Sacrifices

I promised my roommate two things the day I left Orlando: to come back at least once a month and to bring someone with me so I don’t have to do the three-hour drive by myself. Tuesday morning, I awoke with the promise of adventure and a longing of wonder at what my ex-boyfriend was doing.

Turns out that was the worst mistake of my life and I know about mistakes I was in theater for four years and turned gay. We got on the road about eleven, we had to stop for breakfast, soda and gas, and he never shut the fuck up for the remaining three hours. The longer he talked the longer I realized the reason we broke up wasn’t me, it was his mouth.

“You should’ve made that right.”

“This is the wrong highway.”

“This is south Orlando is north.”

I kept my thoughts to myself because the truth was I missed him. I figured this road trip could salvage that relationship that ended back in high school. I knew it wouldn’t work but what’s the worst that can happen?

I told him that we’re going to see my old friends from school, but we spent the most time with the roommate. She told us that she was looking for a new place and she was still wondering if she would bring the new roommate with her. See, when I moved out a new roommate came in under my name, which in some cases is illegal. But what’s the worst that can happen? They get evicted? They have other friends they could stay with.

We, the ex and I, spent the rest of the trip with newly not single. She moved to Orlando the same week I moved back home. She has five other roommates and sleeps in the living room, on a pullout couch, with her boyfriend. I told her that sometimes we have to make sacrifices.

“Sometime we hear the other couples having sex,” she tells us, bringing out pizza that cost her her last amount of money. The poor thing doesn’t start work until Friday and I couldn’t help but imagine her walking the highway and stopping by a homeless person, “Spare change?” He’ll ask.  “Do you?” she’ll ask back.

“That’s not bad though,” ex-boyfriend says.

“Yeah you can join in. Or have like a shouting match,” I say.

As we walked back to my car she told us that the apartment place had a really good security system.

“Oh, yeah? Does it?” I ask.

“Yeah, whenever a gay walks in the alarm sounds and says ‘Ooh watch out he’s stealing your TAMPINS.”

That night, I dropped off the ex at 9:53. We spent a total of thirteen hours together, the longest we’ve been together since high school. I came home and went to bed at 11:34 wondering when I could make the next trip up.

Old Friends

This afternoon I had dinner with an old friend; my high school prom date. We met at the mall to showcase our newly rekindled relationship. We were always together in high school, always laughing and having fun, and always had each other’s backbone. Then we all went off, or away, to college and everything went downhill. The typical everyday text message turned into a weekly text message that turned into a monthly text message. Then no text messages.

We met at the mall, like I said, to showcase our rekindled relationship but it actually showed that nothing has changed between us. We were still angry at the same things, I’ll get to those in a few, and we were still “Hella cute.” We were also extremely sexually frustrated and at one point I told her, “That my frustration is seeping out of me like pee. I’m like Jean Grey from X-Men, I turn into the Phoenix and everyone gets disintegrated.” We walked the mall for a bit, I had to spray my perfume on me, gossiped and sipped on our discounted Starbucks frappicinos.

“You know who finally came out?”

“Please don’t remind me. He has got to be one of the worst things to happen to the gay community. His hair looks like the Wendy’s girl but split down. Like Jesus and the red sea, just split right down the middle,” I tell her.

We got on the conversation about gays, shocking, after she told me her co-worker has a fiancé. “But he’s not like a typical gay, you know, like he’s different,” she tells me.

I start to laugh because I feel that there are two forms of gay and we all know the second form. You know the gay guy that just looks sticky. He wears his sex episodes like a scarf. I have a friend like this and he posted a photo a while ago and my fingers got stuck to the keyboard. YES, they did.

“You know what else I hate?” she asks right before we get seated at Perkins.

“What?”

“Sororities.”

“Yes! I hate them too. Rush Thi Omega O. Rush Delta Alpha Pi. And every one of those bitches are skinny! Their main question is, “Does this dick make me look fat?”

The main point is that we stayed ourselves. We didn’t let the bad things (horrible breakups, dropping out of college or moving back home) hurt us. If only we could get everyone back just like in high school.

To Joan

It’s a sad, sad day ladies and gentlemen. I logged on to my OKCupid account to a whopping message from someone who is twenty-four and pansexual. A pansexual is someone who loves everyone, literally, someone who likes to have sex with a man, woman or pan. Anyway, he messaged me this question, “So you watch sex in the city?”

I had trouble breathing for a short three minutes. Sex in the city? Sex IN the city?! Who the hell doesn’t know sex AND the city?! I wanted to scream, bash and punch. Instead I messaged back, “Its Sex AND the City you uncultured swine.” He hasn’t answered back. I figure now, as I write this six hours laters, that I was maybe a little harsh on him. I mean, how could he not mess up the name of my favorite show when he can’t even figure out what he likes to sleep with?!

Here’s a dirty little secret about myself; I like Chinese food. I like Chinese food, cake, ice cream and soda. To cope with this horrifying message I got my Chinese food and a pecan pie. I was eating my Chinese food and pecan pie when I heard another piece of devastating news; Joan Rivers has passed.

Joan Rivers was-still is- my icon for both fashion and comedy. She taught me to not be afraid of the truth and to not give a crap about people because, honey, people WILL talk. She taught us to keep working and to never, ever give up. She kept us laughing for years and still will. She will be missed and her family are in our prayers. You and Robin will keep heaven laughing. 

RIP Joan.

GayBoys Vol 3

Last night I had a nightmare. I was walking, alone, down this hallway that looked like my old school and it was quiet and dark. Then I felt like I was driving and I was unable to stop my car and right before I crashed I woke up. I rubbed my eyes and wondered if the dream was a metaphor for my life and that I am alone and will be as long as long as my expectations remain so high.

But then I remembered, oh wait I fucking hate gay men, that’s why my expectations are so high. I have been gay for nineteen years, two of those years have been public, and I have been nothing but angry about the whole thing. I just don’t understand why gay men have short flings. Like they fuck and dump and move on to the next guy. Its like everyone knows someone, slept with them or tried to sleep with them. I know this because I spent four years with these kinds of people.

“Hey did you hear that so and so broke up with-”

“Yeah but now he’s with so and so.”

 My gosh, choose one and stick with it.

Which leads me to sexuality. Everyone is bisexual, trisexual, asexual, pansexual, lampsexual, nosexual or notgettinganyuntildinnersexual and I’m just exhaustedsexual. “I like to try everything at least once,” sweetie this isn’t a menu it’s a relationship.

As I thought about all of this I couldn’t help but wonder, “Are gays afraid of having a relationship or are we sluts?”

When I think of gluts (gay sluts) I can only think of Davey Wavey and his YouTube videos. Davey is always shirtless and always talks about sex, having it, getting it or watching it. Yes, I do like his body. Yes, I think he is hot. But no, I do not think his videos are great. I watched a TV show with him on it, some “Online Dating of Men” bullshit and all he wanted was sex. I mean, one of his YouTube videos is about him looking for another boyfriend when he ALREADY HAS TWO. That’s probably why I can’t get one; Because Davey Wavey took them first. Which leads us to Sam Smith, boy wonder/non-slut.

Don’t get me wrong I love Sam Smith, his whole “I love my body” thing is great but Meghan Trainor did it better, and I loved ‘Stay with Me’ when it came out six fucking months ago. No wonder he wasn’t good at one-night stands he kept fucking singing that song. If he sang that song to me now I would be on the first bus out of his fucking life.

I’m not sure why gay men do this. And I’m unsure if I will do it, but I know I won’t because, I guess, I’m not good at one-night stands. I guess its because I want some to stay with me and only me.

Great Expectations

Last weekend my mother and I went to a drum circle. At first I was apprehensive because the drum circle that I know is surrounded by drugs, sex and police raids but my mother said that this drum circle would be different. It was in the classy part of town where the houses started at four hundred thousand dollars. And it was on the beach. On the drive there I was expecting a circle of people, a fire and maybe some people singing. I was also expecting these people to be naked...but, you know, I just thought pot and music someone is bound to get naked. I expected that there would be less than ten people there and was surprised when I saw at least two hundred people there.

The drums started low; a rhythmic pounding in the vain of a satanic sacrifice. There was an old man who prayed to the sun gods and belly dancers with their skirts and shit. And there, sitting in the middle of the chant, was my mom’s friend. She told us that the drum circle happens every Saturday night and the drummers don’t want any payment. They just want everyone to have fun.

"I wonder if the sun gods would help me get a boyfriend," I ask. 

"You never know. That guy is seventy and moves better than me," My mom said. 

Sooner or later the night ended, the sun went down so the man praying to the sun gods left, the belly dancers stopped dancing and the drummers started to play the same beat over and over.

“Was it what you expected?” My mom’s friend asked.

“It was even better than what I expected,” I answered back.

That same statement was said two days ago after GBF and I saw If I Stay. Now I never cry at movies. I also never see tearjerkers or romance movies like the typical girl or woman would because they piss me off. What happens in these movies would NEVER happen in real life. Life isn’t a Nicholas Sparks novel folks.

 If I Stay was stunning. Part romance, part drama, part coming of age story. And I cried because it was so real. There was a scene with the main character and her grandpa and he was holding her hand and telling her it was okay if she went. Oh my gosh tears. It had its stereotypical romance “I can’t live without you, without you I am nothing” and “If I hold your hand one last time maybe you’ll come back to me” bullshit. 

I spent the last two nights thinking about expectations. If the expectation of drum circle is to have fun and the expectation of If I Stay is to cry what can we expect from ourselves?

I expect to be loved, cared for and treated right. To be successful, happy and rich. To be unstoppable, powerful and an inspiration. I guess expectations are pretty great just ask Charles Dickens.

The Gayra's

A funny thing happened on the way to the film festival; I got lost. And not in that I made a wrong turn I’ll just go back way, no, I made the wrong turn and ended up in some part of town that I’ve never been to and there were houses and shit and not the place that I needed to go to. I was scared, hot, pissed and I really wanted my mom. I felt like Leonardo Dicaprio at the Oscars.

I took a chance at this film fest because it was the only LGTBQ festival that was close to my house and because it was the first film fest that I have ever been to. It was in this little theater, it only had two movie screens, in this little town near Downtown Sarasota. I showed up a little early, twenty minutes to be in fact, and spent my time learning about this festival from the woman who runs it.

Its in its fourth year and has films from all over the world, mainly Germany, France and Italy and the few American films. She then asked for my background.

“Well I’m a screenwriter,” I told her.

“How exciting. So the movies are like your second home?”

“Basically.”

“Do you write about them? Like on a blog?”

I had just gotten my business cards because I heard business cards make you seem more professional. “I do have a blog but I don’t really write reviews,” I say as I hand her a card.

“The Homo Whisperer…so you’re unafraid then?”

“What?”

“You’re unafraid to be yourself. That’s very good,” she says as people start walking in for the five o’clock showing of the first gay film.

Can we just talk a minute about gay films? Brokeback Mountain and the like which I have since dubbed the Gayra’s. Why are they always in a “secret affair?” Meeting at the dark of night or a secret location in a fucking mountain. It’s the twenty-first century get them out of these stupid secret affairs and put them in our face, make it raw and frank. When Harry met Sally will become When Harry met James. Affairs only work if you are a politician, actor or my next-door neighbor who all have affairs like it’s the new religion.

And what is with football films? Since when has throwing a ball around become so inspirational? Gay men and straight women have been doing it for years and they don’t get a film. And don’t you fucking tell me, “They work as a team and learn to become themselves with the help of friends.” Bullshit

The Rules to Dating

Last week I signed up for OKCupid and Plenty of Fish which both happen to be free. I mean why would I pay to get rejected am I right? Six days ago I got my first message from someone who wants to be an actor, reads screenplays and is five feet, five inches. We talked for a day or two and then nothing.

“You need to give it time,” my mother would say, as she leaves to go on a date. My mother is going on more dates than I am and I’m a published author. Well an almost published author. My friends, even, are hitting more balls than I am.

“Are you ready to date?” my mom asked me yesterday as we shopped at Goodwill where she bought a dress for sixty-three cents.

“Yeah. I think.”

“Would you ask him or would you wait till he asks you?” she asks, picking up a god-awful pantsuit.

“I would probably ask him when it gets to that time,” I say wanting this conversation to be over. It’s weird to me, talking about a romantic partner with your mother. Its even weirder talking about a same-sex romantic partner to your mother.

As we left Goodwill I got to thinking about dating. We all know there are “rules” about dating but do those rules change when dating the same-sex? Rules like no talking about the ex, no baby talk, and no marriage talk blah blah. But with same-sex couples, who, in some cases, can’t get married or have kids, what are the rules then? Do we need rules in a relationship?

“Well you still have to show dominance. That’s what rules do,” newly NOT single said at lunch this afternoon.

“What does that mean?” GBF said.

“Yeah for real. Does that mean you have to like pee on him or something?” I ask.

“No it’s like you come home and he hasn’t down the dishes and you want him to do you…”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask.

I signed up to be a volunteer at the Sarasota Gay and Lesbian Film Festival, shortened to Fabulous Fest and I’ll ask around what the rules are when you are dating the same sex. These are my rules: be funny, smart and hardworking. Make me laugh and take me to dinner and a movie. Watch movies with me at my house and cuddle. Don’t shove gay down my throat-I know you’re gay you don’t need to act like it. If that makes sense.

Is that too much to ask for? 

The Hate List

I’ve been home for a week and three days and during that time, when not looking for a job, I’ve been reading Joan Rivers. I’ve also been watching Joan Rivers and it came to the point where now I feel safe enough to literally become her. One of her books is called “I Hate Everyone Starting With Me” and I haven’t stopped laughing since I picked it up. So in an effort to become Joan I’m going to write my own hate list. Please note that the list and commentary are supposed to be funny and if you don’t laugh I will loose a part of my soul.

Ghost Shows- Every single one of them. The Haunting, the Dead, the Dead Files, the Ghost Hunters, Ghost Adventures, Haunted Places in America. Please. I got more scared watching Transformers 4 where Mark Wahlberg’s deep breathing still haunts my dreams. I think I hate the narrator the most though. “Welcome to Hell on Earth. Bring a flashlight or two.”

“Swimming for a good haunt then you don’t want to miss blah blah water park, one of the most haunted water parks in the United States.” Whatever. But it got me thinking about how I would act as a ghost and I’m sure it would go something like this, “BOO. Stole your cookie like I’m gonna steal your man tonight.” “Shut the fuck up, Ghost Joe.” “No you shut the fuck up before I drag your ass down those stairs.”

Chick- Fil-A- There are two things I hate about Chick-Fil-A and one of them is because its always so FUCKING BUSY. I waited twenty minutes to get to the order box, another ten waiting for my food to be made and another ten minutes eating the stupid thing. The second is that they literally shove Jesus down our throats. I’m unsure if every Chick- Fil-A does this, but the one by me makes the employee’s wear their favorite bible verse on their name tag. “Hello my name is Jessica. John 3:16.”

Don’t get me wrong I would love to have lunch with Jesus because then, maybe, I could get my publishing deal. I drove away wanting to say “Amen. Praise Jesus,” but instead I said, “How do you feel about homosexuals marrying?” I’m a hundred percent sure I got a bible thrown at me.

ALS Ice Bucket Challenge- This stupid challenge has been all over my newsfeed for the past two weeks. It involves dumping a bucket of cold water over you or you have to donate $100 to the ALS Association. My question for everyone, “What if I don’t?” Does someone have a link to my bank account? What if the water isn’t cold? I mean hello, anyone can act, look at Taylor Swift in The Giver. I feel that people are now doing it for attention. And can I say how bad it makes us look? I mean, it seems as if NO ONE donated the hundred dollars. Selfish Bastards.  I’m not saying anything bad about ALS because it is very serious its just, whoever created the Ice Bucket challenge why not do something better? Like the Tasteful Nude challenge. Now that I would do.

Lifetime Movie Network- If I wanted to watch pointless, humorless drama I would watch E, specially Keeping up with the Kardashian’s who I have not kept with. The names of the movies are anything less than creative and have endings anyone can guess. Last night, my mom and I watched Lost Son and the whole movie was about, you guessed it, a mother looking for her lost son. It was when my dog perked up and said, “The husbands gonna die,” that I knew it was time for bed.

So tell me what do you hate this week? 

Fandoms and the Pursuit of Sex

Once upon a time, an unknown, probably very long time ago, a fandom was started. We’re unsure where, what it was “fan girling” over or who started it we just know it started. It has since grown to cover different forms of media, from Movies and TV to rock bands and Memes and yes, even those Gifs or Jifs (how ever the fuck you spell it).

The Whovians. Potterheads. Gleeks. Trekkies. Directioners. And the greatest fandoms of them all are Lady Gaga’s Little Monsters. Can I just say how much I hate fandom’s. They feel like they know everything about the show, movie or group and they feel the need to rub it in everyone’s face, all the time, on different social media sites (the worst, I deemed, is Tumblr).  A typical Whovian fandom posting- OMG he wore the same shirt in episode twelve so that means he’s going to be the new doctor but only in fifteenth season when the old doctor goes through a time warp!

Maybe its because I’m not fully involved, both emotionally and physically, in a fandom or because there isn’t a fandom for the things I love (cough, cough Sex and the City. What would we be called? Cities? Sexies?) But I just want to know where or when do the fandom’s stop?

I asked this question to my friends, as we walked along the beach for our last outing together and they basically said the same thing, “They don’t. They carry the fandom EVERYWHERE.” 

“Could you imagine a Potterhead in bed?”

“Expecto big dick!”

“Wingardium Leviosa that dick into my…”

We stopped before we got too weird. We didn’t want to ruin our favorite book or movie or make an obscene scene on Venice beach.

But what if you are with someone with a fandom when you don’t have one. What happens then? Do you go along with whatever your partner wants? Can you imagine your partner saying, “Call me Professor McGonagall!” and you answer back, in a hushed whisper, “I’ll transform you into a pussy cat.”

I guess it’s a riddle that will never be answered. But in the meantime, here are two more riddles that have plagued my mind.

Why is Chick fil-a’s mascot a cow?

Why are they called lake front houses if the lake is in the back? Please send help, preferably with the answers to these riddles.

My Story

June 12^th, 2013 a day that would live in infamy. Or so I thought. It started out as normal, and sunny, as possible. One of those perfect, family beach days. My family, highly unlike any other family, decided on a going to see a movie, one of those silly summer blockbusters types (I don’t quite remember which one, though.)

On the way to the mall we got to talking about theatre, and I mean if that wasn’t a sign I don’t know what else is. My sister in particular, loved the way the main actor played his role. She loved his singing, dancing and overall style. She asked if he was gay, and me not knowing (though secretly hoping he was) answered, “I’m not sure, but I would do him.”

It was as if the world stopped. It was quiet and suddenly very hot. I said that out loud, didn’t I?

“Yeah…But you aren’t gay? Right?” my sister asked looking at me through the rear view mirror. Rear view ha get it?

“I’m not…sure…I mean yes? I guess?” I stammered out. The cat was let loose. Can we talk about the huge pink elephant in the room?

“So you are gay then?”

I nodded. The weight was off my shoulders, but still lingered in the air and silence greeted us like an old friend. I knew they wanted to know more and I knew I wanted to tell them more.

As you imagined, we missed the summer blockbuster and talked about me instead.

I know, or could imagine, that many of you still haven’t come out. Yes, you came out to yourself and maybe those few close friends we all have nowadays, but not to the people who know and love you the best.

Here are my tips, you can take them or leave them. Come out. Seriously. I know you’re reading this, shaking your head saying, “But…I just like can’t do that.” Yes you can, both you and I know that. Even standing in front of a mirror saying, “I’m gay. Or bi. Or lesbian. Or transsexual.”

Come out in a public place. When I told my friends, the ones that didn’t know (I mean come on my favorite singer is Lady Gaga), we were eating in the cafeteria and I just calmly whispered, “I like boys. These are good chicken nuggets.” After I came out to my family we went to lunch. We talked and laughed and even discussed the boys I would have sex with, or the ones I already did. Being in a public place made it feel real, at least to me.

This tip is also called “Lets ask the newly gay guy every single question under the rainbow” And listen to me, answer them to your best ability. My mother asked me questions from “How do you do it?” “Is it safe?” “What’s your type?” to “Your favorite color still is blue right?” and “Are you getting the hamburger or cheeseburger?” Mom, I’m gay not a completely different human being.

Something I would not do: come out via Twitter, Facebook or any other social media site. This step only works for famous people (I’m looking at you Tom Daley) unless you tape it, post it to YouTube and get a million likes. In that case, I want some credit. Maybe a shout out.

But, it is a good way to get the word around. I heard, and watched, a few videos of people coming out and I know that sometimes all you have is a video camera and yourself. In that case videotape it, take a picture and spread your word around. I would advise though, to stay away from social media until, at least, ten people know.

Now, I know some of you have it completely different. You have strict parents who will basically disown you if you came out. And true, I didn’t have that when I came out, but the best advice is to just come out. Yes, they will see you in a different light, yes they may fight you on this but they will still love everything you will do.

Because trust me, it does get better. Because baby, you were born this way. Please, insert more gay clichés to your own liking.

If you ever need a friend to talk to, someone to yell at or to cry to my email is joerusso8@fullsail.edu.