Anti-Gay Pride

TODAY’S TRUTH: I Woke With Rage In My Heart

For reals!

And before I get a bunch of hate mail, I AM GAY. Well, at least when I am having sex with a male.

Today is “gay pride” in the capitol of all things gay: West Hollywood. I went when it first started, for a couple of years. After that, I did not see the point and was already well on my way to self-hatred.

Having grown up obese, I was teased as a child. In middle/high school, I was teased for being gay, a secret I had tried desperately to hide, but my suit of armor betrayed me: color-dyed hair, fanciful haircuts, grooming myself to win the Senior Award for Best Dressed…I won!

I grew resentful towards gay culture/society because, once again, I was being shunned for my size. Feeling tremendously ugly and lonely, and having found drugs masked all that pain, I started experiencing copious amounts of anonymous, bathhouse, cruising sex. Hell, they didn’t care what I looked like. They were getting serviced and I was pleased to serve, feeling needed, wanted, lusted/loved, desperate for some human communion.

Today, I am supposed to do a fifth step

“Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being, the exact nature of our wrongs”

with an old friend/sponsor. I already called and got voice mail – standard, in my opinion for “anonymous” help. My friend suggested I read Step Five of the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions.

The chapter starts by talking about reluctance of anonymous members to take this step and how it can lead to relapse via shame from our secrets we are not willing to bring to light. Surprisingly, this is not my problem, though, I did get a sense of it this morning, most likely attributed to my rage.

The first promise – by my interpretation – of what I can get out of doing step five is “we shall get rid of that terrible sense of isolation we’ve always had.” I don’t remember feeling that way after my first step five. to be rigorously honest, I am guilty of half-measures, being a know-it-all, and not maintaining a conscious contact with a high power. Isolation is what I certainly feel. “Nearly all of us suffered the feeling that we didn’t quite belong.” Truth. I was both “shy, and dared not draw near others;” and one of the “noisy good fellows, craving attention and companionship, but never getting it – at least not to our satisfaction.”  For me, drugs removed my inhibitions, freeing my tortured soul from the prison of my mind until the drugs were gone and I was returned to my cell of loneliness.

Real and imagined, rational and irrational, I just don’t feel part of something, though that is not why I am doing the fifth step. I recently admitted/discovered that sex may have been my primary addiction, a cure for loneliness, a panacea for companionship. Drugs facilitated the sex by removing my preconceived shames. Another “dividend” if step five: humility, masked by uncaring by me.

Ultimately, I wonder what’s the point. I don’t feel better – emotionally or physically, my wildest dreams have never come true, I am still a victim of my own circumstances. Ultimately, I know that I expect to do something and immediately achieve the dream! Spiritually,  know things don’t happen in my time; they happen in God’s time.

Fifty-four years later, I am angry as hell at God and place the majority of the blame on him, the rest on myself. It all comes back to me being spoiled. Fine! God take it away! If you can’t do that just smite me now! You know, I started praying four days ago. What the heck! What have I got to lose? Two days! That’s how long I was able to keep the commitment. I know there is a God; I have no doubt; I just don’t think he likes me. Today my prayer is “God, just smite me now!” As a complete and total smart ass, I am going to see how long I can keep this prayer commitment, or see how long God tolerates my defiance until he finally does smite me.

Then there is Mojo, my pet dog. I am asking God to take him at the same time as me because I don’t have the heart to put him down for such a selfish reason – though I can selfishly pray for it – yes, I see the irony. I figure, better he go with me than be left behind with someone that would not love him as much as me. Perhaps a bit shamelessly afraid to admit someone could (afford) to care for him better than me.

You know, just before posting this, I was trying to finish Deep Sleep afghan and I realized I was “angry crocheting.” Angry crocheting involves anger, multiple mistakes, miscounting, working with too high a tension. That is a good indication of where I am at today.

As for gay pride, mine left with all the gay friendships, acquaintances, dates, prostitutes, drug addicts, colleagues, co-workers that are no longer in my life. I sit here alone, celebrating.

Fucking faggots!

A job, a home, a companion, some friends would may me proud to be gay.

The Velvet Rage: Overcoming The Pain of Growing Up Gay In A Straight Man's World

The Velvet Rage: Chapter 2

Ugly Truth & High-Fashion Dreams

Alan Downs, PhD

“mistake in the service of social evolution”

I love this quote!

“Something about rowing up gay forced us to learn how to hide ugly realities behind a finely crafted facade.”

Even when I came out, I was still hiding my true self. I still secretly admired a handsome male when with my family or business associates. And as far as my sexual activities – all centered around drug addiction – I have yet to share with anyone, except my psychologist who is forced to listen – they are so far out there, it would have to be one serious sex fiend to appreciate my stories told in the vernacular that would make them animated.

“The truth is that we grew up disabled…emotionally disabled.”

Sure, I could not acknowledge who I truly was, was influenced to hide my true identity, and/or society prejudiced me for being openly gay.

Wow! he is describing how gay culture is defined by sex; how this idea took over my ideal of falling in love, living together, having a dog/adopt children, live happily ever after due to unfaithful (Sammy, second) boyfriends, boyfriends that disappointed (Johnny, first and Eddie, third). How I reacted: went to the bars, sex clubs, and lost myself trying to climb the corporate ladder – the first idea to die very early in my career. Ultimately

“bury the sadness deep within yourself and keep moving lest you find yourself suffocating in your own self-pity.”


I am emotionally wounded, “trauma caused by exposure to overwhelming shame at an age when you weren’t equipped to cope with it. An emotional wound caused by toxic shame is a very serious and persistent disability that has the potential to literally destroy your life. It is much more than just a poor self-image. It is the internalized and deeply held belief that you are somehow unacceptable, unlovable, shameful and in short, flawed.”

As I read this, I know it to be true, and I’ll admit that while I was destroying my own life – an admission that is choking me up – I also realize, now, that I was Cleopatra, Queen of d’ Nile (denial)! Result…

“To experience such shame, particularly during our childhood and adolescent years, prevents us from developing a strong sense of self.

A sense of self is the development of a strong identity that is validated by your environment.”

I’m beginning to see the light…” An interesting thing came to light in this book. I hate when I am speaking to someone who is too involved with their cell phone, interrupts me with their own conversation, doesn’t listen…this is “invalidating.” I need “atuhentic validation.”

Validation: I took Pam to the prom in high school and was validated for acting fake, against who I am.
Authentic Validation: I took a boy to the prom in high school and no one batted and eye. The lowest form of authentic validation. Verbal acceptance would’ve raised that bar.

This answers one life-long – at least to this point – question: Why did I not/do believe people when they say I am handsome, intelligent, creative? Because I had been hiding behind these vanities, all the validation was hollow.

Wow! My “…shame is so distressing, we are highly motivated me to avoid feeling.”

I consider myself an expert today. I boast that I don’t have a heart. I relish my cynicism. Life did become about avoiding shame or eliciting validation. I was the nerd with female friends.

“The avoidance of shame becomes the single most powerful, driving force in his live.”

I wasn’t aware of this until now, but see the truth of it in my life. However…

“his awareness of this deficit grows, causing…maladies…substance abuse.”

…this was my path.

There was a mention about “not knowing what he wants.” Again, this was me all over, but I didn’t know it. I though I knew what I wanted. I guess I did, I just didn’t know that what I wanted (hot, all-night long, multiple partner, pimp-me-out-daddy sex) was not really what I wanted (love, companionship).

I could keep going, but I must moderate.

Postscript: I am realizing how emotionally young I am for a fifty-four-year-old male. Not only did my emotional wounds stunt my growth, my drug addiction sealed my Peter Pan fate.

Killing Two Truths With One Stone, Mother

Truth 1: Not feeling the love for mother on this 2018 Mother’s Day

Thursday, May 10, 2018: I had made up my mind that I was going to change Uber charges from mom’s Discover Charge to my own MasterCard Debit. This move is so I can justify my indignation over the co-dependent relationship between my mother and my brother. Of course, I immediately encountered internet interruptions…grr!

Waiting till after 10:00 to avoid surges and incentives, I ventured to the dispensary; from there I went to the market. The independence countered my depressive state.

The Truth: a bit of rationalization including the market with the dispensary.
The Fear: How long will money last for these excursions; must limit to one a month at first.

Anyway, feeling pretty groovy when I got home – especially after smoking a blunt that I had treated myself to for completing my customer loyalty punch card – I made the call to the prostitute I had selected and fascinated on for over a week. The phone was disconnected. Go figure. Had I been more spiritually aware, I’d have realized this was God putting the kibosh on a very expensive lesson confirmation.

I selected another – all this despite my favorite/selected site experiencing an internet interruption of their own, leading me to think about the end of net neutrality and the government shutting down Craig’s List Personals and other prostitute-advertising websites down as part of an enforcement action by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the U.S. Postal…blah, blah, blah. Personally, I think prostitution should be legalized for therapeutic reasons…not all humans are confident, beautiful; and we all get horny!

Sans crack…the guy arrive. I was nervous as hell.

Allow me to preface my experience: I used to take a hit of crack, alone, as soon as I got delivery and the hot, straight dealer had left. After a brief moment of euphoria, the sex glands started pumping. The next thing you knew, I was out the door in search of some willing male participant – my body shakes at the thought of anticipation as I write this. Having found a playmate, my next hit would have me dropping to my knees to perform greedy deep-throat blow-job service.

My sex glands had not kicked in yet when the guy arrived. He was hot. It was awkward, him claiming I was his first – can you see my eyes rolling back in my head? I tried to explain what I wanted and how I wanted it, but that got old fast. I actually found myself laughing at the false-misconceptions crack had created over sex. Even the requested domination was a joke.

I wonder if crack would affect me the same today?
I’ve heard tell that I would pick up right where I left off.

Anyway, I had paid $500.00 for two hours because I had anticipated something entirely different. What a waste of money, but a lesson finally well learned and many myths dispelled with minimal wreckage.

So, was I two different people? Did I do the drugs to allow myself to be mistreated as a means of self punishment or am I really that perverted and twisted? The sick part is that is what I desire…permanently, forever. The sick part is that when I hear stories of other humans having experienced abuse by their captors, I am jealous, envious, covetous. Do I grieve?

Truth 2: The quiver of anticipation is crack calling me back through my sex vulnerabilities.

California Poppy Festival

Truth: Flowers Are Proof Of A God’s Existence

Growing up Catholic, I had a hard time reconciling God’s negative views regarding homosexuality “love” with plain ol’ love. I understand the sex and lust aspects of homosexuality being unforgiven, but even that is personal and private and should not be susceptible to public law.

My whole spiritual argument went something like this: Why would a God – a supposed generous figment – create me only to have me shunned for being a homosexual?

I did have a gay friend – younger than I, who’s attempt to seduce me ended with me laughing – who taught me. I explained to him my argument and that because of the argument I had a hard time believing in a God at all. My friend told me:

I had only to ask God to reveal himself to me and he would.

My friend went on to tell me that he had proof of his God’s existence: flowers. He went on to explain that no one, but a God, could make something as beautiful as a flower. This is what Alcoholics Anonymous expounds in Step Three: “God as we understood Him.

On the way home from visiting my friend, I asked God while driving on Interstate 10 West, at night, in the rain to reveal himself to me so that I might know that he was actually there watching over me and prove he existed. All of a sudden a loving warmness feeling began from my inside out and my eyes began to water as if I was going to cry. This worried me because I was driving, but at the same time I felt safe in know that a God does exist.

My proof continues to be the flowers to which I have grown so much more familiar with, learning their binomial names. Eschscholzia californica is named for my home state of California. At the reasonable cost of USD $10.00, I would love to go to the California Poppy Festival, and I am currently planning arrangements.