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.

 

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 . . . 

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)