My HIV test results came back negative today. Negative can be such a positive word.
Gay men experience some things in life with more regularity than other people do. For example, we probably go to more Margaret Cho performances and Sound of Music sing-a-longs. That is why some of us crave community with other gay men. We wish to share our common bonds and talk about the things that "nobody else understands".
Most intelligent people realize that HIV is not just a concern for gay men. On the other hand, statistics show most people who contract the disease do so through male-to-male sexual contact. So, when you're a man who sleeps with other men, it's important to get tested regularly. Even if you hate it. Even if it scares you and stresses you out. Even if you are "pretty sure" you've only engaged in safe sex.
I called the results line and gave them my confidential patient number. My heart pounded as I sat there imagining how my life would change if a voice came on the line and said that my results were positive. Or if they said I had to come in for my results which, for me anyway, would mean the news was so scary they wanted to make sure I was locked in a private room so they could help me through the ordeal.
For the past week, I've tried not to think about getting my results today. And I almost completely forgot to call. But I called the results line and gave them my number, and now I was sitting at my desk waiting to hear...whatever. I stopped breathing while I waited for the results. And, after two hours - okay, 30 seconds - but it felt like two hours, I was told that my results were negative.
I exhaled deeply and said, "thank you." I hung up the phone and closed my eyes and tried not to cry. I was relieved, but I also thought about all the men who call the results line and hear bad news. I thought about friends and past boyfriends who are HIV+, and my heart went out to them. They are strong people, and they have conquered much and survived more adversity than many of us. I only personally knew one friend who died of AIDS, and that was over a decade ago. I thought of him today too. Kerry, I hope you are at peace, and I send you much love.
Most days I wish my boyfriend would call me more often, and I wish I could lose weight, and I wish I made more money. Today, I'm just happy with things the way they are. I'm feeling really positive about being negative.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Helpless
After five days of doing nothing for myself, I am helpless. After I landed last night in Portland, I actually thought to myself, "why am I carrying my bags through the airport? Shouldn't I be able to tip someone to do this for me?"
Mind you, I had a small gym bag and a backpack.
The first time I ordered room service at The Aladdin, my cabana boy, or whatever you call him, asked if I wanted him to pour my coffee. I looked at him as if he was joking. He wasn't. I let him know I felt pretty confident about the whole coffee pouring process in spite of some previous mishaps.
I don't think I opened a door for myself the entire time I was in Las Vegas. No cooking, no making my bed (like I ever do that anyway) and no carrying anything except for the hundred dollar bills I loaded into the slot machines.
I love room service. I have discovered the joys of eating breakfast naked on my bed. One morning I ordered breakfast from room service and the servant girl asked if I wanted her to butter my english muffin for me. Again, I thought she must be joking. Juju thinks the girl was hitting on me. Gross. Anyway, I reassured her I could just take care buttering my own muffin. When your boyfriend is away, you become used to doing things for yourself, you know.
After a few days of royal treatment in Vegas, I quickly became spoiled. I was once told by an astrologer that in a past life I was a kept man for a very wealthy Italian family. My every whim was catered to, and all I had to do was offer my services as a plaything for the family. Sometimes I believe this story of my past life may be true, because I so quickly adapt to being pampered.
On the last morning in Vegas I ordered breakfast and demanded that it be brought to my room in 20 minutes or less. Then I yelled at the maid to scrub the toilet faster and get out. I called the front desk and complained about the fact that I only had one small bottle of bath gel for my morning soak and made them bring up a case carried by the Chippendales dancers. Then I had the guys run my bath and scrub me down.
When my driver was late picking me up for the airport, I had him fired. Then I threw a fit when Hermes wouldn't open for me so I could buy a watch for Tina Turner. "This is living," I thought, as I sipped champagne in the VIP lounge of the airport.
Now I am back in Portland being treated with no respect. Don't these people know who I think I am!? Heads are gonna roll...
Mind you, I had a small gym bag and a backpack.
The first time I ordered room service at The Aladdin, my cabana boy, or whatever you call him, asked if I wanted him to pour my coffee. I looked at him as if he was joking. He wasn't. I let him know I felt pretty confident about the whole coffee pouring process in spite of some previous mishaps.
I don't think I opened a door for myself the entire time I was in Las Vegas. No cooking, no making my bed (like I ever do that anyway) and no carrying anything except for the hundred dollar bills I loaded into the slot machines.
I love room service. I have discovered the joys of eating breakfast naked on my bed. One morning I ordered breakfast from room service and the servant girl asked if I wanted her to butter my english muffin for me. Again, I thought she must be joking. Juju thinks the girl was hitting on me. Gross. Anyway, I reassured her I could just take care buttering my own muffin. When your boyfriend is away, you become used to doing things for yourself, you know.
After a few days of royal treatment in Vegas, I quickly became spoiled. I was once told by an astrologer that in a past life I was a kept man for a very wealthy Italian family. My every whim was catered to, and all I had to do was offer my services as a plaything for the family. Sometimes I believe this story of my past life may be true, because I so quickly adapt to being pampered.
On the last morning in Vegas I ordered breakfast and demanded that it be brought to my room in 20 minutes or less. Then I yelled at the maid to scrub the toilet faster and get out. I called the front desk and complained about the fact that I only had one small bottle of bath gel for my morning soak and made them bring up a case carried by the Chippendales dancers. Then I had the guys run my bath and scrub me down.
When my driver was late picking me up for the airport, I had him fired. Then I threw a fit when Hermes wouldn't open for me so I could buy a watch for Tina Turner. "This is living," I thought, as I sipped champagne in the VIP lounge of the airport.
Now I am back in Portland being treated with no respect. Don't these people know who I think I am!? Heads are gonna roll...
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Hot Toddy in Shorts
Yep. All week at this conference I will be wearing shorts.
How does a person forget to pack pants when going to Las Vegas for a four-day conference?!?
I'll tell you how. First the person, we'll call him Aloysius, goes out drinking the night before he leaves and decides to wait to pack until the next morning at 5:30 a.m. Oh, and then, as an added display of mental dexterity, the drunk person, Aloysius, also decides to spend the night with his friend. We'll call her Lola Falana. So Aloysius crashes at Lola's place and the next morning packs rapidly, making sure to bring the rope he sleeps with. He then arrives in Las Vegas with t-shirts, shorts, swimming trunks, a rope, and a pair of sandals.
Notice how I remembered the swim trunks. I spent a couple hours by the pool today enjoying the live music and the live bodybuilder also staying at my hotel. He knew he was hot so he stood up the whole time talking to his friends. He didn't want to sit down and possibly have somebody miss his glorious physique. Whatever. I enjoyed staring for a few moments, but its nothing I haven't already seen in thousands of magazines and/or at the gay bars.
Tonight at The Bellagio there was a lovely cocktail and hors-d'oeuvres reception for all the conference attendees in nice clothes and me. I actually sought out the two other guys wearing shorts and tried to get them to talk to me, but they snubbed me because, I guess, their shorts were nicer. Or it could have been my sandals. Screw 'em, I have a tan and they are sweaty in their long pants. I don't need more friends anyway.
The only other person who would talk to me at the conference tonight was the lady with arthritic feet who was trying to figure out the shortest distance to her room from the conference hall. Iwalked shuffled with her because she appreciated my help and didn't look down on me because of my shorts.
I'm only down $103 and my bathroom has a sunken tub. The fountains at The Bellagio made me cry tonight. More on that later.
How does a person forget to pack pants when going to Las Vegas for a four-day conference?!?
I'll tell you how. First the person, we'll call him Aloysius, goes out drinking the night before he leaves and decides to wait to pack until the next morning at 5:30 a.m. Oh, and then, as an added display of mental dexterity, the drunk person, Aloysius, also decides to spend the night with his friend. We'll call her Lola Falana. So Aloysius crashes at Lola's place and the next morning packs rapidly, making sure to bring the rope he sleeps with. He then arrives in Las Vegas with t-shirts, shorts, swimming trunks, a rope, and a pair of sandals.
Notice how I remembered the swim trunks. I spent a couple hours by the pool today enjoying the live music and the live bodybuilder also staying at my hotel. He knew he was hot so he stood up the whole time talking to his friends. He didn't want to sit down and possibly have somebody miss his glorious physique. Whatever. I enjoyed staring for a few moments, but its nothing I haven't already seen in thousands of magazines and/or at the gay bars.
Tonight at The Bellagio there was a lovely cocktail and hors-d'oeuvres reception for all the conference attendees in nice clothes and me. I actually sought out the two other guys wearing shorts and tried to get them to talk to me, but they snubbed me because, I guess, their shorts were nicer. Or it could have been my sandals. Screw 'em, I have a tan and they are sweaty in their long pants. I don't need more friends anyway.
The only other person who would talk to me at the conference tonight was the lady with arthritic feet who was trying to figure out the shortest distance to her room from the conference hall. I
I'm only down $103 and my bathroom has a sunken tub. The fountains at The Bellagio made me cry tonight. More on that later.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Great Stove
Not to be outdone by Jaden, my BFF, I needed to see where I rank in the world. Incidentally, Jaden wrote the most brilliant post on lettuce spines. It made me jealous, and now I want to be her.
Enough about her, let's talk about me.
Can I just say how proud I am to be listed at Greatstoves.com right between a recipe for Quick Garlic Cheese Biscuits and an article of Toaster Oven reviews?
I am also the number three entry on Yourovensguide.info under the ovens index.
At this time I would like to apologize to all the Nebraska grandmothers who came here looking for the perfect Christmas gift and instead found me. I know you must be mortified by what you've read here, Mildred, Beatrice, and Sylvia. Just be thankful we're not related.
Oh, and to make sure you don't leave empty-handed, Bernice and Myrtle, I recommend the Oster Inspire.
It is fascinating to see how people discover Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. My boyfriend still googles in order to find this blog. Today he found me by Googling this. He's so cute. Note that he searched using all capital letters, WHICH IS HIS TRADEMARK BECAUSE HE HAS SUCH A DEEP SEXY VOICE.
Off to Vegas! See you next week...
Enough about her, let's talk about me.
Can I just say how proud I am to be listed at Greatstoves.com right between a recipe for Quick Garlic Cheese Biscuits and an article of Toaster Oven reviews?
I am also the number three entry on Yourovensguide.info under the ovens index.
At this time I would like to apologize to all the Nebraska grandmothers who came here looking for the perfect Christmas gift and instead found me. I know you must be mortified by what you've read here, Mildred, Beatrice, and Sylvia. Just be thankful we're not related.
Oh, and to make sure you don't leave empty-handed, Bernice and Myrtle, I recommend the Oster Inspire.
It is fascinating to see how people discover Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. My boyfriend still googles in order to find this blog. Today he found me by Googling this. He's so cute. Note that he searched using all capital letters, WHICH IS HIS TRADEMARK BECAUSE HE HAS SUCH A DEEP SEXY VOICE.
Off to Vegas! See you next week...
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Hey, you...
Yeah, you. The guy who stole my heart. I want you to know you've stamped your soul and your blue eyes and your enormous laugh into the center of my being. I hear your name in my head over and over. I love your name so much - the way it is spelled, the way it sounds coming from my mouth, the uniqueness of it.
I can still imagine your smell. The shirt of yours that I sleep with has lost your scent, but my memory is strong. Oh, and I also bought the same body wash that you use, so maybe that's part of why I can still smell you.
When I miss you, I feel weak. But I am really doing pretty well, all things considered. I just wish I could tell you every single day that I love you so much. As you said, even if I suddenly lost the power of speech, you'd still know I love you and would never need to hear me say it again.
Remember that one afternoon when we looked through a box of your old cards and letters? You let me read some pretty personal stuff. Then I handed you my journal and said you could open it up and read any entry you wanted. That's the day you found out about a secret encounter I had with - well, you know. I was embarrassed, because I had never told you about him and I. But you just laughed at me and kept reading with a big smile on your face. I loved you even more after that moment.
Later that afternoon, you grabbed me and said we were going out to clean our cars. While you cleaned out your truck, I moaned and groaned about having to clean my car for the first time in, like, years. But when we finished, I felt so great. Thank you for making me do that.
Today I am missing your sexy forearms. I would love to fall asleep feeling the hair of your forearm next to my cheek. I miss everything about you, but that's what I'm remembering at this moment.
You're the most unique man I have ever met. I feel crazy quoting Dionne Warwick, but I really do know I'll never love this way again. I will see you soon, baby, but not soon enough!
I know where I stand in your heart. You know where you stand in mine. I miss you.
I can still imagine your smell. The shirt of yours that I sleep with has lost your scent, but my memory is strong. Oh, and I also bought the same body wash that you use, so maybe that's part of why I can still smell you.
When I miss you, I feel weak. But I am really doing pretty well, all things considered. I just wish I could tell you every single day that I love you so much. As you said, even if I suddenly lost the power of speech, you'd still know I love you and would never need to hear me say it again.
Remember that one afternoon when we looked through a box of your old cards and letters? You let me read some pretty personal stuff. Then I handed you my journal and said you could open it up and read any entry you wanted. That's the day you found out about a secret encounter I had with - well, you know. I was embarrassed, because I had never told you about him and I. But you just laughed at me and kept reading with a big smile on your face. I loved you even more after that moment.
Later that afternoon, you grabbed me and said we were going out to clean our cars. While you cleaned out your truck, I moaned and groaned about having to clean my car for the first time in, like, years. But when we finished, I felt so great. Thank you for making me do that.
Today I am missing your sexy forearms. I would love to fall asleep feeling the hair of your forearm next to my cheek. I miss everything about you, but that's what I'm remembering at this moment.
You're the most unique man I have ever met. I feel crazy quoting Dionne Warwick, but I really do know I'll never love this way again. I will see you soon, baby, but not soon enough!
I know where I stand in your heart. You know where you stand in mine. I miss you.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
To Drug or Not to Drug?
That really has been the question lately. Should I be on medication?
In spite of the way I have been feeling lately (uninspired, lonely, sad, lethargic, lost) I have decided not to drug. I have decided I need to feel right now, even if the feelings are unpleasant.
Life can sometimes be dark. While it is wonderful to dream about spending the rest of my life with my boyfriend, it doesn't take away the pain of being away from him now. Thor and I have definite plans to see each other, and the day can't come soon enough. But I'm still here in the uncertain present, and no amount of hope for the future seems to make this easier.
There are some people who take pleasure in seeing me this way. They gloat and enjoy seeing me lonely. It sounds horrible, but I know it is true. They have let me know this. While I am sad, I am also incredibly happy. I am sad because I am in love and can't be with my man. So, people can gloat all they want. I'm still in love with a guy who loves me more than I have ever been loved in my life.
I'm not down for the count. I'm being underestimated, and my strength is surprising. I have friends who would fall apart if their boyfriend or girlfriend didn't call for a couple days. Don't get me wrong, I hate it when I don't hear from Thor, but I am not falling apart. We usually talk every couple days. One weekend we talked two or three times a day. Always, the time in between talks feels too long. It feels too long. Feeling, feeling, feeling. I sure am feeling a lot. I could turn it off with a drug, and its tempting. But I still think it is good to feel. Even if you feel rotten.
This is possibly the most disjointed and confusing post ever written. Writing doesn't come easily lately. Too many eyes probing and making assumptions about me based on what they read. No, this isn't about the comments from a couple days ago. This is about real-life people making real-life comments to my real-life face. I feel judged lately, and judged harshly.
If you are a friend who reads the blog and doesn't judge and shares kind encouraging words with me, you can thank Thor that I'm still here writing. Thor asked me to keep blogging when I felt like stopping a few weeks ago. "That's your thing, baby, you can't stop..." Also, he wants to know what is going on with me while we're apart, so in a way I am doing this for him. Sometimes when you love someone, you do things you don't feel like doing.
When I can't be funny, or when people complain to me that I don't write about their lives in my blog (yes, it actually happened), or when I know my words are read by people who think I need to get a grip or get a life or get a clue, it makes it hard to keep going. One person complained to me recently that he didn't like the way he was being "portrayed" in my blog. Um, sorry, this isn't a screenplay. If it were it would be the most boring horrible movie in the world. Trust me, I know Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven has seen better days. But this blog wasn't started to impress anybody. I write about my reality. Sometimes that reality is seen through drunken CC Slaughtered eyes (thanks, Jades) or through lesbian song lyrics (thanks, Thor).
Back to my point. (Did I have one?) I don't want to drug myself. (Okay, maybe a whiskey or two) I have never taken medication for ADD because I'm afraid it would dull my mind or diminish creative thought. I don't want to take medication for depression, because I think I'm supposed to be sad right now. And I think I am supposed to write about it, too, so its okay if you don't want to read this blog anymore. I promise I won't be hurt. Or maybe you'll just keep coming back to gloat. Do what you want, I can't stop you. I'll have some really great news to share soon, and you'll be irritated that things are going well for me again.
In spite of the way I have been feeling lately (uninspired, lonely, sad, lethargic, lost) I have decided not to drug. I have decided I need to feel right now, even if the feelings are unpleasant.
Life can sometimes be dark. While it is wonderful to dream about spending the rest of my life with my boyfriend, it doesn't take away the pain of being away from him now. Thor and I have definite plans to see each other, and the day can't come soon enough. But I'm still here in the uncertain present, and no amount of hope for the future seems to make this easier.
There are some people who take pleasure in seeing me this way. They gloat and enjoy seeing me lonely. It sounds horrible, but I know it is true. They have let me know this. While I am sad, I am also incredibly happy. I am sad because I am in love and can't be with my man. So, people can gloat all they want. I'm still in love with a guy who loves me more than I have ever been loved in my life.
I'm not down for the count. I'm being underestimated, and my strength is surprising. I have friends who would fall apart if their boyfriend or girlfriend didn't call for a couple days. Don't get me wrong, I hate it when I don't hear from Thor, but I am not falling apart. We usually talk every couple days. One weekend we talked two or three times a day. Always, the time in between talks feels too long. It feels too long. Feeling, feeling, feeling. I sure am feeling a lot. I could turn it off with a drug, and its tempting. But I still think it is good to feel. Even if you feel rotten.
This is possibly the most disjointed and confusing post ever written. Writing doesn't come easily lately. Too many eyes probing and making assumptions about me based on what they read. No, this isn't about the comments from a couple days ago. This is about real-life people making real-life comments to my real-life face. I feel judged lately, and judged harshly.
If you are a friend who reads the blog and doesn't judge and shares kind encouraging words with me, you can thank Thor that I'm still here writing. Thor asked me to keep blogging when I felt like stopping a few weeks ago. "That's your thing, baby, you can't stop..." Also, he wants to know what is going on with me while we're apart, so in a way I am doing this for him. Sometimes when you love someone, you do things you don't feel like doing.
When I can't be funny, or when people complain to me that I don't write about their lives in my blog (yes, it actually happened), or when I know my words are read by people who think I need to get a grip or get a life or get a clue, it makes it hard to keep going. One person complained to me recently that he didn't like the way he was being "portrayed" in my blog. Um, sorry, this isn't a screenplay. If it were it would be the most boring horrible movie in the world. Trust me, I know Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven has seen better days. But this blog wasn't started to impress anybody. I write about my reality. Sometimes that reality is seen through drunken CC Slaughtered eyes (thanks, Jades) or through lesbian song lyrics (thanks, Thor).
Back to my point. (Did I have one?) I don't want to drug myself. (Okay, maybe a whiskey or two) I have never taken medication for ADD because I'm afraid it would dull my mind or diminish creative thought. I don't want to take medication for depression, because I think I'm supposed to be sad right now. And I think I am supposed to write about it, too, so its okay if you don't want to read this blog anymore. I promise I won't be hurt. Or maybe you'll just keep coming back to gloat. Do what you want, I can't stop you. I'll have some really great news to share soon, and you'll be irritated that things are going well for me again.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Hot Toddy Gets Irritated
So, I get back to my blog after a couple days off and find that things have been pretty crazy! Cruella DeVille left a bunch of mean comments, told lies, and hated on everybody. Then people jumped to my defense. Then I deleted Cruella's ridiculous statements. But do you know what the most irritating thing is??
WTF was up with that Emmy Idol television theme segment last night!? Ridiculous.
Maybe it is because the last time I watched an awards show I was safe in the arms of the man I love. Or maybe I'm irritated because there was not enough Ellen last night. I expected the producers to utilize her talents to make the show hilarious, but, alas, she was almost a minor player in the show that should have been hers.
But back to the theme song "contest". Of course Donald Trump in overalls singing the theme from Green Acres with Megan Mullally won. Donald Trump in overalls is comedy gold, dontchaknow. But if we never hear the theme song from Fame again, it will be too soon. I liked the rendition of The Jeffersons, but nobody wore overalls (that would be racist, wouldn't it?) and the Star Trek theme was just awful. William Shatner teamed up with, I guess, the woman who played Captain Kirk in the original series (I'm not Trekkanese; I have no idea).
So some random ignoramus leaves mean comments and spreads lies. That's a minor irritant that can be swatted away like a pesky gnat. But American Idol ripoffs on the Emmy Awards? Now that is something to get irritated about!
WTF was up with that Emmy Idol television theme segment last night!? Ridiculous.
Maybe it is because the last time I watched an awards show I was safe in the arms of the man I love. Or maybe I'm irritated because there was not enough Ellen last night. I expected the producers to utilize her talents to make the show hilarious, but, alas, she was almost a minor player in the show that should have been hers.
But back to the theme song "contest". Of course Donald Trump in overalls singing the theme from Green Acres with Megan Mullally won. Donald Trump in overalls is comedy gold, dontchaknow. But if we never hear the theme song from Fame again, it will be too soon. I liked the rendition of The Jeffersons, but nobody wore overalls (that would be racist, wouldn't it?) and the Star Trek theme was just awful. William Shatner teamed up with, I guess, the woman who played Captain Kirk in the original series (I'm not Trekkanese; I have no idea).
So some random ignoramus leaves mean comments and spreads lies. That's a minor irritant that can be swatted away like a pesky gnat. But American Idol ripoffs on the Emmy Awards? Now that is something to get irritated about!
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Is it Just Me?
Did anybody else receive a strange anonymous e-mail from someone spewing hatred about right-handed people with fair hair? The message I received yesterday seemed like it was written by someone on drugs. Someone who hates blondes. This person also said they wouldn't marry me, much to my chagrin. They also employed the standard courteous closing, "You can run, but you can't hide..."
Was it spam? Was it real hate mail?
Whoever you are, anonymous spammer and/or hate mailer, I just wanted to clarify that I can, indeed, run. However I don't feel like it because the ice falls out of my vodka tonic when I run.
Oh, and I stopped hiding years ago and don't plan on doing it ever again.
Was it spam? Was it real hate mail?
Whoever you are, anonymous spammer and/or hate mailer, I just wanted to clarify that I can, indeed, run. However I don't feel like it because the ice falls out of my vodka tonic when I run.
Oh, and I stopped hiding years ago and don't plan on doing it ever again.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Train Song
Train Song
Mindy Smith
I've been listening
For those metal wheels
To come scraping across that
Old rusty track
And I'm just wondering, I need to ask
Is my sweet man on that train
And I've been waiting
For the whistle to sound
Like a ghost on the highland
Howling proud
And I'm just wondering, I'll ask again
Is my sweet man coming back
Everything inside me
Is aching for you now
Every minute given
I'm just waiting for your love
I'm just wondering, I need to ask
Is my sweet man on his way
And I've been crying
Trying to make sense
Of all this shit
He left me to tend
And I'm just wondering, I'll ask again
Is my sweet man on that train
Everything inside me
Is aching for you now
Every minute given
I'm just waiting for your love
I'm just wondering, I need to ask
Is my sweet man on that train
I'm just wondering, I need to ask
Is my sweet man on that train
Today marks four months since Thor called to ask me out. Best phone call ever. I love you, Thor!
Mindy Smith
I've been listening
For those metal wheels
To come scraping across that
Old rusty track
And I'm just wondering, I need to ask
Is my sweet man on that train
And I've been waiting
For the whistle to sound
Like a ghost on the highland
Howling proud
And I'm just wondering, I'll ask again
Is my sweet man coming back
Everything inside me
Is aching for you now
Every minute given
I'm just waiting for your love
I'm just wondering, I need to ask
Is my sweet man on his way
And I've been crying
Trying to make sense
Of all this shit
He left me to tend
And I'm just wondering, I'll ask again
Is my sweet man on that train
Everything inside me
Is aching for you now
Every minute given
I'm just waiting for your love
I'm just wondering, I need to ask
Is my sweet man on that train
I'm just wondering, I need to ask
Is my sweet man on that train
Today marks four months since Thor called to ask me out. Best phone call ever. I love you, Thor!
Monday, September 12, 2005
Vegas Dreams
In a couple weeks, I'm heading to Las Vegas for a conference. Although I realize the worst odds are at the slot machines, I still enjoy playing them more than anything else at the casino. That's probably a Pavlovian response to the $1100 I won (off a $1.00 bet) at the Cherries Jubilee slots at the MGM Grand in 1996.
Last night I had a dream that I was at the Cashier's window buying some chips. I had a huge wad of money in my hands - all singles and five dollar bills. I didn't feel like counting the money before buying chips, so I just pretended to count it so the cashier would think I knew how much she owed me. After flipping through the bills, I shoved the whole wad at the cashier and just waited to see how much I'd get back in chips.
I really wish Juju were going with me on this trip to keep an eye on me. We both put in requests to go, but I guess they only approved my attendance since she is such a slacker at work.
If you know of anything I simply must do or see in Vegas, please let me know. Otherwise, I will probably not venture beyond the slot machines.
Last night I had a dream that I was at the Cashier's window buying some chips. I had a huge wad of money in my hands - all singles and five dollar bills. I didn't feel like counting the money before buying chips, so I just pretended to count it so the cashier would think I knew how much she owed me. After flipping through the bills, I shoved the whole wad at the cashier and just waited to see how much I'd get back in chips.
I really wish Juju were going with me on this trip to keep an eye on me. We both put in requests to go, but I guess they only approved my attendance since she is such a slacker at work.
If you know of anything I simply must do or see in Vegas, please let me know. Otherwise, I will probably not venture beyond the slot machines.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Hot Toddy & The Volkswagen
Last night after happy hour I received a call from Auburn Pisces demanding that I go back to CC Slaughters and turn in my credit card receipt. I had accidentally kept both copies when I signed my receipt. Why did CC Slaughters call Auburn Pisces? How did they get her number? These are questions shared by many. Questions I am unable to answer.
So, after a phone call with Katehopeeden last night, I drove back to CC's with my receipt in hand. During the phone call, I bragged to K about the fact that I never have to get out of the car at the gas station because we're not allowed to pump our own gas in Oregon. Moments later, the gas station attendant told me I had to go pay inside since the computer was down. K was laughing at me. She heard the whole exchange between me and the attendant and mocked me for my lazy pride.
I did not plan on staying at CC's. But between Auburn Pisces waving me over and seeing The Hot Toddtender, and running into an intoxicated Pony, I knew I had to have at least one or two drinks.
All of a sudden, I saw him. The guy in the Superman shirt. He wasn't actually wearing the Superman shirt at the time, but I recognized him from a bout of lust I experienced several months earlier when he had the big S on his chest and his arms begged to be groped. He is muscular and has Mario Lopez dimples. His arms are round and bulging, and his chest is firm. He is built sort of like a Volkswagen.
After we spoke for a few moments, the VW began touching me. Lightly at first, and then rubbing my back, and then reaching for more personal areas. The VW quickly figured out that I have a thing for biceps. Maybe it is because I kept glancing at his biteable arms. As I told VW about my boyfriend, he flexed for me and let me feel his rock-hard muscles. I muttered to myself, "Thor, Thor, Thor, Thor, Thor...", but I kept squeezing those smooth tan arms. He opened his shirt and I felt his chest. I knew I was going to be in trouble if I kept this up.
I was invited to the VW's home for a private viewing of his assets. I declined. He moved toward me to kiss me. I turned my head away. A friend remarked that I was sweating heavily. Auburn Pisces mouthed the words, "Do you need rescuing?" I shook my head.
The VW continued strutting and flirting and inviting me to his garage - er - house. I told him that I loved my boyfriend very much. Now, Thor is not threatened by other guys. He once told me that I had his permission to do "whatever you need to do while I'm gone", and yet, when faced with an opportunity to have some fun, I just can't. I know I would feel miserable afterwards.
VW wasn't discouraged by my talking about Thor. He continued with his attentions even after I showed him a picture on my cell phone of Thor and I kissing. "So, you can just call me Thor," he said.
"I'm in love with the man, not the name," I answered.
VW finally gave up. I sat and talked to one of his friends for a while. A really cool guy who asked me lots of questions about my relationship and seemed genuinely interested. Then my phone rang, and it was Thor. Running outside (okay, so maybe I skipped. Shut up. He makes me happy) I began telling Thor all about my night. When I got to the part about my muscular new acquaintance, Thor said, "Well, I hope you felt his biceps at least!"
I told him that I had, indeed, allowed myself this indulgence. He was less comfortable with the idea of VW trying to kiss me, but he seemed happy that I had not given in to the temptation. I've never known Thor to be jealous, and sometimes I wish he would be just a teeny tiny bit jealous. It would make me feel kind of good.
Thor's anger was aroused when I mentioned that VW said I could call him "Thor" if it meant he'd get to take me home. Thor said that if this guy continued messing with me, he would come back to Portland and kick his ass.
I responded without missing a beat, "Get up here! He's trying to pull my pants off right now!" Thor laughed and told me he loved me. Then he admitted that he felt jealous and that he was surprised by his own feelings. We talked about the fact that I'm often viewed by others as "relationship material".
"He's not like you and me, Toddy. He's trying to use you," said Thor. I let Thor know that, whether or not VW was really looking for love or just a hook-up, Thor had absolutely nothing to worry about.
We talked some more and laughed. For a change, neither of us cried. We remembered the nights after drinking at CC's when we would go to his place and climb into bed and hold each other. We talked about how much we miss those typical Thursday nights.
Thor asked me to go give the doorman, J, at CC's a hug and kiss from him. I complied. J seemed a bit embarrassed, but I know he could feel the love from Thor and me.
We finished our talk, I hung up, and my heart jumped up and down inside my chest. "Thor called! Thor called! Thor called!" I love this man so much.
I went back inside, and I noticed that VW had moved on to other targets. I finished my second or third Maker's Mark (Okay, you were right Tim the Toddtender, I will never close my tab after just one drink)and left the bar. I went home feeling proud of myself for practicing self-control. I also went home feeling incredibly lucky to have Thor's heart, his trust, and just a teeny tiny bit of his jealousy.
So, after a phone call with Katehopeeden last night, I drove back to CC's with my receipt in hand. During the phone call, I bragged to K about the fact that I never have to get out of the car at the gas station because we're not allowed to pump our own gas in Oregon. Moments later, the gas station attendant told me I had to go pay inside since the computer was down. K was laughing at me. She heard the whole exchange between me and the attendant and mocked me for my lazy pride.
I did not plan on staying at CC's. But between Auburn Pisces waving me over and seeing The Hot Toddtender, and running into an intoxicated Pony, I knew I had to have at least one or two drinks.
All of a sudden, I saw him. The guy in the Superman shirt. He wasn't actually wearing the Superman shirt at the time, but I recognized him from a bout of lust I experienced several months earlier when he had the big S on his chest and his arms begged to be groped. He is muscular and has Mario Lopez dimples. His arms are round and bulging, and his chest is firm. He is built sort of like a Volkswagen.
After we spoke for a few moments, the VW began touching me. Lightly at first, and then rubbing my back, and then reaching for more personal areas. The VW quickly figured out that I have a thing for biceps. Maybe it is because I kept glancing at his biteable arms. As I told VW about my boyfriend, he flexed for me and let me feel his rock-hard muscles. I muttered to myself, "Thor, Thor, Thor, Thor, Thor...", but I kept squeezing those smooth tan arms. He opened his shirt and I felt his chest. I knew I was going to be in trouble if I kept this up.
I was invited to the VW's home for a private viewing of his assets. I declined. He moved toward me to kiss me. I turned my head away. A friend remarked that I was sweating heavily. Auburn Pisces mouthed the words, "Do you need rescuing?" I shook my head.
The VW continued strutting and flirting and inviting me to his garage - er - house. I told him that I loved my boyfriend very much. Now, Thor is not threatened by other guys. He once told me that I had his permission to do "whatever you need to do while I'm gone", and yet, when faced with an opportunity to have some fun, I just can't. I know I would feel miserable afterwards.
VW wasn't discouraged by my talking about Thor. He continued with his attentions even after I showed him a picture on my cell phone of Thor and I kissing. "So, you can just call me Thor," he said.
"I'm in love with the man, not the name," I answered.
VW finally gave up. I sat and talked to one of his friends for a while. A really cool guy who asked me lots of questions about my relationship and seemed genuinely interested. Then my phone rang, and it was Thor. Running outside (okay, so maybe I skipped. Shut up. He makes me happy) I began telling Thor all about my night. When I got to the part about my muscular new acquaintance, Thor said, "Well, I hope you felt his biceps at least!"
I told him that I had, indeed, allowed myself this indulgence. He was less comfortable with the idea of VW trying to kiss me, but he seemed happy that I had not given in to the temptation. I've never known Thor to be jealous, and sometimes I wish he would be just a teeny tiny bit jealous. It would make me feel kind of good.
Thor's anger was aroused when I mentioned that VW said I could call him "Thor" if it meant he'd get to take me home. Thor said that if this guy continued messing with me, he would come back to Portland and kick his ass.
I responded without missing a beat, "Get up here! He's trying to pull my pants off right now!" Thor laughed and told me he loved me. Then he admitted that he felt jealous and that he was surprised by his own feelings. We talked about the fact that I'm often viewed by others as "relationship material".
"He's not like you and me, Toddy. He's trying to use you," said Thor. I let Thor know that, whether or not VW was really looking for love or just a hook-up, Thor had absolutely nothing to worry about.
We talked some more and laughed. For a change, neither of us cried. We remembered the nights after drinking at CC's when we would go to his place and climb into bed and hold each other. We talked about how much we miss those typical Thursday nights.
Thor asked me to go give the doorman, J, at CC's a hug and kiss from him. I complied. J seemed a bit embarrassed, but I know he could feel the love from Thor and me.
We finished our talk, I hung up, and my heart jumped up and down inside my chest. "Thor called! Thor called! Thor called!" I love this man so much.
I went back inside, and I noticed that VW had moved on to other targets. I finished my second or third Maker's Mark (Okay, you were right Tim the Toddtender, I will never close my tab after just one drink)and left the bar. I went home feeling proud of myself for practicing self-control. I also went home feeling incredibly lucky to have Thor's heart, his trust, and just a teeny tiny bit of his jealousy.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
One Moment More
The other day Kiks sent me a link to the greatest song, One Moment More, by Mindy Smith. He thought of this song after reading my post, The Final Countdown.
What an amazing song, and it expresses exactly how we both felt on that last morning together. And, Kiks, you couldn't know this, but we saw a shooting star on our last evening together. It crossed the sky the moment I told Thor that I loved him.
If you can't play the video link above for some reason, here are the lyrics.
Thor, if you are reading this, make sure you have your rum and coke handy before listening to the song! And thank you, Kiks!
It's not like everything about my life sucks. For example, since I am not looking for a boyfriend, I can eat a messy breakfast burrito at my desk, and it doesn't even matter if a hot guy comes over to talk to me about work and sees me stuffing food into my mouth while salsa drips off my chin.
What an amazing song, and it expresses exactly how we both felt on that last morning together. And, Kiks, you couldn't know this, but we saw a shooting star on our last evening together. It crossed the sky the moment I told Thor that I loved him.
If you can't play the video link above for some reason, here are the lyrics.
Thor, if you are reading this, make sure you have your rum and coke handy before listening to the song! And thank you, Kiks!
It's not like everything about my life sucks. For example, since I am not looking for a boyfriend, I can eat a messy breakfast burrito at my desk, and it doesn't even matter if a hot guy comes over to talk to me about work and sees me stuffing food into my mouth while salsa drips off my chin.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Fear Factor
To fully get where I'm coming from today, you should first read Juju's post, Scaredy Cat. (No, I'm not calling you a scaredy cat. That's the name of the post. Stop being so sensitive.)
Then you should read Auburn Pisces' response to Juju.
I suppose by further commenting on fear in relationships, I am helping to create a meme of sorts. Rather than a list of favorite music, this is more of a touchy feely meme. And it's not the kind of meme you would want to "tag" someone with, but if you have thoughts on the matter, I'd love for you to send me an e-mail or leave a comment and let me know you're continuing the discussion on your blog.
Juju is more in touch with herself - wait, let me start that over. Juju knows herself and is capable of great insight when it comes to her own issues and the issues of her friends. Auburn Pisces is focused and very skilled at cutting through to the heart of the matter. Having friends like Aub and Juju is the main reason I haven't yet been institutionalized.
That said, I'm experiencing a different sort of fear than either of my friends. One friend sometimes worries that she won't find her true love. Another worries that the true love she has found will force her to change into someone she despises.
My fear right now is that my hope for a future with Thor will be deferred or, worse, never fully realized. I fear that every day we spend apart will cause us to slowly forget or become numb to all that we shared. Before he left he told me that he could spend three months, one for each month we had in Portland, thinking about all the great times we had. Now that we are approaching one month apart, I'm wondering how long it will be until we can make more memories. I'm desperate to keep restocking. I don't want to run out of memories. Ever!
Vanity is at the heart of one of my biggest fears. I fear that I will end up looking foolish if this doesn't work out. (Sorry, Thor, I know you constantly tell me I'm crazy for doubting, but I have to admit I sometimes feel anxious about our surviving The Interruption.) Not every love survives, and sometimes we don't get to end up with the one who makes our heart sing. If my dreams of a future with you don't come to fruition, I worry that I will fall apart. I worry that I just won't be able to get back up again and won't even want to try. The vanity inherent in worrying about what others might think of my failure to survive a long-distance relationship is ridiculous.
As my friends fall in love, move in together, marry, buy houses, have children, etc., I worry that I am going to be left behind. I told Thor that I am having a hard time waiting for him to return while other relationships are moving forward. I'm on hold listening to muzak. In a month I'll be 39! I feel too old to wait. I feel like time is running out. (Good lord, you'd think I have some kind of biological clock of my own ticking away the moments of my remaining life.)
Kent, my friend, as you said to me in an e-mail today, "I realize that I am responsible for my own happiness..." and I guess that we are also responsible for our own fears. I think by expressing our fears, we can better manage them. By being honest with our "darker" thoughts, we can more effectively express the joyful feelings that come along too.
What are we so afraid of? It's just life!
Then you should read Auburn Pisces' response to Juju.
I suppose by further commenting on fear in relationships, I am helping to create a meme of sorts. Rather than a list of favorite music, this is more of a touchy feely meme. And it's not the kind of meme you would want to "tag" someone with, but if you have thoughts on the matter, I'd love for you to send me an e-mail or leave a comment and let me know you're continuing the discussion on your blog.
Juju is more in touch with herself - wait, let me start that over. Juju knows herself and is capable of great insight when it comes to her own issues and the issues of her friends. Auburn Pisces is focused and very skilled at cutting through to the heart of the matter. Having friends like Aub and Juju is the main reason I haven't yet been institutionalized.
That said, I'm experiencing a different sort of fear than either of my friends. One friend sometimes worries that she won't find her true love. Another worries that the true love she has found will force her to change into someone she despises.
My fear right now is that my hope for a future with Thor will be deferred or, worse, never fully realized. I fear that every day we spend apart will cause us to slowly forget or become numb to all that we shared. Before he left he told me that he could spend three months, one for each month we had in Portland, thinking about all the great times we had. Now that we are approaching one month apart, I'm wondering how long it will be until we can make more memories. I'm desperate to keep restocking. I don't want to run out of memories. Ever!
Vanity is at the heart of one of my biggest fears. I fear that I will end up looking foolish if this doesn't work out. (Sorry, Thor, I know you constantly tell me I'm crazy for doubting, but I have to admit I sometimes feel anxious about our surviving The Interruption.) Not every love survives, and sometimes we don't get to end up with the one who makes our heart sing. If my dreams of a future with you don't come to fruition, I worry that I will fall apart. I worry that I just won't be able to get back up again and won't even want to try. The vanity inherent in worrying about what others might think of my failure to survive a long-distance relationship is ridiculous.
As my friends fall in love, move in together, marry, buy houses, have children, etc., I worry that I am going to be left behind. I told Thor that I am having a hard time waiting for him to return while other relationships are moving forward. I'm on hold listening to muzak. In a month I'll be 39! I feel too old to wait. I feel like time is running out. (Good lord, you'd think I have some kind of biological clock of my own ticking away the moments of my remaining life.)
Kent, my friend, as you said to me in an e-mail today, "I realize that I am responsible for my own happiness..." and I guess that we are also responsible for our own fears. I think by expressing our fears, we can better manage them. By being honest with our "darker" thoughts, we can more effectively express the joyful feelings that come along too.
What are we so afraid of? It's just life!
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Hot Toddy, Mystery Solver
On Sunday I called Thor at noon. "Someone's at the door, I'll call you right back," he said.
He didn't call me right back. I still hadn't heard from him at 1:00. Then 2:00 came and went with no word from him. 3:00, 4:00, 5:00 - still no call.
Around 6:00 I decided that he was on his way to Portland to surprise me. I figured the person at the door must be his ride to the airport, and that he was just waiting to call me back until he was at my front door. It would be the best surprise ever.
At 7:00, I decided his flight was delayed. By 9:00, I had abandoned hope of a surprise Labor Day visit from my boyfriend.
At 10:00, I climbed into bed to read. I was fuming at Thor for not calling back.
At 11:30, I turned off the light. My phone rang a couple minutes later.
"Honey, I have had the worst day," Thor told me. He then described a very chaotic day, and I understood why he hadn't called. I admitted to him that I had convinced myself he was on his way to surprise me. He laughed when I explained my theory of his surprise visit to Portland.
"Why do you do that? Why do you create stories in your head, Toddy?" he asked me.
"You always said I was like Nancy Drew. When something doesn't make sense to me, I try to solve the mystery," I replied.
"Toddy, I'm not sure you're really Nancy Drew after all. When Nancy Drew solves a mystery, she is usually right," Thor said.
I admitted that he had a point. I can create some pretty fantastic scenarios sometimes as I attempt to piece together evidence.
Thor laughed on the other end of the phone as he told me, "I think you are more like the Brady Bunch kids if they were trying to solve a mystery."
He knows me so well.
He didn't call me right back. I still hadn't heard from him at 1:00. Then 2:00 came and went with no word from him. 3:00, 4:00, 5:00 - still no call.
Around 6:00 I decided that he was on his way to Portland to surprise me. I figured the person at the door must be his ride to the airport, and that he was just waiting to call me back until he was at my front door. It would be the best surprise ever.
At 7:00, I decided his flight was delayed. By 9:00, I had abandoned hope of a surprise Labor Day visit from my boyfriend.
At 10:00, I climbed into bed to read. I was fuming at Thor for not calling back.
At 11:30, I turned off the light. My phone rang a couple minutes later.
"Honey, I have had the worst day," Thor told me. He then described a very chaotic day, and I understood why he hadn't called. I admitted to him that I had convinced myself he was on his way to surprise me. He laughed when I explained my theory of his surprise visit to Portland.
"Why do you do that? Why do you create stories in your head, Toddy?" he asked me.
"You always said I was like Nancy Drew. When something doesn't make sense to me, I try to solve the mystery," I replied.
"Toddy, I'm not sure you're really Nancy Drew after all. When Nancy Drew solves a mystery, she is usually right," Thor said.
I admitted that he had a point. I can create some pretty fantastic scenarios sometimes as I attempt to piece together evidence.
Thor laughed on the other end of the phone as he told me, "I think you are more like the Brady Bunch kids if they were trying to solve a mystery."
He knows me so well.
Separation
Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
-- W.S. Merwin
This time apart from Thor has not diminished me or left a hole in me. His absence from my daily life has, however, colored my world with a different shade.
It is remarkable how differently we are both responding to the situation. He's working harder, sleeping less and becoming more impulsive. I'm distracted at work, sleeping more and reading books.
This weekend I went hiking. This weekend Thor had his nipples pierced. (Don't think I didn't start salivating the minute I heard that. My tongue goes with nipple piercings like chocolate goes with peanut butter.)
It will be interesting to come back together and observe the way our separation has colored our worlds. I'm fortunate to be in a relationship that is being tested in its early stages. What I've learned so far is that absence does make the heart grow fonder, we still make each other laugh, and, so far, the sky hasn't fallen.
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
-- W.S. Merwin
This time apart from Thor has not diminished me or left a hole in me. His absence from my daily life has, however, colored my world with a different shade.
It is remarkable how differently we are both responding to the situation. He's working harder, sleeping less and becoming more impulsive. I'm distracted at work, sleeping more and reading books.
This weekend I went hiking. This weekend Thor had his nipples pierced. (Don't think I didn't start salivating the minute I heard that. My tongue goes with nipple piercings like chocolate goes with peanut butter.)
It will be interesting to come back together and observe the way our separation has colored our worlds. I'm fortunate to be in a relationship that is being tested in its early stages. What I've learned so far is that absence does make the heart grow fonder, we still make each other laugh, and, so far, the sky hasn't fallen.
Friday, September 02, 2005
My Hero
This week, my man Thor rescued a jackrabbit that had fallen down into a hole. I couldn't follow the story very well since we tend to speak quickly and interrupt each other a lot on our phone calls, but I know the jackrabbit rescue ended happily with the jackrabbit thanking Thor for saving his life before the bunny hopped away.
Thor is a gentle giant. Kind to animals and children, he reminds me of Jesus or Pa Ingalls. On the other hand, with his shaved head, tattoo and pierced ear, he looks like he could possibly be cast in HBO's OZ series. Please bear with me a moment as I reflect on a prison fantasy that just popped into my head.
Wow. MMmmmmm. Nice. Woof!
Okay, I'm back. What was I saying? Oh, yes. Thor is tough. He can be intimidating at first glance. But children, animals and trusting grown men like me know that he is kind and warm. I remember one late night when Thor and I stood next to my car and a woman walked by with her dog. She seemed nervous when Thor said hello to her. Then he asked her, "Do you know Patty Griffin?" (We had just come from the concert).
The woman nervously answered that she didn't. "Me neither," he said. The woman kept walking, and I had to chuckle at the pointless exchange that had just occurred. He certainly never meant to make her nervous, but I could see her quicken her pace as she walked away.
Sometimes he is a little scary to me when we're playing. He always says that he loves the look in my eyes when we play games, because it is obvious I have no idea what to expect from him. That's exciting to both of us! I'm looking forward to the next time I experience that sensation. Then I can stop being jealous that other people seem to be having all the fun!
Thor is a gentle giant. Kind to animals and children, he reminds me of Jesus or Pa Ingalls. On the other hand, with his shaved head, tattoo and pierced ear, he looks like he could possibly be cast in HBO's OZ series. Please bear with me a moment as I reflect on a prison fantasy that just popped into my head.
Wow. MMmmmmm. Nice. Woof!
Okay, I'm back. What was I saying? Oh, yes. Thor is tough. He can be intimidating at first glance. But children, animals and trusting grown men like me know that he is kind and warm. I remember one late night when Thor and I stood next to my car and a woman walked by with her dog. She seemed nervous when Thor said hello to her. Then he asked her, "Do you know Patty Griffin?" (We had just come from the concert).
The woman nervously answered that she didn't. "Me neither," he said. The woman kept walking, and I had to chuckle at the pointless exchange that had just occurred. He certainly never meant to make her nervous, but I could see her quicken her pace as she walked away.
Sometimes he is a little scary to me when we're playing. He always says that he loves the look in my eyes when we play games, because it is obvious I have no idea what to expect from him. That's exciting to both of us! I'm looking forward to the next time I experience that sensation. Then I can stop being jealous that other people seem to be having all the fun!
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Pony Post
It has been a long while since I posted about Pony. Last year, he was a regular feature on Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. I was obsessed with him.
Pony still trots across the pages of this blog from time to time, but not as often as he used to. When he found love in the arms of someone else, it hurt me for a time. But things have really worked out perfectly between us. Our friendship has become so valuable to me. He is a wonderful asset to my life.
Last night he invited me to Happy Seven Hours at CCs, and we sang karaoke and drank and laughed. He's been great at cheering me up when I miss Thor. I even like Pony's boyfriend and no longer wish he would burst into flames. So, all in all, things are going great for us as friends. I love you, Pony!
I was going to also link to somebody who calls me "Pony's Ex Baby Daddy" in his blogroll, but I can't find that blog right now, and Juju is yelling at me over the wall to work on an employee survey template that is due today, so I have to run now.
Pony still trots across the pages of this blog from time to time, but not as often as he used to. When he found love in the arms of someone else, it hurt me for a time. But things have really worked out perfectly between us. Our friendship has become so valuable to me. He is a wonderful asset to my life.
Last night he invited me to Happy Seven Hours at CCs, and we sang karaoke and drank and laughed. He's been great at cheering me up when I miss Thor. I even like Pony's boyfriend and no longer wish he would burst into flames. So, all in all, things are going great for us as friends. I love you, Pony!
I was going to also link to somebody who calls me "Pony's Ex Baby Daddy" in his blogroll, but I can't find that blog right now, and Juju is yelling at me over the wall to work on an employee survey template that is due today, so I have to run now.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Monday in Two Acts
Act One - Monday Morning
Woke up - made some coffee - showered - got ready for work - drank some coffee - checked the weather - took out the trash - so busy! - drove to work - got to the office early - returned phone calls - checked e-mail - scheduled training - updated database - took a break - checked mail - answered e-mails - returned another phone call - so busy! - wrote to a friend - researched IT classes - spoke to a vendor - took lunch - researched more IT training - spoke to a vendor - took a break - had a meeting - left office - drove home - took a walk in the park - so busy! - went to see a friend - played cards - drank beer - played more cards - said goodbye - drove home - take the elevator up to my loft - open the door - step inside.
Act Two - Monday Evening
I am alone. My apartment is empty. Quiet. Outside on my balcony, I can hear the fountain that Thor made for me. The soothing sound of trickling water. The night is calm and cool.
I look at a picture of Thor and me wearing cowboy hats. We're laughing in that one. (Oh, to hear him laugh right now.)
I contemplate the word "PATIENCE" etched onto a rock I keep on my nightstand. "I'm trying," I whisper to nobody.
I look at my phone, wishing he'd call.
My loft is devoid of energy. Almost as if nobody lives here. It is a museum after closing hours, and the silence is suffocating me.
The water keeps trickling, but the sound is no longer soothing. It has become monotonous. Nothing moves - not even time.
Waiting to hear his voice, afraid to miss his call, I carry the phone with me everywhere. Into the bedroom, into the bathroom, into the kitchen, out onto the balcony. I look at the sky. I wait.
I can't listen to the water anymore. I can't think anymore. I can't miss him anymore. The night is over. Nobody calls at this hour. Friends who are not lonely have gone to bed. The world is ready for tomorrow, but not me. If I end this day, I admit that today was a day without any word from him.
Giving up, I sink into my bed and will myself to sleep. I attempt to rush the process, wanting to be released from yearning and depression. Tomorrow I can be busy again, and I'll try not to think.
Woke up - made some coffee - showered - got ready for work - drank some coffee - checked the weather - took out the trash - so busy! - drove to work - got to the office early - returned phone calls - checked e-mail - scheduled training - updated database - took a break - checked mail - answered e-mails - returned another phone call - so busy! - wrote to a friend - researched IT classes - spoke to a vendor - took lunch - researched more IT training - spoke to a vendor - took a break - had a meeting - left office - drove home - took a walk in the park - so busy! - went to see a friend - played cards - drank beer - played more cards - said goodbye - drove home - take the elevator up to my loft - open the door - step inside.
Act Two - Monday Evening
I am alone. My apartment is empty. Quiet. Outside on my balcony, I can hear the fountain that Thor made for me. The soothing sound of trickling water. The night is calm and cool.
I look at a picture of Thor and me wearing cowboy hats. We're laughing in that one. (Oh, to hear him laugh right now.)
I contemplate the word "PATIENCE" etched onto a rock I keep on my nightstand. "I'm trying," I whisper to nobody.
I look at my phone, wishing he'd call.
My loft is devoid of energy. Almost as if nobody lives here. It is a museum after closing hours, and the silence is suffocating me.
The water keeps trickling, but the sound is no longer soothing. It has become monotonous. Nothing moves - not even time.
Waiting to hear his voice, afraid to miss his call, I carry the phone with me everywhere. Into the bedroom, into the bathroom, into the kitchen, out onto the balcony. I look at the sky. I wait.
I can't listen to the water anymore. I can't think anymore. I can't miss him anymore. The night is over. Nobody calls at this hour. Friends who are not lonely have gone to bed. The world is ready for tomorrow, but not me. If I end this day, I admit that today was a day without any word from him.
Giving up, I sink into my bed and will myself to sleep. I attempt to rush the process, wanting to be released from yearning and depression. Tomorrow I can be busy again, and I'll try not to think.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Keeping My Pants On
If your name is "Anonymous" and you read this post and are tempted to leave a comment telling me how disappointed you are with today's post, let me save you the trouble. Yes, I know you find my Thor posts "boring". Yes, I know you liked me better when I was miserable. Yes, I know that blogging about my crush on The Rock is funnier than blogging about my love affair with the man of my dreams.
The solution is simple. Go read something else. Don't nominate me for any blog awards. Don't comment (that'll teach me!) - Tell all your friends you hate me and that my blog has "jumped the shark".
Since I began this blog one boring December day in 2004, I have written my posts based on the way I felt at that particular moment. When I found myself pondering the lid of a Snapple cap, I wrote about my silly thoughts. When ex-boyfriends threw beer in my face or hurt my feelings or left hateful comments, I wrote about my anger and disappointment. This blog is called "Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven", not "Anonymous Reader's Toaster Oven".
That said, here is what I am thinking about today.
Thor has been away now for two weeks. It will be at least twice that long before I see him again for a short visit. My whole heart aches. I can't take a walk in the park or listen to Patty Griffin or go to a strip bar without tears welling up in my eyes. Yeah, so, I got misty-eyed in a strip bar and it wasn't because of the cigarette smoke, what of it? I tell you I think about him all the time because I loved the way he made me feel, and I loved the way I made him feel.
I've really been having a rough time keeping my pants on ever since Thor left. I mean that in every sense of the word. I am craving the warm tender feeling you can only find in physical touch. I know that my sex drive is ridiculous. It is through the roof sometimes. So, I'm not the perfect candidate for a long distance relationship. I need touch and lots of it.
Perhaps if I were waiting for a less desirable man to come home to me, I'd allow myself to indulge in some innocent heavy petting with someone, but the fact that my guy is, to me, the sexiest man alive, makes it hard for me to act on my impulses with anyone but him. Believe me, I've tried, but I can't take the way it makes me feel inside when I sort of "dip my toe" into the infidelity pool. You'd think the fact that he trusts me completely and sees my need for an occasional kiss or more as a purely innocent distraction while he's away would absolve me of the feeling that I belong to him. It doesn't.
My only defense is to make myself as undesirable as possible. That is why I have taken to wearing my grandpa underwear until Thor comes back to me. What is my grandpa underwear? Well, if you didn't click the link the first time, I'll give you one more chance.
The solution is simple. Go read something else. Don't nominate me for any blog awards. Don't comment (that'll teach me!) - Tell all your friends you hate me and that my blog has "jumped the shark".
Since I began this blog one boring December day in 2004, I have written my posts based on the way I felt at that particular moment. When I found myself pondering the lid of a Snapple cap, I wrote about my silly thoughts. When ex-boyfriends threw beer in my face or hurt my feelings or left hateful comments, I wrote about my anger and disappointment. This blog is called "Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven", not "Anonymous Reader's Toaster Oven".
That said, here is what I am thinking about today.
Thor has been away now for two weeks. It will be at least twice that long before I see him again for a short visit. My whole heart aches. I can't take a walk in the park or listen to Patty Griffin or go to a strip bar without tears welling up in my eyes. Yeah, so, I got misty-eyed in a strip bar and it wasn't because of the cigarette smoke, what of it? I tell you I think about him all the time because I loved the way he made me feel, and I loved the way I made him feel.
I've really been having a rough time keeping my pants on ever since Thor left. I mean that in every sense of the word. I am craving the warm tender feeling you can only find in physical touch. I know that my sex drive is ridiculous. It is through the roof sometimes. So, I'm not the perfect candidate for a long distance relationship. I need touch and lots of it.
Perhaps if I were waiting for a less desirable man to come home to me, I'd allow myself to indulge in some innocent heavy petting with someone, but the fact that my guy is, to me, the sexiest man alive, makes it hard for me to act on my impulses with anyone but him. Believe me, I've tried, but I can't take the way it makes me feel inside when I sort of "dip my toe" into the infidelity pool. You'd think the fact that he trusts me completely and sees my need for an occasional kiss or more as a purely innocent distraction while he's away would absolve me of the feeling that I belong to him. It doesn't.
My only defense is to make myself as undesirable as possible. That is why I have taken to wearing my grandpa underwear until Thor comes back to me. What is my grandpa underwear? Well, if you didn't click the link the first time, I'll give you one more chance.
The Gayest Post in the World
My former housemate, The Handsome Prince, just sent me an e-mail letting me know I had inadvertently left my Glinda the Good Witch Tree Topper in the attic when I moved out.
My ex, CT, didn't like the Glinda the Good Witch tree topper I bought him while I was on a tour with the Wizard of Oz traveling memorabilia museum tour that visited all the Planet Hollywoods in the country back in 1996. Instead, he preferred the Tinkerbell Tree Topper he purchased at The Disney Store.
If you ever read a gayer blog post than this one, please let me know.
My ex, CT, didn't like the Glinda the Good Witch tree topper I bought him while I was on a tour with the Wizard of Oz traveling memorabilia museum tour that visited all the Planet Hollywoods in the country back in 1996. Instead, he preferred the Tinkerbell Tree Topper he purchased at The Disney Store.
If you ever read a gayer blog post than this one, please let me know.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Hot Toddy Tackles Education
This morning I woke up at 5:30 a.m. faced with a choice. I could either cry because I woke up without Thor's arms around me, or I could transform the United States education system. One box of kleenex, a quick phone call to my company-sponsored mental health hotline, and a tear-soaked pillowcase later, I realized I still had plenty of time to transform education before I got to the office. So, here is my plan.
First of all, we need to get these kids in school earlier. Children are waiting much too long to get out there and learn. That is why we lag behind other countries in our duty to educating our young citizens. Children need to start attending school the minute they stop breast-feeding. Or we could just hire lactating teachers and get those kids to school even sooner.
Starting school earlier means, of course, the children will need to brush up on communication skills sooner too. It is my stance that infants need to have at least a passing knowledge of the language spoken in their native country prior to being born. If a fetus is about to be hatched, or whatever, in Guatemala, he or she damn well better be able to comprehend - um - Guatemese - before he or she pushes through the birth canal.
I am not insisting babies be able to actually speak their native language fluently, but I do not think it is too much to ask that they understand basic commands such as, "Please stop crying" or "Mommy had a few too many martinis tonight and needs to sleep off her drunken stupor, so please don't plan on waking her with your incessant howling before noon tomorrow."
I am working on some other plans to help socialize our children in school, such as ostracizing the ugly kids from the hot kids without waiting for them to do it themselves in junior high. I am a firm believer that the ugly kids should eat lunch in a separate section of the cafeteria, and this should begin in grade school. Why allow ugly children to grow up with the false hope that they are as good as everyone else when their self-esteem is bound to be shattered in a few years anyway? The sooner children who aren't hot learn to eat with others like them, the better off everyone will be.
Finally, teachers, especially the lactating ones, must be rewarded heartily for their self-sacrificing devotion tohaving three months off every year shaping young lives. Teachers should be picked up for school in limousines every morning and should get signing bonuses and free massages and gift certificates to TGI Friday's simply for showing up to work. I couldn't do what they do for one day. For one thing I would flirt with the hot boys in my class and be fired immediately. But even if my inappropriate advances somehow made it under the radar, I know there is no way I could commit to being on time for class every single morning.
So, I will just make decisions about education and tell everyone how to change that institution without actually having experience or, for that matter, any knowledge whatsoever about the system. Just like our politicians.
First of all, we need to get these kids in school earlier. Children are waiting much too long to get out there and learn. That is why we lag behind other countries in our duty to educating our young citizens. Children need to start attending school the minute they stop breast-feeding. Or we could just hire lactating teachers and get those kids to school even sooner.
Starting school earlier means, of course, the children will need to brush up on communication skills sooner too. It is my stance that infants need to have at least a passing knowledge of the language spoken in their native country prior to being born. If a fetus is about to be hatched, or whatever, in Guatemala, he or she damn well better be able to comprehend - um - Guatemese - before he or she pushes through the birth canal.
I am not insisting babies be able to actually speak their native language fluently, but I do not think it is too much to ask that they understand basic commands such as, "Please stop crying" or "Mommy had a few too many martinis tonight and needs to sleep off her drunken stupor, so please don't plan on waking her with your incessant howling before noon tomorrow."
I am working on some other plans to help socialize our children in school, such as ostracizing the ugly kids from the hot kids without waiting for them to do it themselves in junior high. I am a firm believer that the ugly kids should eat lunch in a separate section of the cafeteria, and this should begin in grade school. Why allow ugly children to grow up with the false hope that they are as good as everyone else when their self-esteem is bound to be shattered in a few years anyway? The sooner children who aren't hot learn to eat with others like them, the better off everyone will be.
Finally, teachers, especially the lactating ones, must be rewarded heartily for their self-sacrificing devotion to
So, I will just make decisions about education and tell everyone how to change that institution without actually having experience or, for that matter, any knowledge whatsoever about the system. Just like our politicians.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
My Little Buttercup
I called one of my dearest friends, Buttercup, last night. We haven't spoken for almost a year, but we talked comfortably as only old friends can. Buttercup is the kind of friend who doesn't hold a grudge if you drift out of her life for a time. She is always waiting with open arms, the same way I wait for her. We will always be friends, because she knows how to give her friends room to fly yet always welcomes them back after their journeys.
I love you, Buttercup. It was wonderful to hear that you regularly read Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. I'm not surprised you never comment. You always were a bit on the mysterious side.
In case you missed it the first time, here is a story about the time Buttercup and I worked at a summer camp in Minnesota.
I love you, Buttercup. It was wonderful to hear that you regularly read Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. I'm not surprised you never comment. You always were a bit on the mysterious side.
In case you missed it the first time, here is a story about the time Buttercup and I worked at a summer camp in Minnesota.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
WGM ISO LDR
Nobody ever looks for a long distance relationship (LDR) do they? I mean, it has to be the most inconvenient type of relationship I've ever known. You can't just pick up the phone randomly to call, especially if your boyfriend refuses to get a cell phone. I mostly have to wait for him to call.
I take notes about things I want to remember to tell Thor. The cards I'm sending him always contain news that is several days old, and he usually calls before I mail the cards, so I end up telling him everything on the phone.
Thor has called me every single day since he left. He is sweet and supportive and understanding. I am crazy and miserable and paranoid. He sounds very happy, at least from what I can hear between my sobs and raging. Still, he keeps calling. He must love me a lot.
I'm starting to understand why everyone on Survivor cries when they get letters from home. I always thought the survivors were being a bit overdramatic after having only been away from their loved ones for a few weeks.
Thanks to those of you who have sent cheerful comments and e-mails. They are helping to encourage me more than you know!
I take notes about things I want to remember to tell Thor. The cards I'm sending him always contain news that is several days old, and he usually calls before I mail the cards, so I end up telling him everything on the phone.
Thor has called me every single day since he left. He is sweet and supportive and understanding. I am crazy and miserable and paranoid. He sounds very happy, at least from what I can hear between my sobs and raging. Still, he keeps calling. He must love me a lot.
I'm starting to understand why everyone on Survivor cries when they get letters from home. I always thought the survivors were being a bit overdramatic after having only been away from their loved ones for a few weeks.
Thanks to those of you who have sent cheerful comments and e-mails. They are helping to encourage me more than you know!
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Lighter Cocktail Parties
If you googled "lighter cocktail parties" and ended up here, I apologize. I think this blog is probably what you were looking for.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Apology to my New Neighbors
Dear New Neighbors:
I would like to apologize for the inconvenience that has descended upon you, namely Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. I know that it hasn't been easy having me for a neighbor since I moved in earlier this month. You'll adjust. Remember when we began to see increased airport security a few years ago? At first it was pretty irritating, but most of us have adjusted to the new screening methods. Some things, like airport security or having me for a neighbor, just take some getting used to.
To the cool lesbian who lives below my unit, I am sorry that my boyfriend and I woke you up when we came home at 3:00 in the morning a couple weeks ago. True, we should have thought to remove our cowboy boots before walking on the hardwood floor above your head. Actually, to you it is a ceiling above your head, not a hardwood floor, but you get my drift. I'm sorry. And last night when I ran into you at Crush, you were very nice and, I might add, happy to see that I was wearing rubber-soled sandals.
To the neighbor who let me in when I locked myself out my first night there, I am sorry that you were inconvenienced. However, I still don't know anybody else's last name in the entire building, so don't be surprised if I have to bug you again soon.
Finally, to the resident next to the stairwell, I am sorry I entered your apartment yesterday with my bag of garbage. I thought I was in the stairwell. Honest. It wasn't until I saw your furniture and computer that I realized I had passed the door to the stairwell and brought a bag of trash into your home.
Also, I am sorry that I ran before you could find out who was in your apartment. I am sorry that I tried to cover my tracks by taking the stairs to the second floor and then jumping on the elevator so you'd lose my trail. I have watched a lot of Alias, so I know how to make quick getaways. You have to forgive me for using my extensive secret agent knowledge against you.
So, residents of the Toaster Oven lofts, I am sorry for all of you. Please be patient as I attempt to adjust to this new urban lifestyle. And please keep your doors locked if you don't want me wandering in and out of your homes.
I would like to apologize for the inconvenience that has descended upon you, namely Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. I know that it hasn't been easy having me for a neighbor since I moved in earlier this month. You'll adjust. Remember when we began to see increased airport security a few years ago? At first it was pretty irritating, but most of us have adjusted to the new screening methods. Some things, like airport security or having me for a neighbor, just take some getting used to.
To the cool lesbian who lives below my unit, I am sorry that my boyfriend and I woke you up when we came home at 3:00 in the morning a couple weeks ago. True, we should have thought to remove our cowboy boots before walking on the hardwood floor above your head. Actually, to you it is a ceiling above your head, not a hardwood floor, but you get my drift. I'm sorry. And last night when I ran into you at Crush, you were very nice and, I might add, happy to see that I was wearing rubber-soled sandals.
To the neighbor who let me in when I locked myself out my first night there, I am sorry that you were inconvenienced. However, I still don't know anybody else's last name in the entire building, so don't be surprised if I have to bug you again soon.
Finally, to the resident next to the stairwell, I am sorry I entered your apartment yesterday with my bag of garbage. I thought I was in the stairwell. Honest. It wasn't until I saw your furniture and computer that I realized I had passed the door to the stairwell and brought a bag of trash into your home.
Also, I am sorry that I ran before you could find out who was in your apartment. I am sorry that I tried to cover my tracks by taking the stairs to the second floor and then jumping on the elevator so you'd lose my trail. I have watched a lot of Alias, so I know how to make quick getaways. You have to forgive me for using my extensive secret agent knowledge against you.
So, residents of the Toaster Oven lofts, I am sorry for all of you. Please be patient as I attempt to adjust to this new urban lifestyle. And please keep your doors locked if you don't want me wandering in and out of your homes.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Desperate Housewife
Wow, can you believe what is going on in the news lately? That Desperate Housewife got hit in the head with a pole and something happened in the Gaza Strip. I'm not interested. What is important is what is going on in my life. If anyone is the desperate housewife, it's me.
First I just want to say that if I have to hear Somewhere Goddamn Out There or John Fucking Waite's Missing You on the radio one more time, I'm going to have to hit someone over the head with a pole, and it won't be pretty. The radio is tormenting me on purpose. I know this to be true.
And let me also state that Target seemed like it might provide a distraction from my loneliness last night, so I wandered around the store for a while but there are definitely not enough Simpson's boxer shorts or Willy Wonka candies in the world to make me forget Thor.
He commented yesterday by the way. It was his first time reading my blog, and now the world knows my secret. I'm in love with a man who writes in all capital letters. Remember when I used to be such a snob about punctuation, grammar, spelling and the like? No more. It would be hypocritical of me to criticize at this point. Sorry, but muscular hairy chest trumps grammar. Thor wins.
Oh, and now you know another secret about me. I allow Thor to refer to me as his wife. I have always detested the idea of being called a "husband" to my boyfriend - and being called "wife" was completely out of the question. But you should hear the way he says it. You should see him shake his head at me when I do something goofy or stupid (which is often) as he sighs, "my wife". He says it with such affection. He can call me whatever he wants. He can call me his bitch if he says it with love. I don't care anymore.
Actually, Thor has lots of nicknames for me. Two are kinda dirty, and extremely personal, and I don't think I should share them here. One of his nicknames for me is "Lucy", as in Lucille Ball. I think I got that nickname when I shook up a Pepsi bottle before mixing a drink because I wanted to make sure the soda wasn't flat. It wasn't. Not at all.
He also calls me "Runaway Bride" because of a certain incident that occurred a few weeks ago when I kind of threw a fit over something stupid and left his house in the middle of the night when he was sleeping. I stopped being mad when he called me Runaway Bride the next day. It was too funny and too accurate. I couldn't stay angry.
Last night I only got to talk to him on the phone for 17 minutes and 38 seconds. It is bad enough that I can't touch him, but if I only get to hear his sexy voice for 17 minutes and 38 seconds a day, I am going to go insane for sure. Tonight maybe I'll go check out the goods at Wal-Mart. If you happen to be at that store and see a crazed 6'6" blonde man pushing a cart asking if anyone has seen his husband, be sure to say hello.
First I just want to say that if I have to hear Somewhere Goddamn Out There or John Fucking Waite's Missing You on the radio one more time, I'm going to have to hit someone over the head with a pole, and it won't be pretty. The radio is tormenting me on purpose. I know this to be true.
And let me also state that Target seemed like it might provide a distraction from my loneliness last night, so I wandered around the store for a while but there are definitely not enough Simpson's boxer shorts or Willy Wonka candies in the world to make me forget Thor.
He commented yesterday by the way. It was his first time reading my blog, and now the world knows my secret. I'm in love with a man who writes in all capital letters. Remember when I used to be such a snob about punctuation, grammar, spelling and the like? No more. It would be hypocritical of me to criticize at this point. Sorry, but muscular hairy chest trumps grammar. Thor wins.
Oh, and now you know another secret about me. I allow Thor to refer to me as his wife. I have always detested the idea of being called a "husband" to my boyfriend - and being called "wife" was completely out of the question. But you should hear the way he says it. You should see him shake his head at me when I do something goofy or stupid (which is often) as he sighs, "my wife". He says it with such affection. He can call me whatever he wants. He can call me his bitch if he says it with love. I don't care anymore.
Actually, Thor has lots of nicknames for me. Two are kinda dirty, and extremely personal, and I don't think I should share them here. One of his nicknames for me is "Lucy", as in Lucille Ball. I think I got that nickname when I shook up a Pepsi bottle before mixing a drink because I wanted to make sure the soda wasn't flat. It wasn't. Not at all.
He also calls me "Runaway Bride" because of a certain incident that occurred a few weeks ago when I kind of threw a fit over something stupid and left his house in the middle of the night when he was sleeping. I stopped being mad when he called me Runaway Bride the next day. It was too funny and too accurate. I couldn't stay angry.
Last night I only got to talk to him on the phone for 17 minutes and 38 seconds. It is bad enough that I can't touch him, but if I only get to hear his sexy voice for 17 minutes and 38 seconds a day, I am going to go insane for sure. Tonight maybe I'll go check out the goods at Wal-Mart. If you happen to be at that store and see a crazed 6'6" blonde man pushing a cart asking if anyone has seen his husband, be sure to say hello.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
The Final Countdown
We didn't sleep much on our last night together. We cried and held each other and felt the warmth of our bodies passing between us. My alarm was set for 4:15 a.m., because I had to leave for my trip to Texas that morning. Thor was taking me to the airport, and we would have our final goodbye there.
At 3:30 in the morning, I whispered to him that I wanted to see how much time we had left. For a couple hours I had tried not to look at the clock, hoping to relish every last moment. But I needed to know how much longer I had to be with him. After checking the time, I told him that we had about 45 more minutes to be in bed together.
When the alarm went off, I told him I wasn't ready. We needed more time, so I reset the alarm for 4:35. I turned towards him again and buried my face in his chest. 20 minutes later, the alarm once again shattered our peaceful repose.
"We don't have to leave for 20 more minutes, Thor. Let's stay close like this," I told him.
"That is what you said 20 minutes ago, Toddy," he answered.
"I changed it. I'm extending our deadline," I laughed. We pressed closer together and held on for dear life.
In what felt like three minutes, the alarm went off again. There was no more time.
"Okay. I'm going to get up now," I insisted. We both knew I was lying. Neither of us moved a muscle.
After a couple minutes, I realized I would have to be the strong one.
"Thor, I'm getting up in five...four..."
He pulled me tighter to his powerful body, and I started to cry. "Three...two..."
With all his might, he held onto my body. He squeezed so hard, I could barely breathe.
He didn't loosen his grip when I reached one. He kept holding onto me. Then I did something I never want to do again. I pushed away from him. Just a little, but enough so he would know I needed to be released from his grip. He relaxed his arms and let me go. I pulled myself out of his bed and tried to stifle my sobs.
If I could live one moment in time for all eternity, I would choose that night. I would still be in his arms right now, and I would never have to countdown those last five seconds.
At 3:30 in the morning, I whispered to him that I wanted to see how much time we had left. For a couple hours I had tried not to look at the clock, hoping to relish every last moment. But I needed to know how much longer I had to be with him. After checking the time, I told him that we had about 45 more minutes to be in bed together.
When the alarm went off, I told him I wasn't ready. We needed more time, so I reset the alarm for 4:35. I turned towards him again and buried my face in his chest. 20 minutes later, the alarm once again shattered our peaceful repose.
"We don't have to leave for 20 more minutes, Thor. Let's stay close like this," I told him.
"That is what you said 20 minutes ago, Toddy," he answered.
"I changed it. I'm extending our deadline," I laughed. We pressed closer together and held on for dear life.
In what felt like three minutes, the alarm went off again. There was no more time.
"Okay. I'm going to get up now," I insisted. We both knew I was lying. Neither of us moved a muscle.
After a couple minutes, I realized I would have to be the strong one.
"Thor, I'm getting up in five...four..."
He pulled me tighter to his powerful body, and I started to cry. "Three...two..."
With all his might, he held onto my body. He squeezed so hard, I could barely breathe.
He didn't loosen his grip when I reached one. He kept holding onto me. Then I did something I never want to do again. I pushed away from him. Just a little, but enough so he would know I needed to be released from his grip. He relaxed his arms and let me go. I pulled myself out of his bed and tried to stifle my sobs.
If I could live one moment in time for all eternity, I would choose that night. I would still be in his arms right now, and I would never have to countdown those last five seconds.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Unplugged
Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven will be unplugged for about a week, but I'm not asking anyone to guest blog because you will end up liking them better than you like me. So, please enjoy some of the wonderful bloggers I've linked to, and I'll be back soon.
The next time you hear from me, Thor will be living somewhere between Ukiah, Oregon and Northern California. My primary contact with him will be phone calls, which doesn't completely suck because he has one of the sexiest voices I've ever heard. This morning he said, "why don't you go take a shower so you won't be late to work," and I made him repeat it twice into my ear. It was better than phone sex.
Again, I will state that I love my man and respect him for his love of family. I would have a hard time curbing my selfish desires to care for an immediate member of my family, let alone caring for a cousin. I wish with all my heart he did not have to go, but we have made each other a promise to be back together as soon as possible.
Besides my need for reflection and quiet as I deal with my boyfriend's departure, I'm also unplugging the oven so I can spend some time with my family in Texas. I will be spending a lot of time sitting by the pool at my parent's house, and my mother promises a trip to IKEA will be on our agenda.
When I return to Portland next week, I plan on finally unpacking some boxes and setting up my living space. I haven't spent a night there for over a week, since I'm pretty much glued to Thor until he goes.
I'll have to take some time rekindling friendships and asking forgiveness from some people once my man leaves. I have become the epitome of what I dislike in people who are in love. I have put my friendships on the back burner, and I realize some of my friends are feeling like they are not a priority. In normal dating circumstances, I hope that I would have done things differently. Knowing my time with Thor was so limited made me want to spend every second with him, and I hope that my friends will understand that when I come crawling back to them with my guilty conscience.
Thor, you have given me the most incredible three months. You've made me believe that I can have a relationship that meets my needs and brings me incredible joy. You have taken care of my heart completely. I've never experienced anything like this. And I promise that whenever I doubt we will be back together again, I will remember your comforting words one night when I was crying over our unknown future:
"Of course we will live together someday, dumb ass."
Thor, I love you more than Heinz Ketchup.
The next time you hear from me, Thor will be living somewhere between Ukiah, Oregon and Northern California. My primary contact with him will be phone calls, which doesn't completely suck because he has one of the sexiest voices I've ever heard. This morning he said, "why don't you go take a shower so you won't be late to work," and I made him repeat it twice into my ear. It was better than phone sex.
Again, I will state that I love my man and respect him for his love of family. I would have a hard time curbing my selfish desires to care for an immediate member of my family, let alone caring for a cousin. I wish with all my heart he did not have to go, but we have made each other a promise to be back together as soon as possible.
Besides my need for reflection and quiet as I deal with my boyfriend's departure, I'm also unplugging the oven so I can spend some time with my family in Texas. I will be spending a lot of time sitting by the pool at my parent's house, and my mother promises a trip to IKEA will be on our agenda.
When I return to Portland next week, I plan on finally unpacking some boxes and setting up my living space. I haven't spent a night there for over a week, since I'm pretty much glued to Thor until he goes.
I'll have to take some time rekindling friendships and asking forgiveness from some people once my man leaves. I have become the epitome of what I dislike in people who are in love. I have put my friendships on the back burner, and I realize some of my friends are feeling like they are not a priority. In normal dating circumstances, I hope that I would have done things differently. Knowing my time with Thor was so limited made me want to spend every second with him, and I hope that my friends will understand that when I come crawling back to them with my guilty conscience.
Thor, you have given me the most incredible three months. You've made me believe that I can have a relationship that meets my needs and brings me incredible joy. You have taken care of my heart completely. I've never experienced anything like this. And I promise that whenever I doubt we will be back together again, I will remember your comforting words one night when I was crying over our unknown future:
"Of course we will live together someday, dumb ass."
Thor, I love you more than Heinz Ketchup.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Crime and Punishment
Last night I engaged in some lascivious behavior with my boyfriend. I enthusiastically tried some new things I've never done before, and he was an excellent teacher. As I drifted off to sleep in Thor's arms, I visualized police cars chasing me down a dark road. I jolted awake when my mind visualized a cop car heading straight at me with its lights flashing.
I asked Thor if he was still awake so I could tell him about my dream. When I revealed my strange visions to him, he said it made sense. After all, we had so much fun last night, I almost feel like we broke a law or something.
Auburn Pisces came to the rescue last night by supplying my man with some great advice (and a nice big shot of Patron). This seemed to do the trick. The best part of playing with Thor is that he's incredibly creative. He always invents new games, and I am a willing participant. I trust him and am never scared, because I know that every game we play ends with his arms around me and his deep soothing voice whispering tender words to me.
In light of my very conservative christian upbringing, I am rather proud of my willingness to try new things and "break laws". The laws I'm referring to were instilled in me by people who meant well, but they weren't necessarily right in their teachings. Sometimes sex can feel dangerous, and that's okay. Not only okay. It's wonderful. I'm glad I have friends who encourage me to branch out and try new things. Juju has always been incredibly supportive and encouraging when it comes to giving advice. Between her and Auburn Pisces, I feel like I have two of the best counselors a guy could ever hope for.
I have only a few more days with Thor before he goes away for a while. And damn it, I plan to go out with a bang. Maybe I will even get arrested by the morality police.
I asked Thor if he was still awake so I could tell him about my dream. When I revealed my strange visions to him, he said it made sense. After all, we had so much fun last night, I almost feel like we broke a law or something.
Auburn Pisces came to the rescue last night by supplying my man with some great advice (and a nice big shot of Patron). This seemed to do the trick. The best part of playing with Thor is that he's incredibly creative. He always invents new games, and I am a willing participant. I trust him and am never scared, because I know that every game we play ends with his arms around me and his deep soothing voice whispering tender words to me.
In light of my very conservative christian upbringing, I am rather proud of my willingness to try new things and "break laws". The laws I'm referring to were instilled in me by people who meant well, but they weren't necessarily right in their teachings. Sometimes sex can feel dangerous, and that's okay. Not only okay. It's wonderful. I'm glad I have friends who encourage me to branch out and try new things. Juju has always been incredibly supportive and encouraging when it comes to giving advice. Between her and Auburn Pisces, I feel like I have two of the best counselors a guy could ever hope for.
I have only a few more days with Thor before he goes away for a while. And damn it, I plan to go out with a bang. Maybe I will even get arrested by the morality police.
Friday, August 05, 2005
The Rainbow's End
Thor accompanied me to Patty Griffin's concert last night. He says that I like "lesbian music", so I warned him ahead of time that Patty's acoustic folk style may not be his cup of beer, but he loves me and went with me anyway.
During the opening act, Thor whispered to me that he wished he'd taken his medication for ADHD, and I agreed that would have been helpful. He was all over the place last night. He couldn't sit still. He couldn't stop his mind from racing, and I knew it would be a long concert for him since Patty Griffin rarely employs flash pots or smoke machines in her performances.
While the audience waited for Patty to begin her show, a cute boy and fiddle-playing girl charmed us with their music, although not enough for me to take note of their names, apparently. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Thor counting. He then informed me that 24 people in the back 10 rows were wearing eyeglasses. I thanked him for the information and took hold of his hand.
A few minutes later, he pulled his hand away and began counting again. Then he whispered, "Toddy, what is 53 times 16?"
"Honey, I have no idea."
Thor asked me to get my cell phone out and use the calculator function to answer his math question. I whispered back to him, "I don't have it with me. It's in the car."
"I need to know," he insisted. So I attempted to do the math by drawing imaginary numbers on my leg. I came up with eight hundred and something. Then I asked him why he needed to know.
"See that light board? It has 53 rows of 16 buttons," he said. "But there is no way that totals eight hundred," he said a bit too loudly.
I was roped into the debate and stopped listening to the cute boy and fiddle girl entirely. "Baby, if there were 53 rows of 10 buttons, that would be 530 buttons, so I think I'm right," I said a bit too loudly.
"NO WAY!" he boomed.
The lady with the rat's nest of hair who sat in front of us turned around and said, "Could you please keep your voices down!"
"Sorry," said Thor.
Soon Patty came out and Thor giggled at me when my tears started falling during her opening song. I sniffled and hummed along throughout the wonderful concert. Thor shifted impatiently and was, I assume, counting microphone stands or attempting to estimate the number of people wearing red. After she finished, Thor jumped up and stood in the aisle anxiously waiting to depart. "Thor, she's going to do an encore," I told him. His face was crestfallen, and he sat back down next to me.
When we left I hugged him and thanked him for tolerating my evening of "lesbian music". He said that he was glad there were some things he had to do only once in his life and seeing a Patty Griffin concert was one of these things.
"I'm sorry you didn't like it," I said.
His reply was perfect. "I loved spending the whole night with you, though." God, I love this man.
On the way home he ranted about Patty Griffin. "She was like Jewel or something. And it sounded like she was just singing the same exact song over and over all night. And then she did an encore! Why did she do an encore? Nobody made her come back out. We were just clapping for the concert, we weren't trying to get her to come back out. At least Jewel only did an encore because they made her do an encore, but nobody was making Patty Griffin do an encore."
"I will never make you go to another Patty Griffin concert again, baby," I promised.
"Next time you can go, and I will stay home and scrub the toilet. I will scrub the toilet all night, and you can come home and tell me about the concert," he said.
I imagined us together years from now. Me going to concerts with my friends while he scrubs the toilet at home. It made me happy to think about the future, even one in which my husband stays home scrubbing toilets while I attend concerts without him. As I thought about my dreams, the closing song Patty sang came to mind.
Two drifters off to see the world.
There's such a lot of world to see.
We're after the same rainbow's end--
waiting 'round the bend,
my huckleberry friend,
Moon River and me.
During the opening act, Thor whispered to me that he wished he'd taken his medication for ADHD, and I agreed that would have been helpful. He was all over the place last night. He couldn't sit still. He couldn't stop his mind from racing, and I knew it would be a long concert for him since Patty Griffin rarely employs flash pots or smoke machines in her performances.
While the audience waited for Patty to begin her show, a cute boy and fiddle-playing girl charmed us with their music, although not enough for me to take note of their names, apparently. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Thor counting. He then informed me that 24 people in the back 10 rows were wearing eyeglasses. I thanked him for the information and took hold of his hand.
A few minutes later, he pulled his hand away and began counting again. Then he whispered, "Toddy, what is 53 times 16?"
"Honey, I have no idea."
Thor asked me to get my cell phone out and use the calculator function to answer his math question. I whispered back to him, "I don't have it with me. It's in the car."
"I need to know," he insisted. So I attempted to do the math by drawing imaginary numbers on my leg. I came up with eight hundred and something. Then I asked him why he needed to know.
"See that light board? It has 53 rows of 16 buttons," he said. "But there is no way that totals eight hundred," he said a bit too loudly.
I was roped into the debate and stopped listening to the cute boy and fiddle girl entirely. "Baby, if there were 53 rows of 10 buttons, that would be 530 buttons, so I think I'm right," I said a bit too loudly.
"NO WAY!" he boomed.
The lady with the rat's nest of hair who sat in front of us turned around and said, "Could you please keep your voices down!"
"Sorry," said Thor.
Soon Patty came out and Thor giggled at me when my tears started falling during her opening song. I sniffled and hummed along throughout the wonderful concert. Thor shifted impatiently and was, I assume, counting microphone stands or attempting to estimate the number of people wearing red. After she finished, Thor jumped up and stood in the aisle anxiously waiting to depart. "Thor, she's going to do an encore," I told him. His face was crestfallen, and he sat back down next to me.
When we left I hugged him and thanked him for tolerating my evening of "lesbian music". He said that he was glad there were some things he had to do only once in his life and seeing a Patty Griffin concert was one of these things.
"I'm sorry you didn't like it," I said.
His reply was perfect. "I loved spending the whole night with you, though." God, I love this man.
On the way home he ranted about Patty Griffin. "She was like Jewel or something. And it sounded like she was just singing the same exact song over and over all night. And then she did an encore! Why did she do an encore? Nobody made her come back out. We were just clapping for the concert, we weren't trying to get her to come back out. At least Jewel only did an encore because they made her do an encore, but nobody was making Patty Griffin do an encore."
"I will never make you go to another Patty Griffin concert again, baby," I promised.
"Next time you can go, and I will stay home and scrub the toilet. I will scrub the toilet all night, and you can come home and tell me about the concert," he said.
I imagined us together years from now. Me going to concerts with my friends while he scrubs the toilet at home. It made me happy to think about the future, even one in which my husband stays home scrubbing toilets while I attend concerts without him. As I thought about my dreams, the closing song Patty sang came to mind.
Two drifters off to see the world.
There's such a lot of world to see.
We're after the same rainbow's end--
waiting 'round the bend,
my huckleberry friend,
Moon River and me.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Hot Toddy's Random Acts of Kindness
Last evening on my way home from teaching illiterate adults to read, I stopped to give a homeless man a bag of food. He asked me to sit with him for a while, and we ended up getting into a long discussion about his dreams. He told me that he had always wanted to work in healthcare, so I dialed up a contact at work and got him a job. He starts Monday.
Then I brought Edna Mae, the elderly woman next door, her dinner. She thanked me for making turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy (her favorite) and showed me her wedding photo album for the fiftieth time. I always pretend I have never seen the pictures before because it makes her so happy.
I rescued some puppies out of a dumpster and took them to an orphanage. After that, I went home and called my boyfriend, Thor. I told him how much I loved him and promised to always be there for him. I also reminded him of his family's love for him and expressed how excited I am to one day meet them. I hope they will accept me in spite of all my faults.
That was pretty much all I did yesterday. Oh, I did find out something interesting though. Thor's mother found my blog and reads it sometimes now. I hope she will find it interesting to read of my humanitarian adventures.
Then I brought Edna Mae, the elderly woman next door, her dinner. She thanked me for making turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy (her favorite) and showed me her wedding photo album for the fiftieth time. I always pretend I have never seen the pictures before because it makes her so happy.
I rescued some puppies out of a dumpster and took them to an orphanage. After that, I went home and called my boyfriend, Thor. I told him how much I loved him and promised to always be there for him. I also reminded him of his family's love for him and expressed how excited I am to one day meet them. I hope they will accept me in spite of all my faults.
That was pretty much all I did yesterday. Oh, I did find out something interesting though. Thor's mother found my blog and reads it sometimes now. I hope she will find it interesting to read of my humanitarian adventures.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
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?
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?
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, July 25, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, July 22, 2005
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?
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?
Thursday, July 21, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, July 18, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, July 11, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, July 08, 2005
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.
"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.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
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.
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.
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