Scenes With My Life: Three's Company?

(IGUANA stands outside of the ESCORTS apartment. He smokes a cigarette as he waits. Across the stage enters the ESCORT with a friend in tow. The friend is shaded for now and cannot be visible by the audience.)

IGUANA: (Phone rings and he answers it.) Hello?

ESCORT: Hey we're almost there?

IGUANA: Huh, we?

ESCORT: Yea, a friend is with me. We went to get some food. (Teasingly, but with all seriousness.) He's got a great personality and a huge cock! He does has a weird face though, sort of looks like an alien! We used to date. (He laughs and the unclear guest jokes back, but isn't heard or scene yet.)

IGUANA: That's fine. Whatever, I don't mind company.

ESCORT: He has to visit a friend so he is only gonna be here to eat. We'll be there in a... (ESCORT and friend turn to reveal they are now in the same space as the IGUANA. The lights change and IGUANA can see that the friend is the CYCLIST!!) ...second.

IGUANA: Oh! Well this is a surprise! How are you? (They hug.)

CYCLIST: I am good IGUANA!!! (Bear hug.)

ESCORT: (Laughing) I figured you knew each other some how.

IGUANA: Yes, I am very familiar with him.

CYCLIST: Very.

IGUANA: I am like the New York City Directory, everyone's used me at one time? How are you?

CYCLIST: (Noel Coward. Every emotion for him is huge! Nothing is to small to experience.) I am GREAT! I am visiting my good friend here and now I see you! Did you know Iguana was in perhaps the top three best sexual experience in my life! (IGUANA's eyes grow large.) Two hours!

IGUANA: That's me. I'm a machine. (Smiles)

(Scene change. It's later and IGUANA is walking down the street to a play. He is leisurely strolling. He looks at stores and streets and thinks about them. His thoughts are allowed, does not matter if his lips move.)

IGUANA: (Stream of consciousness and listening to his iPhone. Mame is playing.) You coax the blues right out of the horn, I hope this musical is good. Mame, That salad tasted really good, You charm the husk right off of the corn, I need this walk though. Mame, I am nearing up on FIT. You've got that banjoes strummin' Oh good old FIT! Don't they tape Martha Stewart Living there? And plunkin' out a tune to beat the band, Remember that time you slept with that guy. The whole plantation's hummin' While his boyfriend was out of town. Didn't he work... Since you brought Dixie back to Dixie land. (The guy IGUANA is thinking of walks by not noticing him. It is very apparent that IGUANA recognizes him.) You make the cotton easy to pick, ... Mame,

IGUANA: It's time to move to San Francisco... You give my old mint julep a kick, Mame,

BLACKOUT

A Streetcar Named Retarded

I leave to New Orleans tomorrow. Yet I'm so tired and groggy. I got stoned with The Cyclist last night, but then I decided halfway through foreplay I wasn't feeling sex with him. Therefore I didn't go to the gym. Which means I may be starting this vacation off badly.

Since I just woke up and I have to go to work in less than an hour and I need to bring my suitcase because I'm spending the night over someone new in my life's house. That I haven't mentioned. Anyway, in order to get pre-New Orleans sex, I have to be ready today! So I'll have more to discuss when I return.

Pretending to be Betty Buckley

"Years from now, when you talk about this—and you will—be kind." —Deborah Kerr

That concludes my tribute to Ms. Kerr. You will be missed.

In an attempt to save money, I am denying myself the trip to Don't Tell Mama's tonight to see Chatterbox featuring Ms. Betty Buckley. I will be seeing her again in February at the Queen's Theatre...hopefully...

Tonight I see Ahrens and Flaherty's new show The Glorious Ones, for that I am one happy faggot. I hear a little baby crying out in the street and more amount of Ms. Buckley's melodic voice and cover up that sound, yet there is always Meadowlark...we shall try to cover up that sound.

Walking through my college is like walking through a land of strange faces. So many races and different people with different goals. I sometimes walk and overhear students discussing classes in Science or Math and I'm completely perplexed. I always did well, but after four years of not thinking about it, I can't imagine what it would be like studying it relentlessly. Yet, I feel they will end up with all the money. I need to nab myself a med student or a scientist.

Ms. Buckley's Meadowlark has successfully drowned out the sound of crying newborns. Take that baby, take that.

My final project in Costume Construction is to make a pillow. Do you think that embroidering this into a pillow will be difficult? In all seriousness though, I would like to dedicate my pillow to Patti, purely because my teacher today said,

"Can we get through one class without..." And I was sure she was going to say talking and that my class jabbered too much. "...mentioning Patti LuPone?" My eyes narrowed and before I knew it, I was sewing right through my pointer finger. In all seriousness though, I am determined to embroider THIS (well at least the head) onto my pillow. This is my initial idea...

It will change over time I am sure. Oh Patti Lu how I cherish you.

The Cyclist has reentered my life but only through phone calls. Since some people out there have deemed me to aggravating to speak to anymore, I am trying to be nicer to others who aren't as kooky or rude.

You know when someone does something that they think isn't rude and you are totally offended? Then you have a moment and say to yourself, "You know what? I just don't care anymore...they consciously made this choice and I am going to consciously make my own decisions." Then suddenly you feel much better about yourself and those that upset just seems to melt away. Life feels better that way.

Last point of the day, Broadwayspace.com and Playbill Radio.com may be my two new favorite sites!

After the K-Hole

I realize some people may have read the last entry and decided to hate me or something because of my choice to use drugs. Someone did alert me that I could've died. I had a small reality check and realized...

Oops

Though my story may not be as popular as my friend who had sex three times that night apparently, I still count it as memorable, or delusional.

Speaking of sex. It's been over a month since anything has happened to me. No kissing, no fumbling, nothing. I have no one to blame by myself...my spinsterish self. The Cyclist sent me his comments on the paper he was SUPPOSED to edit.

Not a smart move to be telling me what I did wrong on my paper after I've handed it in. He ended it with look forward to seeing you soon. I laughed to myself at that point and deleted the email, intending on not caring and in that effort I have been successful.

I intended this entry to go somewhere, and it hasn't so I'll give up now.

The Prince of Central Park

This weekend was spent recovering and having fun. Enjoying life and enjoying myself . I feel cured of my bad feelings and that's always a good thing. I mean I will someday be sad again and I will once again get through it.

Nothing, I'm feeling nothing.

I bought a sewing machine...It's my pride and joy. I am telling myself more and more that I shall be using it often. I have to, I spent a pretty penny on it (I dipped into my China Trip fund, so it's okay). I have named my sewing machine, Bella Cohen. Wanna know why? Ask Judy Kuhn or Stephen Schwartz. I'm sure either could tell you.

Stitch, pedal, stitch.

This weekend I once again returned to Central Park. This time to see a different concert. It was Marc Bolan's birthday celebration. The band T.Rex performed some of his songs with different performers. Once of them was this lady...


She sang, Children of the Revolution. Amazing. Truly. I don't know much about music out side of Musical Theatre, but I do know magic when I see it. At 60, she blew me away.

Together, we concluded he suffered from a personality disorder.

I enjoyed the opening act, which was Justin Bond singing a Carpenter's record. He told a very touching tale of why he sings these songs. Also his guest singer was Jake Shears of Scissor Sisters. Who is absolutely adorable, but barely had a song. It was more of a lounge act.

Lastly, Rufus Wainwright was also at this event. Not performing, just watching. He was wearing a powder blue suit that didn't match his skin tone. And pants that were TOO tight. He made eye contact with me in the bathroom.

It must have been the way I moved my hips.

It wasn't until several minutes after our bathroom meeting that I remembered he was the Judy Garland guy! The Blasphemer as I call him. I mean recently I've come to terms with it. He pays tribute, not tries to out do her. I just wish I'd remembered that sooner, because I would've had words with Mr. Wainwright...purely just to discuss.

Now onto REAL news:

Tiddle-Dee-Da! First off, you'll be happy to know that I stuck that stick in the wheels of the Cyclist's bike as I planned. It was very satisfying! It was serendipity is more like it.

And at that moment, I knew there was nothing I could possibly do...

After he called me and told me he "fundamentally" needed to have sex with me. I was not really having it anymore. I knew I should call on him because he has my paper. I had a whole plan worked out. I kept myself busy and then Sunday rolled around. So I called him and we chatted for a bit. And it got to that moment...

Me: I was wondering what you were doing today...
Him (explaining his plans): This evening I'm...
Me: Oh that sucks because I was going to see if you wanted to come over in the evening. I mean I could put my homework aside...
Him: Oh, that's right I still need to edit your paper.

Now my mother always taught me: When you see an open wound on your opponent, stick your hand in it and move it around and watch them squirm.

Tonight, I'm gonna taste your blood.

Me: Oh! Well that sort of sucks, because it's due tomorrow.
Him: NO! Really! Oh...
Me: It's perfectly fine. You've just failed to meet my expectations is all. It's okay, because plenty of guys do that.

Two including you, this week alone!

From that moment on the dagger was in. It was just a matter of twisting it. He asked me if I was revoking his sexual privileges...
...
...

HA! Sorry, but you're no longer a card carrying member. Then I hung up on him. Let's leave it at that Cyclist will never ride this Tour De France again.

See, I have this stick...

Oh, and so The Cyclist texts me yesterday about how he has two days off work and would like to see me. I say, I could be free. His text is:

Cyclist: I fundamentally need to have sex with you.

Fundamentally? Jesus. Are you for real? Apparently so.

So I give him a call and he ends up making it worse. The constant insisting of wanting to have sex is just ridiculous and a turn off to me. And he wants another "2 hours" as he said. Why? Because it seems so false. It seems so transparent.

It objectifies me.

Now here is the dilemma. I lost the person who proofreads my papers for the last year, and The Cyclist offered to do it. So I need my paper back.

Get a bad grade or fuck for two hours and do well enough?

Yes, I will compromise me position for a decent grade on a paper. That or I'll lie through my teeth about not feel well, get the paper and RUN! Hm.

Time I put a stick in the spokes of his bike and watch him fly. The glass unicorn is broke and I'm tired of The Cyclist. Sounds like that change is coming quicker than I thought.

Knowing When To Leave

Go while the going is good

Jill O'Hara sang is very well, but Betty Buckley is redefining it for me right now. In my regular insomnia of cycle that I've been having for weeks now. I'll fall asleep soon I am very sure of it. I skipped the gym today and that was my folly. I wanted to get rest from the early wake up call of Saturday. Yet, it was a sleep filled with nightmares.

Knowing when to leave may be the smartest thing that anyone can learn.

I watched at people got crushed and contorted, yet still remained alive. I watched people I didn't know get tortured and I was helpless to do anything. I just watched. No one specifically in my life really. It could've been the cast of Heroes and I wouldn't have known who they were.

At one point a monstrous wardrobe swallowed two people and the doors slammed shut. I rushed to it to hear their screams as they were slowly being digested on the inside. I wanted to try and crack it open, but I have seen one to many movies and knew that they were lost and even if I got them out, they'd be a mess. So I let them die...

I'm afraid my heart, isn't very smart...

In other news. I am buying a sewing machine tomorrow. Part of my stress has been school and getting all my sewing done. I don't have time to sign up during my free time with everything else. Also, since I enjoy Costume Construction and actually am very interested in it, I don't want to do badly in the class because of my lack of time. With other classes this feeling on inadequacy has made me want to just take a Sabbatical. Find myself. Which leads me to my next topic...

Foolish as it seems, I still have my dreams.

I have been in a horrible mood in the last week. Bad news didn't help. Added with frustration and other things. I have come to the conclusion I am horribly unhappy with myself. I can't clearly articulate the feelings, but it's late and I am going to try...

I am at the point that I feel like a standstill. Change is coming, whether if be forced or not. Idle hands are the Devils playground, I suppose. Yet my idle hands haven't touched that swing set in a while. I am disgusted with people who are older than 25, right now. Why?

So I keep hoping day after day as I wait for the man I mean.

The Gentleman Caller says that I shouldn't feel like an object. HA! Of all the people to say such a thing. He is a friend, I do agree. Yet, I sometimes wonder how long I will be held onto until he solves his issues with himself and meets someone and suddenly I'm just the 21 year old who was.

The phrase that caught me was, "We can do the deed when we're at Busch Gardens." The deed?

Well I don't want to bother you, but since we're sharing the same bed I guess I could oblige you, Sir.

I am glad truly glad you made some guy have the best sex of his life the other day. I truly am. Yet when you said, "Then why doesn't he return back if I was so amazing?" I wanted to just raise my hand. Instead, I gagged in my mouth for a moment, resisting the urge to scream. I have to wait three weeks to have sex with you? Seriously?

Deep down, whoever you are...

Then there is the Cyclist. Who's blatant objectifying me is as obvious as the awful text messages he sends me. He was on a role this Sunday until he blundered it up. I had to cut him off and let him go. Like those fish I caught this summer. Sea Bass truly are the worst fish to catch and must be sent back.

My mother raised something to be proud of, not a Distraction.

The moment came later that night. In a sign that only myself and a few others can appreciate. I will retell the tale though, since it must be told:

I was riding the subway. Biting my lip and trying to read The Golden Compass. Meanwhile, down the train was an adorable gay couple. My age I'd guess, scruffy and in that moment of their relationship where only they felt each other existed. Both very attractive.

I do believe at this point my lip started to bleed.

At every stop I watched them to see if they'd leave, wondering where two adorable guys like that would be heading to. Probably Christopher St or something. Yet they didn't get off. I started to wonder the last time I ever felt that way with a guy. I don't know if I ever have...

No I have, when I was younger, in my teens. When I believed that guys were capable of that type of romance. Then down the train there was proof that it still happens...to others. I had a pure teenager moment when I thought, "They why hasn't it happened to me?"

As I turned to read my book, my gaze was caught instead by something else. I saw myself in the reflection of the Subway window. If there is a reflection you don't want to see yourself in and suddenly have a revelation. It's in a subway window, while two gay guys cuddled only feet away.

Yet I looked at myself.

To add the the moment, Lucy and Jessie started to play on my ipod. A song I knew was soon to be followed with Live, Laugh, Love. This song was just after Losing My Mind played. Let me tell you, never before has three songs in consecutive order EVER made such a moment in my life. I watch the couple as Barbara Cook sings, "Losing my Mind."

You said you loved me...or were you just being kind.

Then I see myself and Lucy and Jessie starts to ring out of Lee Remick's mouth. I just stared at myself. What did I do to deserve this moment? What did I see? I saw someone who I couldn't take seriously. I was wearing a tight fitting shirt that I got from a teenage girl's store and made my body look...well good.

Yet I wondered what do people see when they see me? Do they laugh that I would wear this? Do they seem something frivolous, not worth more than sex? Do they feel intimidated? Something not worth more than a moments glance?

Here comes, Live, Laugh, Love. I can't stop the thoughts now. Things need to change, I see something that other people don't. I don't know what the difference is, but it confuses me. I wish I could see myself through others eyes. So I could get a grasp onto things.

Success is swell, success is sweet...

The train came to my stop. And I saw it coming as the couple got off the train with me. To do what people in love do at 10:30 pm. I can't possibly tell you what anymore. Sleep? Talk about the future together?

Me I like to live! Me I like to love, Me I like...me...love..me...I don't love me...

I think it's time to try that sleeping thing...

Can't Win Them All...But We Will Try

Ever wake up and feel your face looks like this?

Some days, I do. Then I realize it's just a reflection of the light...I mean my nose isn't difficult to miss. Honestly. Oh and, SE7EN has it's own comic book series? Jigga what?! I need these soon! This movie used to entrance me.

I can be cruel, I don't know why?

If you're surprised, don't be. I suffer from major blood lust sometimes. I tend to create these vivid and brilliant death scenes for in my mind. I would never act them out, just consider movies like Saw 3 and SE7EN as proper cathartic ways for me to deal with my emotions.*

Tomorrow is Legally Blonde for sure! I am going to also try to attend the Betty Comden Memorial, at two, which will have a bunch of big Broadway Diva names like Christine Ebersole, Donna Murphy, Beth Leavel, Etc, etc. Not Audra though. She had to cancel. I will try, but honestly I'm not going is I need to be there by 9:30! Sorry Betty, your memory will live on.

I decided to fool with the mind of of The Cyclist today.

Texting him odd little messages.

I did sort of make a deal with him. He went skydiving the other day and I agreed that if he made it to the ground alive...I would let him cum all over me.

I feel that's a fair trade for staying alive...

Remember when I said I wanted a boyfriend...well I still need to work on my approach.

*No, I am not a serial killer.

Iguana Appreciates Brilliance

*Warning*: the post below is written by someone who is absolutely Eccentric (mad) also known as myself...You've been warned.


So much happening where to begin. First above is a picture of the late Joan Diener. God bless her rough voice, it was amazing. For those of you who don't know her she was Aldonza in the original Man of La Mancha ("One pair of arms is like the other."). Also in Kismet ("Ladies shall we begin...service? What shall be the subject of our erotic discourse?"), but what I love her for is her role in At The Grand, which was the original Grand Hotel (of course I'm talking theater not movie). Apparently, it was a hit in L.A. but it would never get to Broadway. Why?

Well kids, that's why I am here to tell you the scandalous tale of Ms. Diener...that I heard from Ken Mendelbaum...indirectly.

The lead Paul Muni suffered from Paranoia that Diener was plotting against him. I would be too, she's sort of crazy. Due to it he barely slept and suffered the entire run. When the renewal of his contract was up he refused to resign. Therefore, since it was his show, the show was finished. How did Diener seek her revenge...in ways that I only dream of...

Muni was intensely afraid of cleavage and scantily clad women (yes, he was a piece of work, right?) During the final performance, a chorus girl intentionally slapped Muni in the face with her bare breast! But, Diener really had the last laugh in my opinion...

When during her curtain call, she "turned upstage to Muni and opening her full-length mink coat to reveal herself naked but for a long-stemmed rose between her legs." Now that is was I call a genius moment! (Not Since Carrie, 216)

Joan Diener is the stuff my dreams are made of!!

Onto the real stuff...

School is school. Getting used to it and all that jazz. Pretty soon the weeks will get a little more packed, but that has stopped me from doing what I like. Here's my schedule coming up:

• Seeing the Fantasticks with the Gentleman Caller — How thrilling! Seeing history with a man who was it during it's original NY run. I say that because he's 30 now, and he's been alive for the closing of a show and for them to revive it in his life. OH Jesus when that happens to me...I'll be SO happy. I've been waiting for a proper Side Show revival! (Roundabout BETTER not touch that property!)
  
• Seeing a Margaret Garner - The Opera with the Gentleman Caller — Are we married? A girl can dream, right? Honestly, I'm really happy he's going with me. This is REALLY exciting. In case you don't know. Toni Morrison teamed up and made Beloved into an Opera. Yea, I know...My friend said it's The Color Purple meets Porgy & Bess. It's a black woman singing, in short I was destined to see it before it came out.

Now only is Jennifer Holiday would do the role.

I can just see Margaret Garner (Holliday) at Trial for the murder of her daughter telling the jury:

"And I told her, 'You're not going!
You're the best daughter I ever had,
There's no way you can ever go!
No, no there's no way! No, no, no
no way! You're being a slave!
You're not gonna be a slave!
I want you to be free!
I'm saying, I'm saying!
You, you are gonna have to die!
I'm gonna murder you for your own good!
Cause I'm your mother...'"

Now I am SURE the score is much better, but listen to my lyrics with Dreamgirls playing and sing along. See how it sounds...

Go on try it...

• I'm seeing an the first return of Kiss of the Spider Woman to NYC since it's original run with one of my best friends! — I can't wait for that...It could be great, it could be awful. Regardless, it'll be wonderful to see this show! Once again my Theatre Powers* took action. The other day I was thinking about how close to Molina I am in my dreaming (of Anita Morris of course) and I thought...I wish I could see that show...Cut to this weekend when it was announced that they're doing a production. I'm just saying, I frighten myself sometimes.

That concludes my plans for the following week...(seriously)

• Seeing King Lear starring Ian McKellan — Normally 3 hours of Shakespeare wouldn't create such excitement. But, it's every one's favorite British Gay Icon! He's naked and he's brilliant! I'm thrilled if you can't tell.

There are other things also happening. Like the fact that I feel The Cyclist has dropped me, which I'm sort of fine with. It only proves my original thesis that he was on the hunt for sex. When I didn't provide two hours every time (but WHO CAN!? Well I can, but I don't brag) he is now moving. If this is true, I have sort of won. He's proving himself to me as an incredible flake and everything I expected.

Still I will not get to live out my fantasy of one day tying him up to his bed. Dousing him in gasoline, while I wear nothing but a jockstrap. I light a cigarette and tell him about how he needs to be humbled and that I warned him I was completely insane. I toy with him for a time and finally see him humbled. I throw the cigarette onto the bed, only to have it extinguished because in fact it was just water. I look at him and say, "Don't FUCK with the feelings of a emotional Cancer!" Put on my clothes and walk out of the room...leaving him tied up all the same.**

Enough craziness for one night, don't you think?

*Granted I think about every musical in the history of theater at every moment of everyday. So it's not hard for a production to come out that I'm like, "I was just thinking about that!" Nonetheless, I surprise myself sometimes. I am sure if I wished hard enough Laurie Beechman would come back from the grave, enter my room (fez and all) and perform Joseph and the Technicolor DreamCoat for me...I'm am just saying.
**I never put this dream into action because I am all about realism and I couldn't figure out how to make it so the liquid smelled of Gasoline, but was in fact just water. I just liked the idea of it...after all it was JUST a dream...

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.