Self Love?

It’s been a while since I’ve written, and I want to first apologize for that. Thank you for my friends who stick it out and wait patiently for something new… (yes, in my head, you’re sitting on the edge of your chair daily to see if I’ve posted…)

Validation. Romance. Love. Fate. Destiny. Searching. Longing. Loneliness. Bitterness. Grief.

These concepts, and many others have floated in and out of my head lately, in a lot of ways.  I must first thank my FRIEND, (formerly known as “the ex”) for the perfect “Story starter” to find my inspiration to write about this.

So how do we get to the place where we are comfortable within ourselves enough to date comfortably?

Though I’m not a huge fan of Rupaul, she regularly repeats a message we have all heard a thousand times in one way or another. “If you can’t love yourself, how in tha hell you gonna love somebody else?”

Is this really true? I’m not certain.  I have to ask, what is the threshold of loving yourself? Are there levels, and once we reach a certain level we are ready, but still learning to love ourselves more everyday? I think so.   I mean, surely “they” don’t expect us to just be one hundred percent perfectly happy with ourselves, before entering a healthy relationship. That would be ludicrous, right? Or would it?

 I have a friend who has a couple of issues with his body, and his financial/professional status right now. He thinks they might be the biggest barriers he has to dating.  He says his biggest fear, after having a short conversation with a guy online(which is how most gay men encounter each other) is them discovering how overweight he is when they meet in person.  (For the record I never found this person to be “fat” or unattractive in anyway, and since I last saw him he has lost a significant amount of weight.  He will never be skinny, and is probably hit a plateau at a weight loss point, but in keeping his diet and workout regimen going to well, he will probably be able to maintain a stable weight for most of the rest of his life. ) And under other circumstances, I would sleep with him again and again in a heartbeat, aside from just loving him, I’ll always think he is hot!

So the issue for him is how to come to terms with his weight? Or does he have to? Should he stay single, or plan to do so until he feels confident and sexy with his body the way it is? If that is the case, what if he never loses another pound? Is he doomed to single life forever?

I find lots of fault with the idea that we have to be 100% comfortable in our skin or our situation to find love.  He did it once.  And I was damn good, I must say!

So what’s the barrier to another time? Was our short lived love affair a once in a lifetime opportunity for him? Certainly, not. For me?

Yes I have my own issues of insecurity, many of them.  I’ve always had a feeling, that in general, I wasn’t as attractive as the typical guy out there, but mostly that I wasn’t attractive to my “type” of guy.  I’m not he butchest guy in the pack, let’s face it. I love football and beer, chili and rodeos, and what not. But I listen to Pink and Cher, Barbra Streisand and the late-great Donna Summer. I wear women’s clothing on the weekends and refer to my best friends as sisters.  My skin doesn’t tan. I don’t’ workout enough to build muscle, I smoke, I don’t dance well, and I don’t speak Spanish.  So to find a relatively butch acting, (sexually-a bottom) Spanish speaking cultural Latino, with an open mind about Faith and no hang-ups with his mother is hard enough. Then I expect them to want me, more than they want other guys.  I dunno… We’re starting to hit dicey territory. (yes, I quickly made this about me, I can’t write allll about him, I have no experience being him… duh)

So add all of these issues, my feeling, generally not attractive enough, then the fact that rejection is my biggest fear and I’ve felt a lot of it.  For my entire life, I have woken up everyday afraid of rejection and disappointment.  I fear every morning that my family is disappointed with who and what I’ve become. I fear that my friends will see through a façade I’ve put up, and that I’m actually a loser.  I step onto the Stage at every drag show, worried that the audience will suddenly be tired of me and start throwing things at me instead of applauding or tipping.  (they still might, drag audiences are VICIOUS!!!)

How can I expect to date, or even more so, make a good impression and find a boy to stick around for a while if I have all the fear built up? How can he expect to not be single, if he is constantly afraid to be seen in person because of his weight “problem”?

I don’t’ know the answers to the questions about how much ”self-love” we must have to be enough for someone else. But I know this.  My fear of rejection is likely to never go away.  I will always go into a panic attack when my boyfriend/lover/husband/partner doesn’t answer the phone when I call, or doesn’t’ return the call immediately.  I will always assume that he is talking to some gorgeous stranger who stole his breath and attention from me, and that I’m getting dumped any day.  I will always fear the “Its not you…” or “I have to do this for me…” or “I got a job and have to take it…” or “I’m just not into you anymore….”  Those fears will always be in my head. But I can’t let that stop me from dating.

I don’t think we need to be comfortable in our own skin.  People like me never will be. Always working on being more attractive, more physically fit (not me, but others like me) or more intelligent and educated, or more financially stable etc…   We will always try to improve.  The key is not to love ourselves enough to be in a healthy relationship and have love for another.  It’s to love the idea of the dating experience, and to love the idea of dancing to the song, knowing that not every dance will end with a kiss. 

I think the trick here is figure out the balance. I’m still looking, but I think I’m relatively honest with my partners/potential partners about my insecurities, and most of them figure out that it’s a minor eccentricity when it’s not being exacerbated or triggered.   I tend to like men who aren’t skinny.  I am pretty sure I make the men I am with feel incredibly sexy, I hope that was true with My Ex, and I think it is true with my current boyfriend. (Yes I slid that right in there, wait for another post about this, I guess. :-P  )  I’m pretty sure that My Rebel is pretty head over heels for me, I get the feeling he is. But that doesn’t change the fact that I worry that he will wake up one morning and say, “what the eff am I doing!?”  So I tell him that.  I let him know that I have this fear, this insecurity, and that I will panic less if he takes a little time everyday to make sure I know how he feels about me.  Just like I let my partners in the past know that I am not super butch, though I’m a top. Or that I don’t necessarily have the stamina for marathon sex sessions, but I make up for it with my own personal tricks (sorry if that’s TMI, but we’re sex-positive here, remember).

So I am willing to bet that my friend needs to just own his weight issue.  He clearly doesn’t feel fat; if he does he’s an idiot.  So what’s wrong with saying “sure, I wanna meet you, but I have to warn you I’m a self conscious about being a stocky guy…”  Most guys, just like me, will have taken enough time to get to know him and say “so…” just like I did (with this and other confessions… Or they won’t be worth the time.

Not every man in the world is Prince Charming, full of kindness and understanding-it’s true.  But there can’t be only one Prince Charming for each of us.  I thought that was the case once, but I’m already on Number 3 for myself.  All men who, to some degree were willing to look past my issues of insecurity and fear, and see the rest of me that they fell in love with...   I truly hope Number 3-My Rebel is the last one-that I never have to date again….   but if not, I bet there’s a number four out there. 

Keys are forever objects - switching gears

I’ve never really liked to get rid of keys.  I had absolutely no trouble losing them when I was young, locked out of my house many times because I didn’t know where it was, but as an adult I’ve always thought of them as sacred.  I have copies still of the keys to many of my old apartments and houses.  I usually make copies right away and save the originals to give back the exact ones I received.  But the keys I actually use to a place of residence, well that is for me to keep. 

I would never use it to get back into a house I no longer live in, (though I would assume if you a landlord re rents a place changing the locks would be the first thing on the list) but I like knowing I still have that connection to that space.  The key unlocks more than the house for me, it unlocks the feelings, the memories, the emotions of the house.  That key, still accesses all the tears shed in that space. It holds the opening closed, or opens the closed off doorway to laughter and smiles.  To nights lying not eh couch cuddling, and watching TV until someone falls asleep.  It is a reminder of the morning spent lying in bed, talking about the fun of the night before, or sharing the disappointment of what never happened.  I have keys in my possession that will never open a physical door again, but they sure do open the floodgate of tears, happy and sad ones, over the fights and the makeup sessions; the lonely nights and the gathering of friends drinking and eating and enjoying the company.

I recently had a relatively awkward starting conversation, with someone very close to me who still has a key to my place of residence.  I mentioned that my locks had changed because of issues in my apartment complex, and his immediate response was (paraphrased) Do I have to get rid of my key!?

This thought sunk like bricks in my chest.  (Strange, given only recently, I wanted the very same back from him)

I immediately assured him he should keep it. “keys are forever objects” I told him.  I mean this to be true.   I am realizing, through the lens of a key, that truly there are some people who never can be completely erased from our hearts. And there are some places that can always be reopened. And that we have to hold on to those, and value them.  I’ve been bitter, and I’ve been angry- with this and so many other persons- in my past.   I probably will be again.  There are former lovers and friends that I will likely never see to speak to again, but I have realized they taught me things, and I am reminded they gave me thing that cannot be ungiven.  I’ve boxed up those DVDs refusing to watch them, though they are some of my favorite. And I’ve replaced those accessories, or pictures, because I couldn’t bear to look at them again.  But that didn’t get rid of the moments of happiness, the heartbreak, the feeling of kindred spirits or the desire to be close once again. 

I might never…. No, I would never, reopen the relationship with the same key, that lock has changed.  But I don’t’ really want to throw it away either.  I could certainly see using my old keys for a necklace, or wind chime someday.  Why not the same for those old relationships? Friends can be friends after having been more? I’ve been told this is the case. 

I don’t know why I was always more willing to throw away a relationship, than a key, but that’s who I was.  I don’t know if I can change it now, but I’ll certainly try!

 I hope this key means as much to him as it does to me.  Because when I see him twenty years from now, I would hope to catch a glimpse of ladybugs on his key ring, regardless of the physical use of the key.  He will, no doubt, see the connection in my heart-it will never go away-and I will stop trying to make it do so!

It's my gift, not yours.

I’m sex positive.

I first heard the term Sex-Positive (Sex Affirmative) when I was a young activist, only 18 or 19, working with a local Gay Rights Organization.  I saw two different groups of people among the activists I worked with, and learned a great deal from, but didn’t know there was a terminology or categorical definitions and separations for them all.  I knew this, though.  I knew that while I was with one particular group of them, the activists, I was made to feel dirty, or unfocused, or young and navies, or worst of all highly irresponsible, for be sexually active, or even dating.  There was a lesbian couple, (the kind that-sadly-epitomizes all of those lesbian couple stereotypes….) who really worked to take me under their wings while I was working in the activists’ field. They allowed me to stay with them in Santa Fe for multiple nights at a time so I wouldn’t have to drive back and forth, and they always made sure I was eating and what not.  Very kind people, in many ways.  But the first time I told them I wasn’t’ staying with them because I had a date and would either drive back to ABQ after, or stay at his place I got a 45 minutes lecture about the evils of sex.  (Maybe they just did it wrong)

Shortly after that particular event, I began spending more time with another group of activists, men. Gay men, who were open and honest about sexuality. They encouraged me to explore, stuffed condoms in my pockets (I didn’t need them, I always had my own) and pushed me out the door with a kiss on the cheek and a “go get it girl!”  They weren’t pimping me out, and they never encouraged me to have sex with someone I didn’t want to have sex with, or date, or what not.  They just had a different attitude. The embodied the attitude that “sexuality is a gift from god, and it is up to us to share that gift as we see fit.” 

I liked this viewpoint.  When it became a little more clear to the one group, why I was spending my time with the other, it got even worse.  And then came the lectures and conversations that I still see today, that really shaped my view of sexuality.

“They are void of love, and they didn’t get enough affection from their parents, so instead of turning to drugs or alcohol (though some of these folks did drink, on both sides) they use meaningless emotionless dirty sex to fill the void, and they will never fill it.  They don’t have enough love and respect for themselves to be whole without fucking another person and leaving them, every night.”

This is a paraphrasing of essentially what I’ve heard.  We’ve all heard it.  “She sleeps around to feel wanted.”  “He is afraid of getting hurt so he just gets in and gets off and gets out before any emotions can be explored.” “He is just a slutty drunk and I bet he cries in the morning when he remembers, once again, who and what he has done…”

I have all the respect for people who don’t have sex. I have tons of respect for people who don’t do so outside of marriage.  I’m happy to help counsel and even encourage my friends who decide, for their own reasons, to pursue celibacy, by keeping them busy or offering company or what not.  But I am happy to be sexually active. I am happy to be healthy.  Sex is good for you, medical study after medical study say so. And damn it, what am I fighting for, if not the right o have sex when I want, with whomever I want (within the limits of consent and age. 

I spent over ten years fighting for “equality.”  Why is it that I am made to feel by some of my peers even, that the equality I’m fighting for is the right to have quiet sexual relations, once a week, with my legally wedded spouse, nothing more?  I am inclined to believe, my parents, who have between them two of the strongest moral compasses I’ve ever experienced, had a different life when they were my age.  Or a little younger (cause when they were my age, I was already there chattering their ears off and never letting them have a moment of peace, so to speak.) 

I read a blog/journal entry this morning (http://www.whospositive.org/journal/index.php/tom/2012/08/19/hook-up-sites-grindr-manhunt-bbrt-and-a4a) That reeks of sex-negativity.  Why spend your time trashing Grindr, Manhunt, BBRT etc.  Are they dangerous? Well yes. So is Facebook. Let’s not get it twisted, in the least. I’ve met men on Facebook just to have sex as quickly and easily as I have Grindr, and Craigslist, and A4A and the list goes on.  The only difference is the other people on FB aren’t all necessarily looking for the same thing. That makes it more moral? It makes it more acceptable?  I reject this notion, wholeheartedly. Sex is sex. It is either consensual or not. Plain and simple.

It is no business of yours if my sex occurs standing up, in the kitchen while cooking eggs (ouch) or lying quietly in my bed, after having had a perfect day of breakfast, church, dinner with the family, and hoping for pregnancy to be the end result (good luck in my situation, btw).  Why do you care?

And why, single gay man, do you need so desperately to compare your sexual experiences on such social networks, with mine? Why do my sexual experiences bother you so?

This may all sound like just a bunch of anger and contempt, well it is in large part, but there is a larger picture here.

Sex is a beautiful thing.  Sex can be so many things for so many people.  If I had a piece of abstract-ish art on my wall in my living room, would you walk in and tell me that its only beautiful if its hung at a 45 degree angle and on a white wall, otherwise is disgusting and appalling?  (if you would, well you probably wouldn’t be coming into my house anyway) Then why is sex like this?

I believe in Many Gods and the One True God.  I believe in treating my body as a temple, and I decorate it with tattoos and piercings, while worshiping within it and trying to keep it clean and healthy.  I believe in morality of the truest kind, be good to others and give them what you have to share, show Love Mercy and compassion-they will help us achieve justice.  And I believe that Sexuality is my gift from the Divine.  It is mine to share as I please.  I have met men at the bar, social outings, and others, who swore they wanted a relationship, and as soon as we finally had sex, they disappeared.  And I have met men with only the purpose of having sex, one time hopefully, and fallen completely in love with them.  Don’t blame Adam4Adam, or Grindr for your own issues of love and sexuality.  And certainly don’t’ blame me.

The cynic cries

I’ve been busy in the evenings the last few days, chasing the rebellious spirit of lightning… but I’ve been coming to work in the morning to watch the speeches from the DNCC from the night before.

In what has been a very busy day today I have slowly watched President bill Clinton speak, ending his speech with barely enough time before closing time, to scratch out a few thoughts…

Let me begin by remind my friends of the intensely political history.  A history which started at a young age where my Grandfather used not so kind terminology to Describe Republicans, and My mom reminded us we were working class, and I took issue with the idea of treating people differently because our judgments on their morality or their inherited physical traits. 

A political history that continued with great interest through two presidential elections, where I kept my very own notebook of electoral college results and added them up on my won, tracing every state so that I would know in the morning exactly who won and by what number and because of what states (and in my Nerdy head, which states I would and would not want to visit later in life).  A history that allowed, or pushed me to leave College prematurely to pursue a political career that I am still uneasy about, but keep the flame of possibility burning in my mind.

A history that a few years ago, left be ragged, rugged looking, stressed and without a personal life so I walked away from it, but never completely, not truly because it seems to be in my blood (like so many other things I’ve noticed)

That political history left me cynical. As cynical as it comes. I’ve heard one candidate speak after another, after another. I’ve heard the surrogates. I’ve met Ted Kennedy, and Barbara Boxer, Madeleine Albright and the Clintons.  Barbara Mikulski, and Nancy Pelosi and Antonio Villaraigoza.  I’ve spoken before the DNC platform committee about GLBT Suicide rates, before it was a trending topic on twitter.  This is not bragging, this is to say, that not much gets to me anymore.

I’m excited about candidates, but I know reality.

I’m committed to voting, but ti no longer gives me that rush.

I defend my Party and its platform with vigor and fierceness, but I don’t get stomach-cramped angry like I used to…

Except when I hear bill Clinton Speak…

President Clinton manages to boil my blood and turn my skin inside-out as much today as he did years ago!

Maybe it was childhood Naiveté, though I doubt it I was a pretty bright child, but I remember a better time and a better America. Not a perfect one, but a better one.  I remember an America where people were making it, barely sometimes, but making it. I remember having hope and excitement about what was to come. I remember seeing the relief on my parents face as thing got a little bit easier.

I remember a President pushing for, ahead of his time, integration of Gay people into the military, expansion of healthcare and a new way of balancing a budget that doesn’t do so on the back of poor people. 

I remember a country where I felt I had the world at my fingertips and the opportunities to so many things I couldn’t pick it out which of them I might want to pursue.  I remember a President so successful and helping people and maintain credibility that the only real weapon against him the opposition party had was his sex life, which I Maintain was none of anyone’s business, then or now.

I remember a President whose speeches made me cry when I was 12, and when I was 16, and today, at 29, still do.  I’ll vote for Barack Obama, and I will defend his policies, even though I don’t love them 100%.  I will work to recruit my friends and family to do so, with excitement and hope.

But most of all, I will yearn for the days when Bill Clinton was President, and work to regain that sense of promise, of hope and of progress. Because that, is what this Country needs now, and if He believes in Barack Obama, I can’t understand why any thinking person wouldn’t as well!