By Any Other Name Would Still be a Rose

This is a picture of my boyfriend's stalker. He sent it to me one day along with a four page letter this kid wrote for him. I don't need to worry because I've been told he joined the army. Though his letter (which was written in October) says he may not continue with it.

Now, for those of you who know my background. This is the second guy I've dated who has a stalker. It's left me with a few thoughts and queries that I just want to get out in the open. Be there an answer to them or not.

I wonder how someone could feel so obsessed with someone to the point of carving their names into a tree outside of the apartment that the Construction Worker was building. Or that he got one phone call when he joined the army and he called The Construction Worker. Is there some sort of dreamworld they live in? I was told that the boy was only a hookup, but then it grew into this deranged gifts and him getting followed into bars.

I sometimes wonder what would happen if this boy doesn't go into the army and just suddenly appears one day. Would he try to kill me? Or ruin my life. The only difference between the first stalker and the second is the man attached. The Construction worker is coming from a different place and this said stalker has yet to appear.

When he does, I hope it ends up like this. . .

Futon Paradise

I purchased a wonderful futon from Ikea the other day. The old one seemed to be cursed and would not come apart no matter how much I tried to dismantle it! Then Elizabeth came home and waved her hand and it fell to pieces.

I'm a little pissed off because I was supposed to be selling Ralph Lauren clothing for the US Open this week, but it seems I am not needed. I haven't minded the week off and I've been incredibly active in doing things. I just can't call my temp agency and say, "The work I was assigned isn't being given to me, can I have more work." In one more week this will be through and things shall return to normal. They said next week will be busier and I will be ready!

I may be getting a kitten soon. This is astounding and thrilling news. The Wounded Soldier's cats had five little kittens and he is offering them out. I have 4 weeks to decide this, but I think it will happen. I'm nervous, but I think it could be an amazing adventure. . .

So I have been very silent for weeks because I have been dating. A lot. I don't know how it happens, but I'll go through these periods where men want me from left and right. Then nothing for weeks. I know that may sound like bragging, but in this new era where I am not being a Manhunt whore, a date is appreciated. Even 4 dates at once.

Though there have been multiple men. There are two that have caught my attention. Both similar and vastly different in their mannerisms. There is the Georgia Peach and the Construction Worker. The things they have in common is that they are both from masculine backgrounds. I love my masculine gay men, as a friend says, "Straight acting is still acting. . ."

It's funny because between the two of them there is a tie for who I would rather spend more time with. If I had it my way (and perhaps I will get my way) I would keep both. The Georgia Peach is a beautiful southern boy. He has no baggage this time, there is no small child in sight and he has a good job. He loves weed and doesn't do hard drugs. He's only been out for a couple of years, before that he was "fucking girls". Apparently not everyone comes out at 15, well for those of us who do. We laugh at the idea of that. Fucking vagina . . .heh.

He's been kind and cuddly and then quiet and distance. It's too soon to really decide anything, but he's an Aries, which I've been told is dangerous to caring people like me. I see it though.

The Construction Worker is older [39] but is beautiful too. He owns his own construction company that is green. He has a large SUV and comes from a half-Italian/half-Lebanese family. I will never be invited to a family dinner. He's quiet, but I enjoy the silence. The same goes for the Peach. There's no incessant talking. I can talk incessantly with my friends. He too came out later in life and no doubt fucked bitches before he was officially a homo. Unlike the Peach though he seems to have been around with more men. He was born and raised in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. I find that hot.

Honestly, I find the idea of gay men who still wear baggy jeans hot. They both wear unfitted jeans.

The Peach and I have slept together. It happened suddenly and without warning. It's hot and quick. Dirty and fun. Then we cuddle while we sleep. In the morning he promptly goes to work and kicks me out like a trick. I ride my bike home and wonder if he'll ever call me until to do something.

The Construction Worker and I have not slept together yet. Even though I long too. We've hung out more though. Seen movies, drank until we were funnily drunk, seen movies. Then he drives me home in his large SUV and we make out in his car. I cannot tell if he's waiting for me to invite him up. He tells me there is no pressure. I also have the slight doubt that the moment I sleep with him I may never see him again.

Time will tell with all of these things. . .

There, I have got you caught up with most everything that's important these days. Now we sit and wait. . .

The Tale of the Wounded Soldier

I feel like this story should begin with, "Once upon a time. . ." because when I sit and think about what I'm going to write about. Involves a relationship, a small child, revenge, poison and a "mildly retarded faggot. So you'll allow me a moment to open this with that lovely phrase.

Once upon a time there lived an Iguana who lived in the Land of Sunsets. One day he met a Wounded Soldier who carried around way to much baggage. These were bags filled with goodies from all the wars he had been in. There was the War of Iraq where he'd gotten shrapnel in his back and hurt both his knees. This made the Iguana feel warmly toward the soldier. There was the War of the Divorce where he'd gotten a small child and a jilted wife who hated him beyond belief. So much that she'd have him arrested for not being able to pay child support. This made the Iguana a little uneasy, but a child in a different state is a child that the Iguana never sees. Then there was the War of the Homo where the Soldier got mixed notions on what being a homosexual is, a crazy Ex-boyfriend who was hit on the head with a brick and now was unable to tell the difference between wrong and right, and all other kinds of silly things. This made the Iguana laugh because: Who would let that kind of thing into their life?

So the Iguana and Soldier stayed together for a month, living contently. When the Soldier left his immense burdens in the other room, things were good. The Iguana smiled and the Soldier felt content, because a Soldier without an army wife is like an Iguana without an eccentricity. The two cannot exist without the each other.

Then one day the Crazy-Ex boyfriend began to come around more and more. You see the Crazy-ex was gifted . . .literally. He was a sob story within himself. For when the Ex was a young boy someone hated him enough to hit him in the head with a brick. That seemed to have damaged his sense of what was right or wrong. Then when the Ex was a little older he dropped out of school in the 6th Grade. That seemed to have damaged any chance of him being socially adept or remotely tolerable. Then through his whole life the Ex grew up with seizures and brittle bones that broke from even a gust of wind.

Into the woods we go again! We have to every now and then!

With all these problems in his past, the Iguana could not help but feel slightly sorry for the crazy-Ex. The Iguana had a special power though, something that the Soldier in his kindness seemed to lack. The Iguana had the most special gifts of all: Common sense and little empathy.

One day when the Iguana and Soldier were having a picnic, the Crazy-Ex appeared in a puff of smoke. In his hands he had two apples, the Soldier was hungry and quickly took a bite. The Iguana though, slapped the apple from the Ex's hand and yelled, "I only eat organic!" After finishing his apple the Soldier began to sweat and feel dizzy. The crazy-Ex went on discussing his last trip to the land of Divorce and talking to the Queen.

"But you're not allowed into the land of Divorce!" Cried the Iguana to the Soldier. The Soldier remained quiet and let the crazy-Ex berate him more. Then the Soldier began to throw up.

"I've been poisoned. . . again!" Shouted the Soldier.

"Oh my. . .Wait, again?"

"Yes, again!"

"You let a mildly retarded man-child poison you, twice? I'm supposed to understand this? Wait and why is your Ex-bf still hanging out after a month we started seeing each other?! I mean you dated for like two months? What part of his absolutely disgusting and childish attitude did you not catch onto first? Why is he even here offering you edible and drinkable things? Why is there the possibility that he poisoned you. . .for a second time?! And why does he have your ex-Wife's phone number?"

"And I just found out your home address too, one of my Goblins got it for me." The crazy-Ex cackled.

"Excuse me? Okay you know what. I have three rules and they've all been broken in one swift move. First, I don't do drama in my life. I have enough and this, my friend, is a little more than I would ever want to get involved in. Second, I have my own affairs to tend to and as far as your Crazy-Ex is concerned. I don't exist anymore, if I get a knock on my door, I will have him arrested and I don't have any backwater shit for him to threaten me about. You got poisoned twice?! And third, I do not involve myself with people who believe that poisoning is something that enters an equation."

And they all lived happily ever after . . .

The End

Transformers 2 with Trannies

Tonight I watched Transformers 2 in a room full of trannies. It just feels symbolic in someway. They were baffled with the incomprehensibility of the plot. Just look for the subtext in all this, you'll find it's intense.

I worked again today, sorting and sorting mail. The good news is the company I'm working with (sorting mail) wants me to continue working for them into next week. Possibly something different from sorting mail! It's like a scene directly out of How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying!

Yesterday my Wounded Soldier made me a birthday dinner.

I call him my Wounded Soldier because he's an Iraqi War Vet. Yes, I kid not. I am enjoying this whole caring about me thing. He gives me a lot of attention, which is nice and I appreciate it. Though he has so much baggage that I get so nervous. Except, in the right way he works for me.

I wanted to try and see Shakespeare in the Park and my roommate went at 4AM and didn't even make it to close to 2PM. They sent her home and she entered the apartment at 8AM. They were sending people away by 8 AM. I'm sorry, but Ann Hathaway doesn't even had an Oscar yet.

I'm 24 now. I need to be off to bed soon so I can do the gym thing at 6 AM. It's not impossible, I have done it before. . .