YOU'LL BURN IN HELL, ok?

So it was established, a guy and a girl and they would have kids and that's a family.

Do it.

And for many years, that was okay for most, you grew in an environment that demanded the "normal family structure". Some didn't do it, of course, they knew that vaginas weren't made for them and that they wanted something else, more fulfilling (there are so many puns I'm not going to comment on them), so they lived being single, others surrendered to those feelings in secret, meeting with strangers where no one could see them.

We all know there has always been fags around us, but we are turning into a more tolerant society (in some places), 20 years ago the regular family sitcom was a huge family with both parents, know we see TV shows with single parents, gay couples, lesbians, etc. It works for us, since we get to see something we can relate to it more than we would an all-straight show, and it works for the media, they get to make a scandal, cause an outrage with the fans (she can't be a lesbian!), it doesn't get any better than that.

That is why there are so many fag-looking (fashion-oriented, sorry) people out there on the streets (not the only reason, but a main one), because we've learned that it's fine to be the way you are, that you shouldn't be trapped into the "male-female" structure, if it doesn't make you happy, then why do it? If you want to dress different, do it! Some people may be unhappy with that decision, some may even try to offend/hurt you, and you have to learn that the one who has to be sad is the guy calling you a queer from inside a passing car, that the group of jocks laughing at the guy with the berét are the ones that decided to conform.

There are more gays out-of-the-closet than last century, but gays in general? I'm guessing about the same as now.

Quick updates.

Even though I'm not posting anything, I still check my blog every once in a while, read some of the things I've said, hoping to get inspired. Part of me has been inspired lately, but my fun muse has left the building, and the new one has dark and straight hair all over her face, and scars in her arms, as she cuts herself to feeel aliveee.

Joking, kinda.

You've read (hopefully) the last two entries, it's not the last of the emo series. Because, even though our flag is a rainbow, sometimes black is needed.

In other news, trying to learn how to do my own clothes has failed miserably.

The thing I prayed for? Has also failed miserably. Thanks, God. (Can't tell you to go to Hell, can I? Good thing I don't believe in you)

And worst of all? I laughed, again. (*shoots himself*)

Ex-Sighting

I haven't had that many boyfriends in my life, and for some weird reason... I never see them again after we've broken up, my first boyfriend moved out of town a couple of months after, the second one just disappeared from my radar, etc. The last one... we broke up 2 months ago and I just saw him at the mall. I neeever go to the mall, ever. And when I finally go, he's there. Damn it.

The thing is, I didn't want to break it up, I was really starting to love him, and wanted to go on for a long time, but he gave up. He said so himself, he didn't feel like trying... so I said "fuck it," kissed him a last time, told him "I guess this was it... bye" and left.

It was our 3rd month anniversary.

Jesus in da house! (I'm sooo going to Hell)

It may seem obvious to some, specially those who actually know me, that I'm not a religious person. I think that praying has no actual value towards the movement of the world and that it's just a waste of time, time that could be used more effectively towards actually doing something to help yourself. Last time I went to a church, it was to see a friend play piano to celebrate a.... bishop's (???) birthday, and I didn't even enter, it was at the courtyard.

But today, same friend invited me to hear his girlfriend sing with a choir, this one was in the inside of the biggest church there is in this state, anyway as the mass kept on going, I went to this room called "The Room of Miracles". The whole room felt different than what I've grown to know as the inside of a church, there was something else, I felt hope. An almost tangible sense of hope. An old lady with crutches using all of her strength to sit, caressing a saint's clothing and then her legs... Half of the room had pictures, notes, clothing, all of them with a writing on them, some asking for a prayer to help cure a disease, some for protection, to bring a son back from Irak safely... some only asked for prayers from fellow believers, not money, nor any financial aid, just for your time and faith.

Just a prayer.

So I did what I'd never though I'd do again, something I hadn't done since I was a loved-deprived high-school boy (not really, but yes)... I went to a stool that had just been cleared, with 2 candles in front of me, a choir singing in the background, and I prayed.

I prayed, to any God, Goddess, or Entity, to Whatever this may concern: This is what I ask for, clarity. To know what to do before the oportunity leaves my hands, before it's too late, before it's gone for good. I pray, I implore and ask that the person I love the most, for who I've moved earth, water and fat... to please be happy, even if that means he won't be with me... and if so, I ask and pray for the opportunity and the chance to love someone else as much as the way I love him...

... and world peace.

Edit: That was such an old-movie-reference (Miss Congeniality, duuh)

I laughed...

I laughed.

And now you think I don't care.

Then, when you finally left me by my own, I cried.

But when it mattered to you, I laughed.

I know I shouldn't have... God, I didn't even wanted to.

But I laughed, I couldn't say what I really thought. I couldn't tell you what I really felt.

And then you left; you finally gave up on me, on us.

I'm sorry I laughed.

Sorry!

When I started this blog, I was convinced a weekly update wouldn't be a hard thing to manage. It's been over a month since my last post, I fail at life.

There's been a lot of shit going on in my life, I broke up with my boyfriend, work, college (finals!) , etc.

I won't promise to post something soon because my muse is MIA, but I'll try to find her.

Oh, I almost forgot... I'm learning how to sew! I'm having some troubles with the stuuupid sewing machine but I noticed something peculiar about the way I look at some clothes...

F:*is watching a TV show* Wow, that skirt is pretty, and... it's not that hard to make, I can totally see the pattern, maybe I'll have trouble with the pleating but... Fuck, all doubts about my gayness should be gone by now.

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…