Country Side

It was a planned weekend, and it was the makings of a short story at best. The Film Critic has moved upstate. I spent the weekend with him, we saw movies and swam in lakes and ponds. I met Sophisticated people and I ate fresh strawberries.

The Film Critic and I have fun content and passionate times together, but where is the warmth? I'm fine with it, that's what makes it such a short story. It's a memory in the making, there really will never be a future in it. I will enjoy it while it lasts. It was a nice getaway and a fun little trip. I got a tan out of the whole thing and to get to know another person.

Enter The Documentarist

It's New Years Eve and only moments after 2009 rolls in I am making out with a boy. I didn't foresee this happening, not in the least. We all got dressed up before we left the house and I was so unaware that I was going to be courted. I had my friend give me a Black-Eye because it seemed what needed to be done at the time.

We arrived at the club and I pranced off, looking around for something fun to do. When I arrived back at the sitting area that was mine, The Documentarist, entered the scene. I knew him from Manhunt back in the day. Wed\ never hooked up because I was going through a lot of shit at the time and he is my age, it unnerves me to be interested in someone on my playing field.

Our eyes met. His piercing and mine glazed over. We'd been talking on manhunt, on and off, for about two years. We have a little knowledge of each other's lives, but nothing more than the basics. Cock size, HIV Status, etc.

I smiled at him and he whispered to me, "What are you on?" I rattled off a list of letters from the alphabet and he seemed nonchalant about it all. I think that was the moment I knew he was mine for taking.

I did not necessarily plot it out. I simply decided to dance with my shirt off, that is all, nothing wrong with that. Next thing I know we were in the bathroom kissing and then on the dance floor making out. He told me he'd have met me sooner if he had seen my smile before now. He has a smooth way with words. He also added, "You know you're coming home with me, so I can tie you up and not let you go?" I swear, my heart melted, just a little.

I was taken by his humor and mannerisms. He's a stout guy (maybe a little chubby), is Israeli and has a dark complexion. He always has stubble, smokes left-handed cigarettes and is covered with Keith Harring Tattoos. He is a Scorpio and has a huge sexual appetite.

He was smitten with my good looks and kept telling me how cute I am. After a little while, we finally decided to leave. We arrived at his apartment around 4 am and didn't go to bed until 6:30 am. We slept until about 2 PM and then continued to mess around and talk. He made me breakfast and I continued to turn him on. There was discussion of dating and other issues of monogamy. It moved so fast, I've never felt so attracted to someone before.

I've arrived home and wondrously, we have set a date for tomorrow. I read in Gay Love Signs that Cancer & Scorpio go together well. Exceedingly well, actually. It's already accurately called out how our first meeting would be.

"Your first sexual encounter could take place almost anywhere; at the baths, in the back of a truck or behind the locked door at his office, depending upon the circumstances under which you meet."

The book is surprisingly accurate. I left his apartment and began to doubt myself. He seems like a worthy thing to try for and the cards are already in my favor. I read the book and it addressed this issue right off the bat!

Scorpio men are sexuality incarnate. When you first meet you see it in his eyes that are deep-set and fixed in their gaze. When he makes eye contact, this man is not teasing. He doesn't flirty because he realizes that sex is more than a game. . .Your first instinct is to run away, but the promise of such intense sexuality and the challenge of coping with his power combine to force you to surrender.

You feel like you are jumping feet first into a deep pool of dark water, giving yourself up to a mystical experience that could lead you either to heaven or hell. After your first sexual encounter with a Scorpio man, you may feel that you don't care whether it's angels or devils as long as you can spend eternity with him as your lover.

It's very interesting all of it. It sounds promising and though it's not the cold heard facts, it's nice to have a perspective into the situation. I trust the ideas of what to look out for, since I find myself very Cancer-like.

Now what's tricky and I figure I may as well be honest with him. I have my LA Lover staying with me apparently from the 1st to the 3rd. He must've figured something was up today, because I didn't call him until I got home around 6:30. He is sick. Oh it's such divine intervention! Only the first day into Which is good because I have a hickey.

Sunday Nights

Last night I went out with my two friends from down the street. One being a drag queen whom I love and the other her boyfriend. Whom I also love. They both treat me better than anyone I've met. They also live in a world I absolutely adore, if for nothing more than to observe.

I sometimes think that after school I will try to start working in a club. Not necessarily as a gogo boy, for I fear I don't have the body of that. I think I've make a better bartender, but that takes practice. I don't know, just this whole club family, the cast of characters. Like her, or her, or him, or him, or he, or she, or they, or it. I meet many of them repeatedly, but because I'm not a local. Nor am I outstanding in my look. I never get remembered. Except for this adorable DJ who I can't love because a friend of mine has been telling me about him. Also I've never really had a conversation with him...

Plus not to mention the whole off hours and the debauchery of it all. It's just an amusing notion. I know it'll probably never happen because I'm always more amazed at it all. Watching the people come and go. Watching the people who know what they're doing, do their thing. Yet, having friends in the life makes me happy.

The other bit of news from last night. Aside from the 5 am return home. Was the guy who hit on me, made out with me. While I successfully managed to knock his drink out of his hands. To sum up how the entire interaction went read this Craigslist Post I wish to post:

Existential Mis-connect At 3:30 AM

You were the hot guy in the blazer you said was denim. I was in the tight T-shirt that said "Hello" in a different language.

Just wanted to let you know you are really hot and a good kisser.

I didn't ask for your number because the idea of letting you fuck my face in a dirty bathroom wasn't where I wanted to be at that moment. In a bedroom setting, I'd let you do it anytime. Taking a chance, but email me if it's you.

Notes on a Scandal

• Broadway is on Strike...this means two things for me, either the end of the world is coming or I need to get a new hobby for the time being. I am guessing the latter. Thank God I'm so sophisticated that I still have off, off-off, local and cabaret theater to attend. Like tonight, I'm seeing Yank! The Musical at the Gallery Players in Park Slope. In the words of Bea Arthur, "Nobody is gonna rain on my..."
• I am almost finished with my play. This is good news as the show stunk and was extremely boring. And the three leads were all divas. I mean they were nice and all, but when an actor gets on their thesis role, they change. Oh God do they change.
  
• I think I had sex with a serial killer. No more need be said, except that yes I have sort of returned to sex. And the inaugural performance was with a guy who couldn't look me in the eyes, yet was bold as anyone. He was very controlling, yet incredibly shy. He made small talk while sucking my cock. Look for my new book, "Now I survived a Serial Fucking."
  

Yes, I have returned. Here she is boys!

• I watched Contact, best musical of 1999. It was enjoyable and original, yet a little contrived. Wonderful to see though. I enjoyed the first and second part, the third had some good dances, but it dragged a little. Except Charlotte D'Amboise as the Wife...I'm still convinced either it was her choice or the character is supposed to be otherwise engaged.

I'm listening to Wicked right now, does that mean I'm depressed?

Iguana Can't Decide

I don't know if it's listening to Canon in D is why I feel so relaxed right now? Or is it the fact that I got a full body massage today that included a happy ending...

I didn't necessarily ask for it. It was an interesting thing. We had a couple glasses of wine and he asked me to lay on the bed while he gave me a massage. I ache often and thought why not?

It was sort of nice to know he just wanted to get me off. It was slightly perplexing too. He was very attractive, though somewhat shy. Some people get off on just making others get off. I laid there and realized I had to get to Halloween before a decent hour. So though I could've relaxed more, I ended it with an abrupt though fun ending.

As I walked down the street afterwards I had a certain bounce in my step. I didn't feel degraded or upset that this happened. It was because I felt nothing emotionally? Probably. He was sweet and awkward and gave me free wine.

These are the moments that make life worth living.

End of Labor Day. What long weekend wouldn't be complete without buying some CDs. I was feeling very Andrew Lloyd Webber happy this week (the chapter in my musical book is ALL about the Pop Opera, so he's been discussing ALW) and I just HAD to hear Lori Beechman in Joseph and I am EVER so glad I did. Since I was feeling an after glow as well, I bought the original cast of Jesus Christ Superstar. Anita Morris was in the chorus of it as a reporter/Apostle Woman/Leper/Temple Lady.

Nope it's the Canon in D.

Iguana's Labor Day Weekend

First off, WHAT is up with Ruthie Henshall in the London Cast recording of Chicago? It's as if she's intentionally trying to combine every accent she can into on human voice. It's as if Sybil was playing the role...well for all intensive purposes and I don't care what she was channeling for that show. She failed in my humble opinion...but what do I know? I love Ruthie is other things, but not in this show.

That phone keeps on ringing, then somebodies at my door.

The weekend began with a slumber party at my place with the Gentleman Caller. We ate at the English place that last week, I left in a tizzy. Deep-fried Twix are wonderful, but I need to let them cool before I burn the inside of my mouth. It's difficult since they are so mouth watering.

We then stayed at my place where we slept together, as young girls do at slumber parties in the suburbs. Like most of those young girls, we made out as well. Then after that we fell asleep...well I feel asleep.

I feel all pulled to pieces, can't find inspiration anymore.

Funny, funny thought. I have had approximately three people spend the night in my bed with me for the night. The GC, the crazy date (I am ready to make love to you now) and one of my best friend's who I saw Company with. In all of those occasions I feel that none of them slept well. My friend told me she has problems sleeping in a bed that's not her own. The crazy date was up early and as was the GC.

I wonder if my bed is only comfortable to me? Am I not a good person to sleep next to in a bed? It did dawn upon me that most people are probably pampered in the ways of sleeping. I am able to sleep in any bed or any room I am in. Next to almost anyone. A place to sleep is a place to sleep for me. Be it the floor. Next to my best friend. Or next to the Australian man who I rent from...memories sometimes aren't the best things to have.

The next day, the GC and I went to Coney Island to lay out on the sandy beach and ride the Cyclone. It was very relaxing and fun. Until the sand storms took over and I blinded. The Cyclone was fun in that historical way. I've never felt like I'd fly out of a Roller coaster before, so that was completely fun! For some reason I felt it fit to ride with a piece of gum in my mouth...

There's so many people leaning on me, I'm getting run into the ground.

After we parted ways I laid on the bed and waited for the next part of my weekend to begin...A third date with The Cyclist isn't want I necessarily wanted in my life. But, I appreciated the fact that he was free to come to the show with me. We saw a Fringe show called Piaf: Love Conquers All. It's like the movie that just came out, but on stage and sung live by the actress...it was rather impressive.

He's proving to be a much better person that I ever anticipated. Yet his motives are completely unknown to me. It's a dying cause I am sure. The end of this tale will end up with me upset and feeling like the toy. Who is so easily used and then set aside. (Simple are the ways we say goodbye) Until then, I am just playing it with no expectations. He leaves these hints that I am ignoring of my own volition.

Getting stoned and going out on the town...stupid thing I'll never do.

Yet, I do it. He's a big pothead. It's something I find fascinating in general. I would say I've done my fair share of drugs, but when I meet someone who is hooked, I find it so interesting! I believe he needs it to perform in life. He told me how he hides pot all around his apartment so he can find it and be happy he found it. Huh?

He also mentioned how he only started smoking about three years ago. Which would be when he was 24/25 years of age. That is rather late to start, which leads me to believe that his starting and it's constant point in his life means he started it to run away from something. He was tired of the monotony of life? He wanted a change? Who knows. I mean I could ask him, I'm sure he'd get offended.

In short though, knowing this makes me feel that no matter how much he may feel he knows about me and my "nervousness" that I always have something I know is wrong with him.

We went to dinner and the show in a haze. I believe I ate my entire burger in 5.3 seconds flat. We talked a lot, I found out some facts. He didn't offend me as much as he had before. He allowed me to spend the night with him. Sure that's fine. He called me his Theater Fuck buddy.

Okay, here's where I voice my complaints...

I mentioned before how he likes to be vocal with his compliments. To someone like me this doesn't hurt nor harm. It does put me on edge at times. He stares at me. I say what? He says, "Nothing, I just like to look at you, you're exceptionally cute. There's no reason...so stop asking what."

I am sorry, I wanted to respond with, "Well, when people stare at me it's only in my nature to question there motives." If he wishes to look at me in a dreamlike haze...fine, but I will never just allow the staring to keep going. He says his goal is to get me to the point where I am completely comfortable with him and myself...GOOD LUCK!

Then is his constant reminder of that I am the, "extremely amazing in bed." Then I give a muffled, "Thank you." He laughs because I'm embarrassed.

Solider...here's the deal.

I know I am amazing in bed. Why do I know this? Because people tell me. Unless the entire homosexual community is on one big joke I have a lot of validation. I have rolled around in it for over a year. I was able to go to sleep knowing that I was ahead of the game. I'm as sexually liberated as the best of them. I know what I do in bed works and I have fun with it. If a guy wants to have fun and we click he will know too.

You think when you tell me this, that it's news to me? I am GLAD you are stunned. It really makes me smile when you tell me that I am a good fuck!

In fact, I think I will write a letter to my 95 year old grandmother telling her all of the ovations I have been getting! Don't you worry, she won't be shocked. She's senile and will forget she read the letter...HELL! She won't even know who wrote it!

That aside...I would like to be known as something a little more than a good fuck! I know it's difficult. It really is. When you tell me that it causes me to sink a little more in my self esteem. I sometimes wonder if I should abstain from sex altogether. But if I did, wouldn't that be my doing a disservice to the men around me? And what kind of person would that make me? By the way to define me, I may as well just sink into the ground and die if I stop having sex.

You understand my dilemma then?

And every one's wanting something from me, and there's not enough of me to go around.