V.Day

Valentine's Day is this Saturday. I'm not thrilled about it. I'm dateless once again. All my single friends have somehow or other found a date. I mean, I can say I blame them, who wants to be alone on Valentine's Day? Not me.

While riding the subway two nights ago, I asked my friend D. what his plans were for Saturday night, in a casually-brushing-it-off-kind-of-way he said, "oh I think I might have a date." 

Something came over me and I snapped, "You think or you know?" 

"I don't know...I just don't want to talk about it right now..." He was being extremely secretive with me. All I kept thinking was dude, just tell me that you have a date, I don't care. I just want to know if I should count on hanging out with you on Saturday night or not. But he just dropped it and it made me angrier.

Last night, I was telling my friend A. the conversation I had with D. and he asked, "why do you put so much emphasis on this holiday?" 

"Maybe I just expected since it was my first Valentine's day in New York I would spend it with someone." I replied. "And  all my previous Valentine's day I passed them alone, I thought this year would be different, I guess I was wrong."

He stared at me with this I-don't-know-what-to-tell-you-look, like figure it out. I think people who have been in a relationship for for years, can't seem to grasp the concept of being alone anymore. 'Cause why would they, they have someone to call, who thinks about them and puts them first. I want that. I really do. I'm tired of being single. That's why I'm hyper-sensitive about Valentine's Day, because I already know that I'm single, I don't need a special day in February to be remind that I'm single.

I'm just lonely, what can I say. It's been sometime since a guy that I liked, liked me back. I just long for the touch of a guy; to be hugged by him, to be kissed by him, to be loved by him. I know it's not to much to ask for, but apparently it seems that it might be. 

I'll get over it. I normally do. It's just that time of the month, I guess you can say...  

The Roles We Play in this Game Called Life

All of us whether we know it or not play roles in our daily lives. Some of those roles are given to us by birth; we are either son or daughter. Some roles we chose in our path of life; we become a husband, a wife, a doctor, an artist. Other roles are appointed to us whether we know it or not, by our characteristics as a person. The latter is the role that I'm starting to discover I'm disliking.

The role that people have often referred to describe me has been, "Oscar's cute (not hot), funny (not clever), and a really fashionable (not a trendsetter) guy." I've never really had a problem with this role, I have always embraced it. It started to bother me when I moved to New York and encountering gay men who are either funnier, more fashionable, and cuter than me. I think that I might be going through an identity crisis...like they all have my role? What do I do now? Who am I?

How do we break out of these roles if this is all we've ever known? Can we break from them at any point? Do we have the liberty to do that? Or are we doomed to play them for the rest of our lives? Until we discover another role that we fit better.

The other facet of my cute, funny, fashionable role is when meeting guys who I see as potential boyfriends, they tend to see me as just a "friend". And I fit the role of the "friend" like an old pair of gloves; I'm always reliable, I give great advice, partly because I'm a great listener. In some ways I'm to blame; it's my defense mechanism. When I meet a guy that I really like and I start to notice that he's leading more into the friendship realm, I never really let him know how I feel because I fear that he may not feel the same way, whether that's true or not. I'm just afraid to get hurt. But who isn't right? 

So why don't I just accept this role and move on? Because I want another role, the role of both boyfriend and friend; when a guy can see me as both roles, it'll be a great day.

Stop Searching

I'm a romantic, unfortunately for me, romance and being gay don't go hand and hand. All the guys I meet, just want sex. Granted sex is amazing, and I'm not diminishing that, but really? Don't guys want more than just sex? Aren't guys looking for companionship anymore? Or maybe I'm looking in all the wrong venues. 

Another of my unfortunate flaws is that whenever I enter a situation, I find myself looking to see if I'm going to meet him, (him - being the guy who I'm going to end up with), and that's never a good thing to do. 

I have come to two conclusions today:

1) Prince Charming DOES NOT exist. I have to let go of that idea if I'm ever going to be truly happy. 

2) I'm going to STOP SEARCHING. I know that I say this time and time again, but this time, I mean it, I'm done looking. I honestly have to give up on the idea that I'll ever meet him, it isn't until I relinquish that, and I'm comfortable with the idea that I can possibly be alone for the rest of my life, that he'll come. (I can only hope). 

It's going to be a tough thing to do, to just stop searching because every stolen glance is a possibility. Every guy sitting next to me at Starbucks can be a chance to go on a date. But I have to do it, refocus my energy.

And if by chance, Prince Charming does in fact exist and you've stumbled across this blog, know that I'm patiently waiting for you, just don't wait too long.

 

Street (A Poem)

Yesterday while I was going through some old stuff that I've written I came across two poems that I wrote while I was a senior in college in 2004. Here's the first poem . . . 

STREET

The sunlight dries the damp streets in the Village

As the sound of the bus echoes

Surrounding the coldness of a winter's morning.

Gazing through the window of the seventh story

Walk up apartment, seeing the cars parked

Wondering every morning who drives them.

The smell of the coffee shop downstairs creeps

Through the open window, scoffing at me. I recall

All those childhood dreams I once possessed.

The wind slowly picks up, blowing the newspapers

Which surround the bodega on the corner.

The baby next door screeches louder than a marching band.

I ache to escape this life I'm leading, but somehow

Every time I've tried, I come back.

Am I addicted to the routine? Or am I just a masochist?

The sunlight dries the damp streets in the Village

As the sound of the bus echoes

Surrounding the coldness of a winter's morning.

A Crush

A crush can arise unexpectedly. It can creep at you while you're both walking down Ninth Avenue and you catch a glimpse of his smile; a smile you've never seen before, but that seems extremely familiar. 

A crush is receiving a text and wondering if it's wise to wait ten minutes to reply.

A crush is innocent . . . fresh . . . immaculate.

A crush can disappoint you without his acknowledgement.

A crush is only thinking about him when you're surrounded in a bar by attractive guys.

A crush can make you act neurotic.

A crush is someone who you dream about at night and the reason you wake up in the morning.

A crush is being able to recall a story from a previous conversation you had, proving you were listening.

A crush is someone who's eyes tell you more than what his lips say.

A crush is over analyzing a text for meaning and subtext.

A crush is something I haven't felt in awhile. 

And I'm scared . . .  scared to tell him . . . 

. . . scared that he won't feel the same way.

 

Do I risk the chance of losing him as a friend or risk the chance of gaining him as more than a friend?

A crush is hope . . . a hope I thought I'd buried deep down . . . 

"The Seagull" on Broadway

Last Wednesday, I had the opportunity to see Anton Chekhov's The Seagull with Kristin Scott Thomas and Peter Sarsgaard, directed by Ian Rickson. The Seagull has always been one of my favorite Chekhov plays and to have the opportunity to see it performed by a talented group of actors and an amazing direction was something I had to witness.

Close to the finale of the play, the character of Nina tells Treplev (also referred to as Kostya) that she finally understands what it is to be an actress. 

Nina: I know now, I understand Kostya, that in our work - and it's all the same, whether we're acting or writing - the main thing is not fame, not glory, the things I dreamed about, but the ability to endure. To endure whatever trials fate has in store for you without losing faith in yourself. I have that faith now, I don't feel as much pain, and when I remember my vocation, I'm not even afraid of life.          (Chekhov, Act IV)  

To endure . . .  that's what life is about. I'm glad that I was reminded of that while watching The Seagull. "To endure whatever trials fate has in store for you without losing faith in yourself." This is something that as artists we need to remind ourselves constantly.  

Subway Etiquette: 5 Simple Rules

All New Yorkers have to ride the subway to get to any place in the city. At times though, it feels that people forget their subway etiquette, so here are 5 Simple Rules to refresh anyone's memory on what to do when riding the subway.

Rule 1:

While listening to your iPOD keep the volume down & don't hum along to the song. That's why you're wearing headphones, so we don't have to listen to it.

Rule 2:

If a performer comes on to your car, don't tap your foot in enjoyment, unless you're willing to pay. And they'll expect money for their entertainment.

Rule 3:

Always offer your seat to an elderly person and/or a woman with a child and a stroller.

Rule 4:

When the doors open and a million people are trying to get in, if you happen to be standing by the doors, please move in! Stop crowding the door, it's rude!

Rule 5:

If you don't want to give up your seat, put on your headphones and act like your sleeping. (Unless this violates Rule 3.)

If all New Yorkers were to follow these simple rules, our subway riding experience would be more enjoyable! 

Saturday Night + Me = LAME!

This is the second weekend in a row that I spend it at home . . . and . . . all alone, mind you.

This is what I did last night . . .  I ate Chinese take-out. Watched "Ghost Whisperer" & "Lipstick Jungle" while folding laundry. Checked my E-mail. Read "Twilight" and went to bed. 

Well today I find myself doing the exact same thing. I am so boring right now. I feel so domestic and I'm not sure why. I'm going to blame the weather; it's gloomy and wet and I'm listening to Matt Nathanson, which always puts me in a good, but nostalgic mood.

My friend D just text me, he's out on the town and he has TWO dates tonight, yes he double booked, and I can't even get ONE! What's wrong with this picture? I live in New York City for crying out loud and I'm at home on a Saturday night, getting ready for bed (and it's only 9:24 PM). I'm also really curious to find out what's going to happen between Bella Sawnson and Edward Cullen. Oh my, if this isn't the definition of a homebody, I don't know what is. 

I need to get out of my apartment! 

I need to go out to a bar and meet a guy!

"I need to put on a tight skirt / And flirt with a stranger"

(Thanks for that Jonathan Larson)

I need to change this pattern fast before I look at my youth and wonder were it went.

Oh geez, I'm so not looking forward to the Winter if this is how I'm feeling in the Fall.

(Sighs)

Reprising A Role

For the past three years I've been teaching undergrads as part of my job in grad school. When I graduated in May that stopped. It's been about six months since I've taught anything and I feel hallow. There's something about being in front of a classroom; lecturing on theatre, teaching non-actors how to act, discussing gay plays and looking at how they influenced the history of theatre, that I dearly miss.

Well . . . starting tomorrow . . . I will reprise that role. I'm walking into the same situation that I stepped in over three years ago; I'm going to be a one-on-one tutor for kids K-12. I don't know if I'm going to be a good tutor and that petrifies me. I'm not going to lie, but I will rise to the occasion. These kids and their parents are depending on me and I will not let them down. I didn't let my undergrads down and I will not let these young kids down either.

I may not have all the answers and that's all right. Saying, "I don't know, but I'll find out for you," isn't a flaw, it's a actually a strength that took me time to polish. 

I recently got hired by Young Playwrights Inc., an organization founded by Stephen Sondheim in the early 80s. Through Young Playwrights Inc., I'll be attending high schools and middle schools, teaching Playwriting to young playwrights. I'm really looking forward to this experience; I'll be teaching something that I love and a craft that I'm still narrowing down. I really believe in the organization's mission and what they're all about.

My ultimate teaching goal is to give classes at Columbia and/or NYU. I know that it will happen in the not so near future. I work hard for what I want . . . it will take time, that I know . . . but it will happen. If being a teacher has taught me anything is to persevere and have patience.

Glitz & Glamour

A week ago today, I went on a date with a guy that I had met at a bar while my parents were in town. We had flirted the whole evening, to the point that my mother asked me for a napkin so she could give this guy my number. The thought of my mother giving this cute guy my number gave me chills, so I introduced myself and avoided the embarrassment. Our first exchange was great; we had drinks after my parents left, and we exchanged numbers, and a couple of kisses all over Hell's Kitchen.

On our first date, Rodney and I had planned to do dinner somewhere in midtown. That day I text him to confirm and he replied letting me know that his friend had invited him to an opening of a new restaurant on Madison and 5th and that we would be drinking and eating for free. He said my favorite word in the English dictionary; FREE. So I agreed. We met at 8:00 P.M. and upon arrival there was a list to get in, tons of flashy people, booze flowing like the Nile River, and appetizers that could have feed a whole Nigerian tribe. 

As Rodney came down the staircase, he was like I had remembered him; his glance endearing, his smile mesmerizing, and his style off the hook. He took me to the VIP booth that his friend was in and got me a drink. 

I can get use to this, I thought. 

For a brief moment, I believed that this is how my life in New York should be. I had a Sex and the City moment; I had a great-gorgeous guy sitting next to me, I was at an opening of a hot restaurant, and having an amazing conversation. 

Could it get any better? I wondered. 

Well, the night went from amazing to sour . . . as we were leaving the restaurant, he told me that the guy that liked him or had a fling with was going to be at this bar in Hell's Kitchen, where we were heading to. Rodney asked me not to go because it would make that guy really uncomfortable if I showed up with him. 

This happened so fast that I didn't have time to process anything, when I realized what had happened he was getting in a cab with his friend heading Uptown and I was left in the cold feeling like a cheap whore.

The thing is . . .  looking back on that night, yes Rodney is a douche bag for what he did, but at the same time he was just being honest and letting me know that he wasn't interested. I mean I can't hate the guy, but I can resent his approach. I haven't had any communication with him and I doubt that I will. 

The smell of his cologne still haunts me.

A Faith Resorted

I went to church yesterday, on my own accord. Not because it was my cousin's daughter's baptism, or because my mother was forcing to me to go. I went to support my friend Adam conduct the church choir and also because it's a gay friendly church; the pastor is gay. So I figured it might be something exciting to experience. I also had a small agenda, I figured that there might be cute boys at Church (and I was right). 

Sitting there, listening to his sermon I realized that the reason I had distanced myself from God and the church has been a stupid one. I always believed that God didn't love me because I was gay...I know...I know...I said the reason was stupid. But when Pastor Phillip said that 'God loves all his children..." I believed him...for the first time in my life I believed him. Not sure if it was because Pastor Phillip is gay and coming from another gay man's lips it's actually real.  

Maybe my faith is resorted a little bit...one thing I know is that I'm going to return on Sunday. I liked being there, it's not like your typical church that I'm use to. This is good for me right now. I need to hold on to something...I need to believe that there is something more than this...

A Season of Change

The humidity that lingered in my hair, revealing its natural curly texture has now vanished. The sweat that once laid on my forehead like an annoying neighbor is now being cooled off by the icy chill of the wind that flies around the streets of Manhattan, like a dog barking when an intruder has invaded its territory. This can only mean one thing; fall is slowly creeping in, like a thief in the night.

Experiencing my first fall in New York is something that I have dreamed about since I purchased my first scarf eight years ago at the Gap in the Galleria Mall, in Riverside. Now I have a reason to wear them and no one looks at me with bewildered glances and confused stares, when I walk around in  a cashmere scarf, like they did when I lived in Vegas or California.

As the weather changes, I find myself gravitating into the person that I'm going to become. Several months ago, I thought I knew who I was, I thought I had all the answers, but spending the last four months in New York has truly opened my eyes to a reality I only saw on the big screen. New York has kicked my ass, which is molding me into a strong individual. I've learned that if you're not always on your toes this city will eat you up, like a hungry pit bull devouring its dinner.

I'm currently in-between jobs; the theatre job that I had started and finished in the blink of an eye. I'll be starting two new jobs in several weeks, giving me plenty of free time to write at different Starbucks all over Manhattan, and this thrills me. This is what I always wanted to do and I'm living my dream. (Although my dream didn't consist of living pay-check-to-pay-check, but struggling is part of life. Or at least I tell myself that every day).

I'm surprising myself constantly; I read now. Who knew! The fact that I actually love it is something that perplexes me. I yearn for those moments when I can ride the subway and continue reading my Christopher Rice novel. He's got to be one of the most talented writers out there; I totally have a crush on Christopher. (I know that my former roommate would be really happy to know that I have become a bookworm).

As I write this blog, on the Starbucks on 49th street between 8th and 9th avenues, there is this gay mature couple sitting to my right. I believe they're on their first date because of their body language and the questions I can hear being asked through my iPOD. I can't help to wonder how they met, what it's like to date at their age, and what they're going to do after they leave Starbucks. The first stages of a relationship are always the most exciting part of dating. Whoever this couple is, I wish them the best.

I'm such a romantic, which is a double edge sword in my community. But I'm still looking, which might not be the best idea for me right now, since I'm still figuring myself out. I guess, what I really want is to go on a date with a guy who has the same interest in me as I do in him and who isn't going to play games. My roommate asked me what I want out of a relationship and I went blank, which is a clear sign that I need to figure things out. But what I do know is that I don't want to spend my time in New York alone. I read somewhere that life is too much fun to spend alone, and I agree.

The other night while talking to my friend Emmett, he said something that left me breathless, as if I was getting tackled after catching a football pass, that I wasn't suppose to intercept, "How am I suppose to to date my ideal dream man," he noted, "if I'm not the ideal man that I want to be? I'm not in a place in my life right now that I thought I'd be."

His words still haunt me. They haunt me as I write this, "How am I suppose to date my ideal man, if I'm not the ideal man that I want to be?" And he's right. For me, I know that I'm not the ideal man that I wan to be be. At least not yet, I am far from it.

As I begin to work on the ideal man that I will become, I will eventually attract that ideal man that will occupy a place next to my bed and will be on the Christmas cards we send out, every year. "He's out there, you probably already exchanged glances on the subway and you just don't know he's the one," this is something that I constantly tell myself every time I go to bed. (Isn't it interesting how I always seem to bring it back to dating and love in these blogs? It might mean something. I will ask my therapist what it means, when I can afford a therapist).

The season is changing in New York, and so am I. I have a feeling I will constantly be changing, molding myself into the person that I'm destined to be.

Stay tuned loyal readers . . . 

(Times Square, October 08)

The Life of a New York Artist

Every year tons of actors, writers, dancers, singers, musicians, painters, and those in-between move to New York City in the hopes of making their dreams come true.

What I’ve re-confirmed through conversations with fellow New York theatre artists is that this profession is unstable, it will betray you at any chance it gets, and it will stab you in the back when you least expect it. It also takes patience, a willingness to market yourself (without looking desperate), and knowing the right people hasn't hurt anyone. “This profession is life on the edge,” described to me by one of my co-workers who’s been in the profession for over thirty years.

I’ve noticed a pattern among most aspiring artists that move to New York; they are forced to work in crummy jobs (which they swore they would never do) just to pay for their uber expensive apartment in the city. If you’re an actor you begin to audition and get rejection after rejection, because out of the 50 auditions you go, a couple of them will turn into a callback and maybe one or two will become a job. Then when the 6-month contract ends, you have to do it all over again.

The same goes for playwrights, although we deal with rejection much different than actors do; our plays are the ones who get rejected, not so much us. In the past three years, I’ve submitted to over twenty festivals/developmental workshops and out of those twenty, three of them have selected my plays and in one festival I was an alternate. The ones that really mattered, the festivals/developmental workshops that I’ve wanted to get into rejected my plays. It’s tough to deal with that rejection, but I've slowly gotten use to it.

Why do I keep at this unstable profession that one day will give me a steady income, you may ask? Because there are moments of absolute blissfulness. Like when a stranger, two years ago approached me at the Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival, after witnessing the reading of my one-act Chloe’s Autumn and praised me for, “capturing the essence of what it’s like to be in an unstable and miserable marriage.” It was a huge compliment, considering that I’ve never been married.

Moments like that are a constant reminder as to why I love what I do. And why I could never do anything else; I create art. That’s my job. I'm a story teller. I take you on a journey for an hour an a half and make you reflect on situations, people, places that normally wouldn't cross your mind on a regular basis.

I didn’t get into theatre to make money; I’ve always know that. And I have to remind myself of that every day when I answer the phone at work, or send a fax, or design a flier for my overly demanding boss, that this is only temporary. And that soon rather than later I’m going to have my agent (when I get one) call me to inform me that Playwright’s Horizon wants to commission me to write a play for their next season.

But until that day comes and it will come, I have to work the crummy job to pay for my apartment in Astoria and my upcoming student loans. I made a promise to myself right when I got to the city which was to never lose sight of why I moved here. As one of my mentors told me in grad school, “Oscar, you’re a writer, so write…” and that’s what I’m going to do…

My Single-Self

If going to the bar meant to meet other single-eligible-attractive-men then why is that guys who are in relationships go? I understand that they have to co-exist in bars with me and that they have the same needs as single guys do; which is to consume voluminous amounts of alcohol and mingle with other attractive guys. But when they check me out when their partner is not in their presence is something that I'm not okay with.

Several weeks ago, I went to my neighborhood bar Albatross with my roommate to get a couple of drinks to celebrate my new found employment (which I currently have a hate-love relationship with). After six frustrating weeks of being unemployed in the city, I had finally found someone who hired me, so it was time to drink away the money that I'd soon be earning.

As we walked into the bar, there was this statuesque guy (and I take note on taller guys because I want to date someone who's taller than me - 6 feet or taller is my requirement) he was playing pool (brownie points) and then the statuesque guy looked and smiled at me several times (my heart belonged to him). I pictured us having Thai dinner at some trendy restaurant on 9th Avenue, then dancing the night away at Star Lounge underneath the Chelsea Hotel, and then sharing a cab ride back to Astoria as we figured who's place we'd spend the night at. But I was brought back to reality when his extremely good looking boyfriend (who mind you was shorter than him by six inches) came in after having smoked a cigarette and kissed him. I hated them both; the statuesque guy for checking me out and his extremely good looking boyfriend for being boyfriends with the statuesque guy. As the night progressed and I continued drinking my gin and tonic, I realized what a cute couple they made and my hatred for both of them grew stronger.

Last night while riding the subway home, I pulled my black leather bound notebook from my purse and made a list of all my close/best-friends that are coupled. And the numbers stunned me. Out of that list 11 out of 15 close/best-friends are either married, engaged, or have been together for a long time. And 4 out of the 15 are SINGLE! All my close/best-friends are COUPLED! What does that say about me? Do I secretly long to be in a relationship that I surround myself with other people who are in relationships in the hopes that one day I too will be in a relationship? Am I unconsciously putting this into the universe?

Last week I hung out with my favorite newly form couple, Eric and Milo. I met Eric through a mutual friend from California. She got us in contact when she found out that I was moving to New York and said we'd hit it off, and boy was she right. When I first met Eric he had just started dating Milo, now almost three months later they're practically living together in Astoria.

"We're like lesbians," joked Eric. "You know lesbians go rent a UHAL on their second date." He told me over happy hour drinks at ATE Ave, several weeks ago. Then last week Milo invited me over to have dinner with them. By the way, Milo is an amazing chef. (I told him if he had a gay twin, to which he laughed and ignored my question, which annoyed me because I was totally being serious). Eric and Milo are one of those couples that still give me hope that everyone does in fact have someone out there.

Then on the other side of the relationship spectrum is Adam and Christov who will be celebrating their fourth anniversary on September 2nd (if I'm correct). And four years translates to eight years in gay years (everything gets doubled). Their relationship keeps growing stronger and stronger each day, and I admire them for it. Hopefully one day I too can have what Adam and Christov or what Eric and Milo have. Someone who'll be there through thick and thin. And isn't that what we all want - to be with someone and not end up alone?

Both of these couples are a perfect example of what I surround myself with every day. Even when I lived in Vegas it was the same thing; I lived with a married couple, my favorite collaborator and close friend is married, three of my close gay guy friends are or were in long-distance relationships.

For the most part I have never felt like a third wheel with any of my coupled friends, but when I witness them stealing a glance from each other, or finishing each other's thoughts, or eating from each other's plates; I glance at the empty seat next to me and wonder when is it going to be my turn? When am I going to do all those things with someone? When am I going to be a couple? The answer that I always give myself is, "soon...real soon...he's out there...be patient...keep on dating...you'll find him...you'll find him..."

...whether I believe all of that or not, is a different story...

Gay Online Dating: The Good, the Bad, & the Horribly Misspelled Profiles

In my journey to find my significant other I have opted out to search for him online. I've heard plenty of successful stories of people who have met online, so I figured why not give it a shot and see what happens. In this new found journey I joined connexion.org. This site was recommended by a friend, who had some tantalizing experiences, so after his convincing testimonials, I rushed home and joined like it was going out of style.

It's been a month since I became a member and I've yet to go on any dates. My online dating is worse than my real life dating. (Although my real life dating is going pretty good so far). I've come to the realization that the more skin one shows on these sites the more one will get a response. (Wait a minute, isn't that the definition of shallow?) I mean, I am showing off skin; I'm wearing a tank top on my profile picture, and that's the only skin you're going to get from me. I want to be mysterious.

Last night, I received an e-mail notice from connexion.org, I got uber excited thinking someone had messaged me and my dateless online streak would be over, but when I logged on, to my surprise it was not a message from some hunky guy saying how much he wanted to ravish my body, but a notice to one of the features on the site. (Que rude!) So I began perusing some of the profiles and that's when the rest of this blog entry was born. My roommate suggested that I compose a blog compiling all the ridiculous quotes that guys put on that dating site.

So here's the good, the bad, and the horribly misspelled of what guys are putting on their dating profiles.

from CONNEXION.ORG:

(1.) This was a comment left from D. to G.:
"STAY AWAY FROM HIM, BITCHES! He's MINE -- ALL MINE. AND I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN & KILL YOU IF YOU EVEN SO MUCH AS I.M. HIM.
G: LOG OFF THIS EVIL SITE RIGHT NOW.
-jealous Taurus"

(2.) This was found in the ABOUT ME Section:
"I am gay, but pretty straight acting. I like dudes...I don't mind flamers, but you better be wicked cute. I like to drink Stoli and I hate beer because there are too many carbs...I love CK underwear because that* make my package look phenomenal...I love men in jock straps..."

(3.) This was in the WANT TO MEET Section:
"Someone with a great ass, tons of money, a non-feline domesticated animal, and a library. Must possess the ability to make me laugh uproariously. Hee hee. Or- be nice, and we can work on the other stuff later."

(4.) This was in the WANT TO MEET Section:
"I want a man who's kind and understanding. Is that too much to ask of a millionaire?

(5.) This was found in the ABOUT ME Section:
"190 lbs of gym time..."

(6.) This was found in the ABOUT ME Section:
"Flirting is hot--Rudeness is not... Conversation is an art form...are you still using crayons??"

(7.) This was in the WANT TO MEET Section: (This one is not bad at all, in fact it's the opposite, I wanted to add it because I fell in love with him, and he was on a popular reality show last season).
"Someone with some flavor. Someone honest who says what they think and does what they say. Someone who actually wants to meet someone rather than just receive validation. Someone who doesn't text message incessantly. If you like some of the stuff I like and are not afraid to embrace the gayness then that's a start. Honestly if you're not funny or at least a good audience then I will get bored pretty quickly. I also appreciate a dirty mind a potty mind. A top would be nice. I don't know what I'm looking for. Just that guy. You know him. That guy."

(*Note the misspelled words and bad grammar that these guys use.)

A City of Strangers

Stephen Sondheim wrote the following lyrics in his musical comedy Company, referring to how people in New York City could seem like complete strangers. "It's a city of strangers / Some come to work, some to play. / A city of strangers / Some come to stare, some to stay / And every day / The ones who stay / Can find each other in the crowded streets and the guarded parks..." Those lyrics have been lingering in my head for the past several days, which is making me realize that everyone in New York is a stranger, although it may not seem that way because we ride the subway or walk down the same avenues, but in fact we are strangers.

In a city where we're all on time schedule, heading towards a certain destination, how does one connect with another person? The connection that I'm talking about isn't a romantic one, but more on the friendship level. How does someone befriend an adult? I've been trying to figure that out every since I arrived.

It's not like it was when we where in the third grade when all it took to become friends with someone was as simple as just asking, "do you want to be friends?" And the reply was always the same, "Sure." When we were kids we weren't guarded or jaded. We said what was on our minds and we didn't apologize for it. I long for those days. The simpler days. The days when text messages weren't the only way to communicate with friends. The days when hanging out meant exactly that, hanging out; there wasn't a double meaning behind the phrase. 

I was on the subway a few weeks ago, I didn't have my iPOD with me and so I just sat there. In one of the stops two gay guys strolled in laughing. They sat across from me and I was instantly intrigued by them, so I did what any normal person would do in my iPOD-less situation, I ease-dropped. I believe they noticed and I don't think they cared. One had a killer laugh and the other a cute body; at one point they began talking about New York real estate, the one with the cute body was cracking jokes about the market and the one with the killer laugh was filling the subway car with his laugh. I too was chuckling. I felt like I had known both them for years. And that's when it dawned on me; I wanted to be friends with these two guys. But I nipped that crazy idea in the bud when the insecure voice in my heard started saying, "they're going to laugh in your face," or "their friend card is already filled." So I didn't say anything and watched them get off the train two stops before I was. 

This happened several weeks ago and I wished I had said something, because they both seem like great guys who I could've been friends with. If I ever see them on the subway again, I will make sure that we're not strangers because I will ask them if they want to be my friend and hope their reply is, "sure." 

A Better Place

One of the best things about living in New York is that on any single day you can go to any bar for happy hour. 

Last Thursday, happy hour took my friends Eli, Andre, and myself to Gym Sports Bar, located on Eighth Avenue between 18th and 19th Street in Chelsea. (Pictured above is an empty Gym Sports Bar). Next Magazine describes Gym Sports Bar as, "New York's first all-gay sports bar with two floors of jock action." Sounds tantalizing doesn't it? The bar reflects any typical straight sports bar that I've ever been to; the only difference is that this particular bar is geared towards the gays. And why not, we all like drink cheap beer and watch the basketball game after a long day at the office. 

When the three of us arrived we were greeted by unfriendly glances.  You can say we looked really "faggy" (I hate using that word), but we did compared to all the "macho" (again hate using that word) men that were drinking their four-dollar Heineken. Andre was carrying his belongings in a huge Gucci tote which was hitting the guys in the overly crowded bar. 

After ordering our drinks, we went outside because my friends are chimneys and some big buff guy rolls his eyes and says, "look at these fags coming in here with their designer bags." I didn't hear him say this; it was my friend Eli who brought the rude remark to my attention. "Isn't he also a fag?" I thought.  He is at a gay bar after all. What did he expect, for some straight dudes to bounce in after lacrosse practice? And doesn't this buff dude do the same things we Gucci tote carrying gays do in the bedroom? Yes he does. 

I can't comprehend why gay men have to discriminate within our community. If we don't treat each other as equals, will we ever really achieve equality? It has to start with us because if it doesn't then how can we expect the world to accept us. We're all fighting for the same thing, equality. The equality to be recognized as a human being. If we only realized that the strength is in numbers the world would be a better place.  

A Crossroad

Robert Frost once wrote, "Two roads diverged in a wood / And I took the one less traveled by / And that has made the difference." Sometimes in life we chose to go down roads that we think are the right ones. We see down that path and everything looks clear and bright, but then as time goes on, we come to the realization that we should've taken the other road, the road that was traveled by the rest. I've come to the conclusion that the road less traveled, the one I've been on, isn't as wonderful as Frost has painted it.

I'm currently at a crossroad in my life. Recently moved to New York. Recently graduated from graduate school. Currently looking for a job. When people ask me what I do, I like to sat that I'm a freelance writer; it makes me sound less pathetic and more independent. The crossroad that I'm currently on is leading me to reevaluate my life and the choices that I have made up to this point. I no longer have the safety net that school provided and that's frightening. It's something we all face when we graduate school, that uncertainty if things are going to be all right. While being in school I missed out on life experiences that everyone else was getting. And just today it dawned on me that having life experience is better than having two degrees. Who knew? No one told me; apparently my e-mail was lost somewhere in cyber land. I've been applying for numerous jobs and when I get to the skill section of the application, I have to pause, take a deep breath, and I ponder what skills do I really have? There's no box provided to check that I know how to write a well-structured play. Even the theatre jobs that I've been applying for don't want me, I'm not an ideal candidate because I'm lacking the LIFE EXPERIENCE!

My friend Adam gave me the best advice the other day, "anything you want in this city you have to find for yourself." That's exactly what I'm going to do now. I'm going to have to just put myself out there one-hundred-percent. I think people in New York forget what it's like to struggle when one first arrives to the city. When someone is clearly asking for help they don't want to extend a hand, they figure they should also struggle like they once did.

On a chipper note, I really do love living in New York. Last Friday night, I was walking by Columbus Circle and I looked up at the Time-Warner building and I got chills. I live here. I really do live here. And it's incredible! One of my dreams has come true - I always yearned to live in New York and now it's finally happened.

I'm not going to lie and say that it's been an easy transition because it's been rough. But there has been some amazing days though; like sitting in Central Park with Adam collaborating on a new project, to drinking sangria with Lauren and Elizabeth at Odessa Cafe in the Lower East Side, to witnessing an amazing play like August: Osage County, or my favorite passing out KY lube to all the gays for gay pride (yeah that was actually my first job - and yeah I got paid for it). Some days have been lonelier than others, but I know that I'm not alone because I have a strong group of friends who are there when I need them.

Overall, this road that I'm currently striding along is something that I'm never going to regret. This is home. This is where I belong. And this is where I'm going to make it. Hope is the last thing that dies, according to my grandma. I've always been a hopeful person; even when things get dark, there always seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel and that's where the hope lies.

20 New York Life Lessons

Here Are Several Things I've Learned While Living In New York:

1) Always be friendly to the host or hostess. They're you're meal ticket, literally.

2) If you carry a purse with you - there better be an umbrella and a costume change in there. "That's why we carry such big bags." - Brian (a gay New Yorker as to why the bags are so huge).

3) The R train will not take me directly home (so stop riding it), but it will take me to 34th Street or Times Square and I can transfer to the N/W.

4) The guys are hotter! And they're everywhere; waiting for the subway, running shirtless at eight pm on Ditmars Boulevard, sitting in Union Square reading The New Yorker, sipping a martini at Therapy on a Wednesday night, bartending at G-bar...ay me...the possibilities are endless...where are my business cards, seriously?

5) I can only buy what I can carry. Which is probably good for my wallet right now.

6) "Thursdays are the new Fridays. Fridays are the new Saturdays and Saturday is still...well...Saturday." - Adam (describing how New Yorkers party).

7) You can't get lost in the city; it's an island you'd fall off when you get to the end.

8) Always carry CASH with you; especially if you're in a Chelsea bar, they don't take ATM.

9) You can meet people really easily here. All you have to do is talk and smile. Who knew?

10) West of Manhattan the avenues go higher. East of Manhattan the avenues go lower.

11) North of Manhattan the streets go higher. South of Manhattan the streets go lower. (That took me about a month to get and a million times asking Adam and Christov, but they were patient).

12) There is always something to do on any single night of the week.

13) Oscar asks Matthew, "How does someone stay looking fresh and cute in this humidity?" Matthew replies, "You don't. We all do that dirty, grungy, sweaty look in the summer." (Oscar nods his head in disapproval).

14) There are NO FREE REFILLS!

15) I noticed that everything is about one to two dollars more expensive than on the West Coast.

16) "Williamsburg boys wear tapered jeans and have complicated haircuts." - Eli (referring to the gay boys in Williamsburg, Brooklyn as we were waiting for the G train).

17) This city is extremely romantic, I can't wait to start dating.

18) It always seems to rain between one and four p.m.

19) I need to keep my student ID; it will get me cheaper tickets to Broadway shows. Which means I will be a student at the age of thirty-five and that's fine with me.

20) "You're never alone in the city." - Carrie Bradshaw (And boy was she right).

(Times Square, June 2008)