Hot Toddy Smells Good

I can't stop smelling my fingers today. They smell so clean and so good. Not all smoky and nicotine-y.

I hardly ever talk about the fact that I've smoked for the past ten years. Why? Mostly to avoid being chastised. I've always hated when people preached at me. "Smoking is so bad for you. You should quit."

Honestly, that makes me want to blow smoke in the person's face more than it makes me want to quit smoking. I've seen it happen to my fellow bloggers. They mention smoking, and suddenly the comments are full of reprimands. Who needs it?

I have smoked since the summer of 1995. I quit a couple times (usually because I liked a non-smoking boy), but I always went back. I won't go into exactly why I started, but I will tell you why I haven't stopped before now.

I never stopped smoking because I thought it would be an act of conformity. I thought it would be like surrendering to the forces of good when I wanted to play with the forces of evil. I thought if I smoked I could be bad.

Actually, I never really wanted to be good. When I was a kid, I was labeled a good kid and always felt like such a goody two shoes. In grade school if I played kickball at recess the other kids made a rule of No Cussing. I know that people find that hard to believe, and now that I'm an adult I'm quite amazed that I had kids like that at my school. But it's true. They considered me to be someone you should never cuss around. Like I was an f-ing (just kidding) nun or something.

My sister always called me "Mary Ingalls" (the obedient and well-behaved sister on Little House) and my cousins called me "The Crown Prince", because it seemed I could do no wrong. When I started smoking, it felt really wrong and really fun. Smoking made me feel rebellious. Independent. Uncontrollable. See, I was "dedicated" to God by my parents when I was a baby. I grew up in church and signed a contract when I was 14 saying I would never drink or smoke in my whole life. I went to a college where smoking and drinking wasn't allowed. Neither was dancing. Neither was going to class without socks. I didn't make a break from organized religion until 1995, about the same time I burst out of the closet.

When I first met CT, who did not smoke, I had only been smoking for a couple months. It would have been so easy to quit. I asked him if it bothered him that I smoked, and he said, "No, I actually think you look cool when you smoke." So, of course, I didn't quit. I guess somewhere along the line (about 3 years later) CT decided that I no longer looked cool when I smoked. Now I had a three-year habit. It was so hard to quit, but I did.

I started smoking again after about 6 months. I missed my cigarettes too much. I started feeling too cleancut and proper and way too good. I wanted to stay bad. I loved the feeling of smoking behind CT's back. Secrets are fun, and kind of bad. I know this to be a fact because in all the movies I've seen where there is a secret, all the hot kids run around looking so sexy and intriguing until someone who witnessed them killing someone turns up to inform them that they know what they did last summer. That's so hot.

Lately, something has changed in me. It is one of those significant shifts in perception that happens, for me, about once a decade. I'm entering my fourth decade this October, and so far I have only experienced three truly significant shifts in perspective my whole life. The first shift occurred when I came out for the first time to a couple friends and realized I was no longer isolated and alone. The second major shift happened years later when I left religion behind. The third time I felt such change was when I found the courage and strength to leave CT.

My fourth shift (oh, god, it just occurred to me that Oprah would call this an A-Ha moment) happened at the end of last year. I have no doubt that I will never be the same. I had to give up someone so precious to me, and it nearly killed me. I'm not exaggerating when I say that. I almost didn't make it out of the dark, but I did. And over the past few months, I've become so strong. Inside I can feel it. I am really strong. I am safe. I don't need to fear the future or fear being alone.

After what I went through last year, giving up smoking is nothing. I've already given up a much harder habit, my need to diminish myself to make others appear stronger.

Lest I give the impression that this whole journey is easy, let me tell you about my morning. As I got ready for work this morning, I looked forward to stepping outside with my mug of coffee and a cigarette, when I suddenly realized I quit three days ago. Damn.

On the way to work I felt so irritated. I wanted to pull into a convenience store and buy a pack of American Spirit yellows so bad. Instead I just sang along with the CD Matty sent to me. But I had to replace some of the words of the song by singing swear words. I was so tense I wanted to chew through the roof of my car. I don't know how else to put the feeling of nicotine withdrawal into words. (When I passed the restaurant where I celebrated someone's birthday with him last August, I felt my heart sink. I realized once again that I've already survived a Herculean task much more difficult than giving up cigarettes.)

When I got to work today, I climbed several flights of stairs up to my office. I think its four flights, but who's counting? I started taking the (70) stairs on the first day I quit, and, though I'm not sure how many there are (70), I know it feels like there are more stairs going up (70) than coming down. Maybe if I substitute a bad habit with a good one, this will be easier. I climb the stairs about four times a day, so I'm not sure how many stairs that would be (560), but it must be a lot.

I have been going to the gym a lot more, and I have been so disciplined about what I eat. I will be damned if I gain weight from this. I used smoking as an excuse to keep from gaining weight for so long, but I really hope that if I exercise more and eat healthier, I can avoid excessive weight gain. Anyway, if I think about gaining weight it makes me feel like I need a cigarette, so let's change the subject.

So now it is lunchtime. I just finished, actually. This is when I would normally go outside and light up. I don't feel the urge right now. I honestly don't. Who knows when the next one will strike (happy hour), but I'll be ready when it does. I can go back to CC Slaughters once these urges pass.

Maybe people will start calling me The Crown Prince again, but, I'm not worried that I'll conform or be too good. I have realized that I can find plenty of ways to be bad without abusing myself. The best part about quitting (besides how good my fingers smell) is the release from shame. For the past few months I have felt frustrated with myself and kind of ashamed because I was a smoker. I never felt that way before, but something changed. I found myself looking away from people who walked by me as I smoked on the sidewalk. It felt like I was publicly urinating or something. In the elevator (not the stairs) at work I would think, "God, I bet I smell awful." I became so conscious of the way my fingers smelled just like an ashtray.

It has only been three days, but I already feel much better. I'm looking people in the eye. I'm taking the (70) stairs, I'm working out, and I'm winning a battle that, for many years, I've been to scared to tackle.

I am still fighting the urge to walk up to people and say, "Smell my fingers."

Help. I'm Surfing and I Can't Log Off

Yesterday I wrote that sappy valentine for myself, and I'm sure you're reading it going, "Yeah, yeah, we know. You love yourself, Hot Toddy. Trust us. That is quite apparent. If you love yourself so much, why don't you just go have sex with yourself?!"

Well, I did. Over and over - sometimes gentle and sometimes rough, and I will have sex with myself a couple more times today, I'm sure. After all, it's Valentines Day.

But here is what I want to talk about now. (Don't worry, it is still totally about me. No danger of my raging egomania dissipating anytime soon.)

The new computer arrived yesterday, and I got it all set up in about two hours. It only took me two calls to Metro and one call to Pony! Setting up the wireless internet connection was a bitch, but I figured it out once I got some information from Comcast.

Last night I followed some of the links you all suggested. Oh, and I received my very first chat, and it came from Phil.

Greg, I think that Zombo is amazing. I love it. You can do anything there. The only limit is yourself.

I am completely and hopelessly addicted to Pandora. I've created several radio stations to listen to on my computer. My radio stations so far are: I'm So Gay, I'm So High, I'm So Cool and I'm So Deep. I can e-mail the stations, so send me an e-mail if you'd like me to send you one.

Here is where I need some help. After downloading three or four music players last evening, I am now totally confused. I can't figure out which one I should use to rip music and which I should use to play my playlists. I think I need to delete at least one of them and start over.

My Valentine

I am just writing to say Happy Valentines Day. I've never written you one before, and I'm sorry it has taken me so long.

I have searched for many years hoping to find you, and I am so happy that I'm finally getting to know you. You really are an incredible man, and there are so many who look up to you. You are talented and beautiful and kind.

Those who know you best realize that your love is authentic and truthful. You live your life exposed and vulnerable. If you get hurt, you never let it stop you from giving your heart again and again. It's just the way you're built. You never give up on love.

I know that for a long time, years and years, you haven't thought of yourself as anything special. You have longed to be somebody else. Anybody else. In fact, I remember for many years you hated yourself. Really and truly hated yourself. I'm so glad those days are behind you. I'm glad that you are finally being kind to yourself, and you've figured out that you can't neglect your own happiness in your efforts to make everyone else happy.

And you do make people happy. You know you do, because you hear it almost every day. Sometimes you still don't see it, but in your heart you know it's true. You are uniquely gifted with a talent for making people feel good inside. You can make them laugh when they're hurting, and you can make them feel loved when they're lonely.

You have looked all over the planet for a person that you can love with your whole heart. It has been a lonely and frustrating search.

Finally, you're understanding that nobody is more worthy of your love and affection and respect than you.

Happy Valentines Day, Hot Toddy!

From, Hot Toddy

Something's Coming

I have never owned a computer before. Well, there was the green iMac that CT bought for us in 1999, but most people agree that doesn't count. All of my blogging, surfing and e-mailing takes place throughout my workday when time allows. I've written two plays, several comedy sketches and a couple articles at work over the past several years.

So you can imagine my excitement at receiving the above notification in my e-mail today? The luxury of having a computer at home will change my life.

Auburn Pisces told me to stop feeling guilty about charging it. "You're a writer, for god's sake. You need a computer!"

Soon I will be able to access some great blogs that are blocked by our firewall at the office. (I have no idea why these particular blogs are blocked and others aren't)

I'll have 24x7 access to e-mail and instant messaging. I will be able to upload pictures from the digital camera I'll eventually buy. I can finally get an iPod so I'll understand what all the fuss is about.

I'll be able to check out personals, profiles and porn whenever I want.

I'm going to do nothing but download music (Kiks sends me music all the time and I can never listen to it!) and watch media clips for days on end.

World of Warcraft awaits. Life is good.

What are some sites I should visit? Share your favorite link with me! The more obscure, the better...

Liza and Me

Juju and I just had a really girly talk about hand lotion as we sat at our desks and moisturized with Philosophy's "Be Somebody Extra Rich Body Cream". Recently Juju used some kind of lemon shea butter stuff on her hands and told me it was divine. I asked if she wanted me to gay it up a bit for her so she'd feel like she was talking to a girlfriend. "Grrrl, I'm gonna get me some of that," I said. Immediately after I said it I cringed and said, "Yuck, I hate acting that way."

When I first auditioned for the sketch comedy group that Juju was part of, I told her I didn't like to play gay. It makes me feel uncomfortable to act flamboyant. I'm not bothered (anymore) by men who are flaming queens, but I hate acting that way.

I'm absolutely 100 percent gay. I am not sexually attracted to women at all - no, not even Angelina Jolie or [insert name of hottest woman alive here]. However, there are some areas of my life where I probably don't seem gay (whatever that means!) to people. Recently, I wrote about a woman in Tokyo who could not identify me as one of the two gay guys in our group. I don't have an incredible eye for fashion. I don't think I'm a very snappy dresser at all. I have never knitted anything. I never wrote a blog post about my anticipation over Brokeback Mountain's release. In fact, I haven't seen it yet. I don't own any Barbra Streisand cds (but I know how to spell her name). I've never seen Valley of the Dolls.

Still, I do fit a lot of the gay stereotypes. First and foremost, I love men. I love biceps and chests and the way men smell and the way they talk and walk. I love how my face and neck get a little sore from making out with a bearded man. I can be aroused just by hearing a deep male voice. So, that's pretty gay, I'd say.

On Sunday, after watching the game, I did one of the gayest things ever. I watched Liza Minnelli on Inside the Actors Studio. Oh, and I took notes.

There, I said it. I took notes on a Liza Minnelli interview. Allow me to explain. She talked about the way her mother (Judy Garland, for those of you living under a rock) taught her to rewrite memories. Judy's philosophy was that if a memory is bad, you can just rewrite it. When the interviewer (James Lipton for those of you living under a rock) asked if Liza agreed with that way of thinking, she gave a great response. She most definitely agrees with that way of thinking and said something like "they're your memories - you're the one who has to live with 'em - rewrite 'em!"

I thought about the memories I'd like to rewrite and spent a lot of time reworking some things in my head. There are things I wish I had done differently in relationships. There are so many times - too many to count - where I wish I had spoken up to people and stood up for myself. Why did I never say, "Enough. You are not being open with me. I'm sharing everything with you. I'm being truthful and authentic, and if you can't do the same this relationship won't work."

Well, if I could rewrite it, that's what I would have said. "Oh, you love me? Why don't you show it in your actions and not just your words?" I guess I thought I'd be rocking the boat if I spoke up. I thought I'd be left alone if I said too much. Well, guess what? I didn't say enough, and I still ended up alone. I claim to be truthful and authentic, yet I haven't been honest about the times I don't feel happy in a relationship. So, I've been a liar too. But that will change. I may not be able to rewrite history, but I can have a hand in writing my own future.

All that from a Liza Minnelli interview. That's so gay.

Superbowl XL

We watched The Diet Pepsi Superbowl Extra Large yesterday at home. In attendance: My bartender buddy from CC's who now has a blog name (JR), JR's boyfriend Vidal, Ren, Auburn Pisces, and her daughter Auburn Aries. Pony made a surprise appearance later and also left early due to a rather serious-looking hangover.

Remember when I said I am becoming a jock? Well, watching Superbowl Extra Large was a big part of my transition from sports ignoramus to sports enthusiast. So I took the whole thing more seriously than I ever have before. Still, I couldn't help making fun of the corporate sponsorship of every single aspect of the game. That was so ridiculous. "Welcome to the George Foreman Grill Pre-Game Show! Coming up next, the Massengill Kickoff Show. Stay tuned for the Dunkin' Doughnuts Halftime Show!!"

I kept waiting to hear, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please rise for the Cingular Wireless Star-Spangled Banner!" Then the crowd would cheer as the Burger King Pittsburgh Steelers entered the field to play against the Capital One Seattle Seahawks!

I wasn't the only one complaining. Vidal (guess what he does for a living?) noticed that none of the announcers dressed properly. "Ew. Look at his tie. Oh my GOD, look at HIS tie. CHRIST ALMIGHTY EVERYONE HAS SUCH HORRIBLE TIES!!"

I didn't respond. I am a jock and was just watching the game. Being a jock, however, does not mean I am no longer gay. I almost broke my neck looking up at the screen when the commercial came on that started with the words, "14 and a half inches longer..." - I have no doubt that people watching the game in gay bars across the nation erupted into laughter when that commercial aired.

Sometime during the second quarter, I saw an electronic Yahtzee game sitting on the end table next to me. I casually picked it up and started poking at the buttons. About 25 minutes later, I could feel Pony staring at me from his position next to me on the couch. He began to taunt me. "So, I guess you are done being a jock now?"

"I am playing Yahtzee. That is a sport," I snapped.

I announced later that I only played Yahtzee for one quarter, so it didn't count as not being a jock. Pony pointed out that the fact I was watching the game, not playing it, might cause my disqualification as a jock. I disagreed. You have to start somewhere. Maybe I will play in a future Superbowl. Maybe Superbowl Double XL.

During Mick Jagger's performance I heard Ren incorporating some lyrics about Viagra into the song, "Satisfaction". I couldn't make out everything she was singing because I was focused on my third Yahtzee in a row thank you very much!

Anyway, knowing that I was outscoring the Seahawks, I returned to the game sometime around the Lipton French Onion Soup Third Quarter. Other than a couple more breaks to answer the hilarious drunken text messages I was receiving from The Toddtender, I watched most of the game. At one point I even out-butched my friend Auburn Pisces. It seemed completely backwards that she was flipping through a Pottery Barn catalog while I watched the television screen. Admittedly, the catalog is mine, but that's not the point.

By the time I get to the Gay Games this summer, I'll probably have a subscription to Sports Illustrated. But I'll still get the Pottery Barn catalog too.

Crazy People

This morning Auburn Pisces would not stop whistling "Moonlight Bay". Just the first two lines. Over and over and over. I think she might be going crazy.

Since the woman lost her job, she's taken to torturing me any way she can. She tries to make me late for work every day. This morning she tried to bribe me to be late to work by leaving a cinnamon roll on the dryer in my kitchen (pretending it was from Auburn Aries, her daughter).

She also cooks these delicious meals (last night it was roast beef and potatoes) and then tries to force me to eat while the food is STILL HOT! How am I supposed to eat solid food before I have a few drinks after work to unwind? I tried to explain to her that my happy hour lasts until about 8pm. So, if she has dinner ready at 6:30 it is just going to have to get cold as I finish up my whiskeys.

Speaking of whiskey, I enjoyed my Makers Mark immensely on Wednesday night at CC Slaughters. I have been drinking less whiskey and am reserving it for nights when I feel confident I will not dissolve into a sobbing mess of tears. Anyway, the new bartender (I think Aub has named him "Sweet Face", so I'll use that for now) has taken to giving me a tumbler full of olives everytime I sit down at the bar. This is because I mentioned one night that I was hungry enough to stick my hand into the garnish tray and dig up a fistful of olives to shove in my mouth (such a class act, I am), so Sweet Face scooped some up and made me a little cup of hor's d'oeuvres. I honestly do not know why those guys at CC's treat me so well. I really adore them. They are such good guys. And the things they put up with from me...

For example, on Wednesday (oh, right, that's where I was going with this whole thing - Wednesday night...) one of the bartenders (who really needs a special blog name) had the night off, so I got to sit with him on my side of the bar. I had a great talk with him. At one point I was talking with a crazy old man who came from "Minnienapolis, where the people are nicer". Now, I have some family in Minneapolis, but I have never heard of Minnienapolis - it might be near Minneapolis - I don't know - but that's not the point. The point is that my bartender buddy, sitting on my right, pulled me away from my conversation with the crazy old man on my left.

"Toddy, I need to talk to you for a second," he said to me.

"Excuse me crazy old man from Minnienapolis," I told the man on my left.

My bartender friend then quietly informed me that he really didn't need to talk to me. He was just "saving me". I explained that I didn't need saving. I enjoy talking to people, crazy or not, and, plus, I needed blog material and figured the crazy man from Minnienapolis might be provide me with fodder. So, I turned back to continue my conversation with Crazy and discovered he was gone. But he left behind his pants. I'm not kidding. There was a pair of sweatpants sitting on the stool, but no crazy man inside of them. I wasn't sure what to make of this, but at least I had my blog fodder.

Later, another crazy man who was very drunk, fell off his stool. My bartender friend got up to help him up and to let him know he was cut off. I watched as my friend counseled the crazy drunk man. He suggested the guy drink some water and sit in the bar for a while to sober up. I began to feel sorry for my bartender friend, because he had to deal with drunk customers on his night off. So I brought my bartender friend's cocktail over to him. When I tried to hand him his glass, he said, "Toddy, I love you, but can you take that away please?" Looking back, I guess I didn't use my best judgement. Probably not a good idea to bring a cocktail to someone who's convincing a drunk guy to quit ordering drinks.

Later, The Toddtender showed up to work [insert Hallelujah Chorus here], and I told him what had happened with the crazy drunk man. The bartender sitting next to me said, "Toddy, you have fallen off your stool before too." I was mortified.

"I have never fallen off my stool," I said firmly.

"Yes, you have," agreed both bartenders. Everyone was looking at me. I had to respond but didn't know what to say. So, in my best Shirley MacLaine, I retorted, "It TWIRLED UP".

You know you're at a gay bar when you quote Postcards from the Edge and everyone gets it.

Dating Buddha

"If we live by truth, we may have pain, but we will always rest securely within ourselves"
- Charlotte Kasl, if the Buddha dated

The end of my relationship last year has been emotionally harder than anything I have ever dealt with. That statement surprises even me. After all, I've survived a gay childhood, adolescent hell, and I even escaped from a cult. But, I've never known anything like the crushing blows of the last several months. As I've mentioned before, climbing out of this hole takes a lot of hard work and determination, but I'm reading a book that is helping me tremendously as I work to resolve the confusion, bitterness and anger in my heart. I would heartily recommend it to anybody who is trying to understand how to seek, and, hopefully, find, a deep and spiritual love.

I haven't yet finished the book, if the Buddha dated, which was recommended to me by my therapist, but I have already had a wonderful epiphany. I realize now that I just need to date Buddha.

No, I guess that is too lofty a goal. I guess I need to just live truthfully and seek a relationship with a truthful man. I understand now what I am really looking for in a partner, and I jotted down a couple of the thoughts that really hit home for me.

"We create our suffering through our attachments and demands that things be different than they are."

That really is what is causing my suffering. Everyone gets hurt, but we don't have to suffer the way we do if we can learn to let go. I've been through other breakups, but I haven't understood why this one has caused such intense suffering. Now I am beginning to understand that I have not accepted the truth that my love was not who he pretended to be. I am not able to accept that he was the kind of person who would deceive me. I could never have believed he would hide things from me. I never hid things from him and just assumed everything he told me about himself and about our future was absolutely truthful. Well, until I accept this person and this situation without wanting things to be different, I will continue to suffer.

"While we have preferences, the minute we start insisting that people and situations be different, we create inner turmoil, anger, hostility, sadness, and so on."

I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, and he told me he wanted the same. Now I am beginning to understand that this was a path of sensual pleasures and romantic fantasy. At the end of the path was a door that promised beautiful moments and a fantastic future on the other side. But when I opened the door, there was a dark void. The door actually led to nothingness, and my eyes could not believe my dream wasn't on the other side. My heart sank when I saw the empty canyon before me.

I turned questioningly to my lover. He would reassure me as always. He would tell me about our house and our kids and our dogs and how much happiness we would share. But, suddenly, he was no longer there by my side. He had vanished. I began to scream that this was not happening. There was no way this could happen. He promised to be there and said that he'd prove to the world that he was sticking by me when he and I danced at our wedding.

But now, he is gone. I am alone.

No, that is where I have been wrong. For so many years I have loved my partners fearfully because of this false notion that I am completely alone. As I work to grow and heal, I'm learning that somewhere in my heart I have believed that I'm destined to end up alone. I've never really understood, until recently, how much this story I've told myself has informed my life.

I am no more alone than any other soul on this earth. We share so much. Every person on this earth has had to live every day of their lives, with all the ups and downs and in betweens, just like I have. Nearly everyone around me has at one time felt sorrow at being deceived. They have felt the excitement of a first kiss or experienced butterflies when touching someone beautiful.

I've never really told the story of what happened. It is so painful for me to think about, let alone write about, and I know it would cause him pain too. So I have to just accept what happened, let it go, and move forward. That is what he really wanted for me all along, I think. I know that I loved authentically and wholeheartedly. Every word from my lips was truthful, and my heart was absolutely devoted to him. What more can I ask for? I did the right thing. I can rest securely in myself.

"When you say goodbye to someone or decide not to see them again, remember you are a moment in their story. Make it a story that doesn't leave a scar."
- Charlotte Kasl, if the Buddha dated

Five Things about Hot Toddy

Matty tagged me to list five things about Hot Toddy that everyone needs to know. I will list five things with the stipulation that you understand these five things are not binding in any way. If, for example, I change one of the things about me in the next couple of minutes (it happens, people) you can't whine about it and say, "But, Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, you said you didn't like cantaloupe when you posted your five things, so how can you be opening a 24 Hour Cantaloupe Store?"

For now, right this very second, these are my five things:

1. I decided that I don't want to be an actor right now. I am not sure where this idea came from. All I know is that, somehow, the committee that meets daily in my brain arrived at this decision and informed me this weekend that I am to reinvent myself as a jock. This year I am going to start watching sports (other than erotic wrestling videos) and will be attending the Gay Games in Chicago this summer. I will be competing, mostly at the bar, in several events including, "Capture the Wrestler's Attention" and "Who Wants to Be a Bodybuilder's Husband?"

2. In order to fully become a jock, I will have to do more than just watch sports. The committee in my brain says I have to play sports (besides erotic wrestling) too. So, I will be playing softball for one of the teams sponsored by CC Slaughters this year. We met on Sunday to talk about the schedule. I hope I will be on The Toddtender's team, but he'll probably be on one of the higher level teams.

3. I requested to be placed on a team with teammates who think it is "cute" when you mess up. I still want to win, but I just want everyone to understand my role on the team. I am there to provide cuteness and to make people laugh. The other players are there to provide athleticism and make us win games.

4. The first thing I need to do is start calling it "Softball Practice" instead of "Softball Rehearsal". I think I called it rehearsal about five times on Sunday. I also found out that, in softball, the spectators are not called "the audience".

5. I do not like cantaloupe. It makes me gag. I will never open a 24 hour cantaloupe store.

Camp Songs

Happy Friday. It's time for a campfire sing-a-long.

Did you go to camp as a kid? Or did you ever work as a camp counselor?

I did both. I grew up going to camp 4-6 weeks every summer. I went to music camp and Boy Scout camp in Missouri. The same summer I would go to a music camp and a Bible camp in Minnesota.

I know just about every song ever sung around a campfire or in the evening program or at the dining hall breakfast table.

I'm a Little Pile of Tin
Pass it On
Arky, Arky
Father Abraham

And did you know you can sing "Coming Round the Mountain" at the same time as "When the Saints Go Marching In" as a group song? You can also add in "I'm Gonna Sing, Sing, Sing" and "Swing Low Sweet Chariot" if you want to make things really chaotic.

This morning at 5 a.m. my eyes snapped open and I found myself inexplicably chanting these words:

"Hi. My name is Joe. I work in a...something factory...."

I couldn't remember where Joe worked. He worked in a something factory. This was a camp song (no tune - just a chant) that I haven't heard in, easily, 20 years. How would I ever remember where Joe worked? Would I have to call my friend Lynda? We've been friends since the age of 14, and she knows every camp song too.

Do you grasp the magnitude of my insanity now? I was in bed at 5:30 a.m. looking up at the ceiling chanting, "Hi, my name is Joe, I work, in a....I work in a.....I work in a...."

"I work in a BUTTON factory."

(That's it! He worked in a BUTTON factory!!) Once I got the button factory part, the whole "song" came back to me...

"One day the boss came up to me. He said, 'Joe, are ya busy?'
I said, 'no'.
He said, 'Turn the button with your RIGHT hand...'

I googled the song this morning (busy day at work!) and discovered there is another line of the song that my counselor at camp never taught us. Apparently, Joe had a wife, a dog, and a family. I was never told this. Maybe my counselor was gay and didn't want Joe to have a wife and family. This validates the fact that there is a gay agenda, doesn't it? Gay camp counselors purposely teach small children songs but do not mention the option of having a wife or a family. They want to destroy the very fabric of our society.

Well, let's not dwell on the gay agenda right now. Let's be happy. Here, hold my hand and sing with me. "It only takes a spark, to get a fire going...."

Do you know a camp song? If you do, you can put your song in the comments for everyone to join in and sing. But PLEASE no "Kum Bay Yah"!

Workday Chat

My best friend, The Handsome Prince, has a boyfriend, The Math Whiz, who works here at my company. We hardly see each other since we're in different buildings, but every now and then we get a chance to play a little game that is all our own. We used to play it all the time when I lived with him and The Handsome Prince. I pretend to hate The Math Whiz deeply, and he pretends to yearn for my friendship above anything else. It's great. Nobody else thinks it's funny but us. See if you agree. Here's our instant messaging chat from this morning:


Math Whiz: Remember that time that I invited you to lunch and you said that you couldn't cuz your break was over but then an hour later when I came back from lunch you were sitting in the exact same spot and you abruptly told me not to question your schedule.

Math Whiz: remember?

Hot Toddy: I am on the phone with HR right now - I am letting them know about an employee who is abusing Instant Messaging. Sorry it is taking me so long to respond to your barrage of messages.
Hot Toddy: HR wants to know - I mean, I want to know your employee number, please.

Math Whiz: but last time I gave it to you i got suspended without pay for two weeks
Math Whiz: I am sure it was just coincidence

Hot Toddy: Also - do you have any empty boxes at your desk or can you get one? You might need it this afternoon.

Math Whiz: but i am still a little nervous

Hot Toddy: Do you have a lot of personal pictures and stuff at your desk? Just curious.

Math Whiz: um yes
Math Whiz: here I can tell you each and every one of them
Math Whiz: they all have great little stories behind them
Math Whiz: or better yet I can bring all of them over to your cube and just hang out with you and go over them all

Hot Toddy: When you box them up this afternoon you can drop by and show them to me unless for some reason your badge stops working for this building at 1pm.
Hot Toddy: I mean - -

Math Whiz: hey wait
Math Whiz: what?

Hot Toddy: I mean - that is silly. Why would your badge stop working

Math Whiz: yea
Math Whiz: like it did those two weeks i got suspended without pay
Math Whiz: right after i gave you my badge number

Hot Toddy: that is crazy talk - i don't know why i said that
Hot Toddy: If HR lets someone go, I am sure they will give the person plenty of notice in case the person wanted to corrupt files on our system or something
Hot Toddy: It is not like someone is just going to drop by your desk and escort you out of the building

Math Whiz: but during my suspension they put this black hood on my head and something like soap bars in pillow cases were hitting me all over my torso
Math Whiz: it all just seemed suspicious to me
Math Whiz: like an act of hatred or something.

Hot Toddy: Anyway- I try to only use IM for business purposes as clearly stated in our company policy, so I am going to have to close now. Have fun using IM to chat with all your little friends - you never know if or when that privilege might be taken away from you, so enjoy it while you can.

Hot Toddy: Good day sir

Math Whiz: but...

Hot Toddy: I SAID GOOD DAY!!!
Hot Toddy: And.......scene.

Math Whiz: lol... aaahhh it never gets old.

Hot Toddy: i know - we are ridiculous

Math Whiz: okay now that i got that out of my system I can get back to work.
Math Whiz: bi bi

Hot Toddy: buy buy

He's right, though. It never gets old. And the scary thing is we just keep getting better and better at this routine.

Hot Toddy in a Window

To date this is the only picture I have of myself from my trip to Japan. I think we're getting together to exchange photos and reminisce about the trip soon, so maybe I'll have more pictures to post.

(Pony, I am leaving the poor alignment in that last paragraph intentionally, because I know it will drive you crazy). I carried a camera around for a couple days, but there was so much to take in, and I rarely remembered to snap a picture. Thank goodness gcb took pictures.

In this photo, I'm standing in a window on the 60th floor of the Sunshine City Building (if you don't know Japanese, there's probably no point in clicking that link), where Superman and gcb and I enjoyed a panoramic view of Tokyo.

Our group was very diverse, and I thought that we got along great. One evening at our ryokan (inn) we met Phillippa, an acting and modeling agent from New Zealand. Phillippa and I met while I was taking a shower. Actually, I was getting out of the shower, and she was standing at the sink in our shared bathroom area. Then we met up again while I was in the ryokan lounge drinking with the guys. She and I joked around a bit, and Superman pretended to be jealous. "So, who's your friend?" he snarled.

20 minutes later, you'd think Superman and Phillippa had known each other for years. The three of us got along very well. I think this happened because she knew we were gay guys, and some women just really dig gay guys, which works out well because a lot of us gay guys just really dig women. Initially, Phillippa was told that two of us in the group were gay. She picked out Superman right away. According to him, this is because he's the best looking one of all of us. After correctly identifying Superman as a Superfag, Phillippa then guessed the other gay guy must be either gcb (the one on the right in the photo - not the one with blue hair) or Metro (shown with his fiance, Juju). Wrong! I guess I was her fourth guess since I was drinking whiskey (surprise). If I remember not to hold out my pinky while I'm drinking whiskey, I can look pretty butch. Or maybe just pretty. Or maybe just pretty drunk.

Anyway, Phillippa accompanied us out for a night on the town. Things went pretty well, but after a certain point (the point where everyone was drunk) Phillippa and gcb started arguing. I didn't hear the whole thing, but she was complaining about the way Americans stereotype New Zealanders. He did little to diffuse her anger when gcb replied, "I don't think Americans even really know about New Zealand or acknowledge its existence, so I wouldn't worry about our stereotyping you." He was kidding, of course, but it didn't sit well with our Kiwi friend. You know how sensitive all those people can be. Every last one of them. Not that I'm stereotyping.

Things never went south with Superman and Phillippa and I (both literally and figuratively speaking), so the next morning I received a gift from her. It was a tin of mints labeled "Sentimintal Guy Charlie Brown Peppermints". It was such a sweet gesture of kindness. So I started crying really hard. I'm just kidding. I didn't cry, but I'll bet you totally believed that for a second, didn't you? Yeah, you did. It's because I cry a LOT. Too much.

In fact, on the way to the airport, I watched two old women saying goodbye to each other. One of the women got on our train and sat next to us. Through the window, she waved goodbye to her friend once again. "If they don't stop, I'm going to lose it," I whispered to Superman. Moments later, as the train pulled away, my eyes filled with tears. I subtly looked over at the woman on the train and saw that she was leafing through a magazine and was not the least bit upset. As I wiped a tear off my cheek, I started chuckling. Superman looked over and saw me laughing and crying at the same time and seemed baffled.

"I'm crying because that woman had to say goodbye to her friend. The funny thing is that woman isn't even crying because she had to say goodbye to her friend. I'm crying, and she's the one who had to say goodbye!"

I am such a "sentimintal" guy.

Three Things

I am trying to get some pictures ready for posting. I'm stealing them from the gcb's site at the moment. I'll let him know at some point.

Hey, gcb, I'm stealing pictures from your site.

Okay - now that I've gotten that out of the way, I need to say three things before I can post about Japan:

1. Yesterday I went to check out the website of the cult I used to be involved with. Sometimes I go on these secret reconnaissance missions to see what my former "brothers and sisters" are up to. (Mainly, they just want to dominate the world with their "one true church" of Christ.) While I was on the site looking at the "family album" I saw the hottest college wrestler, who is one of the "brothers". I ended up googling for pictures of him all afternoon and was quite successful in my quest. He is almost hot enough to make me go back to church. We could study the bible together and then have a sleepover at his house.

2. Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince. I won't spoil anything, but I finished the book and I'm pissed. If J.K. Rowling ever gets stuck in a snowy embankment near my cabin, I'm tying her to the bed and keeping her prisoner until she rewrites the ending.

3. I forgot the third thing.

First Words

Writing an entry this morning feels almost like I am starting a blog for the first time and need to introduce myself. There is so much to tell, and I'm not sure where to begin.

I managed to post two entries from Japan, and both times I felt an incredible sense of release afterwards. I realize that I need Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven more than I thought. If I can't write, I feel frustrated.

This morning as I got ready for work, I thought about how thankful I am to have my own bathroom. In Japan we shared a bathroom with the other guests at the ryokan, so it is great not having to chat with strangers as I brush my teeth. Sleeping, however, is another story. I loved sleeping with Superman. Well, not sleeping with him, per se, but sleeping in the same room as him. Something about the sound of a man breathing deeply next to me at night actually helps me sleep better. Since I have been home, my sleep is not as restful. Maybe I am just suffering from jet lag. Or maybe I just need a superhero of my own.

Speaking of superheroes, I did think of Thor while I was in Japan. I tried not to, but on the day that would have been our eight month anniversary, I was so sad. I almost felt him reaching across the ocean and grabbing my heart. I wish my love for him didn't have so much power over my emotions. I'm still working through things. It will take time.

I am going to miss the Excelsior cafe in Ikebukuro where we had breakfast most mornings. That cafe was specially selected because there were food menus to point at, so I could get a consistently tasty breakfast (ciabatta egg sandwich) and always knew how much it would cost (only 480 yen).

I will also miss the best inflight magazine ever. I was obsessed with this publication from Air Canada. Ask anyone who went on the trip with me. I couldn't shut up about enRoute. I may have to schedule more trips on Air Canada just so I can read great articles like this one about Psychogeography on a regular basis.

More Japan stories soon....

Gomen Nasai (So Sorry!)

Sorry for not writing much on this trip! You can't believe all we are doing. We have three days left before we return home.

I have one quick story and then I have to go because Metro is standing behind me waiting for me to finish typing and he is sweating (it has been several hours since our last metal arcade fix). You can read more about medal arcades in gcb's blog.

So, the other day we're shopping and I was hungover. Those are two themes of this trip. Shopping and hangovers. Anyway, I bought a Japanese grab bag that had this little envelope taped on the outside. Inside the envelope were several little capsules. "I hope to god these are energy pills," I exclaimed as I popped a couple of them in my mouth and downed them with water. Superman stared at me incredulously. "Did you just take pills from a grab bag? Pills you can't even identify?"

I figured nothing too terrible could happen to me. And there was a chance the pills would cure my hangover or give me energy. I continued exploring the strange items in my grab bag. Chips and candies and crackers, mostly. I finished looking at everything in the bag and realized there was a theme. I told Superman that I had a theory maybe the pills I took were candy. He started laughing hysterically. I have never seen him laugh so hard. When I put another couple pills in my mouth, I tried biting into them. Chewing gum. It was chewing gum. Superman nearly choked to death as he laughed at my mistake.

The gcb and Grizzo are doing a great job of writing about all the details of our days. I suggest you go visit this blog if you want to be updated on our trip - there are several entries to read, although for the most part the entries are boring because I am only mentioned a couple times.

Moisture Dessert

We are in Tokyo and having a great time. Most of the time when I travel abroad, I learn some of the language in advance so that I will not sound ignorant. (By the way, I cannot use contractions while writing this post because I cannot find the apostrophe key on the keyboard) - but in Japan I am surviving by pointing at things and speaking English (loudly - if you talk louder, everyone knows non-English speakers will understand you)

This morning I turned on the television in the guest lounge at our Ryokan (traditional Japanese inn) and I asked Superman, "Why am I turning up the volume? I can't (found it!!!!!) understand anything they are saying anyway?"

You would be proud of me - I am being a true writer - carrying my journal everywhere and writing down every little detail so I can remember to share it all on Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. (thank god i found the apostrophe before i tried to write my blog title - otherwise I would have had to type "The Toaster Oven Belonging to Hot Toddy")

Last night we went to a 7-11 (here they are called 7 and i Holdings - no idea why) and we all bought unidentifiable snacks and drinks and passed them around. I bought something called a Vodka Burn and it turned out to be basically a Vodka Red Bull (you can buy liquor at convenience stores - this place is paradise!!) and Devo bought something called "Moisture Dessert". After the gcb tried it, he said, "that tastes horrible" - to which I replied, "It is called 'Moisture Dessert' - what did you expect it would taste like? You can't expect a product called moisture dessert to be tasty, can you?" We decided that the words "moisture" and "dessert" really shouldn't ever be used together.

Metro is amazing. He can pop off all these Japanese phrases like it's no big deal. I am so proud of him - and thanks to his efforts we won't starve. I mean, I can always point at the menu and speak loudly in English, but it is nice to have a backup plan.

Fetus Cocktails

Last night I was sitting with Willie at the bar and a guy came up beside me and ordered the strangest thing.

I turned to this stranger (strangers are just friends we haven't slept with yet) and asked, "Did you just order a Human Embryo?"

He looked at me like I was some kind of weirdo, which I'm not. I am not just some kind of weirdo; I am a very specific kind of weirdo.

So, in response to my very reasonable question, "Did you just order a Human Embryo" this guy acts like a prissy queen and rolls his eyes at me. Then he walks off to look for people who would apparently treat him like the royalty he thinks himself to be.

Yes, sometimes I say random things to people just to see what they will do, but this time it really wasn't a pick-up line or even an attempt to make casual conversation. I just needed to clear up this crazy situation. I swear he ordered a Human Embryo. So, I had to call J the Bartender over and asked him what that guy had ordered.

So Bartender J tells me what the guy ordered. Now, don't you think Amber Ale sounds a little bit like Human Embryo? Just a little?

No? Well, it sounded like Human Embryo to me. If you ever order an Amber Ale I'll bet you can't do it without thinking about this story from now on.

This incident begs the question, if I can't even understand English, what the hell am I doing traveling to Japan where they speak Chinese or Korean or whatever?!?

(I leave on Monday!)

In Bed with Hot Toddy

Paper yen or coins? Are there many tall Japanese guys? And what do you call those bag things that hang around your neck to keep your passport and money secure?

No wonder I'm sleeping alone. What man in his right mind would put up with my random musings so early in the morning?

Welcome Back, Hot Toddy

It is Thursday and I haven't been sad all week. It feels great to just cruise through my days without feeling pain inside. I don't know who or what is responsible for the shift in perception, but I'm really relieved that, for now, it seems like the worst is over.

I had a great epiphany on Christmas morning - one that has carried me through the week and helped me to change my thinking. I will share that in a separate post if I don't forget. Which I probably will, so remind me later.

I have worked out a minimum of three days a week for the last three weeks. This week looks good for getting in 4 or 5 workouts, so that makes me happy. I haven't been to the bar much lately, but I've had fun when I do show up there. A couple nights ago I made out with someone at CC Slaughters and got called a slut by some of the other patrons, so I feel like things are almost back to normal.

I'm playing The Bard's Tale on my Playstation 2. The times that I fire up my PS2 are the times I am most happy to be single. Truth be told, I don't know if a boyfriend would put up with my gaming habits. If I'm playing a game I really like, I can't stop. Sometimes I forget to eat. Once, when I was still with CT, he asked me to stop playing The Sims and come eat dinner with him in our dining room. I sat down at the table and said, "God, I have the worst headache." At that moment I realized I had not eaten a bite of food all day. Yet I made sure my Sims family was fed and bathed and happy all day long. So, The Bard's Tale, my latest addiction, has been really great therapy. It helps me turn off my brain and quit obsessing about things over which I have no control.

Oh my god, the e-mails I've received lately have been phenomenal. Every day since right before Christmas I have heard from someone new. Several people who read Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven but have never commented or written me have decided to introduce themselves and share some of their lives with me. It has been wonderful to get feedback and learn more about the people who already know so much (too much!?) about me.

In a couple weeks I leave for Tokyo. I know, can you believe it? I don't even know what to say about that trip. It's so huge and amazing, I can't even fathom what it will be like to visit Japan for 10 days. All I know is that I am going to hit my head on many Japanese doorways, lanterns and maybe ceilings, and I am going to maybe finally get to kiss a real live Japanese boy. I mean, I've kissed dead ones before, but I have always wanted to kiss a live one.

The other night at CC Slaughter's, Ms. Karma said it was great to see me happy again. When a beefy bear with dimples sat next to us at the bar, I started flirting just a little bit. Ms. Karma just grinned and said, "Welcome back, Hot Toddy."

Thanks, it's good to be back.

Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus

I got exactly what I wanted for Christmas. No joke, I had such a peaceful holiday and found a sense of calm coming over me like an old friend. Gross. I don't mean calm came over me the way an old friend comes all over me. Bad analogy.

I usually get what I want. It's true. I am not trying to brag - it just seems to happen. If I want something (or someone) badly enough, things just seem to work out in my favor. Maybe that is why my latest heartbreak was so devastating. Maybe I'm just spoiled and not used to having my way.

There are those, like my ex CT, who say that I lead a "charmed life", and others (Pony) who say that I seem to come through life unscathed and floating above it all. But, while clawing my way out of the pit of depression I've been in, I've felt neither charmed or unscathed. And being miserable certainly doesn't feel like floating.

I can't say what or who, exactly, helped me to find some peace and happiness this Christmas. There were many moments where I realized that I really am going to be okay. I saw my blessings instead of what I don't have.

Here is what I got for Christmas:

Auburn Pisces cooked a wonderful meal and only required a couple shots of Patron to remain relatively calm on Christmas Day. We had one of our quiet conversations on her front porch this weekend, and I told her I felt at peace. "Right on," she said with a smile.

Auburn Aries had a great Christmas, and the letter Santa left for her made her cry. When I hugged this sweet eight-year-old kid, she said, "I'm not crying because I'm sad, Toddy." I told her I knew exactly why she was crying. "It's because you feel loved, isn't it?" She nodded her little head and hugged me tighter (while Auburn Pisces snapped pictures and cried her own tears of feeling loved).

K9 has been staying with us after a rough time during which he had all of his belongings stolen and lived in his car. Having him around at Christmas reminded me how good it feels to take care of others. Seeing him this morning without a shirt as I offered him the rest of the coffee in my pot also made me feel very good.

My friends, Russ and Carolyn, called me on Christmas Eve and we had a wonderful talk. Carolyn helped me realize that whether you are single or married you can feel lonely. She listened empathetically to my story of the last six months, and she reminded me why we'll be friends forever.

Juju and Metro got engaged at Christmas. I knew they would end up together. You can't believe what a great couple they are. I celebrate their relationship and someday hope to have what they have. And I will, because I (usually) get what I want.

Surviving Christmas

Last night Pony let me eat his meat. Are you jealous?

He cooked a delicious steak dinner for an intimate group of friends, and his new house looked so festive and warm inside. I guess, compared to my spartan home, any home containing more than one piece of furniture looks festive.

In spite of his hard work and the beautiful setting, I arrived with a lump in my throat and the familiar feeling that I was being stabbed repeatedly in the chest. There are times when I'm able to fake happiness, but when my sadness manifests itself physically, as in the case of chest pains, I have a hard time choking back the tears. It didn't help that I drank a couple whiskeys with The Handsome Prince before arriving at Pony's. I guess I thought I could handle it, but maybe it is too soon for whiskey.

Recently I was asked why I fear people will stop loving me if I say what I want. I have to really give that some thought. I find that, even though this is my blog, I sometimes don't write about the way I'm feeling because I fear people will be bored or stop reading. (In spite of frequent reassurance that this is not the case)

Even now, when I've already lost him, I fear that Thor will read my words and stop loving me. I fear that I will become the punchline of a joke. I fear that you, a reader who has never commented or written me to say hello - a complete stranger - will stop liking Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. See, that same fear permeates everything - not just my relationships. I have to learn to speak without fear.

I am fortunate to have friends that understand. I fear, sometimes, that they will leave too. Sooner or later maybe I will push the limits of friendship, and they will walk away. That adds a certain pressure to my already depressed spirit. Like I have to hurry and get better and be funny again before they all give up on me.

Sometimes I will read something like Auburn Pisces wrote about me, and I will realize that there is unlimited love there for me. Yesterday she wrote this:

"People say that I’m the strong one. I’m often asked how I do it. How I hold it together. How is it I’m able to be strong for so many. Yet I stood before my friend and could feel his inability to breath right now. I could feel the coldness of the depths to which he has fallen and could feel his legs feverishly kicking beneath him, unwilling to succumb to the darkness.

It is you, Sweet Toddy, who is the strong one. You’re surviving it. Each and every day you open your eyes and experience one more day this existence has to offer you, you’re surviving it. Once you get to a place you’re not just surviving it but once again thriving in all this lifetime has to offer you is when you’ll know the balance in your life is back. Hang on, Toddy. You’re almost there.

Hot, please never think of yourself as weak. You have had a tough year, my darling friend. Everything will be okay."

It is Christmas, and this is a time that many of us are filled with sorrow when we want to be filled with joy.

For anyone who lost a love or a family member or a pet or a friend recently - whether your precious one left willingly or was taken away from you, maybe you will share my wish:

I know what I want for Christmas this year. Please let me have a moment of peace. Just one moment where I can look up at the night sky and know that I am going to survive the emotional and spiritual rubble that is pressing down on me.

Let me hear hope in the laugh of a child or in a warm touch from a friend. Let me get out of my head for a moment and see how big the world is and how small my own problems are in the eternal scheme of things.

Let me stare into a fire or the flame of a candle and know that I have what it takes inside to keep going. Don't let the darkness overtake me. Let me feel strong, just for a moment.

Let me eat delicious food and really taste it. Let me see colors and lights and bright tinsel instead of gray nothingness. Let me enjoy being awake instead of yearning for sleep.

And, if I must, let me feel that one moment of absolute sorrow. If the only way through this pain is to face it head on, then let me grieve for the love that I've lost, or maybe the love I've never found. Let me cry and mourn so that I can dance and sing again.

And at the end of Christmas Day, let me drop off to sleep smiling instead of worrying, giggling instead of crying, feeling safe instead of feeling alone.

If I could have this one gift, I would be so grateful. Please give me peace in my heart this Christmas.

Moving (and moving and moving)

Friday night I attended a party with Willie and was definitely able to shake off stress. I'm happy that we've reconnected. On Saturday he helped me move my bed from the loft (yes, I'm still moving) to my new home at Auburn Pisces' pad.

Here is the Cliff Notes version of my moving experiences this year:

In July I started moving into the loft and out of The Handsome Prince's house. Thor started packing for his move in July too. We talked about the possibility of my moving to California to be with him, so I got rid of almost all my furniture. I didn't even keep pots and pans. (Idiot!)

In August I finished moving stuff into the loft. Thor left some stuff for me at Auburn Pisces' house (where he was living at the time).

In September I had to get Thor's stuff out of AP's house and into my loft.

In October I lived in the loft but slept over at AP's a few nights a week because I felt lonely.

In November I moved my stuff from the loft into AP's house (including Thor's stuff - the stuff I had just moved out of AP's house a month before).

Now it is December and I'm almost done moving out of the loft. Yes, I'm living in the same space Thor used to inhabit. Yes, it is hard. Yes, I will survive.

Speaking of surviving, that brings me back to Willie. After he left on Saturday I realized that for one entire day I hadn't felt sad. That was so good for me. It really was the first happy day I've had in a long time. Willie makes me laugh and helps keep me preoccupied.

Yesterday afternoon, Willie said he thought we'd make good roommates, and I agreed.

"But if we were roommates we couldn't have sex," he told me. "That would make things weird."

"Oh, well," I replied. "Guess we can't be roommates."

By the way, I just found out I am a 2005 Red Hot Blogger nominee. There are many good bloggers nominated, including my friend katehopeeden at Lots of Craziness. Hopefully you'll find some new favorite blogs by visiting the link.

Thanks, Red Hot Sexy Papa! Thanks to the person who nominated me too. Whoever you are, I love you.

Shake it off

Okay, this is my third and final post of the day. I can't leave for the weekend with such gloomy thoughts.

Remember that a blog post is a snapshot - it is one moment in time. Things, for me anyway, can change so rapidly, as my buddy Donnie points out in a recent comment.

This afternoon, the clouds are parting. I have a chance tonight to hang out with a great guy. We met a year ago at a Christmas party, and we're going to that same party tonight. Willie has been such a good friend to me since we started hanging out again. He makes me laugh, which is not so easy to do these days. His energy rubs off on me. So tonight should be a fun night.

I worked out three days this week, and I still have the weekend to get one or two more workouts in. I'm working on a submission for a book of essays (somewhat against my will - Juju won't let up on me!), and I have a whole weekend ahead of me (with a chance of an ice storm Monday that may close our office building?!)

So, I see no need to leave for the weekend all down in the mouth. If I could give every single person who reads this blog a hug, I would. And some of you would get a kiss.

With tongue? Hell, yeah.

Beau

The Seine flowed gently beneath the old bridge as my boyfriend and I stood holding each other while a small French woman took our photograph. I remember the warmth of CT's body next to me on that wintry Paris afternoon. After she snapped the picture, the old woman smiled at me and said, "Si beau."

"She thinks I am beautiful," I thought to myself. Then she continued. She glanced at CT and then looked back at me. "Comment il est beau. Si beau," she repeated.

As we walked away, Nick asked me what the woman told me. "She said you're hot," I replied with an exasperated sigh. So typical. Jealousy gripped at my heart, and, instead of being proud of my man, I lost the joy of that moment.

Why didn't she say what an attractive couple we made instead of telling me how beautiful my man was? My petty jealousy and insecurities overflowed, so I did the only thing I could do. I pushed my lover off into the icy waters below. As I watched him float away with the current, I shouted over the bridge called Pont Neuf, “NOW WHO IS SI BEAU?! HUH??”

Okay, I didn't really push CT into the Seine. Instead, I allowed my insecurities to fester for the rest of the trip, and The City of Lights became, for us, the City of Fights. I acted as if it were CT’s fault that he was beautiful. Even worse, I acted as if I were not beautiful at all. I questioned why he would bother to love someone like me, and I felt insanely jealous when he received admiring glances from strangers.

I've changed so much since those days. I called CT last week just to see how he was doing. It has been over a year since we've spoken. No, I'm not trying to torture myself, I just felt an overwhelming urge to talk to him.

CT told me he bought a house with his partner, who he's been seeing for a year, and I felt a little choked up. When he told me his partner had two kids, I shook my head in disbelief. My ex has the life I wanted to have with him. Only he has it with someone else. He didn't ask many questions about me, which reminded me of why I ended it in the first place. I wanted to talk to him about my recent struggles, but I couldn't find an opening, so we just talked about him. My voice was shakey as we said goodbye.

Maybe I called because I needed a reminder that even the grief of ending a long-term relationship will pass. If I can get through that, I can get through my current situation.

I almost never think about CT anymore. I care about him, but I don't yearn for a connection with him any longer. Is it possible that someday I will feel that kind of peace and acceptance about my recent loss? I can't see it now, but that doesn't mean it won't happen.

Truth #2

He played a song for me one Saturday afternoon as we packed up his kitchen. He told me it was the song that most reminded him of me. He said he wanted me to keep the CD when he left. I wish I hadn't forgotten to take it with me. I guess he still has it.

I listened to the words, and he could tell I was trying to figure out what the song meant about him and me. I couldn't understand. Or wouldn't.

Now I do. I understand so many things now. Things make sense, but I still shake my head (when I can hold it up) and want to say to him, "No, you were wrong. You were so wrong. You know we had something unbelievably beautiful, and I would have stayed by your side through everything. If only you had faith in me."

If only he could have loved me enough to talk to me and tell me the truth. Maybe things could have been different. That's what hurts the most. I know we could have worked through anything life threw at us. Why didn't he believe that too?

So, I've been cut off. No phone calls or letters. I cancelled my plane ticket to see him at Christmas. I was going to meet his family and was going to feel his arms around me again at night.

If only, if only, if only...

In the absence of his voice, I seek answers in my memories.

"The Road Between"
(Gus Black/Lisa Marie Presley/Greg Wells)

Out on the road between nowhere and hell
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in you
But they can't believe I still want you around

Hung on the line between addiction and this
I can't believe you said I hurt you again
But I can't afford to let you get away
And I cannot take the darkness when you stay

You're all I see
And it's definitely my fault
You're all I see
But don't come near me at all

How many roads between your world and mine
How many broken doors and how many fights
I changed my furniture to make you go away
I'm still overwhelmed at how much space you take

You're all I see
And it's definitely my fault
You're all I see
But don't come near me at all

And I can't have you right now
And I can't get it right now
And I can't have you right now
And I can't get it right now

You're all I see
And it's definitely my fault
You're all I see
But don't come near me at all
This is definitely my fault

Hung on the line between addiction and this
I can't believe you said I hurt you again

Hot Toddy Becomes Polyamorous (almost)

Last night I met a very beautiful boy, J, who talked to me about his relationship with his partner. They are looking to bring a third person into the relationship, and we discussed what that would be like for me whoever they choose to join them. We talked about it for hours.

Honestly, I've never thought for a second I could do something like that. But when I went home I couldn't get to sleep. I kept thinking about my talk with that guy, and I started fantasizing...

Obviously, there would be some challenges. I think I am too possessive and not trusting enough. I have never been anything but monogamous with my partners. I can't even seriously date two guys at the same time. I have a friend who was in a similar type of relationship, and it got quite messy.

But if I were in a polyamorous relationship there would be some great benefits.

Double gifts - I'd get Christmas and birthday presents from both of my lovers.

Food - I'm sure at least one of my husbands would know how to cook. I could eat again. Like, real food.

Cuddling - When I am watching movies with a guy, I like to wrap myself up with him. If I watched movies with two boyfriends at once, I'd be so wrapped up and cuddled it would feel like heaven.

Double or triple the sex - With three guys in a relationship, at least one of us (me) would always be in the mood for sex.

More blog material - I could write about two relationships at once. What a zany romp that would be!

The funny thing is, when I asked J if I'd still be allowed to go to CC Slaughters and kiss boys, he frowned. He seemed troubled by my question and informed me that he and his partner would want me to be exclusive with them. It made my head spin thinking about the complications and politics.

There is only one way I will be able to make a decision about this matter. Please tell me there was an episode of Sex and the City that dealt with this!

Fighting Back

Thank you for the comments, for the e-mails, and just for visiting.

Today I am better. I had a wonderful talk with The Professor last night. Let me tell you about him. The Professor came to Portland from San Francisco and sent me an e-mail to introduce himself. We decided to meet in person, and we instantly clicked.

What I enjoy about the Prof is that conversation flows so easily with him. He's well-traveled, informed, open-minded, experienced and genuine. Last night I got advice from him on everything from relationships to enemas, (You don't want to know - well, you probably do, but I'm not telling) and I told him about what I'm going through right now.

I have never struggled with depression. Not in the way I am now. But I have learned from this experience, and I think I will have good advice to give others in the future should they find themselves in a pit of despair. Many people advise that only time can heal. For me, it isn't time that is healing me. It is work. Hard work.

Depression is such a difficult struggle because it requires you to do everything you don't want to do and nothing that you do want to do. It's exhausting. When I feel depressed, which has been almost every day, I want to curl up in bed for days, drink myself numb, watch television, stay away from people, stop eating and sleep my life away. Living like that leads to, guess what? More depression.

So, lately, I'm doing all the things I don't feel like doing. I'm working out, skipping happy hours, eating regular and healthy meals, socializing with friends, and staying busy.

My friend Muscle Chick took me to dinner and the new Harry Potter movie last weekend. We talked about healing and how much work it is. She ended a long-term relationship earlier this year and has become a fitness fanatic. She works out almost every day and is going to compete in the Gay Games this summer. I am so inspired by her. When her mother passed away, Muscle Chick did not get drunk, because she knew that would only make it worse. "Toddy, there is no answer at the bottom of a bottle. You know that," she told me.

Actually, many of my friends have given me that advice, but there was just something in the way Muscle Chick said it that really hit home. Or maybe I was just ready to hear it. If I were to name all the great advice and love I've received from friends lately, I'd need at least an hour to type up my list. Mom, Ms. Karma, Auburn Pisces, Pony, The Handsome Prince, The Toddtender, Willie (I finally wrote about you!!), Juju, Metro, Eclecticon, Verdi, Apollo, Paul, Steph, Katehopeeden, Jodi, Lynda... I give up. There is no way to name everyone.

I owe it to my friends and family to keep fighting. I owe it to myself. So I promised Muscle Chick that I would work out almost every day just like she does. I promised her I would drink less and stay active. I promised her I'd eat better. And I promised to go with her to Chicago to cheer her on (and flirt with gay athletes from all over the world) when she competes.

On the Mend

I have not written much lately about the break-up. Mostly, because I don't want people to leave mean comments about Thor. He is a beautiful soul, and I hurt to think of him reading angry or insulting comments about himself.

Thor, if you are reading this, know that I don't want you to feel "slaughtered" or hated. Do not feel you have to defend yourself to me or anyone. You are so loved by me, you can't even imagine....

Anyway.

It's still hard. I cry every day. Hell, I am crying as I write this. I miss him so bad. I feel like I've been destroyed and that I am now so fucked up I'll never be okay again. I feel sick. I am so tired of fighting, and sometimes I want to hibernate until the spring. At moments like this, when I try to write about it, the pain is as severe and fresh as it was the day I received his letter. The letter that changed everything....

But I am on the mend. I just now blew my nose and wiped away the tears and am drinking water. I was so worried someone would approach my desk and find me in tears. I thought I was going to have to use the old, "I just care so deeply about this project. I am passionate about the deadlines and sometimes worry we will not meet them" routine. Fortunately, nobody saw me crying. It is just between me and you 500 people who read the blog.

My mom is worried about me. Then again, she always finds something to worry about. When I lived in Washington DC, she warned me not to get too close to the ducks on the Potomac River because "those ducks can PECK!!"

We've been e-mailing back and forth for the past few days. Mainly, she is asking me for Christmas gift ideas. And she talks about how worried she is about me. See, I never talked to her about my boyfriends before. Not until this summer, when I met the man I thought I was meant to be with.

I was so certain that he was different from all the others. I was so certain that we were going to be together for a long, long time. So, I wanted my family to know about him. And I showed my mother pictures of him last time I was home. In one of the pictures, we were wearing our cowboy hats, and he was holding my hand. (I removed from the stack any pictures of him kissing me)

My mom cried, and, unfortunately, they were not tears of joy. She is just so confused by the fact that her only son is gay. I know she loves me, but it also makes her sad that I am not straight.

My mom and dad are doing the best they can. They try to accept my sexual orientation. They say that they do not judge me, and explain that they just don't understand. And I tell them that I will not try to push them to change since they do not push me to change. But I made it clear this summer, that I want the same rights as my sister and everyone else in the family: I want the freedom to discuss my relationships and to share the highs and lows of giving my heart. And, mostly, they are on board with my wishes.

Maybe it was too soon to tell my mom about the man I loved. In retrospect, I can see that things would be much easier if I just hadn't mentioned him. But I had a strong sense that my family would be meeting him someday. His constant reassurance that we were going to live together and have a marriage and even kids someday made me so certain ..... damn, now the tears are falling again...

(Such a pain in my heart as I write this - you can't imagine. It is like a knife plunging in over and over again)

Anyway. My mom is kinda kooky - kinda dingy - very compassionate - very fun - and she always tries to put a positive spin on things. My mom and I are a lot alike. Her use of emoticons and exclamation points exceeds even my liberal use of those forms of expression. But the wise and loving words of a mother are always a beautiful thing to share with your friends.

So I give you this message from Hot Toddy's mom. She's the best...


Son...
Surviving is a mindset ~ there are toooooooooooooo many playing victim these days and that's the most self defeating attitude there is.

I know you won't play that game. You have way too much to offer someone to settle for deceit, lies, lack of integrity and all the rest. When someone violates that, you just have to know that's not a good thing and you aren't open for that type of relationship. So, - NEXT ! ha!

You know it's easy to get carried away with some personalities but learn to read into people more - and try to stay tuned in without getting roped in! It's too much of a hurt factor when it goes off into another direction leaving you wondering what just happened.

Getting wise to your own true needs and what's best for you is the goal.

There are Givers and there are Takers !

I know you are mending - and aren't we all? There are so many unfair things that go on in our lives and if we don't shake them off and have that good mindset I mentioned we do fall into more traps ~ and then it becomes a vicious cycle.

Well, ya know I could have been as good as Dr Phil - but I chose to be a mom with
more advice than you asked for!!!!!!!!! ha - gotcha!

Anyway, life is interesting and life is learning everyday to become better for ourselves! We have to learn to be our own Best Friend !

Meantime, don't let the experience...take You away from You ! get it? and definitely don't let anyone take advantage of your heart again either.

No one should just feel like they can come/go into our most sacred place..
our hearts. Its why I love this song: *R* E* S* P* E* C* T*

Now. go take on the day ! :):):)
Love,
Your Mom

Holdin' Out for a Friend

I think I have a natural tendency to create idols to worship. I want to put people on a pedestal, even if they don't belong there. I've done it with many boyfriends in the past, and I've done it with friends. I need a hero. I'm holdin' out for a hero till the end of the night. Well, I was holding out for a hero, but not anymore. I realize what I really need is a friend, not a savior.

Last night I went to a fundraiser with the Toddtender, but since it was an event sponsored by the Oregon Bears, I wasn't sure what I should wear. Neither of us belong to the organization, but the Toddtender is more bear-like and bear-knowledgeable than I am, so I sought his advice.

"Wear something pink," he told me. That seemed wrong to me, so I asked him to elaborate.

"Really? Something pink? Are you kidding?"

"Pink hot pants. Do you have pink hot pants?" asked the Toddtender. Okay, so now I knew he was kidding. Thank god, because my only pair of hot pants is purple. In the end, he wore a sweatshirt, and I wore a turtleneck, and we both had a great time, and he only spilled two beers, which is good for a bartender, I guess.

As you know, I spend a lot of time sitting across the bar from the Toddtender while he performs his magic for thirsty patrons at CC Slaughters (I sound like I'm writing a travel guide or something) but whenever I get to spend time with him outside of the bar it feels like a privilege.

I used to be too intimidated to order drinks from the Toddtender. If he was tending bar, I would purposely find another bartender to order from - one who wouldn't cause my voice to shake or make me nervous enough to spill my drink all over him. After I got to know him, I realized what a kind soul he is, and I began to feel more secure.

But I still didn't know we were friends. What I mean is, I didn't realize he considered me a friend instead of just a customer. Then he came to my birthday breakfast. The Toddtender came to Auburn Pisces' house for the celebration, and at one point I thanked him for coming. I was a bit too obsequious as I kneeled before him praising his generosity of spirit for gracing me with his presence. He seemed to think it was ridiculous that I would thank him for celebrating my birthday with me.

After that, I just accepted his friendship. I began to treat the Toddtender like he was just a normal person which, although a bit hotter than the average normal person (yes, it's redundant, so what), I guess he really is. The Toddtender was now one of my friends! Treating someone like a god does not encourage friendship. Treating someone like a friend encourages friendship.

In the past few weeks, I've enjoyed socializing more with the Toddtender, whether we are playing Bingo with nuns or gritting our teeth through an endless charity auction (where every item has a "bear" theme). I plan on joining his softball team this spring. I like that I can talk to him about movies or television shows or music or boys. And sometimes when he gets off work at the bar, he'll come sit with me and chat and have drinks with me. I still feel proud when this happens. Lots of guys would probably pay money to have him sit with them. I no longer put him on a pedestal, but I am proud of him. I think it's okay to be proud of having someone as a friend. Especially a friend like the Toddtender.

Japan Party People

In January I'll be going with four friends to Tokyo. The trip organizer is Metro. Metro is an awesome person to have on a trip because he has so much energy and is constantly joyful. Seriously, I went on a road trip with him a couple years ago and he was the most consistently happy and easygoing person I've ever traveled with. Metro can speak Japanese, which is a plus. He learned the language so that he could understand Japanese video games. Most people think that's crazy, but I learned Swedish because I think Swedish guys are hot, so I don't judge him. Metro also has more blog names than anyone I know. I call him Metro, his girlfriend Juju refers to him as Link. And on his own blog, a video game review blog, Metro is known as pickypants.

GCB, who has already been traveling the world for months, will be there. GCB is famous in our circle of friends for primarily one thing: He takes his clothes off at parties. Always. GCB gets invited to lots of parties.

Superman will be there too. One of the funniest guys I know, hands down. He was hilarious to watch when he performed the play I wrote last year.

Devo is going on the trip and will provide much-needed balance. Never without a smile, Devo is all about making sure everyone is having a good time and, especially in my case, he makes sure everyone is getting the enormous amount of attention required to make me - I mean us - happy.

Yesterday, we e-mailed each other about getting together this Saturday to talk about the trip.

Metro:
Hey, Japan Party People. We're meeting at 7pm to drink and plan. It will be glorious. Come early for hot videogame action.

Hot Toddy:
Hot. Videogame. Action. What am I getting myself into?

GCB:
You can't wait 4 days for me to get back into town, you fuckers?

Metro:
Bro, we need to meet. I am not planning anything. The name of the game is intuative enjoyment.

Hot Toddy:
Can we change the name of the game to Intuitive Enjoyment?

Superman:
Is Intuitive Enjoyment anything like "Super Smash Brothers"? Or is it more of a "Root Beer Tapper" sort of thing? Should I bring my multi-sided dice?

Hot Toddy:
Superman, I will show you how to play Intuitive Enjoyment once we get to Tokyo.

Metro:
It's getting gay in here.

Superman:
Wow, Tokyo ain't gonna know what sodomized it!

Hot Toddy:
Can we get t-shirts made? "I Sodomized Tokyo"

GCB:
Oh, they sell those pre-made.

So, those are the guys I'll be with in Japan. This trip is gonna be awesome.

Attention Deficit Disorder and

The pigeons by my office take the stairs.

I don't know why they don't fly up the six or seven stairs leading to the park behind our building. I would never take stairs if I could fly.

I won't say I always take the easy way out of situations. Sometimes, in fact, I make things harder than they need to be. A few weeks ago I was performing on the river boat and got very hungry. We have access to the "Calliope Deck", which has snacks available at all hours. I grabbed a sandwich, but once I saw the label I couldn't eat it. I had to put the sandwich back because the label said, "Ham and Chedder".

My thought process was that if they can't spell the ingredients of the sandwich, it wouldn't be good to eat. I opted for the "Special Sandwich". I don't know what was in it, but at least everything was spelled correctly.

I think I had twelve sex dreams last night. And YOU were there, and YOU were there and YOU were there....

I always wonder if Snow White had just that one dress. I can't remember if she wore other outfits in the movie. I would hate to be on a show like LOST, where you couldn't change into different interesting costumes for different episodes. I think they should allow the actors to play around with funny costumes. Maybe one of the survivors could get hit on the head with a coconut and there could be a wacky dream sequence with chicken suits and nun costumes and stuff like that.

Today I am seeing a therapist. Some of you are probably shouting "THANK GOD" right now. The thing is, he specializes in gay and lesbian issues, relationship issues, depression, and Attention Deficit Disorder. We are so MFEO.

I am a depressed gay man with relationship issues who has Attention Deficit Disorder. If I don't score some kind of prescription from this session, something is seriously wrong.

I am finally at peace about being single. Now that Nick Lachey is available, I see why I had to go through that heart-wrenching breakup.

Sorry if this post gave you conversational whiplash. I can't focus today because I keep thinking about my trip to Tokyo next month (which I really need to write about) and my trip to the Gay Games next summer in Chicago. And pigeons. Of course I'm thinking about pigeons. And Snow White and therapy and Nick Lachey and one or two other things.

If you can't come up with a comment about at least one thing in this post, I don't know what to tell you, Scooter. Think of something witty.

Letter from a Friend

For today I just want to share a tiny part of a beautiful letter I received from a dear friend. I've never met him, but he warms my heart deeply. Here is what Eclecticon has to say, and, if you are facing tough times, I hope this helps you stay strong.


Stay deep, Toddy. Examine the vast new territory that has been opened up to you by this relationship. I don't know how I know this, but I sense that there are great new magical places that you can now explore that would have been closed to you a year before. However, for this, you need courage, stamina, a sense of adventure and your friends. Oh, and love. There's lots of that around you. Notice it. Cherish it.


At first, this will be painful, but observe how plants flourish - particularly blooming plants like roses. At the end of every blooming season, you want to rid them of all their greenery. Strip off the leaves. Denude them of all those gorgeous leftover blooms. Pare back branches that steal away precious nutrients. Why? Because it's time for the core of the flower - the roots and the stem and the branches - to grow, get stronger, reach out, and prepare for ever new greenery, leaves, flowers, a new season of spectacular glory.


This is you, Toddy. Life is stripping things away. It is so severe it feels as if the very flesh is being flayed from your bones. Stand tall. Observe how life must now rebuild your core, make you stronger, make you MORE. Draw strength from it. Meditate on it. Find a quiet place where you can sit for a long time (which, for you, would be about two minutes, forty seconds), and feel the earth under your spirit. Look inside yourself for the new lands. What is it like, there? Try to see the newness. Clear away the scars of this last year so that you can explore yourself.


This is not a process for the weak - but you are not weak. However, it is also not a process for loners. Your strength, Toddy, comes from Auburn Pisces, the Math Whiz, the Handsome Prince, Auburn Aries, the Toddtender, Pony, Chopper, (Makers Mark!) - all those people who have remained constant in your life. Ground yourself in their love and their presence. Go to each one, look in their eyes, search out their love, and then GIVE. Pour out your love and affection to them. Give them hugs. Kisses. Where appropriate - gropes. Admire them. Let them know what you love about them and then seek to encourage them in all the ways you have been denied. When they seek to give to you, gratefully accept, and then pour the blessings of their love back upon them. Take these new lands, find the wells and the lakes and the oceans and channel them into fountains of joy, love and peace.


You can do it, Toddy. I know you can.


Seek magic. It's there. It's in you. It's beating upon you to be let out.


Love,
Eclecticon

Road Trip

I will be on a road trip today.

Actually, my body will be in a training for the next two days at work. But in my mind, I am on a road trip. I'm in the backseat of a warm car on a rainy day. Three friends are on the trip with me, but I'm sitting quietly in the backseat staring out the window.

Music is playing on the car stereo, and everyone has a hot cup of coffee (I'm spiking mine with a little flask of whiskey). We're all at peace and enjoying the warmth of our friendship and mutual love.

The others comment on landmarks and billboards. They chat about people back home, and they talk about all we'll experience at our destination. But I'm silent as I reflect on all the people who have come and gone in my 39 years.

I think about Jackie, the girl I almost asked to marry me. I wonder how she got on with her life after I disappeared. Now I understand what she must have felt. Having someone disappear is the worst feeling.

I think about CT and our seven years together. I think about Kody, the first boy I kissed. I remember my crush on Patrick and my love for Pony and my fascination with Michael. I think about Jose and Brad and Henry and others who wanted me to love them and, although I tried, I never could.

I think about my family - both biological and chosen. I think of AP and AA and the way I've been welcomed into their home. I think of my friends at work, Ms. Karma and Juju and The Math Whiz. I reflect on The Handsome Prince and the intricacies of our friendship and all we've been through. I think of "The Mad Sheep" - my college buddies. Their influence in my life still runs through my every thought and deed.

As the rain falls outside the car, I think of Tim, who died a few years ago. Tim was a friend from college, younger than I, who died from a brain tumor. He was taken too soon. He bought me tickets to see Les Miserables and went with me to the show and laughed at me when I started crying at the opening chord of the overture.

I think about the guys I knew for one night - the ones who never even knew my last name. But I remember the way I felt with each one of them. I think about the many, many people I've met through Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven - the ones I've met in person, the ones who e-mail, the ones I've talked to on the phone. So blessed, I am.

Of course I think about Thor too. I think about how he made my heart feel - so different from anything I've known before, and I don't know if anyone will make me feel that way again. I look out the window and wonder where this car is headed. I am on a road trip to somewhere unknown. Maybe somewhere on the other side, I'll meet up with Thor again. Maybe I won't ever see him again. But he's here now in my heart, along with hundreds - literally hundreds - of others I love and always will.