My Weekend Adventure

Well, my Labor Day weekend kinda sucked! I had great plans for it. A naked pool party Saturday,  haircut, trip to the grocery and liquor stores,  time with my mother and some chores for her and a few around my house. Didn't turn out quite like I had hoped. I woke up Saturday and ran the the convenience store to purchase a soda. My debit card was declined. The little screen said card expired. I asked about a new card the first of August when I was in a branch making a deposit. I called again on the 15th. I was assured my new card would arrive before the end if the month. It did not. I was busy making plans and thinking about my father I suppose, it didn't dawn on me that I still haven't received it yet. So I was stuck with only a half a tank of gas, no money in my wallet, and plans that required some funding! I was pissed! I went on over to my mother's to get started on chores for her. She was kind enough to pay me for them this time. So to save the little money and gas I had, I didn't go to the pool party. It's over 70 miles away from my house. I didn't go to the grocery or liquor stores or get a haircut either.
I did get in touch with a friend and helped him and his partner build a platform bed Saturday and Sunday. They even treated me to dinner for helping them at a hamburger joint in Monroe, I had never visited. It was very good burgers, though I rarely eat red meat these days.
Sunday evening I went to have dinner with my mother. It was nice to sit and chat a while. She is such a good cook too! I was stuffed on chicken, green beans, corn and fried okra! Yum! After I left her house, I went to visit Bill in Rock Hill, about 33 miles from my house according to Mapquest. I've been chatting with him for almost a month now and it was time to meet. I had some money and some gas and it wasn't that far away.
We had a great time. He is so much more handsome in person than his pics. We watched a couple of shows on PBS and sat on the couch with his dogs.........just a simple, nice evening. I left about 10:30 to come home since I had to work Monday morning at 9am.
We hugged and kissed goodbye. I had better direction in hand he had written out for me and there was a gas station just down the street.
Well that station was closed, but I stopped at another and put in some to get me home. I somehow missed a turn in the dark on those country roads. I drove and drove and drove. I was so freaking lost! I had very few minutes on my phone left since my debit card was expired and wouldn't work. I was now on an 1/8th tank of gas, in the middle of no where, no idea where I was at......it was very late and hardly no traffic, no houses or even businesses lining the roadsides! I was near panic! I finally found a gas station, asked for directions and was soon headed in the right direction. Thankfully, after much cussing and nail biting!
I arrived back at my house at 12:35am. I had put 145 miles on my car for a simple 66 miles round trip. My gas needle was on the red line when I pulled in the driveway. I was so glad to be home! I took Izzy out and went straight to bed!
The good thing is, it worked out. I wasn't stranded. I wasn't totally out of minutes or money. I was just alone in the dark in a strange place but I made it. It seemed to be a physical metaphor for my life at the moment. There seemed to be a lesson to learn. Ask for help early on and avoid the drama later down the road......Lesson learned!

Zombies Part Two

A friend I had posted about here, dropped by for an unexpected visit today. Seems he has had more health trouble. He fell down the stairs and had swelling on the brain. He doesn't recall much about it or the time frame. He was transported to a local hospital after being semi- conscience in his room at home for 2 days before any room mate decided to check on him after discovering blood on the floor outside his bedroom door. He vaguely recalls taking two bottles of pills in his haze. He wasn't sure if he was attempting suicide or not, but committed himself to a psyche ward at Duke University hospital for a month after the local hospital released him. They also checked him out for any issues with his lung transplant. It seems his entire reason to visit was once again to ask something of me. This time to move in here, because now there is an underlying tension with his room mates that makes him uncomfortable. I politely declined. The nerve of this guy is staggering. So is his stupidity. I feel for him, but I ain't going there. I have enough on my plate with my parents and my own problems. If he were on the streets homeless and couldn't drive his Range Rover, I may reconsider. Or if he had repaid any money what so ever or even returned a DVD from last year, I may reconsider. Since none of that applies, it ain't gonna happen.

The Past Creeps In

Monday evening, I had a surprise visit from an old friend I had previously discussed here. I've ignored his calls for the last few months, but here he was, at my doorstep. He stayed for 2 1/2 hours. He had questions and propositions. He said things I wanted to hear, like I know I owe you $645.00 but I want to pay you a minimum of $800.00 and if things go well, maybe $2,000.00. Of course, I have heard similar crap before. It is always sometime in the future, never cash in the hand. He still wants me to visit Costa Rica with him next summer. He still wants to hang out and do things. He even wants to help me paint the inside of my trailer, replace the flooring and buy me a new sofa. I smile and nod. Heard it all before buddy boy. All talk, no action. I made it clear to him, that all sounds great, but I'll believe it when I see it. You can come to me if you want company, I'm not spending my gas to come to you. You want to hang out and do stuff, you pay for it, I can't afford it. You want to chat on the phone, you supply the minutes. Blah, blah, blah. Of course the real high light of the evening was him constantly spritzing the place with Fabreeze. And asking if I thought his 5.5 inch dick was too short. He's a straight guy! Why should I care what size his dick is? I'm not holding my breathe for any of it. Not calling him. I can be a cold heartless bitch when I've been manipulated and used. He can deal with.

The Trouble With Keys

Several years ago, I was in Salisbury, about 65 miles from home, visiting my sister. It was a pleasant visit. We said our goodbyes. I set down in the car, closed the door and went to stick the key in the ignition. And it broke. I didn't hit the hole head on, just slightly off center, and with no great force. The key snapped into two pieces. Part on the floor, the other still on my keyring. This wasn't something easily fixed. I had no spare with me, but my parents did, 65 miles and over an hours drive away. I had no money for a locksmith or credit card to even delay the cost. Thankfully, my sister came to the rescue. Seems a guy she is acquainted with has a slight crush on her and happened to work for a car dealership! Oh, how fortuitous! She called him, ask what information we needed and we headed over. After a few minutes of waiting for her to flirt a new key out of him at no cost, we were on our way back to her house. I thanked her profusely, put the key in the ignition and it started as if nothing had happened! Still haven't figured out why the key broke.

I was over at the other place helping my father last year. We were going to ride over to the have lunch at home with my mother. Since I keep my keys and my wallet in the car while working over there to avoid losing them, I went to the car to get them out and lock it up before riding with my father. I reached for the handle and the doors locked! All four of them! Just as I lifted the handle. Since the keys were already in the car, I couldn't have accidentally depressed the lock button on the keyfob. But plain as day, all the locks were down and the "armed" light was flashing. Well, since I hadn't given the extra key to my parents for this vehicle, I kept it at home. So obviously, I had to go there to retrieve them at some point, but lunch was waiting. After we ate, I borrowed my mother's car to go fetch the other keyfob. It opened like a charm, as it should have. Still can't figure out why the car locked itself when I pulled up on the handle. Darnest thing.

My Big Oops!

Guess who poked a hole in the condenser coil of the A/C? If you guess me, you are correct! We'll see if duct tape really can fix everything! I patched it but it isn't looking good. I was trying to add a hole to the bottom of the window unit because water was running down the wall inside. Why would they place the coils so close to the bottom of the unit with no space to seperate them? If worse comes to worse, guess it's gonna be a little uncomfortable in here till fall. The other unit works fine and is in the bedroom. At least I'll be able to sleep comfortably. Thankfully, there is very little summer left to worry about. Maybe by next summer I'll be in the house and not have to be concerned with replacing it at all.

Dead Man Walking

Today brought an unexpected visitor to my door, a friend, I thought quite honestly was dead. It was good to see I was mistaken but also a lot of unpleasant memories surfaced after he had left. I realize that he has been through a lot in the last two years. I understand and respect that. I know he was unable to make good on the arrangements to repay me because of them. I also noticed that he is still manipulative and self serving despite his near brush with death. He hasn't changed a bit. I ,sadly, found myself thinking how easier my life was when he wasn't around and I thought he was dead. Now the opportunity presents itself to pick up where we left off or let it drift away.

The back story is this. In 2006, we befriended each other. He even said he could be my best friend. I took him at his word. I learned he was in dire need of a lung transplant. Toward the end of 2007, it happened unexpectedly. He was in the hospital for all of 2008 for recovery, rehabilitation, other surgeries and infections. Well over $1,000,000 worth of medical bills paid by Medicare. By the way, as a side note, he is only 41, has a son that doesn't live with him and is straight.

Needless to say, with all that was going on, our contact tapered off to zilch. Before all of this happened, I would do things to help him out. I put the car and insurance in my name, though he doesn't have a valid driver's license. I gave him a line on my phone account. I would take him 3 hours up the interstate to the doctors he used at Duke hospital. I took him to file for Medicare, to see his brother in South Carolina (manipulated), hauled him to the grocery store, the barber shop (manipulated), etc. Occasionally we would do something fun, like a movie, but not often. Most of it centered around being manipulated into taking care of stuff for him. If he had asked me upfront to do so, I would have planned accordingly and gladly done so. But don't tell me one thing and when I get there change it to something else, knowing after I hear you wheeze, cough and gasp for air, I can't say no.

When he first went into the hospital, a female friend sent me one check for what he owed me from 2 months back. That was it. The last phone bill, his half was $285. I lost service because of it. I couldn't pay it. I paid on the car insurance for another 6 months because I knew he needed to get to the doctor and back. Finally, I transferred the car back to him and cancelled the insurance after not hearing from him for 6 months.

He shows up, out of the blue today, wanting to resume our friendship. I feel used and manipulated. I honestly don't want to be around him. I'm glad he survived the double lung transplant, the heart operation, and all the infections, but I don't like the feeling of being used. One of the first things he mentioned was repaying me. He invited me to his house to watch a movie tonight. He also wants us to go to pride together next week. It all sounds great. A straight best friend. But I've been burned too much in the past, not just with him. I think knowing he ain't dead is enough for me.

Am I being an asshole?

P.S Also, he once again asked about insurance and retitling his car in my name while he works on getting his license. (BTW, I'm not going to his house tonight.)

People Say The Darnest Things

A little surprising thing I retrieved from my Yahoo Personals account the other day. I'm not sure what to make of it. Reading the profile doesn't give much to go on either. I guess I'll just have to wait to see if he responds!


On 06/14/2009 12:43 am PDT, Jack wrote:
i live within walking distance. you know who I am, don't let the name fool you. If you want to hang out let me know..


On 06/14/2009 06:11 am PDT, you wrote:
I must say the only reason I subscribed was to respond to your email. I'm intrigued. Normally I don't bother with profiles without pictures, so I guess that makes you exceptional already! Hopefully you will respond and the $95 I spent won't be wasted. I have an idea of whom I'm talking with but I maybe wrong. Do you have a pic at least. Don't let my profile fool you either, friendships are always welcome! Hope to be surprised soon!


On 06/16/2009 04:27 pm PDT, you wrote:
I still haven't figured out who you are yet. Can you give me a hint?

And How Was Your Morning?

What a freakin' morning this has been! I woke up at 10:30am because I didn't sleep worth a damn last night. No sooner out of bed, my mother called. Of course stumbling around for the phone and trying to get the dog out of my way and quiet, I missed the call. Finally, I got in touch with her. Both her and my father forgot some medication at home in their haste to get to the lake house. I had to go over to feed their little dog anyway, so I take mine with me so they can run an play together while I get their meds. Now as much as I'm over there when they are away, I rarely go in the house, though I have the key and alarm code. I let the dogs play and let myself in. The keypad is wore out, I'm pushing buttons, and cussing, because the alarm won't shut off. Finally, the siren goes of and Brinks calls to check. In the mean time, I've called my mother to find out what the hell is wrong with it. So I have my dog barking, the siren going off, talking to Brinks on their phone and my mother on my cell phone. I was about ready to scream. After all that was over with, I gather the medications and my dog and headed up the road only to realize that my wallet was home. I took the dog home, patted him on the head, got my wallet and off I went. I meet my mother half way and gave her the stuff and let her know she needs to replace the damn keypad for the alarm system.

I decided to be nice and mow their yard while they were away. I head back to their house, get the lawn mower out and get about half way done, when it runs out of gas. I have to go back into the house for the keys to the shop, to get the gas can. Same thing as before with the keypad. The alarm goes off AGAIN, but I finally get the damn thing to stop wailing. I got the keys off the hook and out the door I go. I found the gas can, thankfully full, put some in the lawn mower, put the can back, lock up the shop and return the keys to the house. I even set the alarm again and lock the door behind me. I'm riding around the backyard, sweaty as hell, but regrouped slightly after the annoying delays and just about finished with the yard. I happen to look up and see a sheriff's deputy standing at the corner of the house. I go see what he wants. He was cute as hell too! Look good in that uniform! Damn! Anyway, the alarm company called them because when they called the house the second time no one answered the phone! In my haste to get on with it today, I didn't bother to wait to see if they called before I went out to the shop. Oh well, what can you do? It was well worth it for the eye candy! But need a nap now!

Just Turn And Walk Away

Well, I made a couple of phone calls to my ex Greg. I spoke with a girl, a guy and some little kid that lives there, but not him. I left a message to return my call and the phone number, and as of yet, have not heard from him. I'm a little disappointed but not entirely surprised. It would seem by what I could ascertain from the calls, that very little has changed with Greg over the years. That is quite sad. He has such potential, I hate to see it go to waste. He sees it as doing what he wants, but has yet to figure out, despite his high IQ, that it is the drugs and alcohol wants he is actually fulfilling. He can't even admit it to himself after 9 years. I had hoped when he moved back that it would help him straighten himself out. I thought that was the whole reason anyway. That doesn't seem to be the case. I had hoped that we could resume at least an acquaintanceship at this point, but that does seem unlikely. I wish him the best. And now I must let go completely of him and our past together. Some people don't want to be saved. I have to accept that. Now I know I haven't missed the funeral.

Dog Gone Disappointment

When my grandfather passed away last July, he left behind his four legged companion of 10 years, a Cocker Spaniel named Cricket. They adored one another and were almost inseparable. While my grandfather was in the hospital recovering from his broken hip, my mother and I would take turns caring for Cricket. He wasn't the friendliest dog to strangers and barely tolerated other family members, but for some reason he liked me almost as much as my grandfather. He would bite you if you did something he wasn't particularly fond of. He had bit my grandfather, my mother and myself, as well as snapped at everyone else, including the great grandchildren. Cricket was a sad little dog in many ways. My grandfather over fed out of love, the dog was almost twice his ideal weight at nearly 50 pounds! The little fella was miserable in summer with all the hair and extra weight. He had lots of medical problems and a run of bad luck. He broke a leg going down the steps, the same one twice. My grandfather accidental shot the poor thing in the back leg while shooting at some stray cats that were taking over the yard.

The dog took as much medicine as my grandfather, almost $300 worth a month. My grandfather never complained about how much he spent on the dog, though he would about everything else he spent elsewhere. When my grandfather was laid up in the bed at home during the last couple of months of his life, Cricket was right by his bedside. It was a challenge to get him to leave to take him outside to do his business. My grandfather always asked about his little dog while he was in the hospital and Cricket would always be lying at the glass doors waiting for his return. The only time I've ever adamantly disagreed with my mother was over the dog, after my grandfather had died. The poor thing was in that big house alone, except the three times a day we would go to feed him and let him out. His health was bad and his medication was expensive. He missed my grandfather something terrible. He would always go to his room to look for him when we let him back in. The dog was miserable, my mother was wore out from trying to care for him and grieve the lose of her father. I wasn't bothered either way. I was honored to take care of Cricket like my grandfather had asked. My mother decided to have him put to sleep. I fought hard for the little fella. I cried over it, but there was nothing I could do. I was unemployed and couldn't afford the medication and he didn't get along with Izzy. My mother asked if I would go with her to the vet to have it done. I declined. I just couldn't do it. I told my father to go. After it was done, my father buried him in the edge of the yard, under an ironwood tree. Sort of fitting for how hard the dog's life had become. I hope him and my grandfather are reunited in heaven and having themselves a grand ole time.

To My Best Friend

Tomorrow would have been my best friend's 44th birthday. He was eight days older than me. We usually celebrated our birthdays together. It's hard to believe he has been gone for 8 years now. At the same time, it seems like a whole other life time ago. I often wonder what he would be like now had he lived. He was doing well in Atlanta with his antique shop. He loved to travel. Always on the go somewhere. Rarely would you catch him at one place for very long. I miss our hanging out together. Most people thought we were a couple, we were together so much. We worked together, partied together, vacationed together, even slept together, but we never crossed the line into sex. We had seen each other at their best and at their worst. We always had each other's backs and stood up for the other no matter what. If we hadn't been friends, I would have never experienced a lot of the things in my life. I've always been grateful for that. Of course as with any type of relationship, there were rough spots occasionally, but we never let it interfere with our friendship. We always forgave and forgot. Other than my most recent ex, some of my fondest memories are with him. Two people who couldn't have been more different but found common ground. Our friendship lasted for 16 years and still continues even after his death. Happy Birthday Keith!

Burning Love

Many years ago, while bored, my ex had an idea. Not one of his brighter ones, but interesting. He called me up and explained what all it entailed. I asked lots of questions to be sure I understood my part in this hair brain idea. I drove to his apartment. Everything was set up. A small wading pool, fill with some water, a pedestal in the center, a Kodiak Instamatic camera with lots of extra film, a wet blanket, and a sopping wet, fully clothed boyfriend. His plan was to recreate a photo he had seen in his youth. I being the more cautious of the two, covered ever aspect of the impending event. I cleared things out of the way that could be a hazard. I placed things in easy reach for either of us, should something go wrong. He wanted to set himself on fire and have me take a picture of it. Told you it was a hair brain idea. He re-soaked his clothes, sat cross legged on the pedestal, put some lighter fluid in the center of his chest and lit it. It looked great in the darkened room. I quickly snapped a pic and threw the wet blanket on him. The image wasn't so great, so we tried again. The others were much better. He experimented with the placement of the fire. On wet gloved hands, his thighs, his crotch. Surprising, everything went without a hitch. We didn't set the apartment on fire, neither of us were burned. We had some really cool pics that I assume he still has. My job was to take pictures and put him out. His was to lite up and not panic. That requires some serious trust. Of course being as hot natured as I am, before the night was over, I was doing this nude. Which led to some other pics that didn't involve fire.

My ex had his flaws but we always had trust. That is a bond that never failed us regardless of whatever we went through together. That is the part of a relationship I miss. Knowing that there is some one you can count on no matter what. With us it was amazingly deep.

54 Card Pick Up

A deck of nude male playing cards is how my interest in men and erotica all began. When I was around 14 or 15, I came across a deck for sale in a Walter Drake catalog. The idea fascinated me. I looked at the little picture in the catalog ever chance I got. I really wanted a deck for my very own. I finally got up the nerve to ask my grandfather to order it for me. I figured being as indulgent as he was with me he would say yes and not ask questions. He was cool like that. He told me he would take care of it. The next time I was over at my grandparents house, he gave me my first copy of Playgirl magazine. I was delighted. He never asked me questions about why I wanted it. He never made any judgements about me or my choice of reading material. I spent a lot of time in my room at their house. I'm certain they both knew what I was up too at that age. I had discovered masturbation at 13, but now I didn't have to use my imagination. The following years saw an expansion of my collection. More Playgirls, Honcho, Mandate, BlueBoy, Hustler, even a few Playboys. My grandfather kept them locked in a cabinet for me out in his shop, that only he and I had the keys too. Later, as my body begin to develop more, I would ask questions. The magazines were used as a reference. He would go through and mark pages that related to the answers for me to find. One question sticks out, it was about circumcision. He found a picture of a an uncut guy, inserted a piece of paper and even included a note stating than he himself was uncircumcised. I guess those times are why I never felt I had to "come out". At least in the typical fashion. I never felt "in". Of course, there were other people to tell in my life, but I always felt comfortable doing so. Thanks to my grandfather. When it came time to help care for him in his final months, there was no question of whether I would or not. I quit my job, gave up my new car and stayed everyday with him. It was the least I could do for a man that helped shape who I am and accepted and loved me with limits.

A River Runs Through It

Long ago, I dated a hairstylist from a small town 50 miles to the east of my hometown. It didn't last very long and the drive was grueling. He didn't own a vehicle so it was very one sided. He was a nice enough fella though. At the time I had a 1980 Ford Pinto, it would sporadically give me trouble, so you can see my concern with the distance. That stretch of the highway was very desolate and not many places to ask for help if you needed it. I'm not even sure if they had cell phones back then.

My story begins with the break up and the retrieval of a jacket I had left at his place, so far away. I enlisted my best friend to go with me and use his, much newer vehicle to go pick it up. The drive down was enjoyable. It was the first time I made the trip with someone to talk to for the hour long drive. The scenery was beautiful, rolling hills and uninterrupted forest. The sprawl hadn't crept that far yet. We talked about all sorts of stuff on the way down. The usual fare between gay best friends. The next party, the cutest guy at the bar, floral arrangements and the the like.

We arrived in the little town and meet up with the fella to get my jacket. It was just a cheap denim jacket, but I loved it and still have it and can wear it. It was always a little to big back then. On the start of our return trip, as the car climbed the steep curved road that bordered a river, the car begin to sputter, then died. The thing I hope to avoid by not bringing mine had happened to his. He pulled the car off safely to the side of the road and tried to start it again. Nothing. We exited and headed back down the hill into town. We used the first payphone we came to. Thankfully my best friend's parents run a successful tire shop in our home town and still do to this day. His mother would send a wrecker within a couple of hours. We had some time to kill while we waited.

We were still near the outskirts of downtown proper, but there was a McDonald's, so we ate lunch. It was too far to walk anywhere else afterward, but sitting at the window eating we could see the river across the highway. We crossed and made our way down the steep embankment. It was beautiful there. Shady, cool, dapples of sunlight, you could barely hear the traffic which was now almost 20 feet above us. The was broad, maybe 50 feet across, scattered with rocks, both huge and small. It was relatively shallow for the most part. It meandered there in the shade below the highway like a myth hides in the back of your mind. We walked and talked and marveled at how a thing could exist so close to the road and yet seem miles away from it. We came upon the old ruins of some sort of factory built at the edge of the river. After walking for 45 minutes we could go no further without either getting in the river or passing through the ruins. Neither option was appealing, so we headed back, the time was close that the wrecker should be arriving soon anyway.

We made our way back up the steep embankment, out of the cooling shade and into the hot sun and glare of asphalt. We trudged up the hill toward the crippled car. After catching our breathes and allowing the experience to sink in, the wrecker was there to take us back to our lives in our small town, without a river to explore. We were unusually silent on our way back. Maybe because of the driver being a stranger to our circle or maybe we were still back at the river, that grew more distance as the miles clicked by, either reason, it seemed a much longer trip going back than it took to arrive.

( I just realized that today is the ninth anniversary of his passing. Feb. 6th, 2000.)

Homeroom

Yesterday, after returning from the Home and Garden Show with my mother, I stopped by the grocery store on the way home. I needed to pick up some dog food and begging strips for Izzy, least he revolt and start gnawing my leg. I wonder over to the deli section and picked up a small but delicious chocolate creme pie, then moseyed over to the wine section for a bottle of Ecco Domani Chardonnay Pinot Grigio (the only type I can drink without an instant headache) and then proceeded to track down the pet food aisle. Low and behold, I approached a lady that looked very familiar. She had that look of recognition on her face as well. It was my absolute favorite teacher in high school! I hadn't seen her in 25 years! I gave her a hug and we chatted briefly. She retired after becoming principle there and then returned to college herself. Now she is a minister with her own church somewhere in the western part of the county! She looked the about the same, maybe a few pounds extra. I'm surprised she recognized me at all with the extra 40 pounds I've gain in the last 4 years. I was absolutely delighted to see her. She was always a class act. I was fortunate enough to have her for a homeroom teacher and 3 English classes during high school. She was always such a cool lady. That did my heart good!

Special Ed

As noted in a post way back, I had a teacher send me a letter once. I secretly had a crush on him all through my 8th grade year. I looked forward to his class everyday. It made science, an already favorite subject, that much better. I would sit in his class and stare at him the whole time. I would daydream about being with him. Of course at that age, "being with" someone was more like hanging out, and maybe getting naked together, not full on sex. That may have been where my love of facial hair comes from. He had a bushy moustache that hid his upper lip. He had unruly brown hair, with some curl at the ends. His eyes were expressive and piercing. I sat near the front of the class to get an uninterrupted view of him. I remember he once wore these thin pale yellow slacks. I was mesmerized. I could see the pockets, his boxer outline and most importantly his very visible penis outline. I don't think I took my eyes off his crotch the entire class that day. I felt as if he wore them just for me. He stood near my desk at the chalkboard the entire time. I was in heaven. He was also the advisor for the science club, of which I was a member. That meant we got to go on overnight trips to different places and see each other in a different light outside of school. I tried to stay close without being too obvious, but I guess his letter proved that was unsuccessful. When it was time to leave middle school and move to the 9th grade at the high school, I made sure he signed my annual. The picture that was taken for the science club members has me kneeling down in front of him (facing the camera), with him behind me looking down at me. I love that picture. Over the summer, between grades, he mailed my best friend a letter with one enclosed and sealed just for me. He had left the school system and moved out west somewhere. My friend gave it to me at the start of the new school year. I read it during homeroom. I know I smiled and blushed. I wanted to get in contact with him. Of course that would have been inappropriate at 15 but he was my man! I guess that is why he forwarded it through my friend, so there would be no way to trace him. I've often wondered what it would have been like to have been with him. He was in his mid twenties at the time. Very handsome. My first crush. And I had proof that it was mutual. I keep that letter for years. Now I have no idea where it is at. But I still have my memories and the picture in the annual with his little message to me.

Zingers

Once a co-worker was trying to humilate my by asking if I was gay in front of a group of other co-workers. My reply, "Why, do you want to ask me out?"

The same co worker said some belittling remark about my being gay, my retort, "You're my bitch now."

The same co-worker told me I was flaming one day. I said, "I don't flame, I glow."

My ex and I were leaving a bar with a couple of others we had went out with. I was following behind talking to one of them. I noticed my ex swinging his hips, almost excessively. I told him, "We need to get a front porch for that swing."

I was asked by a total drunken, unattractive stranger in a bar one night if he turned me on. My reply was, "Not even if I had a switch."

In high school, there was one fellow that didn't like me for some reason. One day I passed him in the hall after classes had begun. He called me a pussy. I turned briefly and said, "You are what you eat." He never said another word to me.

There Was This One Time

Many years ago, two close friends of mine decided to fly to Chicago for a Mr Leather Contest. They packed their finery and headed to the airport. The left Charlotte Douglas to begin their journey with no problems, only high hopes of debauchery. (I wasn't able to tag along on this trip, so this is what was relayed to me after the fact.) Upon arriving at the terminal at O'Hara, they were processed. Now having never been there personally and this was before all the security after 9/11, a screener or something similar decided they needed to check their luggage. Security wands were waved and beeped over both his suitcase and person. Of course, this drew a few glances from other passengers and the interest of other staff. Before you know it, two other employees gathered, just in case of trouble. The original screener suggested he empty his pockets, then waved the wand again. Still it beeped. Next, was to remove his belt with the large metal buckle. It beeped again. The middle aged, short, rotund, black lady was now perplexed as were the others that had gathered. She inquired if he had any metal surgical implants of some sort. He said "No". Then he remembered he was wearing his favorite cock ring, because having a large bulge is important on cross country flights. He told her, in a low whispered voice, what he thought the problem may be. She replies, "You need to remove it". He reaches down the front of his tight black jeans, fumbles, grunts and lays it on the metal counter with a metallic thug. One of the other employees snickers and waves the wand across him again. No beep.

Now on to his suitcase. While this is going on the suitcase was placed on the counter and opened. Nothing that unusual. The black lady decided she would snoop a bit farther than her reluctant counterpart. She lifts up the top layer of clothes. Low and behold, black leather and chains! She lifts a harness out, holding it like it may bite her, the metal studs sparkle and the tiny chains jingle. Next she finds a black leather jockstrap, which she picks up with a pencil. She searches the little side pockets and finds the normal toothpaste, hairbrush, cologne. The next side, more of the same, with an exception. There was a tube of lube, a dildo and a bottle of poppers. She must have had experience with the lube and dildo, those she didn't bother. That little bottle of room atomizer intrigued her. She asked what it was for. He replied to make the room smell good. She opens it to take a whiff. He told she ought not do that. She did anyway. Her eyes got real big and she wobbled a little bit. She asked "What are you doing with all this stuff?" My friend now having been fully humiliated and red in the face in his first 15 minutes in a new city, quickly replied, "I'm a stripper." Now his companion was cracking up, so were the other two employees that joined our little dedicated trooper. (A quick description is in order. He's 5'9", skinny as a rail and no muscles whatsoever.) She puts everything back quickly, closes the suitcase, slides it over to him and says, "Uh-huh, you have a nice stay in Chicago." He crams everything back into his pockets, including his cock ring and catches a cab.

What's Under Your Hood?

One autumnal morning, about 20 years ago, I was driving to work. There was a slight chill in the air but not enough for a heavy coat. It was after my maternal grandmother passed away and I was staying with my grandfather at night to keep him company. I was dressed for my retail job as a sales person for a regional retail chain. I had the window down enjoying the cool air and taking in the changing colors of the leaves on my twenty mile drive to the mall. Traffic was light and I had the stereo up, just enjoying myself before the work day officially began. About half way to work, I saw something moving in the gap between the fender and the hood on the driver's side. I didn't think much of it. I figured it was just a leaf or a small twig from the tree I parked under at my grandfather's. Another mile passed, it was still there, waving in the breeze. Only now it seemed to have moved toward the front grill. A bit odd, but I shrugged it off. I slowed to stop behind some cars at the first light on my trip. It was still moving. Now I was curious. I sure didn't seem to be a leaf or twig. I started as the other cars moved. As I reached speed, a huge snake flew back into the windshield right in front of me. I'm not sure if my yell was audible or silent, but I know I did. The first thought through my mind was it was in the back seat. I twisted the rear view mirror in every direction I could while still driving to get a look back there. I didn't see it. Then I thought it was in the floor. I keep waiting for it to crawl from underneath my seat, between my legs. I was to afraid to stop and too close to being late for work, so I continued on. Finally after a tormenting 30 minute drive, I pulled into the employee parking area at the mall. I gathered my stuff quickly and nearly jumped from the car. I looked in the back seat, on the rear floor, nothing. I hoped it wouldn't be curled up on the driver's seat when returned to leave for the day.

After work, I slowly stalked around the car. I knocked on windows, shook the car. Nothing. I finally decided maybe it hadn't came through the window after all. I got in, still cautious and started up the car. The drive home wasn't as nerve wrecking as the drive in had been, but far from leisurely. I passed the place where it flew out from under the hood. There on the road was the snake. I guess it went completely over the car, and the one behind me ran over it. Now, I clear all leaves from the hood before I get into the car. Just in case.

Let's Pretend

This is the play house my grandfather had built for my sister and I. Originally it was a little smaller, the porch on the side was an addition a year or so later. I was about 5 years old at the time he built it. He actually constructed it when he lived in Fort Mill S.C. He and my father loaded it up and moved it all the way to Monroe, N.C. when he completed it. It is still standing albeit a little worse for wear after almost 38 years. When my parents moved from my childhood home, we moved it to his property and he used it for storage. It was great for all sorts of adventures. It had glass, operable windows, a screened in porch, bunk beds, a built in bar and electricity. I remember many hours of fun there. We would pretend it was a space ship, a secret lab, a mountain cabin, a club house, a record studio, and a place to just escape to. Even now, on the inside, evidence of our adventures exist, left behind in scribbles on the walls, like childhood itself. I hate to see it in such a state of disrepair but time does march on. Later this year it will be torn down, reduced to it's smaller components and a pile of ashes. I'm glad my grandfather was such a great woodworker. I snapped this picture to remember it by. It will one day be gone, but the memories are still around. It will take more than a hammer or fire to destroy those.