Toddy's Age, The Rope, and The Cult

This is really three posts for the price of one.

The three most popular questions from my last post concerned all of the above. I'll elaborate a bit on each, and then you can let me know if you still have questions.

My age is 38. In a couple months I will be 39. The picture on this blog is just over two years old, but I don't look much older now. I still get carded often. I was at a restaurant/bar on Friday, and the server asked to see my ID. I laughed and told her I was nearly 39, and she seemed flabbergasted. After she told me I looked damn good for 39, I tipped her 30% on the bill. I owe my youthful looks to a Scandinavian heritage and my, um, healthy lifestyle. Yeah, that's it.

Mostly, I like looking younger than my age, but I usually can't get cast in some of the roles that most people in their late 30's could play. Maybe when I am 50 I can play a 35 year-old.

I sleep with a rope as sort of a game. I have never slept with a rope before, but I am making friends with this particular rope and find great comfort from it. At first I was worried I would strangle myself accidentally in my sleep, so I wrapped it around my forearm several times before dozing off. I have learned that my rope will not strangle me, as it is a benign rope. So now I drape it over my body or wad it up and hold it by my face when I sleep. My rope serves as a heart connection to someone and also fuels some fantasies that may someday be acted out. Or not. Either way, it's better than a teddy bear.

I was in a cult in the early 90's. You can read many testimonies of other people who had a similar experience with the group at this website. It was not a "Heaven's Gate" or "Unification Church" sort of cult. In fact, definitions vary on what actually constitutes a cult. According to the book, Captive Hearts, Captive Minds, the organization I belonged to meets most characteristics of a cult. We confessed everything to one another, including a casual lustful glance or momentary episode of shyness (which was condemned as sinful because a shy person is really just being "self-focused"). We also were called upon to give huge amounts of money to the church and believed that only by being a member of this group could you be spared the fires of hell. We could not date or marry outside the group. We singles lived with other church members and were discouraged from living with anyone who didn't belong to our church. We had a unique vocabulary and, until a couple years ago when I sought therapy, I couldn't say the word "awesome" because of the way that word triggered flashbacks in me.

The entire cult story takes about four hours to tell orally. I don't know how long it would take me to write about it, but I'm sure it would be quite a lengthy process. In this church, we were told who to date (and were sometimes told who we could not date), where to live, what job we should have, whether or not we should visit our families, and, in my case, whether or not we could participate in certain activities such as theater. Our instructions were called "advice", but if we did not follow advice, there could be serious repercussions. My most dreaded punishment was called a "breaking circle". In a breaking circle, I would have to sit in a circle with the other leaders as they each took turns trying to break me of my sin. Each brother would tell me how weak I was, how sinful I was, how prideful I was, etc. After he spoke, another brother would attempt to break me. I broke every time and usually expressed my own self-loathing by joining in with them to gang up on myself: "Plus I'm lazy. Don't forget lazy".

I joined the group in an attempt to become what I thought God wanted me to be - a straight man. I left the group after a few years when I realized I was becoming no straighter than I was when I joined. Sure, I was the leader of the music ministry and the singles ministry and was practically engaged to a woman and had no sexual experiences with men (or women) unless you want to count that one French guy who was a bodybuilder in Washington DC. Actually, I do want to count it because he was beautiful and muscular and climbed on top of me like I was a futon. And he was French, as I've mentioned. However, I was removed from leadership for that little slip-up. You can imagine the breaking circle I experienced after I confessed that encounter.

One night I took a walk around my apartment complex and begged God to free me from homosexuality. He answered my prayer in the negative by posting a naked young man in a window over my head. The guy was staring at me and playing with himself as he stood in front of his window. After I figured out which apartment was his, I went up and asked to use his phone because, even then, I had absolutely no game. He invited me in, and I left knowing I probably was not going to give up men anytime soon.

The worst part of being a former cult member is that I have a very hard time with boundaries. I do not always know where to draw the line when it comes to sacrificing my happiness for others. Becoming a doormat is often my first instinct, although, over the years, I have become better at standing up for myself.

The best part of being a former cult member is you can say things to your friend in the grocery store like, "When I was in the cult, the other brothers introduced me to this kind of pancake syrup. It is so good!" You can watch as people quicken their pace when they push their shopping carts by you. Plus, you also know of a really good syrup you would never have tasted if not for being in a cult.

So Not Cool

I slept at my loft for the first time last night. This is the first time in 15 years that I have lived by myself, which is kind of crazy if I really think about it. When I was in the cult, I lived in an apartment with five guys from the church. After fleeing that situation, I lived, to my shame, with my parents for eight months. Then I moved in with my first boyfriend, CT. After we split, I lived with Juju and then The Handsome Prince. Now, at the age of 38, I am on my own.

My first night at the loft was interesting. The first thing I did was lock myself out of the building. Each resident has a key fob that automatically unlocks the building, but I left mine upstairs in the loft. So I stood on the sidewalk hoping somebody would come in or out so I could explain my plight. But after 15 minutes, I remembered the name of a realtor who lives on my floor. Although I have never met him, I dialed him up and introduced myself. Because he had loud jazz playing in the background, I had to yell so everyone walking by on the sidewalk could hear what an idiot I am.

"Hi, David! You don't know me! I am Hot Toddy, your new neighbor. I have already locked myself out, and I'm sorry to bug you so late. Could you let me in?"

"What?"

"HI DAVID! YOU DON'T KNOW ME! I AM HOT TODDY, YOUR NEW NEIGHBOR, AND I'VE LOCKED MYSELF OUT. SORRY TO BUG YOU SO LATE! COULD YOU LET ME IN??"

"Are you the tall blonde guy?"

"YES!"

So, he let me in, Once I got back into my place, all I wanted to do was wash off the sweat from a long hot day, but I couldn't figure out how to operate the shower. No, really, it's hard. Stop laughing. You don't understand - the faucet is really weird. Anyway, after I took a bath, I put up some pictures of Thor and set the one of us kissing right next to my bed. Then I turned on the radio, couldn't bear listening to Delilah's sad love songs and dedications, turned off the radio, and settled into bed. I had forgotten to bring pillows for my first night, so I wadded up a towel for my head, grabbed the rope Thor gave me (long story), wrapped part of it around my forearm, and went to sleep.

I thought living in a cool loft would instantly make me cool. Instead, I am the neighbor who locks himself out, uses towels for pillows, and sleeps with a rope. I'll never be one of the cool kids, will I?

Goodwill

I finally decided to just get rid of everything. I am keeping a bed, bookshelf, nightstand, and a couple lamps. So far, I've mostly moved books and pictures into the loft. I went through my belongings and took the things that meant the most to me, but I'm getting rid of much more than I'm keeping.

Today I'm going to Goodwill after work with The Handsome Prince. We're dropping off a couch, a futon, bags of clothes and a couple lamps. It strikes me as odd that I can so easily part with items I once cared about. Our attachments are not always permanent, and this can go for relationships too.

I think about the people in my life who have gradually disappeared, and it makes me sad. Relationships that once meant the world to me have vanished, although there is nowhere to place the blame. We simply moved on and found other relationships.

I have not communicated with my grandmother in years. She once wrote me a letter criticizing my mother and blaming her for the problems between my parents. I suppose it is natural for her to take her son's side, but I disagreed strongly with her assessment of my mother's character, and I responded with several angry pages letting her know she was out of line. I never heard from my grandmother again. I have good memories of her, but I feel like she cut me off the day I dared to express an opinion that differed from hers. So, I never tried to reconcile, and I wonder if I will regret it someday.

I'll be heading to Dallas for a family visit in a few weeks, and I suppose the visit will cause me to reflect on my blood relations, but there are so many times that I just don't crave a closeness with them. My boyfriend has several gay relatives, including a lesbian sister, but I am (to my knowledge) the only gay person in my family. This makes me a complete outcast at times, since I come from a conservative and somewhat narrow-minded family. I envy Thor, because he can be so open with his family. I picture my visit to Dallas as a dark cloud, and my main concern is how to hide the Maker's Mark so I can sit by the pool after everyone goes to bed and drink until I'm tired.

If only there were a donation center for relationship baggage. I would love to unload some of the junk cluttering up my life. I know that one of my faults is giving up on people. I will give my heart completely, but if I am hurt badly, there is a steel door in my heart that closes forever. Resurrecting my affections seems impossible in these cases. In blogging there is an easy way of dealing with someone who hurts or betrays you. You can just delink them and move on. In real life, there is more baggage involved. You have to sort through the piles of stuff and figure out which parts of a relationship you want to hang onto and which parts you want to throw away. Lately, I'm tossing more than I'm keeping. Maybe I am just making room for better things to come my way. Only time will tell.

Jackpot

This weekend Thor and I went to the tribal casino to celebrate Metro's birthday with him. I wondered if it was a bad idea for us to wear cowboy hats to a casino run by an Indian tribe (I know that's not PC - but Native American Tribe isn't as funny to say). Fortunately, nobody seemed to mind that we wore cowboy hats, but we did get some mean looks when we drank our beers with our arms intertwined.

Juju did a great job organizing the caravan, and almost everybody left with more money than they came with. Thor lost his money quickly. Not in the slots, though. He literally lost it when he dropped it on the floor and someone snatched it up. But I took care of him and made sure he had access to money whenever he needed it. It felt good to be his sugar daddy.

Every time Juju won a little on the slots, Thor would roar with approval. It caused quite a scene. Everybody around us wanted Juju to leave so they could take over her apparently loose slots (that didn't come out right). What people didn't know is that Thor was cheering whether Juju won fifty cents or several dollars.

After hours of playing, Thor and I went to the restaurant for a quick breakfast. When they called my number, Thor said, "Toddy, you won!" Yeah. I won two omelettes that I paid for, but the way he said it just made me feel like a winner.

I always feel like a winner when I am with Thor. Somehow, I won a boyfriend that turns heads and turns me on. He looked amazing with the tan he got while helping friends move furniture that day. His blue eyes were emphasized by the blue shirt he wore, and the top three buttons were open to expose his strong hairy chest. I tried to resist putting my hands in his shirt, but I am weak. In order to avoid angry homophobic stares, I had to hold a menu up to hide my wandering hands from the view of the other patrons.

Yesterday, Thor came to see the new loft where I'll be living, and I was so glad that he was my first guest. We kissed in the kitchen, and I told him that he was the first boy I'd kissed in my new place. "First and last," he said. Like I'd want to kiss anybody else. Like I needed to be reminded where my heart is.

Thor and I are meant to be, and that is why I know we'll be back together after he takes care of the things he needs to do right now. Steve, my friend in Ireland, sent me an e-mail today reminding me that "What's for you won't go by you," and Thor is definitely meant for me. "I hope - no, I know that when I'm away we will feel this close when we talk on the phone," Thor told me when he called to say goodnight last evening.

I certainly hit the jackpot this time.

A Worst Case Scenario

I hate to ruin a perfectly good Friday with pessimistic thoughts, but this really can't wait. I have allowed you to skip and jump through the happy crumbs of my toaster oven long enough. It is time to act like adults. We need to sober up and get real. There are dangers all around us, and we must prepare to meet threats with confidence and courage. That is why I think it is important for each of us to have a plan of action in case we are kidnapped by pirates.

The first thing I plan to do is hide from the pirates. Well, after they rape me, I mean. But immediately after being raped, I shall go hide somewhere on the pirate ship. I'll hide in the galley or the promenade deck (where Julie the Cruise Director organized the shuffleboard games on the Princess) or I will hide in the casino under the craps table.

Once I am found, which could take hours if I'm lucky and lots of pirates are crowding around the craps table blocking me from view with their peg legs, I'll surrender to another round of raping. Then, when they try to make me swab the deck, I will pull out my secret weapon: I will mock them.

"Listen, I saw the movie about you people, and let me just say that none of you are even close to being as sexy as Johnny Depp."

"Hey, Captain McHooky, can you scratch my back for me?"

The taunts would continue until each and every pirate hung his head in shame. Then, after they raped me one more time, I would make them let me go.

I share my plan for pirate kidnapping to inspire you to formulate your own strategy. The day is coming. How will you escape the pirates?

Water Fights and Peaceful Nights

I'm heartsick today. Even though he isn't leaving for a few weeks, knowing that Thor won't be around is looming over me like a death sentence.

It's fun to talk about our dreams of someday being back together, but the future is unknown. I can hope, but I can't count on anything.

Sometimes I act like a child, because something is being taken away from me. Something I cherish and want to keep forever. I hate when I become pouty and needy. It's ridiculous and must be very difficult for Thor to tolerate.

At other times, we laugh and love as if there is no end to our togetherness. We had a great weekend together and made lots of great memories. I danced for him at CC Slaughters while he watched me make a fool of myself to "Hollaback Girl". We ate at his favorite Italian restaurant in town, and he teased me for staring at the waiter's arms. (I told Thor I'd choose his chest over the waiter's arms any day.) We played at home, and we spent most of Saturday night wrapped up in each other on the couch. On Monday we got into a water fight in the front yard of Auburn Pisces' house. AP's daughter, Auburn Aries, teamed up with Thor to drench me in cold water from the hose. The water was freezing, but at least I didn't spill my cocktail.

Every moment Thor and I spend together feels precious, and time is slipping through our fingers. It's as if I can hear a big clock ticking away the seconds, and I hate it. Everyone knows that we aren't guaranteed anything in life. None of us can be sure of tomorrow. We don't know when the people we love may leave us.

I love that I found a man who will make sacrifices to care for his family. I love that he is so sure we are going to be back together someday. I wish I could be more like him, but I am a wreck inside.

Lofty Living

I am always surprised that people read Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven to obtain information about my life. What I mean is, I thought maybe people read this blog for the spectacle. The same way folks will stop and stare at a train wreck. Yesterday, however, I was a bit surprised by some of the comments asking me to fill readers in on details of my upcoming move. That means you really care. Or you are hoping that I'll tell you how I am not moving so much as going to rehab for the summer.

So, here goes. I'm moving. Really moving. Not just going to rehab - actually not going to rehab at all (yet). I'm moving to a loft in Southeast Portland near this cool neighborhood. Do you like the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood in San Francisco? If you do, then this neighborhood is a lot like that place. There is a street fair every summer, and the loft is near lots of great bars and restaurants.

If you do not like Haight-Ashbury, let me tell you this neighborhood is nothing like that dump.

So, why am I moving? I'm telling most people that it is simply time for me to live alone for a while. But the real reason I'm leaving The Handsome Prince and his boyfriend, The Math Whiz, is because I have driven them crazy for the past year.

For one thing, I cry. I cry and cry in The Vortex. I cry when I am happy (I love you Thor) and I cry when I am sad (Pony, why did you put those sad songs on that CD you gave me?)

I never do dishes. That is because we have no dishwasher. Who ever heard of not having a dishwasher? Who ever heard of me doing dishes by hand? Not me. I never heard of me doing dishes by hand. That's for sure.

I'm sorry this post is all over the map. I can't focus at all. The sleeping pill I took last night is wearing off. I took a sleeping pill because Thor made me. I can't remember why he made me take the sleeping pill, because we ended up staying awake until almost 4 a.m., which seems to me to defeat the purpose of a sleeping pill, except that it did make me feel really warm and happy, and I didn't feel emotional and didn't cry. Oh, now I remember why he made me take the sleeping pill. It was so I wouldn't cry, not so I would sleep. Anyway, back to the reasons I'm driving my current housemates crazy. Actually, after reading that last paragraph again, I don't really think it's necessary to elaborate on my crazy-making ways.

I have to go now. I thought there was an ambulance outside, but it was just my desk phone making noise because I didn't hang it up all the way. Juju liked that one a lot. She is just over the cubicle wall from me and has a fun time watching me try to function in my job on a daily basis.

File or Toss

I worked at an office in Washington DC many years ago, and I remember people constantly putting files and magazines and documents on my desk with a note that said "File or Toss". Given a choice between alphabetizing something or throwing it away, I choose the trash can (circular file) every time.

This weekend I started packing. Yes, I am leaving the nest. I'll be vacating my home with The Handsome Prince and The Math Whiz in search of myself. Hot Toddy has been elusive lately, even to himself. But I have great hope that I'll find him again.

The hardest part of moving is deciding whether to keep or toss. Should I hang onto this bandanna my dog wore or just toss it since I have three others that he wore? What about these ticket stubs from one of my many past loves?

I'm leaving behind everything my ex CT ever gave me. I'm so finished with that part of my life, I don't even want to look at the broken futon or old pots and pans or ripped sheets he gave me in the divorce. I want my own pots and pans and sheets.

Thor will be gone for weeks or months or years, who knows? I still have faith that he'll come back to me. That is, if I have anything to say about it. But, really, do I have anything to say about it? How much power do I really have to ensure I get what I want? I'm not so naive as to think that faith is always enough. That sounds cynical, I know. But forever is a broken promise I've heard before. Actions speak louder than words and only time will tell and crap like that.

In the meantime, I'll just keep packing and trying not to think. Or feel.

Love Like You've Never Been Hurt

What would you do if you loved someone, and you found out they only had a few weeks to live? Would you change your behavior? Would you try harder to let them know how much you care about them? Would you push them away so it won't hurt as much when they go?

Not to worry, Thor is alive and well and, as far as I know, will be alive for many years. We are not breaking up, and we have only grown closer since we found out some painful news. We have encountered a family situation that means we will be separated for a while, and I have spent the last two days trying to figure out what this means for us.

I am sure I'll be writing more about this situation, but for now, I'll get back to my question. How would you spend your days if you knew time with your loved one was limited? What would you say? How would you act?

After a couple days of crying and feeling sorry for myself, I began searching my heart and wondering how the pending separation would affect Thor and me. Seeing how much Thor was hurting as he told me the news, I made him a promise. I told him that we are still together today, and that we are going to live each day like it's our last day on earth. His eyes lit up with such joy, and I was amazed at the power of the promise I made to him. He grabbed my hands and said, "Really? Do you mean that? We can have fun and laugh and not be sad about the future? You promise!?"

I promise, Baby. I will dance with you in The Vortex the way I always have. I will hold you tightly and whisper into your ear how much I love you. I will make you laugh and watch you shake your head and hear you tell me that I remind you of Lucille Ball when I act goofy. For the time we have left together, I will build you up and encourage you. I'll listen to your stories and soak up all the dreams you share with me about our life together. We can hike and watch animals. We can wrestle on the floor, and I'll let you win every time, but not without a fight. I'll lay between your legs on the couch and watch Oz with you, even though I'll have to look away if it gets too violent. I'll climb into bed with you at night, and we'll hold each other and talk until dawn.

We'll make new memories too. We'll try things we haven't done before, and we'll make sure to experience as much joy as we can cram into our remaining days. We'll still dream about what is to come, and we will know that both of us will come together even stronger after going through what we're about to face.

How will I spend my limited days with Thor? Exactly as I have to this point. I'm going to spend these days loving him with everything I have inside of me.

Seattle Shenanigans

So, let's clear up a few things about my trip to Seattle last weekend.

Yes, it's true that I shouted out commands to pedestrians below my hotel room window in Seattle and also fought the evil Auburn Pisces with my Shirt of Death.

It's true that we enjoyed a great dinner and a couple fun bars with Jesse and his friend, Kelly. Jesse was exactly the way I thought he would be. He warned me a few months ago that he is shy, but I felt very comfortable with him. His warmth and kind spirit are a wonderful thing to experience, and I look forward to getting to see him again someday.

After reading her description of our weekend, I really can't think of anything AP may have left out. First of all, my memory is shot. Secondly, her account is more entertaining than mine would be. Auburn Pisces didn't mention my feelings on cantaloupe, but I'll let her write about that another time. Let's just say that there is only one thing I would hate to eat more than cantaloupe, and I revealed it to my friends last weekend. For a hint, see the first sentence of Juju's blog post.

Nurse Toddy

Last night as I spoke to Thor on the phone he cracked his facial mask when he opened his mouth too wide. He exclaimed that he had just found a brown spider next to his bed. He told me that he had felt a spider bite him in his sleep the night before, and he was sure this little critter was the culprit. I really can't fault the spider for his appetite since I have bitten Thor in his sleep many times. He tastes delicious. Realizing this was no time to be jealous of a spider, I grabbed a medical treatment reference book and tried to shout out instructions over the phone as Thor frantically searched his medicine cabinet.

"I've just cut my ear open to let out the infection," he told me. "It's bleeding, and I'm still wearing my facial mask," he said.

"Thor, hang on. Let me read you what the book says to do," I replied.

"Now I'm pouring iodine on my ear. OWWWW!!!"

"Okay, Thor. Slow down. I think you should look for some hydrogen peroxide but I have to finish reading this section on spider bites," I told him.

"Oh, here is some Tinactin. I put Tinactin on everything," he said.

"Tinactin is for jock itch or athlete's foot, Thor. You need hydrogen peroxide," I reasoned.

"This will help," he said as I attempted to quicken my reading pace before he decided to just amputate his ear.

"Wait, Thor. Please don't put Tinactin on your ear. You have an open bleeding wound on your ear. Tinactin would not be a good idea," I begged.

"OWWWWW!!! This is worse than a tetanus shot!!!!!!" As I listened to him howling in pain, I knew I was too late to stop the inevitable Tinactin application. I tried to speak to him in a very calm voice, since Thor's ADHD, combined with a rapid heart rate, was making reasoning with him impossible.

"Baby, please listen to me," I pleaded. "You need to stop putting things on your ear now. Just wash it with water and some soap and then put a cold cloth or ice pack on it for a bit. See if it looks better in a few minutes before you keep messing with it. I think you got the infection out, but now you need to just clean it and wait."

"I am going to die," he answered.

"You are not going to die. You may only have one ear left after tonight, but you will not die. And I will still love you even if you have one ear," I said in an attempt to calm him. "Just please put a cold ice pack on your ear now," I ordered.

"Okay. I will," Thor said.

"Call me if you need me," I told him.

"I will. And, Toddy, thank you for being respectful towards me just now. I love you."

So, we survived our first medical crisis together. And I have a new appreciation for the medical profession. Maybe I will go into nursing. If all my patients looked like Thor and told me they loved me, I wouldn't even require a paycheck for my services.

Hot Toddy's Customer Service

Very busy at work today. Budget. Breaks. Lunch. More Budget. Registering Students for Training.

I have only time to impart one bit of wisdom to you today. Here is what I told Juju this morning as I trained her in customer service.

"Sometimes you have to do a bit of hand-holding. Some of our internal customers (ie., stupid coworkers) require extra attention. For example, I am currently assisting an internal customer (ie., thorn in my side) who called my supervisor one day after I failed to return a phone call within three hours. So, I am making sure to give him lots of great customer service. We must always provide good service to our internal customers. Just remember, you are allowed to resent them the whole time. And, believe me, I do."

After I finished registering the jerk for his class, I sent him an e-mail letting him know his request was complete. He then called me and proceeded to read the e-mail I just sent him. "I'm just seeing if I have any questions for you," he said as he quietly read my e-mail to me. "Okay, well, you go ahead and read the e-mail I sent you and feel free to call if you have questions afterwards!" I said chirpily, as if I was Mary Fucking Poppins. I think it may take more than a spoonful of sugar to get me through this day.

Sempre Fidelis

One weekend a few years ago I went away with my partner for a weekend at a local resort. My plan was to get laid. It was sad that, after five or six years together, I could count the number of times we had sex in a year on one hand. There was always a distraction or a reason for his complete lack of interest in sex. I knew that, by going away with CT, I could eliminate the countless excuses. The dogs were at the kennel, the household chores were far away, and we'd both get plenty of rest and have lots of time for intimacy.

After two nights of falling asleep without sex, I knew that Sunday morning was my last chance. As much as I hate to be the only person initiating sex, I did what I had to do. The response from my partner was disappointing, to say the least. If I had wanted to sleep with a completely passive partner, I would have purchased a blow-up doll.

Frustrated, I rolled out of bed and said, "Let's just go to breakfast."

As we ate our meal, I stared down at my plate. I was frustrated that my partner, the one who once told me I made him tremble, had turned into nothing more than a roommate. Suddenly, I looked up at him and asked a question that popped into my mind with no warning whatsoever.

"Have you ever cheated on me in all the years we've been together?"

He made no effort to skirt the question. "Okay, YES!" he answered abruptly. It was as if he had been waiting for a chance to confess. He then told me that his infidelity had occurred only three weeks earlier while I was at a conference in Washington, DC. Some guy from his yoga class had asked him to come over to his place. CT countered with the suggestion that they meet for coffee. But the yoga guy said he didn't see the point of having coffee when both of them knew the real reason they were getting together.

Well, at least the yoga guy was honest. Which is more than I can say for my ex.

There was a point in my life where I was involved in an affair with someone who was partnered. In order to enjoy sex with someone I craved, I entered into a secret sexual relationship with this man, and we kept it from his partner. I always told myself that I was doing nothing wrong since I wasn't the one who had a boyfriend. I was single and having sex with someone who wanted me, and I didn't see the harm in that. Actually, I think I knew damn good and well that I was doing harm to someone, but I was selfish and didn't care.

With each new relationship, I grow and change. I have a different view of infidelity than I had a year ago. I once believed that sleeping with a "married man" wasn't cheating as long as I wasn't in a committed relationship. But now I know that, for me, that doesn't work. If someone is cheating on a partner in order to satisfy me sexually, I'm not showing much respect for myself, and I have no right to demand fidelity someday from my own partner.

Personally, I don't want to be involved with someone who isn't at a point in his life where he can commit to the same type of relationship I want. What I want is a relationship where I know that I will be honored and respected. I want to know that my relationship with a man is special. If possible, I would like it to be sacred. Set apart. I want to give my man a part of myself that nobody else has access to, and I feel like reserving sexual intimacy for my boyfriend is one way to show my commitment to him.

That said, I have a confession of my own. My own sex drive sometimes causes me to act in direct opposition to what I claim to believe. This weekend I almost crossed a line. The event itself may seem small or insignificant, but I am feeling guilty about it. While Thor visited his family for the holiday weekend, I went on a road trip to Seattle with Auburn Pisces, which I'll write more about later. On the last night of our trip, we were sitting in a bar and a really great looking guy sat directly across from me. I thought he was beautiful, and Auburn Pisces mentioned that she saw him sneaking glances at me as well. I pulled out a match book and wrote a short message to the beautiful man. I also jotted down my phone number.

As I contemplated getting up to introduce myself, I thought of Thor and how much I love him. I gave the matchbook to Auburn Pisces and said, "What the hell am I doing?" She put it away in her purse, and I tried to forget about the whole thing. As I fell asleep that night I remember worrying about that matchbook, and I feared that somehow Thor would find it. The guilt I felt about this seemingly small incident caused me to do some hard thinking about what I want in a relationship.

Tonight when I talk about this to Thor, I will do so with clarity. This weekend helped me grasp my own feelings about him, and I know without a doubt where he stands in my heart. I want him to know and understand that I want to honor him above anyone else. I want to be faithful, and if the lines of fidelity ever become blurred for either of us, I want us to speak honestly and openly about it. I hope I'm being realistic about this.

Now Serving #1

It's a quiet Friday before a three-day holiday weekend, so things are pretty slow. Juju is in her cubicle memorizing the departments from the organization chart. I'm cleaning out e-mails from my work account and running across some interesting messages.

There are several e-mails back and forth between Juju and me from when we lived together. For a while I seemed to be interested in a new guy every week, and I wonder how Juju kept up with them all. I wonder how I kept up with them all!?

Dating was like working at the DMV. Now serving #78, #79, #80....

One day I wrote her this pathetic account:
Stopped on the way to work this morning - - I was sitting in my car at the gas station checking out this really gorgeous guy in a "Lewis & Clark" sweatshirt. He had on a baseball cap - blue, blue eyes - and other nice features :)

I looked down for a second and when I looked back up he was standing there smiling at me. I felt nervous. Then he waved.

I am such a dork! I didn't wave back. I looked down again! I was embarrassed and thought there could be no way he would be interested in me.

I wish you had been there, Juju - you make me feel braver - more Jezebellish. Damn, it is so funny how my insecurity flares up at the weirdest times.

Here's an e-mail I sent her one morning:
Ryan wrote me another e-mail today and mentioned lunch again. I asked him if he needed help moving this weekend, so we'll see.

I also wrote Jim and said hello. I'll wait and see what his response is - if any.

Now serving #92, #93...

Only two days later I sent her this:
Anyway - I called Jim and we are going to the film festival first and then the haunted house thing after that. And I am really looking forward to spending time with him.

I wrote Jose and told him I couldn't go on Sunday and figured we would talk about more in person - I still want to give him a card (that you picked out) and maybe a little gift - some wine or something

Now serving #97...

Later, the same day:
Jose -

Thank you for the ballet last night. It was so much fun!

I am glad I got a chance to talk to you a bit last night about what I am looking for right now. I just need to keep dating very casual, and I hope you understand.


Yeah, the wine was given to Jose out of guilt for breaking up with him.

A couple months later it was Ivan. Now serving #98...

Then Arvin.
"Juju - Kara okay was okay. My favorite part was when Arvin dedicated a song to me. "Damn, I wish I was your lover..." by Sophie B Hawkins - wow, that was sooo hot."

2003 was a pretty busy year, but I guess I owed myself some excitement after ending a long-term relationship.

My counter ran out and started over recently. I have no doubt that I am now serving #1. Thor is like nobody I've ever known. Waiting for him makes all the other numbers I've served worth it. How could I truly value what I've found unless I had been through all those other experiences? I'm so happy to be where I am right now. The man I am with can walk into my house and instantly make me feel joyful. His strength makes me hot. I know this sounds weird, but he smells like the guy I'm supposed to be with. And if he heard me say that (or if he ever read this blog) he would laugh and shake his head and say, "my boyfriend" in that fake exasperated way that you only reserve for people you're in love with.

Interappliance Dating

Last night Thor said something that terrified me:

"Hang on, let me interrupt you for a second, Hot Toddy. You can hold your thoughts longer than I can. I'll forget if I don't tell you this right now."

I have Attention Deficit Disorder. Thor has ADHD. He says his thoughts are like a blender. I guess my thoughts are more like a dartboard or something. Whatever. All I know is his thoughts swirl around even faster and more randomly than mine do. Scary.

Can a relationship between a toaster oven and a blender ever last? Let's hope so...

An Open Letter to Tom Cruise

Dear Tom Cruise:

I hesitate to write you about this, because I know you have been through quite a trauma with having water squirted in your face. If something like that ever happened to me, I would probably be so upset, because then my face would be wet for a couple minutes, and we all know that having water on your face is very dangerous and humiliating.

The thing is, Tom Cruise, I need to get something off my chest, even at the risk of upsetting you and having you call me a jerk and/or sue me. I have seen so much of you lately. You're on every talk show, in every magazine, and you're even in the news all the time. Could you please take a break for awhile? You are overdoing it.

I try to avoid hearing about your life as much as possible, but lots of my friends have magazines in their bathroom, and I find myself reading about you while I am in there, um, washing my hands. I hear about you when I listen to the radio or watch television. It is enough to make me want to scream, "I don't want to hear about fucking Tom Cruise."

But, the thing is, I do kind of want to hear about fucking you. You really do have a great body and a cute smile. However, my hearing about fucking you would be inappropriate and would make you uncomfortable, because you most certainly are not gay and would not want to be used as fodder for my homosexual fantasies. I know you are not gay, because you have been married to women. If I understand the gazillion articles I've seen about you lately, you've been married twice and are now engaged. You are most definitely a straight man, because you are allowed to marry as many times as you want to, while we gay people can't get married at all unless we are in the mood to learn Swedish and move overseas.

But I digress, Straight Tom Cruise. I just wondered if you would mind toning it down a little bit when it comes to your engagement. Your relationship with Katie Holmes is so boring to me. How would you feel if I, the boyfriend of Thor, wrote about the love of my life (Thor) every single day on this blog? I know. I realize I do that, but I am asking how you would feel about it? It would be irritating, wouldn't it!? I'm sure that even my sexy boyfriend, Thor, finds it irritating how much you talk about Katie. I haven't asked him, because we have never actually talked about you (can you believe it!?!?), but I am sure he would find your relationship irritating nevertheless.

By the way, Thor could totally beat up both you and Katie Holmes, and he is a much better kisser than you will ever be. That is, if you kissed men, which I know you don't. You have been quite clear about that. So please go away now.

Check Your Props

Today I went for my morning coffee break, but I had to bring a prop with me since the Director of our department was hanging out in my work area. Fortunately, a training book I ordered arrived this morning from Amazon.com, so I emptied the box and carried it with me on break. In the elevator bank, I saw the VP of Something Important. He looked down at my package (no, not that one) and said, "Oh, you're delivering books."

"That's right," I answered as I looked down at the empty box. "I am Book Boy."

It wasn't a witty reply. I am awful at engaging in small talk with people who could pay off my entire student loan with one of their paychecks. But I am proud of myself for being devious and pulling one over on these self-important wealthy people. That gives me great joy.

When Juju starts work here next Monday, I must remember to train her to always carry an office prop when she takes a break so it looks like she's working. If you have a helpful tip for the new girl, please share it with me, and I'll be sure to incorporate it into the rigorous training I plan to put her through.

Hot Toddy's Wish List

I wish the lady who yelled at our building security guard this morning would realize that he does not work for the postal service and that it wasn't his fault she lost her money in the stamp machine.

I wish the comments on this blog were always as supportive and cool as they were yesterday. I'm so happy that most people like hearing about Thor and aren't at all annoyed by my romantic euphoria.

I wish I had a computer at home so I could keep up with all the great people who send me e-mail and get to know them better.

I wish Madeline Kahn were still alive and making great movies.

I wish it were already next Monday so Juju would be starting her first day at work in the cubicle next to mine.

I wish they made candles that smelled like new Playdough.

I wish there were English phrases like "Aloha", which means both "hello" and "goodbye". That way if I told people, "Die, motherfucker", it might mean "Have a nice day" or, well, "Die, motherfucker", and they would just have to make their best guess what I meant.

I wish I could take back all the years I was alone and give them to Thor so we could spend them together.

I wish I had reserved seating at CC Slaughters. With a velvet rope around my special area.

I wish my family could be more accepting of my sexuality so I could tell them how happy I am right now to be with Thor.

I wish they made Little House on the Prairie trading cards. That would be the shit. I'd collect them all!

Bedtime Story

I think I need to sleep for about 10 days. Tonight will be all about catching up on my rest.

See, the problem with sleeping in your boyfriend's bed is that you don't want to go to sleep. Ever. Friday night after we went out, we stayed awake all night in spite of our both being tired and a little drunk. I scratched his back until I heard the birds singing outside in the treetops. I noticed it was getting light outside, so I finally allowed myself to fall asleep.

Thor seems to have limitless energy, while I am the king of relaxation. Saturday morning he woke up after less than five hours of sleep, played with his ferrets, watched an Elvis Presley movie, and did laundry. At about 10:30 a.m., he stomped on the floor upstairs above the bedroom and yelled that I had to get up. Groaning and disheveled, I slid out of bed and went upstairs to have coffee with him and Auburn Pisces.

I know that I am talking about Thor an awful lot lately. It must be torture for you, dear readers. Thoughts of him captivate my mind, and it is difficult for me to think about anything else. Naturally, this leaks into my writing too. It is just hard for me to pull my focus away from the amazing feelings in my heart. I have not felt this way in 10 years, and, because this relationship is so new, it is the most noteworthy happening in my life right now.

Sure, lots of things happened this weekend, and any one of them would warrant a blog post. I could write about watching The Handsome Prince perform the role of Brad in Rocky Horror this weekend. He sang like and angel and looked really sexy singing his solo in his underwear. I could write about playing games in The Vortex last night with my friends as a fierce thunderstorm erupted outside our sheltered patio. I could write about the Pride parade, or about the shots of goldschlager and tabasco I drank. I could write about the cookout we had this weekend or about the beautiful weather we enjoyed. But all roads lead back to Thor at this point, and the only thing I really want to write about is how good it felt to wrap my arms around him as we watched the parade. I want to think about the way he pushed up against me every time someone had to squeeze by us to get through the crowd. I want to remember how good he smelled and the way he leaned back over his shoulder to give me a "check up" kiss every 20 minutes.

Having been disappointed in love many times, I am diligent in my search for red flags. I am keeping my eyes peeled for warning signs that this won't last. Sometimes I even create scenarios of doom just to prepare myself for the loss of this love. But no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to find anything to fear. He expresses such confidence in our relationship, and he seems to fear nothing. He talks about our future with certainty, and he is steadfast and unwavering in his love.

So, instead of worrying, for once, I think I'll just get some sleep and allow my dreams to wrap me up in safety. Good night.

If You're Like Me...

If you are like me, I am so very sorry.

If you are like me, you are sitting at work on a Friday with all sorts of random thoughts racing through your head. You are contemplating your funny crazy friendships with the people who make you laugh on a regular basis. The friends who stand by you through thick and thin. The friends who aren't afraid to eat your cooking even though you regularly try to poison your boyfriend.

Maybe you are thinking about your friend, Starr, who sings in a band and couldn't find the bar where she was supposed to perform on Tuesday night. She just knew it was a new bar in the building where the Marco Polo lounge used to be. But she couldn't find the old Marco Polo. So you are picturing her driving around town trying to find Marco Polo with her car window down as she yells, "Marco!!" - "Marco!!!" and waits for someone to yell back, "Polo!!"

Or maybe you are thinking about Auburn Pisces and how excited she is for an upcoming coffee date. And you're thinking about her question to you yesterday, "Do you think I can lose 15 pounds in time for my coffee date?" More importantly, you are patting yourself on the back for your response. "Sure, if you schedule it in November."

I'll bet, if you are like me, you are planning to visit your dear friend Juju's brand new blog. She knows more about sex than almost anybody you know, and she's always willing to give advice and ask thought-provoking questions.

Or instead of friends, you might be thinking about people who irritate you with poor grammar. Like the guy who e-mailed you this morning in response to your question, "Should I pay the original invoice you sent or just wait for a corrected invoice before paying?" Since he responded, "Pay the second invoice. Please avoid the original invoice," you are now afraid to go back to your desk because you are busy trying to avoid that original invoice, which you know is sitting right there in your inbox.

If you are like me, you're looking forward to PRIDE weekend with your amazing beautiful man, and you can't wait to climb into bed with him tonight. You are looking forward to all the new games he will introduce you to this weekend, and you are amazed at his playful spirit. You are thinking about his deep sexy voice and beautiful chest and honest blue eyes, and you are wishing that you were with him right now instead of avoiding a stupid invoice at the office.

If you are like me, you're quite fortunate, actually. Good for you.

Killing Thor

A few weeks ago I cooked a very special dinner for my boyfriend. If you have been reading Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven for any length of time, you know that I can be quite a disastrous chef. But Thor is so special to me, and I decided to break my vow that I would never cook for another man again. When I was with CT, I cooked dinner almost every night for him. I wonder if that's why he so often decided that all he wanted for dinner was broccoli and Smart Dogs (vegetarian hot dogs).

So, I told Thor I was preparing stir fry. I thought I had a pretty fool-proof recipe. Although, technically, I was "cooking", I'm not crazy. I know my limits as a chef, so for dinner I bought pre-chopped stir fry vegetables and a jar of Korean BBQ sauce. I heated the pan myself though, and stirred the vegetables a few times. I also cut tofu (they didn't have pre-cubed tofu) and fried it up. I put his plate down in front of him, and he smiled at me. "How sweet," I thought to myself, "he is deeply touched by my gesture of love and is smiling warmly at me." He kept smiling. Smiling and not eating.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"Toddy, do you remember when we talked about things I'm allergic to?"

"No," I answered. "Of course not."

"I'm allergic to soybeans," he admitted.

"You're allergic to soy - - but that is what tofu is made from!"

"Yes, I know," he said with an apologetic look on his gorgeous kissable face.

"And there is soy in the BBQ sauce!" For some reason, I felt the irrepressible need to keep stating the obvious.

So, he picked at the vegetables, and his throat only closed up a little bit. I think that if you cook dinner for your boyfriend and his throat only closes up a little bit, you can consider yourself a success. Anyway, I was determined to try again. The next day we had a hike planned, so I brought protein bars and bananas for the hike. "Thor, I know you can't eat the protein bars because of the soy, but I also brought you bananas!"

"Toddy," he said gently. "Remember my story about bananas?"

"No," I answered. "Of course not."

He then reminded me that he likes the flavor of bananas, but he can't actually eat a banana because the texture makes him gag. For one brief moment, I thought about how this might impact my sex life with Thor. He gags when he has bananas in his mouth? I quickly put selfish thoughts out of my mind and decided I had to start listening to him when he spoke of food. Or I could just listen to him everytime he speaks, but I think it is best to start small. Baby steps.

On Sunday night, we grilled non-soy products on the barbecue. I put non-soy barbecue sauce on turkey burgers. He can eat turkey; I know this for a fact. I've seen him eat an entire pound of turkey in one sitting. The dinner was great, and I felt like a gourmet chef. The next day, he called to say that he had to cancel our date for the Drammy Awards. "I've been coughing all day. My allergies are killing me."

"Were you allergic to something we cooked last night?"

"Remember when I told you I was allergic to Mesquite?"

"No," I answered. "Of course not."

Thor has been miserable for three days. Not only did we cook on Mesquite coals, but I am sure there was Mesquite in the BBQ sauce. Thor's allergic reaction to the Mesquite weakened his immune system, and he caught a cold. So, on Tuesday night, I went over to his house with a pound of turkey breast, some Gorgonzola pea salad I had whipped up earlier (yeah, right) and a couple of peaches. He wasn't hungry, so I told him that maybe he should just eat a peach to keep up his strength. He said nothing.

"You like peaches, don't you?" I asked.

"Do you remember what I told you about peaches?"

"No," I answered. "Of course not." Actually, I didn't say that. I just started giggling and, after a moment, both of us were laughing hard. "I don't think you listen to me when I talk to you, Toddy! The only time in my life I have ever thrown up was after drinking peach schnapps and eating peaches at the same time."

In all fairness, Thor is only allergic to four or five things, (I can't remember the other one he told me) so it's not like he's high maintenance. But he's going to worry I'm trying to kill him if I keep offering him the very foods he's allergic to. I'm the worst boyfriend in the world. I am going to have to start keeping a list of foods I can't bring my man. Or maybe I'll just let him cook from now on. I'll eat anything. And, for the record, I don't gag on bananas.

Keep Your Comments To Yourself

Sometimes I wonder why I even have comments enabled on this blog. Some people say the dumbest things. I agree with Pua's opinion that these people should carry signs warning the rest of us that they're stupid. Then there are the meanies. Meanies criticize and put me down because they don't like the way I look or the things I write or the activities in which I engage. I just deleted a comment today from someone who had nothing nice to say about the picture I posted yesterday. Strangely, though, he did not send me a picture of himself so that I could offer some constructive criticism of my own. Coward.

The other day someone commented that my blog had become boring because I talk about Thor too much. I know that it is much more fun for some people to read Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven when I am miserable or being drenched in beer or going on really bad dates. Yeah, that must be a hoot to read about, but it's not exactly fun to live it! I write to purge my demons and to celebrate my blessings. I write to make fun of things that bug me. I write to help me remember all the worthwhile moments of my life. I write to make you laugh. I write to make myself laugh. I write to connect with my world.

After I write, I like to read through the comments I receive. Most of them are so fun. Many are hilarious. A lot of comments spark correspondence between my blog friends and me. Nearly all of the comments I get kind, sometimes even affectionate and loving, so I can't let a couple jerks spoil my fun. But for the Meanies and Stupid People who are trying to ruin my fun, I have this to say:

Why do meanies never include their e-mail address when they leave hateful comments? I'd love a chance to respond. By respond, of course, I mean that I'll use my God-given gift for making someone feel like an idiot to put them in their place.

Usually a person who criticizes my writing doesn't have a link to his or her own blog. If only they would provide me with a personal homepage link, I could learn how to be a really great blogger like they are.

When I post photos of myself, I'm sometimes told that I don't look like my headshot. I'm never sure how to respond to that. First of all, it's not like I used someone else's headshot. My friend, The Midget, took that picture of me in February of 2003. I did not have a stand-in. I suppose I could try to find a really awful picture of myself and use that on my blog if it would make people feel better. I have plenty of red-faced whiskey drunk photos I could post. But who wants to look at that every day when they open up Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven? I know I don't! I chose a picture that I liked, and then my friend Aaron worked his magic to turn a black and white photo into something new and colorful. Since I love what he did with the photo, I use it on my blog.

Really, if you hate this blog or you think I'm not as good-looking in person as I am in my headshot, or you're bored with my lovelife, you don't need to let me know that. You can just move along. Go get laid or have a drink or seek some therapy. Whatever it is that will help you stop being such a miserable person. Nobody is making you read. And not only will I understand if you choose not to comment, I would encourage you not to. That would be, after all, the most mature and civil thing to do.

The Best Words I've Ever Heard

"Am I ready to tell you this? Yeah. I'm ready. Okay. I'll try to say this in a way that you'll understand. The day I met you..."

Wow. This may be the first time I've ever felt I shouldn't share everything in my blog. His words to me the other night were just for me. I don't want to blog them. Maybe someday they will be used in a play I will write, but for now I am just letting them take root in my heart.

Lots of comments have called for pictures of Thor. So you just get this one little peek for now. And please forgive me for being selfish. As much as I would love to show you everything there is to know about this incredible man, I've decided to keep him for myself. These are mine: his face, his body, his words, and his heart.

Soaked at CC Slaughters

Remember that episode of Dynasty when Alexis threw a beer on Dex, her ex-boyfriend, when she saw him kissing someone else at a bar? No, wait. That's not a scene from a ridiculously melodramatic soap opera. It's my life. And the other night I was drenched in beer by an angry ex-boyfriend.

For a few weeks, I was seeing a guy, let's call him Angry Bear, about whom some of you expressed concern, but I did not listen. That is because when my oven is set to broil it becomes very hard to cool it down, in spite of well-intentioned warnings from others. Friends who see me on a regular basis also told me to be careful of Angry Bear's controlling and obsessive behaviors, but I tried to give him time to prove himself. Last week, he did just that. He proved his true nature and tried his best to hurt me, although he failed miserably.

I understand that Angry Bear is seeing someone new, but it seems I am not to be granted the same good wishes I would give him and his new boyfriend. He seems to be enraged by the fact that I, too, have moved on. I find it interesting that someone can claim to love you while you are sleeping with them, yet the person becomes hateful after you end the relationship. How can you jump so quickly from "love" to "hate"? I think true love should take some time to fade, if in fact that is possible. That has always been my experience, anyway.

As an actor, I try not to shy away from new or unfamiliar experiences since I rely heavily on these personal experiences to help create the characters I portray. So, thanks to Angry Bear, I have more fodder for potential acting roles, now that I know what it feels like to have a drink thrown in my face.

After it happened on a very crowded Thursday evening at CC's, I was not sure how I felt. Was I angry? Embarrassed? Amused? I didn't have much of a chance to label my emotions, because immediately after Angry Bear's tantrum, Thor took me in his arms, licked some of the spilt beer off my neck and gave me the warmest kiss. Thor then made sure Angry Bear was removed from the bar and took me back to his place where, after a hot shower, we slept together for the first time. Funny how a potentially embarrassing situation turned into one of the best nights of my life.

My new friend Non Blogger, who was at the bar that night, sent me an e-mail recounting his version of the wacky hijinx. He tells the story better than I do. So, I'll let him:

Dear Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven:
Man, that was so weird last night at CC Slaughters. The whole Angry Bear thing. What are the odds? Portland is so freaking small sometimes. Consider these weird coinkidinkies:

1. I have known Angry Bear (a little) for a couple years.

2. I saw Angry Bear come in last night, and we did the huggy/kissy thing (and of course he had to pinch my nipple, which he always does)

3. While looking at you, and, admittedly, your boyfriend (WOOF!), I suddenly had an "AHA" moment that YOU were THE Hot Toddy, and he was THE Thor, and your friend was THE Auburn Pisces. Wow!

4. A little later [after I introduced myself], you told me your ex-boyfriend just poured a beer on you and got thrown out of the bar. You said your ex-boyfriend's name was Angry Bear. THE Angry Bear? Yes.

5. Moments later, I'm walking to the other side of the bar and this young guy comes up to me and says, "Have you seen a big guy with a blue t-shirt? He's kind of bearish and has a nipple ring." I replied, "There are 32 guys matching that description over there by the bar."

"Well," said the young guy, "one of them is my boyfriend, Angry Bear, and I'm sure he's cheating on me. He told me I better never cheat on him, but I'm sure he's cheating on me."

"Oh, Angry Bear just got thrown out of here for pouring beer on his ex-boyfriend," I told the young guy.

"What!?" the young guy responded. "Angry Bear did what? Who is his ex? I want to know. Point him out!"

"I can't do that," I responded. "That isn't my place to do. Sorry."

I did, however see fit to run right over and tell you, Hot Toddy, and point the young guy out to you. See, I have already proven my loyalty to you as a friend. Damn, I'm good.

That's it for now. I hope to chat again soon!
Sincerely,
Non Blogger

I hate bar drama, and I avoid it the same way I avoid John Denver's music. So, in order to enjoy some peace, I plan on spending lots more time in Thor's bed, and less time hanging out in bars. Trust me. It's no sacrifice at all.

Don't Call Me Sweet

It seems I have inherited my mother's temperament. When I was growing up, she would often complain to me that she got tired of being called "sweet". Everybody always said she was such a sweet person, and it made her wish she could be just a little bit bitchier, I think. Now, years later, I am frequently labeled with the same description. I'm sweet.

"Oh, Toddy," my friends will say, "you are so sweet."

Hearing things like "Hot Toddy is just the sweetest guy," or "what a teddy bear," is just old hat to me.

But I can be bad. Very bad. And I want everyone to know it. Being with Thor has shown me just how evil and rotten I really am, because he, as it turns out, is nicer than I am. Truly, he is the sweet one.

On our refrigerator at home, there is a picture of a group of my friends standing around at a party singing "Seasons of Love" from the musical Rent. I probably do not need to clarify the men in the picture are gay, but, with the exception of Metro, all of us are.

I placed a magnet right in the middle of the picture in order to hold it on the fridge. The magnet completely covers The Math Whiz, who is standing in the center of our group. Nearly every day, The Math Whiz indicates his displeasure at being covered up by a magnet. "It is the only way I can keep it on the fridge. The magnet has to be in the middle. You should have stood somewhere else at the party," I answer.

The Math Whiz and I like to play these games. I treat him horribly, and he begs for my friendship. Now that he works with me at Company X, he asks that I greet him publicly, in front of our coworkers, which I refuse to do. But covering his picture with a magnet is still my favorite game. Thor asked about this the other night while The Math Whiz was with us in the kitchen. "Why do you have this magnet on top of The Math Whiz?"

"I have to hold the picture to the fridge. It is unfortunate that The Math Whiz stood in the center, but that's just the breaks," I answered. "Toddy, that's mean," said Thor, as he removed the magnet and placed it at the top of the picture. The Math Whiz smiled at Thor, and I glared at The Math Whiz. "You will have to get used to my evil nature," I told Thor. But I didn't replace the magnet, because, for the moment, I'm enjoying being submissive.

I will find other ways to get back at The Math Whiz. I will torture him secretly, and Thor will never be the wiser.

Thank You, Auburn Pisces

I have more joy in my life right now than I have felt in years. My heart is at peace for the first time in a long while. My body is alive with sensation and pleasure and health, and my spirits are soaring.

Debts are being paid, old wounds are being healed, and love is filling me up to the point of bursting. So much of this, I owe to you, my friend.

For all the help you've given me at work, for the financial counseling, for the broken pieces you've helped me pick up in the past year, for all the love you've shown, and for bringing Thor into my life, I thank you from the bottom of my sappy heart.

Hot Toddy Reviews the Tony Awards

Last night's Tony Awards ceremony was the best I have ever seen. It was incredible. I'm not normally interested in reviewing televised awards shows for Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, but this was truly a night to remember and deserves further comment!

The show opened with a wonderful number that featured several of the top musicals on Broadway this season. Thor made me stir-fry, and we sat closely together drinking beer and eating our dinner. He asked me if I liked his cooking and I told him that I loved it, but he didn't seem to believe me. So, for about 10 minutes I told him how good it was. I used very descriptive words and made lots of satisfied faces as I moaned with pleasure. After the commercial break, we shifted positions on the couch.

Thor normally likes to feel in control, but he is learning to relax and try new things, so, for a change of pace, he decided to try reclining between my legs, which I promptly wrapped around his torso. I put my arms around his chest, and felt myself quickly becoming somewhat aroused. Hugh Jackman did a musical number, and the camera panned to many shots of celebrities wearing gorgeous clothing. Then he took off his shirt. I'm talking about Thor, here, not Hugh Jackman. The first awards were given out, and Thor's chest is so strong and hairy.

Leslie Uggams looked really great in that purple gown, but Thor said he would have dressed her in royal blue. He strongly felt that would have been a better color for her. When he lifted his arms over his head to stroke my hair, I put my hands on his biceps. That's one of my very favorite body parts, so I was really in heaven. He smells so good too. Light in the Piazza won an award for something.

About halfway through the awards, which were captivating to watch, we shifted positions. Now it was my turn to be between his legs, so I took advantage of my new vantage point to caress the areas I couldn't reach earlier. His thighs are so muscular. I really liked Christina Applegate's number, but when I guessed what song she would sing before it even began, Thor tickled me to punish me for being a "know-it-all".

The Monty Python Spamalot number was well worth waiting for. Thor has this deep rumbling voice, so I loved putting my head on his chest to hear him talk. I like when he plays with my ears too. He's so sweet and kind and sexy and fun, and I really enjoyed the number about the Holy Grail.

As the night wrapped up, we tried one more position. This time we spooned under a blanket, and I kissed his ears and neck. My whole body was alive with pleasure when Spamalot won best musical. I knew that theatre was one of my great loves, but I was surprised by my own intense physical pleasure at this final award. Wow, I am really impressed with the work that went into the Tony's this year. I barely even missed Sarah Jessica Parker. I wonder how much Thor bench presses, because his pecs were like rocks last night.

That about wraps up my review. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Maybe I'll start making television reviews a regular feature on Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven.

My Favorite Things

Photo courtesy of Electric Lucy

When I was twelve I read a book called On Tour with Donny & Marie, and I cried because I knew there wasn't much of a chance that I would ever tour with them.

Sometimes life can be so surprising. It was great to see them at CC Slaughters last night, and they even brough me gifts. We're leaving for The Osmond Reunion tour tomorrow. Marie said she'll sing "Little Bit Country, Little Bit Rock-n-Roll" with me. And I'm bunking with Donny.

Rise and Shine

This morning I had a hard time getting up. I was thinking that, if I were rich, I would hire servants to help me get out of bed. I would have them come in when I woke up and put an extra pillow under my head to elevate me just a little bit. Then I would tell them to come back in 15 minutes and put another pillow under my head. I would have them do this every 15 minutes for about 2 hours until I was sitting upright.

Next, I would have them bring a bowl of water for me to dip my fingers in so I could very slowly and gradually prepare for a full shower. I'd order another bowl of water be brought in 15 minutes for my other hand. Then a bowl for each foot, staggered at 15 minute intervals. After an hour, I'd be used to having a little water on me, so I could have the servants hoist me up and carry me to the shower.

Before I got in the shower, I'd have them feed me a couple morsels of toast so that my digestive system would have time to prepare for the food I'd eat that day. I would also have a shot glass of coffee. During my shower, I'd have another toast morsel and one more shot of coffee. After three or four hours of being primed, I'd jump into my day with a great attitude. I'd be rarin' to go.

The point of this post is that I've realized I may not be a morning person after all.

Say Anything

You haven't lived until a muscular hunk with a hairy chest has fed you grilled mango slices. Okay, I surrender. I'm finished. Done in. Bowled over.

Yes, I know you have heard me say things like this before. I've considered renaming this blog "Hot Toddy's Broken Record". I've fallen for many guys in the past, and I've been scraped up pretty badly from my being a slave to Venus. I think, however, after hiking this weekend with Thor, I'm pretty much, um, well, toast.

On Friday I received an invitation to go hiking the next day. I practically jumped through the phone as a deep bass voice on the other end told me he bought vegetables to grill for me. "Do you want to go with me?" he asked. Somehow, I managed to squeeze out the word, "yes", and I hung up. Then, out of nervousness, I immediately called my bank to check my balance. I don't know why I check my bank balance when I'm nervous, but it is better than biting my fingernails. The thing is, I was so nervous that I accidentally pushed the button for Spanish. I don't speak Spanish, but I went ahead and listened to a list of my most recent transactions. Apparently, I like to buy things that cost cinco-something.

Friday night I went to bed and tried to sleep. Instead I stared at the ceiling and waited for morning to come as if Santa was on his way with toys and beefcake. Saturday morning I pulled myself together and drove over to Thor's place. I remember nothing about the drive over. I may as well have been pulled over for driving under the influence, because I was definitely under the influence of some unidentified toxin. When I arrived at his place, I had butterflies in my stomach. Do you know how many years it has been since I felt actual butterflies? I do. It's been 10 years.

In the truck, I barely said a word to Thor, but he kept looking over at me and laughing a little just before turning away. I wondered if he was nervous. Maybe riding with a comatose guy next to him made him uncomfortable, I have no idea. After we pulled into the parking area, Thor shoved a couple bottles of propane in the waist of his jeans, which proved to be strangely erotic. Then he picked up the cooler and the grill. I carried, like, a bag or something. I don't remember.

We set up our picnic spot and left right away to go hiking. I was terrified. Not because of the wildlife or threat of poison ivy. No, I was terrified because Thor insisted that we leave a bottle of rum and a bottle of whiskey at the picnic site. Unattended!? For just anyone to come along and steal? It was at this point that I surrendered to Thor and realized this relationship will never work if I don't learn to trust him. So, glancing back at the paper bag holding our spirits, I said a silent prayer that no harm would come to Henry McKenna and Captain Morgan.

As Thor led me down the path, I could hardly speak. I know. Me, not speaking. What a concept. He pointed at a duck and said it was beautiful. I just replied something stupid. I think I said, "Ducky says quack" or something like that. Thor wiped some sweat off my forehead and joked about how good it felt to have my sweat on him. I wanted to say, "You can have my sweat all over your gorgeous body if you want to," but instead I think I replied, "Sun hot. Make people sweat."

"What is happening to me," I asked myself. "Answer me you ridiculous moron," I said to myself. Myself just giggled and refused to clarify. Thor told me stories, and I replied with one syllable words like "oh" or "oh" or, sometimes, "oh", since all the blood had rushed away from my brain and into other areas of my body. After he told me lots of stories and I said "oh" a lot, we returned to our picnic. I sat down at the table as he fired up the grill. I took a couple slugs of moonshine, which, thankfully, hadn't been swiped. "What is it, Todd," he kept asking me. But I just shook my head and pointed at birds. "Birdy go tweet," I told him.

It wasn't until Thor reached across the table and held out a piece of grilled mango, that my lips became loose. That came out sort of wrong, and yet completely right.

I took the mango into my mouth and licked the juice from his fingers. He asked me to do it again without taking my eyes away from his. So I continued eating from his hand, which was convenient since I could barely move my arms at that point anyway. Then, after a couple more mango slices, I admitted to him, "Oh my god, I like you so much."

Yeah, I said that. Out loud. The feelings I've been trying so hard to control just gushed out. I talked and talked and talked. I drank and talked and couldn't stop doing either one. I felt a tremendous release of pent-up words, and I didn't hold back. Then, I finished talking and sat there staring into his deep blue eyes. Now that I had admitted my affection, what would he do?

His reaction was not what I expected. He flipped over the picnic table and began throwing hot charcoal at me. He called me a drunk and forced me to clean the entire picnic table with Ajax as he screamed that he was mad at the dirt, not at me.

No, actually he didn't do that. Instead, I received a few more mango slices, some grilled vegetables, and a rum-flavored first kiss as a reward for admitting my feelings. Later, we climbed into his truck, I put my hand on top of his, and we shifted gears together all the way back to town. I still couldn't say much in the truck. I was too happy to talk. The weather was beautiful, I felt full and peaceful. It took us quite a while to get back to Portland, and, even though I'm back at work on a Tuesday morning, I have a feeling that the ride isn't over yet.

Call Me Irresponsible

One unique aspect of blogging is that you open yourself up to all kinds of advice, even if you don't ask for it. I've been receiving e-mails and comments from friends who want to ensure my safety and well-being. I'm touched by people who seem to care about what happens to me, even if they've never met me. Whenever someone questions my motives or mentions potential consequences of my actions, I am surprised to see they are raising some of the same questions I have asked myself as I fumble through my life.

In the end, I do what feels right. Sometimes I have to deal with consequences I would rather not face. Often, there are no right or wrong choices when we're faced with personal decisions. We can only take leap after leap in the dark, and wait to see what happens.

Call me irresponsible but,

I will take that twenty bucks The Handsome Prince gave me to gas up my car after driving him to the airport and, instead, use it for a bottle of vodka.

I will let my heart feel warm and excited when a handsome man flirts with me, and I won't worry about whether he'll hurt me later.

I won't feel guilty about calling in sick to work if I don't want to get out of bed because I just want to lay there and listen to the rain.

I will take sixty bucks out of savings if I want to buy my friends drinks and don't feel like worrying about whether I'll need that money tomorrow.

I'll fly to another city to meet a boy, even if there's a chance we won't make a love connection.

If I have a moral objection to eating flesh, I might have a piece of pepperoni pizza when the mood strikes me.

If somebody asks me out, and I'm not sure they are right for me, I might go anyway. You never know.

If my company sends me to a conference, and I want to skip a workshop because I'm listening to the sound of the ocean at a cafe by the beach, I'll sit right there and enjoy myself.

I'll blog about things I "shouldn't" and write about how my heart feels even if it's "too soon".

I will sit in The Vortex at midnight on a Tuesday and listen to music, even if I can barely keep my eyes open and I have to go to work the next day.

I won't be afraid to be tickled or bit or even tied up if it sounds fun at the time.

I'll ski down a slope without ever having had a lesson, even if the only way I can stop is to throw myself backwards onto the snow.

I'd rather hear, "I told you so," than wonder what might have been if only I'd followed my instincts.

"Living is a form of not being sure, not knowing what next or how. The moment you know how, you begin to die a little. The artist never entirely knows. We guess. We may be wrong, but we take leap after leap in the dark."
Agnes de Mille

Peace and Noise

Why do people always say they want some "peace and quiet"? What is wrong with peace and noise? I've been experiencing quite a bit of both lately.

After things went south with Clayton, I took refuge in the peaceful friendship I have with Auburn Pisces. I began spending lots more time at her house. Although I'm sure the wild energy at home drives Aub crazy, I appreciate the chaos of a typical night at her house. It must be very hard for Auburn Pisces to stay calm, cool and collected as she attempts to raise two kids. The two kids I'm referring to are Auburn Aries, age 8, and Thor, age 34. Thor rents the downstairs living quarters from Auburn Pisces. Auburn Aries and Thor are quite a crazy duo, and I find comfort in talking with Auburn Pisces as her kid runs around the house being chased by Thor.

A peaceful home is not always a quiet home. Last night was noisy. Thor was so worked up he had sweat covering his shaved head, and he teamed up with Auburn Aries to teach me a little game called "Mercy Me". They discovered that my feet are ticklish, so I had to shout "Mercy Me" in order to stop the torture. The television blasted an awful rendition of The Star Spangled Banner (in surround sound), and Auburn Aries was shrieking with laughter, as Thor made these (kind of hot) growling noises while tickling my feet, yet I've never felt more peaceful in my life.

Do you want me to tell you how I feel lately? I feel like a bottle of 7-Up that has been shaken up with the cap still on it. Bubbles rising in my heart, and anxious tension tickling me inside. Mercy me!

There must be a better way to describe how much I'm loving this peace and noise. Okay, let's say you were a prisoner in a labor camp and suddenly a clown car drove up and a little midget with a rainbow afro wig and red clown noise shouted to all the prisoners, "Everybody hop in! We're going to Chucky Cheese's for pizza!!!" Can you imagine how happy the prisoners would be as they piled into the clown car headed for a day of fun?

That's how I feel.

Pony Services Hot Toddy

Yesterday, I visited the website for my bank to do some online banking. Nobody could have prepared me for what was in store. I am trembling as I write about this traumatic experience.

My bank is Huge Northwestern Banking Conglomerate, and they recently updated their website. The colors have changed, and the login fields have been moved. It totally threw me off, and I dashed off an e-mail complaining about the redesign. It just so happens that the person who designed my blog also works for Huge Northwestern Banking Conglomerate. So I asked for Pony's help:

Dear Huge Northwestern Banking Conglomerate Technical Person:

Today when I logged on to the HNBC online banking website, I noticed that the place where I enter my username and password has been moved to the right side of the page.

I liked it better on the left side. Please move it back.
Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.

Financially Yours,
Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven

I was impressed at the speedy reply I received from Pony, the HNBC Technical Person:

Dear Mr. Oven,

Thank you for your feedback regarding the new Huge Northwestern Banking Conglomerate Website.

We consider all feedback equally and we assure you that all comments and suggestions are evaluated for future improvement to our products and services.

After review, we are happy to inform you that when your checking account balance is more than $0.68, we can have the login box moved for you.

Even at that, the login information was never requested on the left side. It was always in the middle. We have, however, added the login box to the right side of the main page. This will save you a single mouse click on each visit to our Website. We feel that this will collectively save our customers 198 million click hours a year -- a considerable time savings.

Please enjoy the new "cool blue" Huge Northwestern Banking Conglomerate Website. If you have
any further questions or comments, please feel free to not send them to us.

Thank you,

Huge Northwestern Banking Conglomerate Technical People

My question is, how did he know my bank balance? I didn't know the HNBC technical people had that kind of access to my personal information.

A Very Refined Evening with Hot Toddy

The Handsome Prince celebrated his birthday Saturday night, but I got more attention than he did, so it was still fun. We went to a cool restaurant called Montage. They specialize in Cajun food and Mac-n-cheese. I had the sun-dried tomato mac-n-cheese, but I really lusted over Thor's blackened chicken. As a vegetarian, I often lust over my friends' food, but eating animals makes me feel guilty unless I'm drunk. I wasn't drunk, so I just sat there and lusted over Thor. I mean - his food.

Anyway - at the end of the meal, the servers wrap your unfinished portion in foil and make sculptures. Several of the guys at the table received aluminum foil lilies or swans or giraffes. Huge, impressive, sometimes phallic (to me, at least) sculptures arrived at our table. Then they brought mine. It was a mouse. A silly stupid tiny unimpressive mouse. So I smashed it.

Monday, when I reheated my sun-dried tomato mac-n-cheese, it was just a ball of food. I had smashed the mouse so well, that it became a dough ball. It still tasted good.

After we ate, we went to sing karaoke, but I didn't smash anything while I was there. Well, actually, I did smash someone against the wall in the men's room and did some fun stuff with him. I think if you are someone reading Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven for the first time, you must be under the impression that I am a very classy guy. I know I seem like a very mature and refined individual, but I am able to cut loose now and then. Stick around. You'll see.

Be Good to Each Other

My mom always said to my sister and me, "Be good to each other." She wouldn't tolerate much arguing and absolutely would never allow cruel taunts or vicious fighting. I was raised in a home where being good to each other was more important than getting straight A's or keeping our rooms clean. I'm thankful for that.

Lately, I've seen some mean-spirited comments at Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, and I would hate to start deleting them or banning people from commenting here, but I will have to make some changes to my commenting features if some of you don't start being good to each other. You can disagree with me and comment to that effect. I can even tolerate an occasional insult (and have) but when nasty comments about other people start showing up, that's where I have to draw the line. Just so you know.

I think there's enough cruelty in the world. I'd love for this blog to be a refuge from such behavior. As for babysitting the other night, who ever said I wasn't enjoying the company of a hunky man at the same time I was doing my friend a favor?

Babysitting with Thor

There are certain activities I try to avoid in life. My most disliked activities are attending the rodeo, doing jigsaw puzzles and projectile vomiting. Not necessarily in that order. I have to admit that babysitting is also on my list of unenjoyable experiences, but last night I decided to do my friend Auburn Pisces a favor. So I went over and joined Thor, her housemate, for a night of babysitting.

Auburn Aries is an eight-year-old princess with fiery red hair and an awesome sense of humor. Her laughter is contagious, and she can play harder than almost any kid I've met. Fortunately for her, Thor is capable of playing for hours and hours. He picked her up, he spun her around, he bounced her, he threw her, he tickled her. It was cute. Until they made me participate.

So, Thor and I are out in the front yard after a pouring rainstorm swinging Auburn Aries. He held her wrists and I held her feet. The grass was soaked. After a few rounds of "Swing the Kid", I wondered why I was the only one getting wet. My jeans were soaked and my shirt was wet too. So, I asked if we could stop playing and just go inside to clean the playroom. I now see what a mistake I made in suggesting such a preposterous notion, but I wanted so desperately to surprise Auburn Aries' mother. She works so hard as a single mom, and I knew she'd love to come home to a tidy house.

So, my brilliant plan had been to clean the playroom, making a game out of it like Mary Poppins did with Jane and Michael. But, unlike Mary, I did not find that in every job that must be done there is an element of fun. No, while I agonized over where to store the baby blankets (she must have been so cute as a baby. And quiet), Thor and Auburn Aries seemed to be having the time of their lives playing with the toys. Thor became My Pretty Pony and let Auburn Aries ride around the small room as I folded blankets and put dolls away in a chest. Sometimes I would pick up a Barbie shoe and think it might be easier to throw it in the trash than figure out which crate to store it in, but Thor wouldn't hear of it. He insisted that every Barbie shoe be saved and stored away for future losing. According to the song "A Spoonful of Sugar", if you find the fun, then, SNAP, the job's a game. Mary Poppins lies.

Thor rewarded Auburn Aries and me with a visit to the ice cream parlor after we cleaned. They didn't have Maker's Mark at this establishment, so I had a scoop of coconut ice cream and wished I had eaten dinner. When Thor tipped the girls working behind the counter, an awful thing happened. They launched into a song. Misty, who was probably about 16, shouted to her co-workers, "Hey, guys! We just got a tip!!!" and they all started clapping and singing The Tip Song. I don't remember the lyrics or the tune, but it was loud. Auburn Aries asked if I had a dollar so she could tip the girls again. "Nope, sorry, Auburn Aries. I do not want to watch those poor girls go through that humiliation again." I mean, can you imagine having to sing every time someone gave you a lousy dollar as you scoop ice cream for minimum wage? Thor, of course, liked when they sang, although he admitted he enjoyed it more when the high school boys were working and launched into song.

When we got home, I realized I had been set up. Thor had decided long in advance of this night that he was going to be good cop and Hot Toddy was going to be bad cop. I didn't figure it out until I was washing dishes and begging Auburn Aries to head for bed (45 minutes past bedtime) while Thor tried to get her to chase him through the house. I took over getting her to bed, only glancing briefly at the unopened bottle of whiskey on the counter. "I'm coming, baby," I whispered to the bottle and went to tuck in Auburn Aries.

As I sat outside on the deck with Thor enjoying a drink and talking, I hoped my friend Auburn Pisces was having fun on her date. I have new respect for what she goes through each and every day. Thor asked if I ever thought I could raise kids, and all I could reply was, "Not by myself. I think I would rather go to the rodeo."

Fags Discussing Flags

Sunday night I went over to Auburn Pisces' house for some emotional grounding after a rough weekend. I had the time of my life, and especially enjoyed helping her daughter, Auburn Aries, practice a speech about the African Rock Python. Thor, Auburn Pisces' housemate, and I held a twenty-eight inch piece of yarn from opposite sides of the room so we could help little Auburn Aries demonstrate the length of the snake. (Oh, Auburn Pisces just clarified that it was a 28 foot piece of yarn. Size matters.)

I was really pulling for Auburn Aries when I realized that she was being assisted with the project by her geographically challenged mother. At one point, I asked about a flag pasted to the visual aid posterboard.

"That is the flag of Africa. I found it online for my daughter," boasted Auburn Pisces.

"No, I don't think there is a flag for all of Africa," I replied. "Maybe it is the South African flag," I suggested.

"It is the African flag," insisted Auburn Pisces.

Since I know of no continent that has its own flag, I tried to clarify this. "But we don't have a North American flag, Auburn Pisces. I don't think Africa has a flag."

"Yes, we do too have a North American flag. What is that red, white and blue one?" she said in a very challenging manner.

"Um, that the US flag, Auburn Pisces. Not the North American flag."

"Oh, that's right. Canada has one, don't they?" (And I used to love the Canadian flag before I discovered that link).

Good luck with school, Auburn Aries. I'll be around if you need me for anything related to geography. But I have to draw the line at Algebra. Sorry.

Cruel to be Kind

I stood in the driveway this weekend looking at the ground as I listened to angry words that I know I deserved. My face flushed with shame, and I listened to how I'd led someone on and, in his words, humiliated him. I didn't defend myself or try to justify what I'd done. I didn't fight back and attack. I just took it and probably would have kept my hands at my sides if he had hit me.

What I did was admit that I wasn't in love. It felt horrible to admit this. For the past several weeks I've been trying to get there. I've accepted gifts and kind gestures and given my heart as much as I could. I wanted to return love to a wonderful man who treated me like a prince. But I wasn't in love, and he was starting to feel it. He said to me last week that he felt the honeymoon was over after six weeks because I wasn't kissing him or touching him as much. I guess I was just feeling overwhelmed. No, that is the word you use when you are trying to make someone feel better. But the more honest word - the word that earned me shame and angry words, was suffocated. I felt suffocated.

Before he drove away angry, he asked if I had anything to say for myself. I just shook my head and said, "You did nothing wrong. There's nothing more you could have done. I don't have anything to say in my defense."

Hurting another person is an awful experience. But I will never forget my discussion with CT when we broke up almost three years ago. I asked him why he never showed me any affection, and he said that he had made a conscious decision to withdraw from me so that I'd end the relationship. He admitted he didn't want to be the bad guy, and he knew if he stopped showing love that I would eventually walk away. I equated that action to deliberately starving an unwanted pet. I thought it was the cruelest thing a person could do. And I didn't want to do that to anyone else, because I know how it feels to emotionally starve to death.

I am sorry for what happened. And I now understand the men I loved who just didn't feel the same way about me. It wasn't their fault. The tricky part of love is finding someone who shares the same feelings you do. Compatibility is a good start, and it's what I'm banking on from now on.

Hot Toddy's Behind

That means "Hot Toddy is behind" - this is not a post about my butt.

I am just overwhelmed right now. I'm running behind on all my errands. I finally caught up on drunk dials last night. Well, not exactly caught up. There are a few more people I owe drunk dials. And by a few, I mean a couple dozen.

I also have to send a pair of my underwear to Chad. I guess he is not doing too well and can't afford undergarments. Poor guy. Just makes me want to put my arms around him and hold him and do some other stuff, but that's not important right now.

Two friends want me to meme. The meme is complicated, and I don't feel like doing it. Too taxing.

I need to buy a birthday present for The Handsome Prince. But what do you get the guy who has everything. And by everything, I mean he has me for a best friend and housemate. What more could he possibly want?

Reasons to Be Proud

I am so proud of myself. I just saved my company over $39,000 on training costs due to my clever negotiation skills.

But I am more proud of myself for drinking two cocktails at lunch and learning that if you flick ashes near the television set at the sports bar, you can make them stick to the screen.

And People Say I Can't Keep a Secret...

Only four people in the entire world know who is in this show. And none of them is in the cast.

Fourteen actors will arrive at the performance dressed in street clothes. They will get a ticket and a program and take their seats. After the play begins, the actors will make their entrances from the audience, standing up and delivering their first lines en route to the stage, where they will meet the rest of the cast for the first time.

A cascade of comedy and a solid hit on Broadway, Don`t Drink the Water takes place inside an American embassy behind the Iron Curtain. A family of American tourists rushes into the embassy two steps ahead of the police who suspect them of spying and picture taking. It`s not much of a refuge, for the ambassador is absent and his son, now in charge, has been expelled from a dozen countries and the continent of Africa. Adding to the mayhem are other Embassy residents - a priest learning magic, a high-maintenance chef, a sniveling second-in-command, and a Sultan. "Moved the audience to great laughter.... Allen`s imagination is daffy, his sense of the ridiculous is keen and gags snap, crackle and pop." N.Y. Daily News

Theatre Vertigo & The Cardboard Box Theatre Company co-produce this fourth annual Anonymous Theatre Production.

When: Monday, May 9th at 7:30 PM

Guess what I did last night!?

I think I know what skydiving must feel like now. I've never had a more thrilling theater experience in my life. My heart was pounding so hard as I waited to stand up in my seat and shout out my first line. Each and every actor in the show received tremendously enthusiastic applause as they spoke their first line and revealed their participation in the show.

I've never had more fun on stage, and the memories of this night will feed my soul for years to come. I love being an actor, and I love working with other talented people who can kick ass in a show without ever having met for a single rehearsal. Today, I'm feeling so proud to have been part of this show. Sorry I didn't tell you. I wasn't allowed.

Now if only I'd stop sleeping with boys...

After reading this note from my mother, is it any wonder that my sister and cousins call me "The Crown Prince"? Other than the whole being gay thing, which my family thinks is a phase, it seems I can do no wrong.

Dear Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven:
Oh my goodness, my goodness! Gorgeous red roses like I've never seen before! I couldn't believe the Fed Ex delivery today...
I thought they had the wrong house. Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, the roses are soooooooooooo beautiful...

What a very special gift - (you cared enough to send the very best ha?)

I will NEVER forget this - I am Blessed to have you for a son I was shaking after opening up the delivery, and it touched me very, very much. You are very kind to send roses, and they're sitting on the dining room table now for my enjoyment throughout the coming days and into Mother's Day! What a nice thing you have done to make a very happy mom!

I love you.

What did I do to deserve this beautiful woman in my life? Can you imagine if I had upgraded to the deluxe roses? She'd have to go to the emergency room for palpitations of the heart.

I am the luckiest son in the world. I love you too, Mom!

Pumping Up

Today I sat at break so long with Ms. Karma and Auburn Pisces that I got bed sores. This afternoon the three of us have to sit in a four hour meeting. By the end of the day, I am going to have to learn how to walk again.

It is really sad and disgusting how many hours a day I sit. Working an office job is not a great way to stay in shape, and if I don't go to the gym on a regular basis, I get almost no exercise. Walking to my car every day isn't going to cut it. But I am trying to get back into a routine of working out a minimum of four days a week.

I don't know why bad habits develop so easily. A year ago, I was a regular at the gym. Every other day I was there for at least an hour. And I love the feeling of my own body after I work out. I feel strong and healthy, and I sleep better. My sex drive goes through the roof, which isn't saying much since my libido permanently hovers near the ceiling anyway.

But somehow in the past several months, I gave myself an out. I allowed myself too many days off from working out. I relaxed. Maybe it happened after I did the show 10 Naked Men. Once I knew I didn't have to be dragged across a stage in handcuffs naked, I stopped worrying about my body. It will be interesting to see how dating a man who seems quite happy with me the way I am impacts my fitness level. So far, having such a loyal and loving person in my life only makes me want to work harder on my body. Since I have nothing to prove, I am truly working out just for myself and not to impress someone else.

My favorite thing about the gym is lifting weights. Running or using the elliptical trainer can be kind of fun as long as I have good music. But it can easily become boring and tedious. And that is when my mind wanders, which gets me into trouble. With lifting, I always feel awesome immediately afterwards. I feel so good in my own body, whereas when I run I just feel sweaty. I don't know where I am going with this post. Maybe I'm just trying to remind myself why I need to work out. I have been too lazy for too long.

One way or another, I will get back into regular workouts. I wonder how many calories one burns having sex?